How to Teach a Hero at the Academy

Chapter 171 : Chapter 171

Chapter 171: Succession (3)

"I had a dream, Er."

Whuff.

Demian snorted and muttered.

Of course he would. Ernst thought, shrugging his shoulders. Did the great knight gentleman cut off the Demon King's head or something? Demian's expression reflected in the mirror was tremendously elevated. Between the folds of the blanket wrapped around him to warm his body, Demian's face was flushed red like a ripe apple.

"It was a really unusual dream."

"That must have been thanks to your twisted subconscious. I am begging you, do not tell me the contents."

"Why not? Are you not curious?"

"Not at all. I am sure it was some childish nonsense."

Ernst sighed.

In the center of the mirror nailed to the wall, Ernst's figure was positioned. Because he had taken off his glasses, it was difficult to make out his own wretched state. The servants were combing his hair and preparing cosmetics, but even so, to Ernst he remained nothing more than a blurry subject.

"Are you happy?"

Suddenly, Ernst asked.

In a low voice, toward Demian.

"There is no possibility of you dying abroad during your pilgrimage. Congratulations on becoming a Holy Knight, Demian. You have achieved one of your life goals, so you must be very happy……"

Shhhh.

One of the servants opened her mouth.

"Your Grace, I will begin applying makeup. Please keep your mouth still for a moment……"

"Please do not call me Your Grace. I will get down on my knees. Just call me young master."

"But you hated being called young master too."

"Your Grace is even worse."

They are all wrong.

I am going to be called by a damned title for the rest of my life.

As Ernst muttered that thought,

'That fellow has not changed one bit.'

Demian thought as he removed the blanket.

'From what I saw in the past……'

Pilgrimage, was it?

A week had passed since he glimpsed the past through Christophe's invention. He had been frantically busy preparing to depart, but he had rushed over intending to at least attend Ernst's succession ceremony.

Am I happy to become a Holy Knight? If asked such a question, he would have to answer yes for now. He could not be certain he had reached a level worthy of receiving the Papacy's appointment, but as Ernst said, he at least had the confidence not to die abroad during the pilgrimage.

'Pilgrimage……'

The past Christophe showed him was merely a dream.

A hallucination based on some fact, or perhaps something like a firmly calculated thought experiment. What was the reason for attaching the name pilgrimage to it?

In the first place, Demian could not understand it precisely. What principle comprised Christophe's magical device, and what danger had Abel noticed that made him wary of it?

If there was something he could say with certainty……,

"Are you sad?"

Suddenly, Demian asked.

In a low voice, toward Ernst.

"About inheriting the countship. It was not what you wanted. Rather, it was what you did not want. Now you cannot run away. You must live as a count for the rest of your life."

Is that not sad?

Demian tried to ask that, but,

"Bullshit."

Ernst's answer was concise.

For now, he could only answer that way. Because the servants were busily applying makeup.

It was something he had been prepared for. This was how he would have to live from now on. As if sticky cosmetics had been poured over his face, he would have to pretend to be a person befitting that damned title with a layer of pretense draped over his expression. Just as his grandmother Brunhilde von Tresckow had done, protecting the subjects while on the other hand……,

'I will end up killing.'

Operating military forces.

Perhaps there would come a time when child soldiers would be deployed again.

Power is secured through death. Thinking about taking responsibility for that already made him sick and tired.

"I have been thinking."

I kept thinking, he said.

Ernst spoke as he rose from his chair.

The servants who had finished adorning him stepped back, and the hem of the cloak draped over Ernst's shoulders flowed down.

The emblem of an eagle seated on a blade.

In the center of the navy cloak, the Tresckow family crest was embroidered.

"It is my grandmother's legacy."

Ernst picked up his glasses.

After putting them on, he turned to look at Demian.

"It is the legacy of the person who raised me. I hate aristocratic games and I detest damned power struggles, but……"

If it is my grandmother's, I like it.

I like it so much I cannot help it.

Ernst muttered as he took a step forward.

"So let us go, knight gentleman."

Demian followed Ernst.

The servants threw open the arched doorway, revealing the bustling corridor. There were countless people who had gathered to commemorate the succession ceremony. The voices of family members and visitors from distant lands were all mixed together.

"Most of them find me objectionable."

Is that all?

Ernst sneered and walked ahead.

"Someone will want to kill me. Someone else will be lamenting. Wondering how some snot-nosed brat became a count. Meanwhile, they will be laughing while calculating how to humiliate and extort me."

Since you came all this way, try protecting me.

You are a knight, are you not?

"Is that not right, Demian?"

"Of course."

Demian nodded once.

While staring at the hem of Ernst's cloak covering the stone floor.

"That is why I came."

He is still young, after all.

Too young to lead this……

Demian thought as he measured the length of the cloak.

* * *

Back in the dream,

As Christophe and Abel walked side by side,

"Foreseeing the future and altering the past."

Christophe muttered.

The eyes nestled within his wrinkled gaze gleamed.

"Where else could there be such a sweet temptation? Just as all miracles are."

The scenery within the dream was incomparably sweet.

So much so that even the power of a Grand Duke could not quite enjoy it.

Nothing that Christophe could covet remained in the present world. There were fertile territories pleasing to the eye, and there was also an Underworld worthy of comforting with his name alone. Therefore, he coveted the future and the past. Divining the future and reversing the past. Was that not the very nature of dreams?

"I cannot be satisfied with something like the feeling of having had a prophetic dream. I want true prophecy."

Abel quietly stopped in his tracks.

He stared at Christophe with his mouth closed.

"I could not be satisfied with something like meeting a longed-for person in a dream. I want to dominate the past as well."

Having desires is fair to all people.

Abel understood that fact. The problem was feasibility. Altering the past and foreseeing the future belonged to the Saintess's authority, so it would be absurd. The Main Gods would not grant Christophe's desire.

"I readily admit it."

That did not mean there was no method.

If one intended to use any means necessary,

"I want to fulfill my wish. Even if I must sell my soul to the Demon King."

The possibility for realization clearly existed.

As Christophe said, through the process of turning away from the gods.

"What will you do, Abel? Will you execute me?"

"Not right now."

Abel answered in an indifferent tone.

He would not execute him right now, but depending on the circumstances, there was ample room to become hostile.

"But you must know. I am a Holy Knight. I only hope that Your Grace does not fall to becoming an Apostate. Or……"

That you have not already fallen to becoming an Apostate.

I only hope that is the case.

Abel whispered in a quiet tone, and,

'……Apostate.'

The ears of young Ernst, who had been eavesdropping on the conversation, perked up.

They were unusual people indeed. Because they were murmuring in such small voices, he could not grasp the precise content, but he could at least tell that the old man was a Grand Duke and the young man was a Holy Knight, and furthermore that they were talking about matters that could not be overlooked.

'Should I ask Grandmother for help?'

Ernst stared straight ahead.

He took in the streets of the capital within his vision. They would soon arrive at Naflansee Grand Cathedral. His parents' funeral would be in full swing, and his grandmother Brunhilde would be waiting.

'But these people……'

Ernst turned his head.

He glared at the boy walking with a faint smile, Demian.

'How long do they intend to follow?'

As Ernst frowned while thinking that,

"Are you sad?"

Suddenly, Demian asked.

In a low voice, toward Ernst.

"Today is the day your parents' funeral is being held. I hear they were helping epidemic patients?"

"That is what I was told."

Hmph.

Ernst snorted and answered.

"I do not know how you know that fact, but……"

"I only heard it from you."

"When did I ever say such a thing?"

"Later."

Not now, but later.

Demian muttered that.

"You will not believe it, but I am the same age as you. And we are close friends. You complain often, but you actually consider me a true friend."

"Stop spouting bullshit."

"Right."

Demian nodded.

"You do not need to believe my words. Nothing will change even if you do."

Answer my question.

Are you sad?

To Demian's question aimed at him once more,

"I am not sad."

Ernst answered with his arms crossed.

"Whether they helped epidemic patients or not is none of my business. Those people simply lived as they wished and passed on. Why would I need to be sad? And more than anything……"

They would not want me to grieve.

Ernst muttered that, and,

"……They would not want me to die either."

He added, glaring at Demian.

"Of course not."

Demian nodded.

"Do you think I am going to kill you?"

"If not that, then what? Why are you following me?"

"I want to know. On the day you held your parents' funeral, how much you grieved."

"I just told you. I am not sad."

"You tell me the same thing several years from now. And I do not believe it."

"This is ridiculous. Did you come from the future or something?"

"It would be appropriate to assume so."

"Yes. Let us assume that."

Crazy bastard.

To Ernst, who muttered softly,

"You must already understand."

Demian spoke.

"What kind of treatment an eldest grandson who has lost his parents will face. Although your grandmother is healthy now, someday she will fall ill and you will have to enter the competition for succession of power."

What will you need?

Demian asked in a small voice.

"When you are alone, what will you need?"

"That is obvious, is it not?"

Ernst shrugged his shoulders.

Demian was right. Someday he would be swept up in power struggles alone. He had no interest in titles, but the family members would not believe that.

"Military force."

Then what did he need?

Ernst knew well.

"I will need military force."

"So you need a knight."

"I do not know about that, but I do need military force."

"You are weak. In such circumstances, you neglect training as well. You will need a reliable knight by your side."

"No, I might become strong."

"You will still be weak ten years from now."

Right.

Demian muttered.

"You will need a true knight."

What is he even saying, really?

Ernst scratched the back of his neck and thought.

In any case, it was fine. Ernst felt relieved as he shifted his gaze forward. He could see the entrance to Naflansee Grand Cathedral. Among the crowd gathered for mourning, he could see a middle-aged woman in white ceremonial robes.

Needless to say, that person was……,

'……Hm?'

Ernst tilted his head.

Suddenly, the scenery spread before his eyes seemed to waver, and,

"Er?"

Demian looked at Ernst.

Young Ernst had stopped as if time had frozen, and,

"I will prove it, Abel Argento."

Christophe walked past Demian and forward.

It seemed as if the sky was collapsing. The blue expanse overhead was falling as fragments. Like shards of a shattered mirror scattering.

Buildings were dispersing as if decomposing into soil, and the crowd began to shimmer like afterimages, while,

"My innocence."

Christophe declared, turning to Abel.

"Though I am without blood or tears, and suffer from desires that transcend human limits……"

His irreplaceable friend,

With his back to Brunhilde von Tresckow.

"……I am nothing more than a regretful old man."