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Chapter: 3
“Miss Brisa called for us to gather at the training grounds, right?”
“That’s what I heard.”
At the Marquis of Sears’ estate, the morning of the knights’ order was somewhat chaotic.
“Since the Marquis is absent, she claims to hold command over us.”
The knights scoffed at the statement.
“Hah!”
Brisa Sears.
A haughty, arrogant, typical “annoying noble” sort of young girl.
No one could possibly welcome orders coming from her mouth.
“Command…? That’s ridiculous. How old is she now?”
“Twelve. But I hear her personality is formidable.”
The knights grumbled among themselves.
“Did you hear? Three days ago, the Marquis personally went to speak with her… but she didn’t even open the door.”
“Hah, that’s a blatant insult! Our Marquis came from mercenary roots among commoners!”
“Do you think a girl like her would see us as human? Hah, really…”
Their dissatisfaction was already full.
Before leaving for the capital after the funeral, Alpheus had expelled a steward from the estate for embezzlement.
But the steward, as he left, shouted:
“How dare you, a girl with even a drop of common blood, expel someone like me who has served the Sears family loyally for so long? Miss Brisa will not forget this!”
At that moment, the knights who had shared life and death with Alpheus realized one thing:
Those who had spent long years at the Marquis’ estate did not accept them.
No, they despised them.
The only somewhat neutral conversation came from a maid:
“Having a Marquis from a mercenary background… well, it’s a little embarrassing, isn’t it? The Sears family is such an old, distinguished lineage.”
“Is that really a problem? What is our Marquis lacking?”
“Well… for example… he doesn’t know any foreign languages, right? But Miss Brisa speaks five.”
“Has any of that foreign language earned a single coin? Thanks to the Marquis, our urgent debts were paid, and we now have a knight order as capable as the Royal Knights!”
“But he grew up like a commoner. Miss Brisa graduated second in her class from the Capital Academy. The late Marquis’ wife personally educated her from a young age.”
The finances of the Sears Marquisate were far from healthy, yet the existing maids acted haughtily, which the knights found ridiculous.
“The late Marquis’ wife? Wasn’t she… insane?”
“Watch your words. She was the fifth princess of the Liente Kingdom.”
“Princess or not, do you know how much debt she left from her extravagance? The Marquis spent all his private funds to pay it off. Luckily she passed away two years ago—otherwise, there wouldn’t have been a single seed left in this estate.”
Meanwhile, Brisa had locked herself in her room for the past three days.
So the knights were convinced that the maids’ disdain and contempt reflected Brisa’s intentions.
A noble girl who had never done anything by her own effort.
A naive child who had spent her family’s sparse wealth to attend the Capital Academy.
A twelve-year-old throwing tantrums without understanding the situation objectively.
Yet, suddenly, that Brisa summoned them all.
\Once everyone gathered at the training grounds, Deputy Commander Philip stepped forward, bristling.
“This is actually a good opportunity. I’ll formally protest and break their spirit completely.”
“But she’s the Marquis’ daughter, Deputy Commander. Besides, the Marquis said not to cause any problems until he returns from the capital.”
“What does a twelve-year-old know? It’s the subordinates around her who are the problem! I plan to scold them, not her. Then she’ll have nothing to say.”
Philip lifted his chin confidently.
“The ones truly rude and ignorant of etiquette are them, right? Anyway, the Marquisate’s master is the Marquis! How can the estate staff dismiss him?”
It was at that moment that the door opened, and Brisa appeared.
Platinum hair cascading to her waist, beautiful sky-blue eyes, her dress perfectly fitting, her posture impeccable.
The twelve-year-old walked onto the training grounds at a measured pace, neither fast nor slow, accompanied by a maid.
“Greetings, Miss Brisa. I am Deputy Commander Philip Oris.”
Philip approached her, speaking in a stiff tone.
Brisa stopped and stared at him.
He continued, blocking her path:
“I’ve been meaning to meet you anyway.”
Brisa’s maid shot him a glare full of indignation.
Philip didn’t care.
He was a mercenary unfamiliar with etiquette, and his resentment had already built up from seeing his commander, Alpheus, treated with disdain by the maids he revered.
“The people around you… seem full of those who cannot assess the situation and only hold useless pride.”
Philip thought she would snap at him for speaking out of turn. He was ready with a logical retort…
“Yes.”
But Brisa calmly responded.
“That’s why I asked to meet you.”
Philip was momentarily speechless.
Amid the tense stares of the subordinates, he barely managed to collect himself and say something else:
“I… didn’t realize you enjoyed listening to the nonsense of those who cannot distinguish rank.”
“Well… I do it often, but it’s not a hobby.”
Brisa replied indifferently.
“I’m doing it now, and it’s exhausting. You can’t call something you dislike a hobby, can you?”
At that moment, the subordinates lowered their heads, stifling laughter.
Only Brisa’s maid behind her glared daggers at him.
Philip barely managed to continue:
“Does the Marquisate have no way to scold rude subordinates?”
“Not necessarily. Sometimes, when busy, you have to overlook it.”
Brisa said, expressionless:
“That’s why I’m just overlooking it for now.”
In the end, Philip fell silent.
Brisa elegantly avoided any confrontation and walked past him to the podium.
The girl, a spitting image of her older brother, gazed silently at them.
Her cold, scanning eyes held an unexpected authority. The knights, who had been slouching in tension, straightened instinctively.
What on earth did she summon everyone for?
In the chilling silence, she finally spoke, expressionless:
“I heard all of you are former mercenaries from various regions of the Empire.”
Of course!
It was about their origins.
The same context as the maids whispering that they “didn’t know their roots.”
The knights stiffly looked up at Brisa.
“Is it true that mercenaries will do anything for money?”
Philip, panting, protested:
“Miss! W-well… that’s a harsh way to put it.”
Brisa was satisfied.
“Then it isn’t a lie. In that case, I shall give you an order.”
Amid the knights’ shocked expressions, the girl held up her small fingers one by one.
“Those who have spent three years or more in Ears, Kiberona, Sezeil, Liberel, or Antvenal, raise your hands.”
They glanced at one another.
What were the characteristics of these regions?
Places criminals hide?
Bandit territory?
Easy to change one’s identity?
Were they supposed to leave the knight order because they had lived there?
Nevertheless, it was an order, so several slowly raised their hands.
Quite a few. Philip was one of them.
Brisa had them step forward.
Before the tense group, she asked solemnly:
“Who among you has experience in potato farming?”
Once again, silence fell.
Brisa added seriously:
“The regions I mentioned are large potato-growing areas in the Empire. You have spent a long time there; surely at least one of you has experience?”
