TYND 03

Chapter 03

“Quiet.”

Lucy let out a faint sigh as she looked around the dining hall. It was never truly quiet in here, but today it was closer to a battlefield than usual thanks to the trainees’ chatter.

There were two reasons for the noise. First, lunch had been upgraded from the usual cheap sandwich to boiled sausages and freshly baked white bread. Second, rumors about a famous visitor who had come to the academy.

Of course, the latter was overwhelmingly responsible for the chaos.

Lucy shoved the last sausage into her mouth and scanned the room with an indifferent expression.

“Hey, hey. Looks like what Vadl said earlier wasn’t just nonsense.”

Jeronimo rubbed his nose with one hand and slammed his wooden tray down with the other, making a sharp clack.

His nose was red, as if he’d bumped into someone or gotten into a scuffle somewhere. Lucy, who was tidying her utensils, glanced at him in confusion, and as if he’d been waiting for it, Jeronimo raised his voice.

“I overheard a clerk earlier. That lycan—it’s true. He’s the Grand General’s direct subordinate. Apparently he’s pretty famous.”

Direct subordinate. Grand General.

The moment she heard those words, a chill ran down Lucy’s neck. She pretended nothing was wrong and casually rubbed the back of her neck.

“Well, of course. There’s only one lycan in the army with black fur all over and a white cross-shaped marking on his forehead.”

“What? Arsinóe, you knew?”

Vadl, sitting nearby and sipping soup, chimed in with a chuckle.

“Who wouldn’t know? Jeronimo, you’re the only one who doesn’t. You say you joined the army to become like the Grand General, but you don’t even know anything about him.”

“Hey, are you calling me an idiot again?”

“Stop arguing and eat. Five minutes left before the meal time ends.”

At the calm reprimand, Jeronimo shot Lucy a sulky glare before shoveling food into his mouth in a very unrefined manner that hardly suited the second son of a noble house.

Lucy frowned at his manners. Jeronimo quickly emptied his tray, then, like a child, pressed the leftover bread scraps with his fingers and licked them off.

Unable to stand it any longer, Lucy grabbed his tray and stood up.

“Stop eating and get up. The special lecture is first-come, first-served. If we’re late, we’ll lose the front seats.”

“What’s so important about some lecture? There’s still time.”

“You didn’t hear who’s giving it when the clerk passed by, did you? Whatever. Just follow me. You’ll regret it for the rest of your life if you don’t.”

Jeronimo scoffed at the idea of regret.

Lucy debated whether to persuade him or use force, then sighed and decided that with idiots, a beating worked best. She grabbed him by the collar.

“Hey! Kgh—! Let go! Hey!”

With strength that was hard to believe for a girl, Jeronimo coughed and was forced to stand. Vadl, who had been watching them, quickly shoved the rest of his food into his mouth and followed with a grin.

Lucy suppressed her urgency and left the dining hall at a brisk pace. The rumor about the special lecture had spread everywhere, and the number of trainees heading toward the lecture hall was far greater than usual.

“Hope there are seats left.”

Lucy hurried ahead, seated Jeronimo and Vadl in the front row, and took a seat at the very back herself.

Ignoring Jeronimo’s protests to sit beside him, she had just settled down when the front door opened.

The noise in the hall vanished instantly. At the same time, the sound of boots echoed heavily through the silence.

The footsteps stopped, and a man appeared.

He wore standard royal army attire: ash-gray uniform, black epaulets, black gloves, and black boots. But his face did not look like that of a soldier.

“Is this Lecture Room 3?”

His voice, devoid of emotion, matched the word “indifferent” as he scanned the room.

No one answered. He stood at the door for a moment, then walked up onto the podium. The trainees in the front rows glanced at him, whispering under their breath.

“Who is he? I’ve never seen him before.”

“Maybe he’s one of the adjutants? I heard the Grand General was supposed to give the lecture…”

The whispers spread like ripples.

Lucy also looked at him with mild surprise.

He wasn’t particularly tall or short. Far from the legendary war hero people spoke of, he had a calm, intellectual air that made it hard to believe he was even a soldier.

His skin was pale without a single blemish, and his black hair—so dark it seemed to swallow light—framed equally dark eyes, giving him a distinctly scholarly impression.

Unlike the female trainees who were faintly blushing, the male trainees frowned, glancing around as if they had entered the wrong room.

The man seemed to notice the contrasting reactions. He exhaled softly, looking slightly reluctant.

“Greetings, cadets.”

After a brief pause, he composed himself and continued in a steady tone.

“I am Walter Heiberger, Supreme Commander of the Central Command and Commander of the Black Eagle Battalion. You may know me better by the title ‘Grand General.’”

The moment he said his name, the murmurs died down.

“I happened to be nearby and was invited as a senior to give this lecture. I heard things have been chaotic due to the upcoming escort selection. If my presence can ease that tension even slightly, I would be glad.”

A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips.

“Within the limits of confidentiality, I will answer anything. If you have questions about the military, feel free to ask.”

A rare opportunity to speak with the Grand General. The trainees’ faces lit up.

Yet none of them immediately spoke, exchanging hesitant glances.

Then, one hand shot up.

Unsurprisingly, the first to speak was Jeronimo—the most straightforward and notoriously reckless of them all.

“Grand General! Is it true that the sword you’re wearing is cursed?”

At the word “cursed,” the trainees’ faces turned pale.

Before the question even finished, Vadl grabbed Jeronimo by the hair and dragged him down, repeatedly apologizing. No one tried to stop him—some even looked ready to hit Jeronimo themselves.

Sensing the escalating tension, Walter raised an eyebrow.

“Everyone, calm down.”

He glanced down at his sword briefly, then gently stopped Vadl’s rough handling.

“Unfortunately, I do not know its origins, so I cannot confirm anything. However, judging by its unusual traits, it is certainly not something forged in an ordinary smithy. I apologize that I cannot give a better answer. Any other questions?”

“Then how many people have you killed with tha—huek!”

“Grand General, I heard you also serve as captain of the Royal Guard. Is the atmosphere there very different?”

Vadl quickly elbowed Jeronimo in the stomach and smoothly redirected the conversation.

Walter scanned the room, then looked down at Jeronimo, curled up and clutching his stomach, with a faintly sympathetic gaze.

“As you all know, the Royal Guard is not part of the military but of the royal household. Its discipline is looser, but the atmosphere is stricter than the army in other ways. If you wish to apply, what you should keep in mind is…”

He continued slowly, like a teacher explaining to children.

It was a dry, factual explanation—something most would find dull—but because the speaker was the Grand General himself, it held everyone’s attention.

Even Jeronimo, who hated theoretical lectures, was listening intently with sparkling eyes.

Watching this, Lucy was reminded of just how immense Walter Heiberger’s reputation truly was.

Grand General of Parnas, Walter Heiberger.

Born into the famously martial Heiberger noble house, he had been promoted to brigadier general in his early twenties, becoming the youngest general in history.

The following year, he suppressed the Lycan uprising known as the “Talikshin Rebellion” and rose directly to Grand General, cementing himself as a symbol of military power and crushing his family’s fame with his own achievements.

But beyond his unprecedented career, what truly elevated him to legend was likely the sword at his hip.

Resting her chin on her hand, Lucy studied Walter’s waist with interest.