episode_0002

It’s said that natural disasters are not to be confronted but avoided. And the situation that had just crashed down upon me was no different from a natural disaster.

What kind of nonsense was this—the imperial princess suddenly barging in and demanding a match because she felt I had made her lose? This wasn’t some Pokémon battle…

Of course, my reaction was sharp.

Perhaps she hadn’t expected such an outright refusal, as her first response was a stunned, “Hah?”

“What… did you just say?”

“It seems Her Highness the Princess wishes to test her skills against me in some manner, but if I may humbly exercise my right to choose, I would prefer to decline. Your Highness.”

“……May I ask why?”

I kept to myself the fact that, given her temperament—someone who’d pester the Margrave for days over a single loss—I doubted things would end cleanly no matter how the match turned out.

“It’s clear I wouldn’t meet Your Highness’s standards, so I’m simply staying within my limits.”

“No, I don’t think that’s your real reason. You’re assuming that my status will make things troublesome for you, aren’t you? Worried I might use my authority to harass you?”

The princess dismantled my carefully humble words with a single scoff.

But, well, she was harassing me. The tears (?) of the victim right here were proof. I forced a smile and continued.

“It’s true that I advised Margrave Luticia on a certain tactic. But that was merely a trick, not a proper strategy. Just something I recalled from an old book—hardly something to expect anything from or make demands over.”

“Oh? A book, you say. Which one did you reference?”

“An anonymous chronicle written about thirty years ago. It documented the war in the East that the Margrave’s territory was involved in at the time.”

At my smooth answer, the princess narrowed her eyes slightly, as if scrutinizing me. Unable to look away, I met her gaze—until the corners of her lips curled up.

“That must be about the centaurs, then. The long war between them and the Empire had already passed that point by then. The tactic the Margrave used against me was none other than their strategy.”

Centaurs—a race with human upper bodies and the lower bodies of horses or goats.

They lived beyond the eastern mountain ranges and would occasionally cross over to invade the Empire when their numbers grew.

The war the Margrave had been caught up in, as mentioned earlier, was also against them.

Thanks to their unique physiology, they wielded overwhelming mobility as their primary tactic—something most races, including humans, struggled to match.

“Old military texts referred to their tactics as ‘swarm tactics.’”

“…You knew.”

“Yes, I’ve had ample opportunity to study such texts. That’s why I was surprised. I didn’t expect a young man in this day and age—one who’d only heard of centaurs through rumors—to actually know how to employ them.”

Nomads of the plains, lacking resources, often avoided direct melee combat, favoring extreme hit-and-run tactics.

Their way of life—horseback riding for swift movement and archery for hunting—naturally led them to master mounted archery, a difficult skill.

Using this, they avoided direct confrontation, harassing enemies with arrows or javelins until they wore them down.

Only when an opening appeared would they charge in for the kill—a method likened to a swarm of insects, hence the name. Fortunately, this world also called it “swarm tactics.”

One thing was certain: in this world, centaurs occupied the role of those nomads. And since they were the horses themselves, their combat prowess surpassed even that of real-world nomadic tribes.

I’d merely drawn from my past-life gaming experience to suggest a trick to the Margrave—hardly anything impressive.

Frankly, it was just an annoying tactic: shoot arrows from afar, flee if chased, repeat until an opening appeared. How could a novice counter that?

They’d flounder helplessly until they were overwhelmed. Conversely, if the opponent knew the counter, the tactic would fail instantly.

Even just holding a proper infantry line would make it hard for arrows alone to achieve much.

“In that case, Baron Hebel.”

“…Yes?”

Caught off guard by the princess suddenly addressing me, I let out a dumbfounded sound.

I hadn’t expected her to remember a mere baron like me at all.

“Why so surprised? Did you think I wouldn’t know who you are? Sir Werner von Hebel?”

“Well… yes.”

Had we shared a lecture once…? It was surprising she’d remember the name of a vassal’s retainer with no real ties to her.

At my reaction, the princess chuckled lightly and continued.

“Anyway, Baron Hebel. The fact that you taught the Margrave that tactic—does that mean you’ve seen centaurs yourself?”

“No, as I said, I read about them. The academy’s library has records.”

“So you understood their tactics from a brief passage in a book and taught someone else well enough to use them in battle? Is that correct?”

More accurately, it was knowledge from a past-life strategy game about nomadic horse archers—but I couldn’t say that. I glanced at the Margrave before answering.

“I suppose so.”

Her eyes gleamed even brighter.

“Then it’s even stranger. Most freshmen in the Military Studies Department might know past wars as history, but few can apply that knowledge practically, let alone teach it. If you could, wouldn’t that go beyond mere tricks?”

“That’s…”

Huh. I hadn’t thought of it that way.

Historical records showed no recent battles against centaurs, so novices wouldn’t know how to counter them.

Flip that around, and it meant that among novices, no one knew how to use those tactics either.

If I was the only one who could, that made me… special.

My attempt to argue my way out hit a brief snag there.

And unfortunately, this princess knew exactly when to press the advantage.

“You see, if someone could do that, I’d consider them a talent who absolutely belongs in the Military Studies Department. And to that end, I must test the one who defeated me.”

“There’s really no need—”

“The Military Studies Department others would pay to enter?”

“I’m in the History Department…”

“Then this works out perfectly! You can study history in the Military Studies Department too!”

Her relentless advance, her piercing gaze—those blazing violet eyes tightened their grip on me.

Help me, Margrave…!

“That’s enough, Your Highness. No matter how noble you are, you can’t lay hands on my vassal so freely.”

Thankfully, our Margrave wasn’t irresponsible enough to abandon me.

Though the princess’s sharp glare did sweep past me as I sighed in relief.

But this princess truly didn’t know when to quit.

“Margrave Luticia, what does Baron Hebel’s territory need most right now?”

At her sudden question, the Margrave looked at me.

“Hmm… Baron Hebel, what was it? I think I heard something about the bridge being old and dangerous… Was that it?”

“You remembered…?”

I was moved—until the princess cut in.

“A bridge? Perfect. I’ll fund its reconstruction. In exchange, you’ll face me—”

“Why go that far—?”

I nearly shouted—did she think bridge repairs were cheap?! Was a single match really worth that?!

As both the Margrave and I stared in disbelief, Princess Charlotte murmured:

“Because… I felt my heart race.”

“Pardon…?”

“Every opponent I’ve faced in mock battles has been the same. As if they all had an answer key, they fought identically.”

“…Isn’t that because lowerclassmen can’t choose diverse races or unit types?”

“No, it’s different!”

She shook her head firmly.

“They all just trained basic units, placed knights on the right flank, and fought over who could outmaneuver whom—nothing more!”

Well, that was how most small-scale territory battles went… It was the most familiar method, so what could they do?

But our princess, who’d never experienced the ugly mudslinging of nobles, declared:

“That’s why, when I saw someone fight in a completely new way, I thought—this person knows how to make battle fun!”

“Fun…?”

“Yes, fun.”

Wasn’t this just the delusion of someone who’d only played demos meeting someone who knew the full game…?

But the princess’s eyes were utterly serious—and I’d seen that look before in my past life.

It was the sparkle of a child who’d finally found excitement after endless boredom.

Pfft!

“Baron Hebel!”

I couldn’t hold back a burst of laughter, startling the Margrave, who tried to scold me—only for the princess to stop him.

“No, let him be, Margrave Luticia. I was about to look foolish myself.”

After a bright laugh, she regained her regal composure as if nothing had happened—as if asking, How was that?

Well, if it weren’t for other reasons, I’d still want to avoid this…

But I didn’t hate mock battles, and I’d often faced the same dull opponents, so I could relate.

So I had no choice but to answer:

“If it’s just for fun, then fine. I’ll give you one match.”

“Really?”

“But no more harassing my liege.”

“Don’t worry. Now that things are settled, I’ve no further business with him.”

Too honest… Though a glance at the Margrave showed he was just relieved to be out of this.

“Then, since I have matters to attend to now, shall we meet at the mock battle arena tomorrow after classes?”

“Certainly.”

I agreed readily, and the princess smiled brilliantly.

Her noble bearing was flawless, the curve of her lips a perfect arc that would inspire envy in many.

But at that moment, I should have noticed.

Amidst that seemingly overflowing goodwill, there was a glint in her eyes—one unbefitting a princess.

A hint of something… feral.