episode_0020

Ever since I was young, I had one question about my past life memories.

Why were my memories and knowledge of games and studies so vivid, while those of family and daily life were almost nonexistent?

The only faint remnant was the memory of blowing out candles at a childhood birthday party.

That question resolved itself as I grew up in this world as “Werner, the eldest son of Baron Hebel.”

If all the knowledge I retained was what I had enjoyed and found fun in my past life,

then conversely, what I couldn’t remember must have been things I didn’t want to remember.

That was likely why, despite having memories of a past life, I had little resistance accepting my father and mother as family.

“The orcs are rebelling…!”

“Excessive taxes?! It hasn’t even been three years since His Majesty’s envoy last visited! How dare they overturn the negotiated terms so arbitrarily!”

“……It seems there was a faction within the Bennet clan dissatisfied with the negotiations. And now, their new chieftain, Siemowit, is inexperienced, isn’t he? The original ruling faction was pushed aside. So, the displaced faction deliberately escalated things to an extreme.”

“……So, the orcs are using us for their internal power struggle? Hah, those ignorant brutes have learned much from the Empire. How cunning they’ve become.”

This was the frontier, a world where different races coexisted, yet the Empire dominated others by force.

I had long understood that conflict was inevitable.

“Werner. You must protect your mother.”

My father, who was only slightly older than my past self, left those words with a smile and never returned.

Not long after, I heard that a chieftain from the orc horde that raided the borderlands had made a drinking cup from my father’s skull.

My mother fainted upon hearing the news, but I, though saddened, could at least understand.

I had heard that crafting drinking cups from the skulls of the dead was the orcs’ way of honoring fallen warriors.

Yet, for some reason, my hands turned deathly pale that day, and I had to wrap the falling crimson tears in cloth.

“The orcs are right at our doorstep!”

“When will the Margrave send reinforcements?! The entire territory is on the verge of falling!”

“With the orcs’ strategy, the main forces can hardly move from the border…!”

From what I gathered, a faction within the Bennet clan, seeking power, incited allied clans to revolt under the pretext of taxes.

Yet, the Bennet clan had no intention of full-scale war, focusing only on defense against the Margrave’s punitive forces.

Taking advantage of the gap in the border’s defenses, the mercenary orc clans—Sorb and Bend—launched their attack.

Backed by the Bennet clan’s instigation, they ravaged the borderlands without restraint.

Our territory, though not particularly wealthy, was perfectly positioned as a rallying point on their invasion route and was no exception.

“They’re offering surrender… on the condition of a special hostage.”

“…A special hostage?”

“That is… The orcs demand the lady’s personal attendance.”

“…….”

“And when orcs demand women as hostages, it’s usually…”

Pillaging marriages.

The steward, who had returned as an envoy, couldn’t finish his sentence, but it was a well-known custom among them.

Especially when one of them had killed my father and made a cup from his skull.

My mother would rather die than surrender her body to such a man.

“……Tell them I will prepare.”

“Mother?”

“……But at least swear that they will not lay a finger on my son. That is all I ask.”

“…….”

My mother, not yet past thirty.

Her words and my father’s last command to protect her intertwined within me.

It was around then that the legends of ancient Germanicus or Saint Olga struck my mind like lightning.

And that flash of insight gave me the first real conviction that I might not be powerless.

What followed was swift.

Anger, despair, reason, tears, regret, longing, childish omnipotence, knowledge, vengeance, the lingering pain in my small palms,

and responsibility.

Guided by them, I persuaded the people to lure all the orc chieftains into the castle.

I had them hold a feast to get the orcs drunk.

And when the time was ripe, when they were all swaying from intoxication, I had the doors locked and set the fire.

……The orcs’ screams as they burned were so intense, sparks flew like mad.

I still vividly remember a few strands of my hair singeing from the heat.

‘……If you had done this to us, you would’ve boasted about it being the most cunning stratagem ever.’

History is full of such proofs.

What’s cunning and brilliant when you do it is vile and cruel when the enemy does it.

Thus, this was nothing but retribution.

The price for touching my family.

……It would’ve been easier if I could’ve just thought that and moved on.

“……Ugh…!”

The stench of orcs being burned alive was so nauseating.

I vomited everything I had in my stomach.

Looking back, wasn’t that the day I truly began living in this world?

A day of rebirth, so to speak.

Only, it wasn’t a baptism of oil and holy water, but of fire and smoke.

“Are you feeling alright?”

A day later.

After the lecture, His Excellency the Margrave, who had left me alone for a while, cautiously called for me.

Had my dazed state been noticeable? I hurriedly replied.

“Why would I be unwell?”

“Thinking too much gives anyone a headache. At least, that’s how it seems to me.”

“Haha…”

I forced a bitter smile and pulled out a thin sheet of papyrus instead. I had supplementary assignments to finish from yesterday.

It was also an attempt to show I was fine, but His Excellency seemed deeply concerned.

“About that mock battle we hastily arranged yesterday.”

“Yes.”

“If it’s too much, I can take your place. How about it?”

For him to offer first meant his worry was no small matter.

“……To be honest, shouldn’t I be the one worrying about Your Excellency?”

“That may be so, but…”

“They might seize any excuse to demand something. If you, my lord, step in, what should be a personal matter could escalate unnecessarily.”

“But Her Highness the Princess glossed over the situation. There was no real need for a mock battle in the first place.”

That was true.

Honestly, it all started from a trivial argument… and even that wouldn’t have happened if I had just held my tongue a little.

It wasn’t even a productive discussion.

Just circling around until we angered each other.

“……The ideal solution would be mutual apologies. That Darco person to us, and me to him. Then we could resolve this without further anger.”

“True. But the problem is things rarely go ideally.”

Margrave Luitpold Albert von Belletia crossed his arms.

“It’s a bit awkward to say, but the topic you provoked isn’t something I can smooth over with an apology. He’s staked his clan’s pride, and I must now stake my territory’s honor.”

……Right. That was the issue.

This couldn’t be resolved with simple mutual apologies.

Since Darco had publicly decried the unjust deaths of his clansmen and kin, the Margrave had to justify his actions.

Once it became a political matter rather than a personal one, a mere apology wouldn’t suffice.

Especially when justifying those actions would be seen as utterly despicable by anyone.

Luring the enemy leaders under false pretenses and assassinating them—

It was a breach of guest rights and diplomatic decorum, no matter the motive.

This wasn’t something to brush off lightly.

Of course, the Margrave might believe someone of his stature could bend.

But admitting that would shake the very foundation of the territory’s stability.

He wasn’t the type to overlook that.

And—

“Even if an apology is necessary, it shouldn’t come from you, my lord.”

I remember.

The knights of the Margrave’s domain who saved our territory from the remaining orc forces after the chieftains fell.

And this man, not yet Margrave at the time, who urged them to rally all available forces for our rescue.

I had already realized he had risked being misunderstood to obscure accountability.

Thus, he no longer needed to do so, and I could no longer flee from the responsibility I had to bear.

“A vassal who acted recklessly must at least ensure his lord’s dignity remains untarnished… And since it’s my doing, I should be the one to end it.”

“If you insist so strongly, I can’t very well stop you.”

Well, “ending it” might be an overstatement, but this issue must be resolved somehow.

Wasn’t it my rashness that started it all?

“Don’t worry. I’ve thought it through this time.”

I grinned and showed him the papyrus covered in writing.

Our Princess’s neat handwriting spelled out, “You didn’t half-ass this, did you?”

I declared confidently:

“I won’t lose, and your dignity won’t be tarnished.”

With my resolve settled, the Margrave and I headed to the arena at the appointed time.

There, senior Darco waited with his group, looking somewhat sullen, while a few spectators had gathered, sensing the tension.

‘No sign of the Princess.’

She must still be busy with other matters.

Even though she arranged this.

“You’re here.”

“Yes.”

After a brief exchange, I looked up at the towering orc. He still cut an imposing figure.

Staring at his face, I spoke.

“This matter is strictly between… Senior Darco and me, correct?”

“Hmph.”

“I can’t accept an actual duel, but this could be considered one in its own way.”

“So, what’s your point?”

“Let’s keep this personal. Whatever stakes or demands we make.”

Yesterday, I might’ve struggled to say this, but a day’s cooling-off had given us time to think.

“……Fine. But if I win, I’ll demand an apology from you. Any objections?”

“None. I’ll demand the same.”

“Good. No pointless chatter—this is cleaner. I’ll match your environment settings. That’s the rule.”

“Thank you.”

Facing a man unaware of the full story, I slowly shook my head.

How would he react if he knew I was the true target of his fury?

Uncertain, I focused first on settling the surface conflict.

I gazed at the crystal display and reached for the surging text.