Shortly after the bout ended, Crow carried Fie to the sick bay to receive treatment for her leg. With that, Fie’s squire test was over.
Although she had suffered a muscle cramp, Fie was lucky enough not to have sustained any heavier injuries. After receiving some treatment, was able to walk once more. Saying that he was needed elsewhere, Crow had left Fie as she was. After a while, she found herself in a corner of the arena, hugging her knees and crying.
(Lucky? No, that means nothing...)
Even though she was able to move her legs, she would still be trapped in that tiny pavilion. Whether her legs were healthy or not, Fie’s life hadn’t changed at all.
(It’s over...)
Fie’s battle was over. And so were her hopes and dreams.
“Ha, frustrated, aren’t we?”
From above, a voice. The visage of Crow filled Fie’s eyes as she lifted her head ever so slightly.
As Fie hadn’t exactly announced her location, it would seem that Crow had taken the pains to locate her amongst the crowds of candidates.
“Have you come to pity me...?”
Crow could not help but smile wryly at Fie’s statement as she rubbed her nose and stared up at him with an adequately dark expression. This amused Crow — to think that a few hours prior, this very youth before his eyes had been so familiar and vulnerable.
“What’s the matter? Suddenly taking on that abrasive attitude.”
“I don’t need your pity...”
Indeed, Fie did not need anyone’s pity. Crow would probably just say one of the few cliched phrases: that there were more chances in the future, or to work harder next time. Fie didn’t know the frequency at which these tests occurred. Another one might not be held again until next year.
With time, even those useless, good-for-nothing guards could be fired and replaced. If they were replaced with actual guards who did their jobs, she would never be able to do anything like this ever again.
In fact, that may happen as soon as tomorrow, and she may never be able to set another foot out of the back pavilion.
That was why this had been Fie’s last chance.
“It... It’s over for me...”
“Ahh... You lost, and that’s that. Yet you’re making a face as if your life is over!”
(But that’s right, Crow. It IS over... My life is over...)
“Oh, I should probably let you know that you passed.”
You passed.
Fie thought she was just hearing things, for a moment. However, there was no mistake about it. Crow had clearly said, “You passed.”
“H-Huh? What? W-Why..!?”
“What do you mean huh and why? No one said you would fail upon losing, right?”
(Well... I guess there is that. But normally...)
“It is true that winning is advantageous to your application... And those who win in the semifinals are guaranteed a spot in the Royal Knights. But that isn’t all there is to it. Why, exactly, did you think knights like us bothered to look at the candidates of the squire’s test? Did you think we were merely spectating? No, it is about searching for skills that one’s own platoon needs — or to pick up talented individuals.” Crow grinned at Fie. “There is one platoon captain who wants to take you as a squire. That’s what I’m saying. Congratulations, you passed. Isn’t that great, Heath?”
Fie could not believe her eyes as she clutched the piece of paper Crow had handed over.
Sure enough, Heath’s name was written on it. And next to that, the name of the platoon she had been assigned to — the 18th Knights.
(Huh...? 18th... Knights...?)
Fie cocked her head to the side.
The reason for that was that Orstoll, by right, only had 17 Knight platoons.
“Ahh, I get it. You don’t know about that. Rest assured, they really exist, you know. Well, there are some special circumstances, and they don’t exist in writing, but that’s just how it is. The other knights treat the 18th just like any other. Of course, if the squires graduate into knighthood, they are treated the same too. Actually, I’m in the 18th too. It’s... not like it’s a secret, clandestine unit or anything like that. Does that bother you?”
“N-No! Nothing like that at all!” Fie shook her head vigorously.
The fact that she had become a knight was enough for Fie — platoons and the like were more of an afterthought. Above everything, she was glad to be in the same platoon as Crow. As the conversation progressed, gradual realization crept across Fie’s being — she had actually passed the squire test.
“Uwaah... Sir Crow...”
With a huge burden lifted from her heart, Fie began crying even more than before as large gobs of tears fell from her eyes.
“Hey now. You’re crying even after you’ve passed? You’re really a handful, eh?”
Smiling, Crow held Fie’s head close to his chest, patting her head as he did so.
“This is the only time I’m gonna comfort a man, you got that?”
After Fie had her fill of tears, she followed Crow to the platoon assembly point, where the other knights were gathering.
“I mean, you have to greet everyone after all. Can you walk?”
“Yes! I’m fine!”
Crow could not help but smile with amusement once more at Heath’s current attitude — following him like a vigorously tail-wagging puppy; a considerable departure from the dark, sarcastic tone he had taken earlier.
“Ho ho, so you’re prancing about now that you know you’ve passed? What happened to that sharp tongue of yours just now? Pretty honest, aren’t you?”
“That... was because I thought I had failed for sure...”
Parting with her abrasive attitude, Fie responded with an intense blush, in addition to looking pointedly in the other direction. However, Crow was glad that his charge had seen it fit to smile so happily once more.
“So I wanted to ask! Why did I pass, anyway? Did they see a hidden talent for the sword in me?”
“No, it was because you were small and made such erratic movements.”
“Huh? What’s that supposed to mean!?” Fie sounded disappointed. After all, that was nothing like what a knight was supposed to be.
“And... because you’ve got guts. It just so happened that we were looking for someone like that. You passed because of that requirement, so don’t sit around complaining, you hear?”
With another of his wry smiles, Crow ruffled Fie’s hair, tousling it with his hands.
(Well I mean, that’s true, but...!)
Fie thought that there should be a more fitting reason for one to pass such a test.
“Our platoon seeks out and gathers specialists. Even if someone is relatively unreliable with the sword, if they have a special skill or talent, we’ll take them.”
“Unreliable... What can you do then, Sir Crow?”
“Me? Why, I can probably do a bit of everything. Kinda omnipotent, you know?”
“Huh...”
Placing a hand on his chin, Crow struck a pose to impress — and Fie could only bluntly think about how suspiciously unreliable he looked.
Eventually, the pair came to stand in front of what appeared to be a warehouse.
“We are sort of unofficial at this point in time. I mean, they can’t just build a new place for each platoon, so we’re borrowing this warehouse for now and modifying it to suit our daily needs and activities.”
Apparently, it was indeed just a warehouse.
“It’s actually pretty comfy inside, so don’t worry.”
Upon opening the sliding door, a wide central space was revealed — the contents of the warehouse were not crates, but instead a sofa and long table, smaller tables and chairs, and shelves adorned by the personal effects and weapons of the 18th’s members.
There were beautiful flowers growing in pots and planters. There were also cosmetics — why would there be beauty products in a place like this? In another corner, numerous bows and arrows rested on the shelves. Countless assembled mechanical constructs of unknown materials and springs. Hammers, screwdrivers, and a myriad of other work tools.
In addition to all that, four men were casually seated in various locations around the room.
“Huh. So you’re the fabled newcomer. Welcome.”
A normal-looking young man with no distinctive features greeted Fie, winking in the process.
“...”
A wordless and absurdly large man was next. He was even bigger than Gormus, and he sat silently in his specially-made, incredibly large chair. A single hand was raised in greeting. However, his movements were not threatening in the slightest — instead, it was a light, casual greeting, almost like a silent “Hey.”
“Hello.”
A stoic greeting from an equally stoic man was next — an eyepatch covered one side of his face as he greeted Fie without any sign of emotion.
“Well! I’ve heard the rumors but you really are kinda small aren’tcha? Welcome.”
A middle-aged man smiled and waved at Fie. Although he was a knight, he was dressed in what appeared to be work overalls.
“Um, yes. Thank you for having me.” Fie lowered her head as a sign of respect.
“The Knight-Captain will be here soon, so just wait patiently,” the plain-faced young man said, pouring a cup of tea and offering it to Fie.
It was a pleasant-smelling herbal tea.
(The Captain huh... I wonder what kind of person he is...?)
It was because of this particular person expressing an interest in Fie that she had become a knight.
Sure enough, echoing footsteps could be heard outside the warehouse. The door opened, and from beyond it came a youth — a familiar one at that.
(Ah... this person...)
With jet-black hair, blue-grey eyes, and a mask covering the upper half of his face, Fie could not quite make out his features. However, one could tell that he was a handsome youth, even with it on.
The moment that was etched into Fie’s memory — the moment when she had collapsed during the test. Is this all you’ve got? Does it end here? This was the person who had posed that very question to her.
The masked man looked around the warehouse slowly, before saying in a calm voice:
“Good. It seems like everyone is here.”
And so it came to be that the masked man stood before five knights and a single squire.
“Since we have a newcomer, I should take the time to introduce myself. I am the platoon captain of the 18th Knights, Yore.”
(This person is the captain of my platoon...)
Looking at the masked youth, Fie could not help but wonder...
(Why does he wear a mask...?)
However, Fie could not find it in herself to ask such a question of him.
And for good reason, too — Fie was worried that if she had done so, he would have been offended and dismissed her on the spot. Indeed, this masked youth known as Yore had a somewhat unapproachable, complicated aura.
Finishing his simple and straight introduction, Yore moved on to introduce the other members.
“I’m Conrad. Welcome, newcomer!”
First, it was the plain-faced man who gave his name, once again winking while doing so. He was young and of medium build, and possessed remarkably unremarkable facial features. Conrad did have a bright personality, however, in addition to what seemed to be a touch of hospitality, as demonstrated by the herbal tea he had offered to Fie a while ago.
Otherwise he was very much normal, without any special recognizable features — plain in every sense of the word. However, upon closer inspection, Fie had a vague sense that there was more to him than meets the eye.
(There’s something strange about him...)
Next up was the large, heavily-built man.
“...”
Wordless as usual, he instead held up a piece of paper, pointing to it before directing his thumb at himself. And then he winked. “Orbel,” the paper said.
“Orbel can’t speak. We leave the combat and weapons transport to him though, thanks to the body he was blessed with. His hobby is plant cultivation.”
As Crow added on to his explanation, Orbel took out yet another sheet of paper. It said, in clear letters: “Gardening.”
“Although it was his dream to become a knight and borrow some of the castle’s large gardens for gardening, we’re an unofficial platoon, so he can’t exactly do that.”
As such, he had taken to utilizing planters to plant many flowers instead — Crow explained, while Orbel sat with a slightly dismayed expression.
“I see...”
Upon hearing that, Fie could not help but feel sorry for him.
(If only that pavilion could be used for his purposes... That would be great.)
Although it was a small back pavilion, flowerbeds had been planted in the courtyard. However, in its long periods of disuse, much of it had all but returned to the wild. It wasn’t possible for Fie to reveal who she actually was and that she was not allowed out of the back pavilion. Also, it would be impossible for it to be loaned out to someone like Heath. In the end, it was a pointless idea.
“The flowers you have planted are very pretty, Sir Orbel. I look forward to the day where you can cultivate a full flowerbed.”
Upon hearing such a compliment, Orbel gave an embarrassed, but happy smile. Fie thought that he was quite a nice person.
“Parwick. I am this platoon’s long-range fire support.”
The eye-patched man introduced himself as such, concise in his mannerisms.
“He’s quite the archer, you see. To the point where he wouldn’t miss a target 200 meters away,” Crow added.
Fie thought that this was amazing. After all, the best archer in Daeman could only hit a target that was 120 meters away about 70% of the time — or so she had heard.
After Parwick’s introduction, the last to give his name was the middle-aged man in work overalls. In fact, he seemed to be the oldest in the platoon.
“I’m Garuge. Although I was chosen to be a knight, I make weapons and perform maintenance tasks more often. I also make tools. I don’t fight very much, see... After all, I’ve got quite a few years on me. Although I do some field engineering work from time to time.”
Garuge handed Fie a sword still in its scabbard. Its length was between that of a knife and the more commonly-utilized knight’s longsword — a perfect middle ground. It felt light and sturdy.
“A present. A gift for passing the test. For someone with your build, this length is probably the best fit. I’ve also modified her in various places so that she’s lighter. Don’t worry, though, she’s got as much strength in her as an ordinary blade.”
“Wow! Thank you very much!”
Although it was still in its scabbard, Fie attempted to swing the blade. The weight of the blade was, miraculously, not too different from the wooden sword she had used in the test, to the point where even someone like Fie could properly swing it.
Regarding the blade with sparkling eyes, Fie gladly sheathed the blade into her waist-belt.
“Let me know if you want me to make anything. If it can be made, I’ll make it for you.” Garuge’s smile had a mature edge to it.
It could be fairly assumed that the unknown mechanical constructs Fie had seen on her way in were Garuge’s creations. Fie thought that she wanted to ask him about them when she had the chance.
With this, everyone in the room was introduced.
“Well actually... There’s one more person, but he’s currently away on a special assignment. You know, a bit of an outing. I’ll introduce you when you eventually meet him.”
And so according to Crow, there was one more person in the mix. Next was Fie’s turn.
“My name is Heath, and I have been accepted into the 18th as a squire! I’m still very new at this, but I’m very glad to make your acquaintance!”
Fie bowed her head deeply, with both hands placed before her in a ceremonious manner. It felt like she was giving a typical bride’s greeting before she was to be married off.
Placing a free hand on Fie’s head, Crow added on to her introduction.
“Apparently, he was born in Teornoah. Well, that’s all I guess. Let’s all get along.”
(Huh...?)
Fie hadn’t revealed where she had been born to Crow. His proclamation didn’t line up with where Fie was actually born — in addition to not matching her fictional profile either. To begin with, she had never heard of a place called Teornoah.
“I see.”
“Understood.”
“Yeah, sure!”
However, the four knights present quickly accepted Crow’s statement as fact.
In reality, “Teornoah” was a code word used amongst knights to refer to children of illegal immigrants, children of the poor who had no nationality due to their circumstances, or children who had run into issues with the law. Although individuals who become knights are given an official citizenship in Orstoll, such is not the same for squires, who were technically illegally staying in Orstoll for the duration of their training.
As such, these children were widely referred to as “from Teornoah” by members of the Royal Knights, and they were not to be harassed for their nationality (or lack thereof) during their time as a squire.
Crow had assumed that Heath was the child of illegal immigrants, primarily due to the tattered clothing that Fie was wearing when they had first met, in addition to her thin, almost pallid features. And then there was the affair of Fie crying tears of joy upon biting down on a kebab — not to mention the dirty tricks she had employed during her bout with Gormus.
Crow had very much believed that his assumption was on point. However, now Crow had his doubts — that unique way Heath had mocked his opponent, for example. It was too clean for a gutter child — the blond hair and deep blue eyes too, almost as if he were royalty. It wouldn’t be too strange if his original country of birth had fallen, its monarchy crushed, and he had been forced to escape to another country, whereupon he then fell into poverty. All these were plausible scenarios in Crow’s mind.
(I’m sure he’s seen some stuff...)
Even Crow thought that he wasn’t quite acting like himself — to think of this pint-sized youth with such empathy. He felt that something about Heath made him want to help him.
To the Heath who was currently confused and apprehensive about this newfound nationality, Crow communicated that he would explain later, whispering in Heath’s ear.
And so Heath nodded obediently.
Fie felt overwhelmed — to Fie, all of the introduced knights so far seemed to have amazing skills or abilities. She began to question her place in this platoon, losing some confidence in herself.
“Um, I... I may not be that good with the sword, but I’ll... train hard from now on... I’ll train until I can’t anymore... And I won’t fall over again! I’ll get better in combat... So...!”
Fie had no place to belong to but here. To that end, she was trying to demonstrate her worth, somewhat desperately. To those that had saved her life, Fie swore to become an individual worth training up — her future depended on it.
“Hey, Heathy. No need to make such a hard-pressed expression, you know? Just relax.”
“That’s right. You don’t have to overdo it, you know. You’ve still got quite a while as a squire after all.”
The words of consolation came from Conrad and Crow.
(Everyone in this platoon is so nice... I’ll work hard so they don’t get rid of me!)
To Crow, it was more important to deal with the injuries Heath sustained today, as opposed to thinking about if Heath would make a good knight in the future or not. It was something he had noticed today — but he assumed that Heath had a particularly trying upbringing, and as such only seemed to think and assume in extremes. Although the young squire was currently being calmed and consoled, it only seemed to strengthen his resolve.
If this were allowed to go on, he would definitely injure himself again.
“Hey, Hea—”
“Heath.”
Crow had thought to intervene before Heath could hurt himself through one reckless act or another, but before that, someone else had already acted on the same thoughts.
(Knight-Captain Yore...)
Yore stood before Fie, speaking in a low and quiet, but resonant voice. In those blue-grey eyes, there was no pitying smile, no rage-filled glare. They simply looked at Fie in a piercingly straight and serious way.
“I need you. That is why you have been assigned to this platoon. If that were not the case, you would not be here in the first place. So, take pride in that and stand proud.”
You are needed.
Those words resounded inside Fie’s chest.
Needed.
To most people, Fie might as well have been made of air. She was the princess who never once drew her parent’s eyes — it did not matter whether she existed or not.
Still, she did have servants. She was a princess after all. Though the ones who bad-mouthed Fie were those very servants themselves. Even so, Fie felt grateful to them, if only because it was due to their care that Fie had lived to see this day.
There were people who worried about Fie’s well-being from the bottom of their hearts. Her sister, her friends, and some of the maidservants — there were not too many of them. And Fie liked them all. However, they gained next to nothing for taking care of Fie. It was one sided — and Fie could do nothing for them in return.
And so, eventually, there was no one who needed Fie to exist.
This was the first time.
The first time that Fie had heard that she was wanted by someone.
The first time.
In Fie’s life, the first person she met who told her she was needed and wanted was...
Captain Yore.
(This person is... the first person to ever... From the day I was born, to tell me that he needed me...)
“What about it, Heath? If you understand my words, respond.”
Those straight, serious eyes stared into hers — conveying that his words were the truth, and nothing but the truth.
As if to pick herself up, Fie — Heath, without much thought, gave a loud, sincere, Daeman-accented response to her platoon leader.
“Yes, Cap’n!”
And so, amongst kind individuals such as Crow, and the captain who needed her, Fie started her new life.
As Heath headed towards the squire dormitories, Crow remained behind to speak privately with Yore. The other members went back to their respective duties, training, or rest.
“So... He walked out with a huge smile plastered across his face,” Crow said. “Just as you said, he seems happy.”
“I only stated the truth.”
Crow’s words to Yore were somewhat informal — almost familiar
.
Although Crow was by no means cowardly or deferential, his tone of voice was much like that of addressing a friend of many years, not his platoon captain.
To Yore, who had proclaimed to have said the truth without so much as a shred of shame — Crow smiled mischievously, turning his head slightly to the side.
“But then, if he had known of your true identity, he would indeed be very surprised... Wouldn’t he, Your Majesty, King Roy?”
Crow particularly emphasized the “majesty” part of his statement, if only because he normally would never refer to Roy as such. The two had known each other for far too long for formalities like that.
“I’ve told you before to not refer to me by that name when I have this mask on, haven’t I? I don’t intend to tell Heath until he graduates from being a squire. This is a matter of national secrecy after all. I wouldn’t want to burden him any more than necessary.”
In truth, the 18th Knights Platoon was a unit that reported directly to the King.
However, no matter how one put it, it was a bit of an issue for the King to personally lead a platoon of knights. And so with a nom de guerre of “Yore” and a mask covering his face, Roy had begun to lead the platoon in an unofficial capacity.
Although this information was only known to the ranks of platoon leaders and above, Roy was a being of superb charisma. Even as Yore, he received deep admiration and respect from other knights.
There were two reasons to keep all of this from Heath — in addition to maintaining the required secrecy, there was also the need to stop Heath from somehow trying to prove himself, or from feeling belittled. Although Heath was “needed,” and hence recruited, he was still but a squire. Hence, it was important to have Heath concentrate on his training — and that was what Roy had wanted, a practical measure.
“Well, let’s change the subject. About Princess Fie... Do you think she’s innocent? Or guilty?”
Crow posed the question with a somewhat more serious expression.
“Who knows? I don’t. I have left the subject of that woman up to Cain. Both the information gathering, and any decisions from here on out. If she is guilty, I will be informed. That is all.”
“Hey hey. Are you serious?”
“I am a busy man. I have my appointments as the king, and there are many things about Princess Fielle that I have yet to investigate. To even spend a second thinking about that woman is but a waste of time. If she is guilty, I have no intentions of forgiving her. If she is innocent, I have no intention of getting involved with her. She went ahead of her sister, the true princess, to come to Orstoll on her own. Even if I were to meet her, it would just be unpleasant.”
While it was sad, this was how the people of Orstoll viewed Fie. An arrogant woman who latched onto her sister’s marriage of love. A brazen woman who placed herself between the two because she could. A pitiful wretch of a woman who arrived in Orstoll before her sister, the true princess, did — all in a bid to curry favor with the King.
However, no one could see, much less understand, Fie’s frustrations behind this entire affair — much less how her situation had nearly made her give up on living.
“Well, if that’s how you see it, I won’t say anything about it.”
“More importantly... about Heath. He certainly has usable talent — maybe even guts. But mentally he doesn’t seem all that stable. I’ll leave the follow-up on that to you.”
“I would do it even if you didn’t tell me to. Heath is like a little brother to me. You should train him sometime. It seems like he really admires you.”
“If there is time.”
To even offer his time to someone or something, under the assumption that he would have said time to spare to begin with, was a somewhat high degree of care coming from Roy. After all, it was Roy, who had both his duties as a king and a knight, offering a portion of his time to tutor Heath — in other words, Heath had at least that degree of intrinsic worth.
“I’m sure he will be very happy if you train him. Why, just a few hours ago, he was making such a depressed face — as if he were going to die, because he thought he had failed the test. And now, that same face filled with hope came bounding all the way here.”
“That boy will be one of the knights whom we entrust the future of our country to. It is a good thing.”
However, King Roy did not know...
That the supposedly arrogant, troublesome woman that he had pushed onto a subordinate had in fact taken the squire test, and had been assigned to his personal platoon.
He really had no idea...
That the Heath that had bounded in with such a hope-filled expression to this warehouse
containing the headquarters of the 18th Knights Platoon, had originally been forced into depression by his very own hand... It would be quite some time before Roy would severely regret his decisions and judgments with regards to this particular event — enough to violently dash his head against the wall willfully...
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