Chapter 9

It happened in an instant.

But Rodella, with her sharp eyes, soon realized that what he had crushed, thankfully, wasn’t the Red Knight’s waist, but the sword at his waist.

The Red Knights, looking down at the crumpled lump of metal that could no longer serve as a sword hilt, began to tremble where they stood.

Aivert said to those knights, “You’ve probably heard, but I have trouble controlling my strength. Are you perhaps interested in a sudden, accidental demise?”

As the Red Knights, understanding his words, hesitantly backed away.

Aivert quietly lowered his head and whispered to the owner of the sword hilt, in a voice just loud enough for him to hear.

“Get lost before I accidentally smash your face.”

“…!”

He was truly someone who could do it if he wanted to.

With that final nail in the coffin, the knights instantly put distance between themselves and him.

“We’ll… we’ll deliver what we have to say in writing!”

The Red Knights, running away with their backs poorly exposed, seemed inexperienced.

They probably haven’t clashed much with the Azure Knights yet.

Should she be thankful he controlled himself this much?

To feel gratitude for something like this.

Rodella secretly smiled, realizing her profound distrust of Aivert.

Well, anyway, it was true that he had cleanly driven away the scared troublemakers.

She said to Aivert, who returned calmly dusting off his hands, “Say it with words, with words.”

Those guys, it was clear they would shamelessly demand compensation for emotional damage and sword production costs from the Azure Knights.

Of course, compared to the 700 million in damages, it wouldn’t even be a speck of dirt, but it would still negatively impact their finances.

“How can I use words when they don’t understand words?”

Rodella, who had no idea that Aivert, dusting his hands, was distinctly remembering their faces in his mind, only sighed at his leisurely remark.

Then Aivert suddenly said to her, “You seem used to it.”

“To what?”

Rodella’s face as she asked back was indifferent. Aivert narrowed his eyes.

“Those kinds of words.” I don’t like you hearing such things.

But Rodella shrugged, as she didn’t even consider that level of trouble to be a big deal.

“Compared to the troublemakers who come to the General Affairs Department, this is just charming.”

Anyway.

Rodella glared at Aivert.

“You lied about not being able to control your strength!”

If he couldn’t control his strength, the sword hilt wouldn’t have been crumpled so “prettily” that it merely served as a threat.

“Ah, I was just angry then.”

It seemed the Azure Knights needed to be taught patience first.

Her gaze habitually dropped to her wristwatch.

It was almost time for afternoon training.

“This won’t do. There’s no special training today, right? Gather all the knights.”

She turned back towards headquarters.

“Why?”

“To train them.”

“You?”

Aivert tilted his head.

“Yes. You too.”

Rodella gave him a pretty smile.

* * *

What do the knights need training for?  

The Azure Order could answer that easily:  

Someone to break, someone to get broken, something to break, and something that gets broken.  

That was enough.  

But the atmosphere in today’s training grounds was… different.  

This felt less like training and more like—  

“Is this a banquet?”  

There was a lot of food.  

Oddly enough, it looked like someone had taken a personal grudge against a chicken coop—there were hundreds of baskets filled with fresh, raw eggs.  

“Nope. Training,” came the flat reply.  

Standing confidently amidst it all was the newly appointed administrator of the General Affairs Department, Rodella Syverick.  

The knights stared at her blankly, unsure of what to make of this.  

Then she spoke, her tone calm and matter-of-fact.  

“Each of you, take a basket. Move thirty eggs into an empty basket. That’s all.”  

“…What?”  

The knights looked at each other in confusion.  

‘Is this a thing now? Training in the General Affairs Department?’  

No way. That department was filled with desk jockeys. What kind of “training” could possibly come out of there?  

But a few quick-witted knights cautiously stepped forward.  

Whatever the case, when someone gave an order in the knight order—you followed it.  

And this task? It looked way easier than their usual drills. Just moving eggs.  

“If we finish this, is that the end of training for today?”  

One of the knights asked.  

Rodella nodded. “Of course.”  

“Whoa!”  

That brought a few more forward.  

Their thoughts were nearly identical:  

Every time a new General Affairs officer came in, they tried something weird.  

But of all the past ones, this one might just be the most normal.  

Previous officers always came with the same goal—  

“Bring discipline to this rabble of low-borns!” 

So they’d spew useless threats and preachy lectures.  

This? This was normal. And safe.  

Besides, wasn’t this the fiancée of their Vice-Commander?  

Someone who’d known him since childhood?  

Whenever a weird administrator showed up, the knights would band together to drive them out.  

But not this time.  

They’d never had one who actually seemed reasonable.  

‘Let’s just go along with it!’

“Finish this, and we all go home on time!”  

The first to step up was Sir Lanark.  

Standing over two meters tall, packed with muscle, he was known outside as the Shield of the Azure Order, and inside as the Bear.  

Playful, eager to volunteer, and once he decided on something, as stubborn as a bull.  

“I’ll be the first to finish, ma’am!” he shouted enthusiastically.  

The reply came from right beside Rodella.  

“Address her properly. It’s Dame Siverick.”  

That low voice belonged to none other than their Vice-Commander, Aivert.  

He did not look pleased.  

“Eep—yes, sir!”  

Lanark thought, ‘He’s definitely mad she wasn’t treated with enough respect. What a sweet couple. They must be getting married soon…’ 

“But Vice-Commander, why are you standing over here?”  

It wasn’t strange for Rodella to be polite—General Affairs officers typically addressed vice-commanders formally.  

“…?”  

Aivert tilted his head, confused—only for Rodella to smack his back.  

“You’re part of the training too, Vice-Commander.”  

“Oh.”  

With that odd little sound, Aivert was shoved into the middle of the training grounds.  

Lanark’s expression twisted in confusion.  

‘Wait… this doesn’t look like the sweet couple I was picturing.’

Did they… fight?  

No one would have guessed there was a contract between the two.  

But whatever.  

What mattered was the “training”—and the sweet freedom waiting on the other side.  

“Here I go!”  

Lanark shook off his thoughts and grabbed an egg.  

At first, his movements were careful as he transferred them to the new basket.  

After a few successful tries, his confidence soared and his speed increased—until…  

CRACK! 

The egg exploded, and the yolk splattered straight across his face.  

“Whoa—!”

Lanark stood frozen, a dumbfounded expression on his face, the raw yolk hanging from his lips.  

The knights watching him burst into laughter.  

“So much for all that confidence—what a way to embarrass yourself!”  

Teasing him as they laughed, a group of knights rushed forward and grabbed their own egg baskets.  

And then—  

Crack! Splatter!  

One by one, they began transforming into egg-covered messes.  

“Uh…?”  

A wave of confusion swept through the training ground as startled knights collided with those who had just been gearing up for their turn.  

A chilly silence settled over the scene.  

While Aivert watched with quiet amusement, Rodella spoke up.  

“As you’ve just seen, it’s not as easy as it looks.”  

She smiled sweetly.  

“As I said before—until each of you successfully transfers thirty unbroken eggs into your new basket…”  

She pointed toward the entrance of the training grounds.  

The very door she had locked upon arrival.  

“No one’s leaving.”