“Miss Brisa gathered us at the training grounds, right?”
“So I heard.”
The morning at the Marquess Sayers estate was unusually noisy.
“They say that since the Marquess is away, she claims to have command over us.”
The knights immediately scoffed.
“Hah!”
Brisa Sayers.
Proud, arrogant, and the very image of an insufferable young noble lady.
Naturally, no one was thrilled to hear orders coming from her.
“Command authority? Don't make me laugh. How old is she again?”
“Twelve. Though I hear her personality is something else.”
The knights grumbled among themselves.
“Did you hear? Three days ago, the Marquess personally went to speak with her, and she wouldn't even open the door.”
“Hah. A blatant insult. Just because our Marquess used to be a mercenary raised among commoners!”
“Do you really think a girl like that even sees us as human beings?”
Their dissatisfaction had long since reached its limit.
Before leaving for the capital after the funeral, Alpheus had expelled the estate steward after discovering his embezzlement.
As he left, the steward had shouted:
“How dare a man with commoner blood drive out someone who has faithfully served House Sayers for decades? Lady Brisa will never forget this!”
At that moment, the knights who had fought alongside Alpheus through life and death finally realized something.
The people who had served the estate for generations never truly accepted them.
No—
They looked down on them.
One of the more neutral maids had once said:
“A mercenary becoming a marquess is a little embarrassing, don't you think? House Sayers is an ancient and prestigious family.”
“And what's wrong with that? What exactly is our Marquess lacking?”
“Well... for example, he can't speak any foreign languages. Lady Brisa speaks five.”
“Have those languages earned a single coin for this territory? Thanks to the Marquess, the urgent debts were paid off, and we now have a knight order as capable as the Imperial Knights!”
“But he grew up like a commoner. Lady Brisa graduated second in her class from the Capital Academy. The former Marchioness personally educated her from childhood.”
The finances of the Sayers territory were far from healthy.
Yet the old servants still carried themselves with immense pride, which the knights found absurd.
“The former Marchioness? The one they said suffered from madness?”
“Watch your tongue. She was the Fifth Princess of the Kingdom of Liente.”
“Princess or not, do you know how much debt she accumulated through her extravagance? Our Marquess paid it all from his own pocket. Thank goodness she passed away two years ago. If she'd lived longer, there wouldn't be a grain of wheat left in this estate.”
Meanwhile, Brisa had locked herself inside her room for the past three days without showing her face.
As far as the knights were concerned, the servants' contempt reflected her own thoughts perfectly.
A noble girl who had never achieved anything through her own efforts.
A spoiled child who had spent the territory's dwindling wealth attending the Capital Academy.
A twelve-year-old incapable of objectively understanding the situation.
And now that Brisa had summoned them.
Once everyone had gathered at the training grounds, Vice-Captain Philip stepped forward with a scowl.
“Good. This is actually perfect. I'll formally protest and crush her arrogance once and for all.”
“But she's still the young lady of the marquess house, Vice-Captain. Besides, the Marquess explicitly ordered us not to cause trouble until he returns from the capital.”
“What does a twelve-year-old know? The problem is the fools surrounding her. I'll criticize them, not her. Then she won't have any grounds to object.”
Philip lifted his chin.
“The truly disrespectful ones are them. The Marquess is the ruler of this territory! How can his own servants openly look down on him?”
Just then, the doors opened.
Brisa appeared.
Platinum-blonde hair cascading to her waist.
Beautiful sky-blue eyes.
A straight posture that suited her elegant dress perfectly.
Accompanied by a maid, the twelve-year-old walked into the training grounds at an unhurried pace.
“Greetings, Lady Brisa. I am Philip Oris, Vice-Captain of the Knight Order.”
Philip approached her and spoke stiffly.
Brisa stopped and stared at him.
Blocking her path, he continued.
“I've been hoping to meet you.”
The maid behind Brisa looked at him as if to say, How dare you?
Philip didn't care.
He had been a mercenary and knew little about noble etiquette. More importantly, years of watching Alpheus be looked down upon by the estate staff had left him deeply resentful.
“It seems your surroundings are filled with people who fail to understand reality and possess nothing but useless pride.”
He expected outrage.
A sharp rebuke.
Then he would dismantle her arguments one by one.
Instead—
“You're right.”
Brisa answered calmly.
Philip froze.
“That's exactly why I wanted to meet all of you.”
For a moment, he was speechless.
Under the gaze of his subordinates, he scrambled for another prepared argument.
“I-I had no idea you enjoyed listening to the nonsense of people who don't know their place.”
“Well... I do it often.”
Brisa replied indifferently.
“Like right now. But it's exhausting. You can't really call something a hobby if you don't enjoy it.”
Several knights immediately lowered their heads, desperately hiding their laughter.
Only Brisa's maid glared daggers at Philip.
The murderous look on her face was so absurd that Philip barely managed to continue.
“Does House Sayers have no custom of reprimanding insolent subordinates?”
“Not exactly. But when you're busy, sometimes you have to let things slide.”
Brisa's expression never changed.
“So I'm letting it slide right now.”
Philip finally shut his mouth.
With effortless elegance, she had completely shut down the argument.
Brisa walked past him and climbed onto the platform.
The young girl, whose appearance was almost identical to her older brother's, gazed down at the assembled knights.
Her cool eyes swept across them.
There was an authority in that gaze that none of them had expected.
Without realizing it, the knights straightened their postures.
What exactly had she gathered them here to say?
The atmosphere turned tense.
Then Brisa finally spoke.
“I've heard all of you were originally mercenaries from various regions of the Empire.”
There it is!
The discussion of origins.
The same thing the maids constantly whispered about—their lack of noble pedigree.
The knights stiffened.
“Is it true that mercenaries will do absolutely anything as long as they're paid?”
Philip inhaled sharply.
“Lady Brisa! T-That wording is far too harsh!”
Brisa seemed pleased.
“So you're not denying it.”
The knights' faces twitched.
“Then I have an order.”
As the knights stared in alarm, she began counting on her fingers.
“Anyone who has lived for more than three years in Airs, Kiberona, Sezeil, Liberel, or Antvenal—raise your hand.”
The knights exchanged confused looks.
What did those regions have in common?
Were they havens for criminals?
Bandit territories?
Places where people went to erase their identities?
Were those who had lived there about to be expelled?
Nevertheless, it was an order.
Slowly, several hands went up.
There were quite a few.
Philip's was among them.
Brisa called them forward.
Standing before the nervous group, she asked with utmost seriousness:
“Which of you has experience farming potatoes?”
Silence.
A long, stunned silence.
Brisa continued in complete earnestness.
“The regions I just named are some of the Empire's largest potato-producing areas. You've all lived there for years.”
Her blue eyes swept across them.
“Surely at least one of you knows how to grow potatoes?”
