IMYL 3

Chapter 3

“They say Miss Brisa gathered us at the training grounds. Is that true?”

“So I heard.”

Morning at the Sayers marquisate was unusually noisy for the knight order.

“With the Marquis absent, she claims she holds command authority over us.”

At that, the knights snorted.

“Hah!”

Brisa Sayers.

A haughty, arrogant little girl who perfectly embodied the stereotype of an insufferable noble.

There was no way they could welcome orders coming from her mouth.

“C-command authority? Don’t make me laugh. How old is that miss again?”

“Twelve. But they say her personality is something else.”

The knights complained one after another.

“Did you hear? Three days ago, the Marquis himself went to see her and asked to talk… and she didn’t even open the door.”

“Hah! She outright insulted him. Just because our Marquis grew up among commoners as a mercenary!”

“Do you really think that kind of miss even sees us as human? Honestly.”

Discontent within the knight order had already reached its limit.

After the funeral and before leaving for the capital, Alphius had expelled the butler who was caught embezzling from the marquisate.

As he left, the butler shouted this:

“How dare someone with commoner blood drive out someone like me, who served Sayers loyally for so long! Miss Brisa will never forget this!”

At that moment, the knights who had shared life and death with Alphius realized something.

The people who had lived long in the marquisate did not accept them.

No—more than that, they despised them.

Even the most neutral conversation they’d had with a maid went like this:

“A mercenary-born Marquis… honestly, it’s a bit embarrassing, isn’t it? Sayers is such a venerable house.”

“And what’s wrong with that? What exactly is our Marquis lacking?”

“Well, for example… doesn’t the Marquis not speak any foreign languages? Miss Brisa speaks five.”

“Did those foreign languages earn even a single coin? Thanks to our Marquis, we paid off urgent debts, and we now have a knight order as capable as the Imperial Knights!”

“But he grew up like a commoner. Miss Brisa graduated second in her class from the Capital Academy. The late Marchioness personally educated her from a young age.”

The finances of the Sayers marquisate were far from healthy, yet the long-serving maids still held their noses high—which struck the knights as absurd.

“The late Marchioness? The one who supposedly suffered from madness?”

“Watch your words. She was the Fifth Princess of the Kingdom of Riente.”

“Princess or not, do you even know how much debt she racked up through luxury? Our Marquis poured out all his personal wealth to repay it. It’s a good thing she passed away two years ago—if she’d lived on, there wouldn’t be a single grain of wheat left in this estate.”

Meanwhile, Brisa had not left her room once in the past three days.

Because of that, the knights firmly believed that the maids’ scorn and contempt reflected Brisa’s own will.

A noble miss who had never done anything by her own power in her life.

A spoiled child who squandered the estate’s already meager resources just to attend the capital’s academy.

A twelve-year-old throwing tantrums without even grasping the situation.

And yet—that very Brisa had suddenly summoned them.

Once everyone had gathered at the training grounds, Vice-Captain Philip strode forward, bristling.

“This works out nicely. I’ll lodge a formal complaint and break her spirit properly while I’m at it.”

“But she is a young lady of the marquisate, Vice-Captain. And the Marquis ordered us not to cause any trouble until he returns from the capital.”

“What does a twelve-year-old know? The problem is the people around her! I’m not going to criticize the miss—I’ll criticize them. Then she won’t have anything to say.”

Philip lifted his chin.

“Who’s the one without respect or a sense of hierarchy here? The master of the marquisate is the Marquis! Does it make any sense for the servants of the estate to look down on him?”

Just then—

The doors opened, and Brisa appeared.

Platinum-blond hair cascading in waves to her waist, beautiful sky-blue eyes, and a straight posture that suited her dress perfectly.

Accompanied by a maid, the twelve-year-old girl walked into the training grounds at a pace neither fast nor slow.

“Greetings, Miss Brisa. I am Vice-Captain Philip Oris.”

Philip stepped forward and spoke in a stiff tone.

Brisa stopped and stared straight at him.

Blocking her path, he continued.

“I have been hoping to meet you.”

Brisa’s maid shot him a glare that screamed How dare you!

But Philip paid it no mind.

He was a mercenary unfamiliar with noble etiquette, and his resentment had already piled up after watching the commander he revered—Alphius—be blatantly disrespected by maids.

“It seems those around you are filled with people who cannot grasp the situation and cling only to useless pride.”

She’ll get angry and ask what I mean, he thought. Then I’ll rebut her point by point—

“That’s true.”

Brisa replied calmly.

“That’s why I asked to meet you.”

Philip was momentarily speechless.

Under the watchful eyes of his men, he barely recovered and delivered the next line he had prepared.

“I didn’t realize indulging in the nonsense of those who don’t know their place was your hobby.”

“Well… I do end up doing it often, but it’s not a hobby.”

Brisa answered indifferently.

“I’m doing it right now, and it’s extremely tiring. You can’t call something you dislike a hobby.”

At that moment, the knights lowered their heads sharply, struggling to suppress their laughter.

Only Brisa’s maid behind her glared daggers at Philip.

The maid’s ferocious stare was so absurd that Philip barely managed to continue.

“Does the marquisate lack any custom for reprimanding the rudeness of subordinates?”

“Not exactly. But when things are busy, it’s sometimes unavoidable to let it slide.”

Brisa replied without changing her expression.

“So I’m letting it slide for now.”

Philip finally shut his mouth.

Having blocked the argument with effortless elegance, Brisa passed him and took her place on the platform.

The girl, who looked just like her older brother, gazed down at them quietly.

The cool sweep of her eyes carried a commanding presence no one had anticipated. Without realizing it, the knights who had been standing casually straightened their postures.

Just what did she gather everyone here to say?

In the chilled atmosphere, she opened her mouth without expression.

“I hear you’re all former mercenaries from various regions of the Empire.”

There it is.

She was bringing up their origins from the very start.

Just like the maids whispering about them as people without proper roots!

The knights stiffened, staring up at Brisa.

“Is it true that mercenaries will do absolutely anything, as long as the money’s good?”

Philip sucked in a sharp breath and protested.

“Miss! Th-that’s far too harsh a way to put it.”

Brisa looked satisfied.

“So you’re not denying it. In that case, I’ll give an order.”

Amid the knights’ stunned gazes, the girl counted on her fingers one by one.

“Those who have lived for three years or more in the regions of Ayers, Kyverona, Sejeil, Riberel, or Antbenal—raise your hands.”

They glanced at one another.

What did these regions have in common?

Hideouts for criminals?

Bandit territory?

Easy places to erase one’s identity?

Were those who’d lived there about to be expelled from the knight order?

Still, it was an order.

Several people slowly raised their hands.

There were quite a few.

Philip was among them.

Brisa had them step forward.

Facing them as they stood tense, she asked in a grave voice,

“Which one of you has farmed potatoes?”

Once again, silence fell.

Brisa added seriously,

“The places I listed are all major potato-producing regions in the Empire. You lived there for quite a while—surely at least one of you has experience, right?”