Sword Emperor, Becoming the Young Lady of a Viscount House

Chapter 45: The Suspicious Girl (2)

Beatrice was utterly furious.

‘What on earth was that behavior?’

She hadn’t been able to address it properly during the battle—the shameful conduct of the cadets.

Even Argos, who she had trusted, had let his guard down for a moment.

Undoubtedly, if the cadets had been just a bit more composed, just a little bit more...

-Zap.

Her wrist wouldn’t be screaming in pain like this.

“Everyone, gather around. I have something important to say.”

Beatrice spoke at an appropriate volume. Her golden hair fluttered in the wind.

-Gulp.

‘Here it comes.’

‘Damn it, I thought we might get away with it.’

The cadets exchanged glances, each immersed in their own thoughts.

**

“Do you even have a shred of sense in your heads?”

“……”

“Letting your guard down in the middle of battle is bad enough. But what about those who didn’t participate at all?”

“……”

“Is this the mindset of people preparing for war? I can’t even begin to understand.”

-Sniffle.

“You there! Stop crying! How old are you?”

“S-seventeen……”

“I’m sixteen, you pathetic fool!”

Of course, in reality, she was nearing fifty, but that didn’t matter at all.

She had slain monsters at seventeen when she first picked up a sword and killed her first human at eighteen.

‘If you’re incapable, I won’t say anything.’

In terms of raw ability, these cadets were even stronger than she was. Beatrice was merely a girl whose mana capacity had only recently increased due to consuming the Mana Heart.

She could barely take down an orc, let alone a goblin.

“…I have nothing to say. I’m sorry, Beatrice. We were of no help to you.”

Argos spoke with a tone of regret.

Among them, Argos had been the most active. He had slain at least ten monsters.

In contrast, most here hadn’t managed to kill even one.

The cadets began to speak.

“We’re sorry.”

“…We’ll make sure to help next time.”

“I feel like I committed an unforgivable sin. I’m ashamed of myself.”

Beatrice let out a sigh.

‘Is it really right to go to war with these people?’

They were supposed to be the ones commanding others under the hierarchical structure of this world.

But a commander who wet themselves over a few monsters, not even on a dire battlefield?

From the enemy’s perspective, that would be a blessing. Without a doubt, even if they were given knights to command, they’d squander it all.

She smirked and said,

“Apologies won’t be necessary. Live or die as you please. I won’t care anymore. If you’re human, you’ll at least learn something from this.”

The cadets lowered their heads further.

Even the lively Clone.

Even Argos, who was always brimming with confidence.

Even Gareth, who, while somewhat arrogant, at least had some competence.

None of them could refute Beatrice’s words, which sounded as though she had given up on them.

The battlefield had been scarier and more terrifying than they had imagined.

It was nothing like the playful monster hunts they had undertaken under guaranteed safety.

The fear of truly losing their lives—this fear had brought about such results.

What excuse could there be?

Ironically, the one who had stood most firm was Beatrice, who outwardly appeared to be the weakest among them.

Only two individuals in the group managed to keep their heads held high.

Seria, and…

A girl with a clueless expression, blinking as if to say, ‘Miya doesn’t know anything!’

‘…Now that I think about it, Reiser did say she seemed suspicious.’

Beatrice recalled the past. As the saying goes, there’s no smoke without fire. If Reiser found her suspicious, there was probably a reason for it.

Beatrice, not one to ignore expert opinion, turned her gaze toward Miya—

-Zap.

Her wrist throbbed again, prompting her to speak to Seria.

“Seria. Can you heal me? I’m injured.”

“…Your wrist hurts, doesn’t it?”

Seria’s gaze was fixed on Beatrice’s wrist.

Even without Beatrice explicitly saying so, the red swelling was enough to make it clear.

“Yes.”

Seria, having seen the situation herself, couldn’t bring herself to scold her.

The problem was…

“I’m… unable to heal you right now.”

“…Why not? It hurts like hell.”

Of course, the pain was bearable.

But as a swordswoman, even minor discomfort in her wrist was intolerable.

Seria cast a sidelong glance at the cadets and spoke.

“I’ve already used up all my healing sessions for today… because of the other cadets.”

Beatrice understood the circumstances.

Those useless, pathetic crybabies had drained Seria’s healing abilities.

From what she remembered, not a single cadet—really, not even one—had sustained serious injuries.

She sighed so heavily it felt as though the ground would cave in.

‘They’re no help at all.’

If they weren’t mere comrades on the battlefield, she would’ve made them wet themselves again.

-Grit.

Beatrice clenched her teeth, suppressing her anger.

After closing her eyes briefly, she called out several names.

“Argos.”

“…Yes?”

“Gareth.”

“…What is it?”

“Clone.”

“…Don’t call me Clone. Call me Coward.”

“Tar. Luce.”

Beatrice spoke.

“Follow me.”

**

The criterion for the names Beatrice called was simple.

The ones who were at least somewhat capable.

At the very least, those who hadn’t wet themselves.

She was angry, but she thought she needed to find a way to make use of them.

The monster hunt wasn’t over yet. They had just been ambushed.

‘This is an opportunity. It’s probably the only real combat test in the training program.’

In other words, this was the only chance to gain real combat experience. Beatrice felt a sense of duty.

If she wanted comfort on the battlefield, she needed to improve their abilities to some extent.

There wasn’t enough time to train everyone, so she only called those with potential.

“Beatrice, why did you call us?”

-Beatrice stopped abruptly.

She halted at a spot where her voice wouldn’t carry to the camp.

“You are the five strongest. That’s why I called you.”

“…!”

Beatrice didn’t think a few words could change a person.

People who could change would’ve done so already, or they would’ve changed without being told.

But.

She believed experience was different.

It was an undeniable factor that could make a significant difference.

Beatrice thought that in order to help them grow, they needed experience.

At least for these five, their issues were more about lack of experience than fear.

‘I’ll start by changing them.’

“The rankings are as follows: Argos, Gareth, Luce, Tar, and Clone, in that order. If anyone has an issue, speak now. I based this on my personal assessment after crossing swords with all of you.”

The rest were average at best.

Even if there were differences, they were negligible.

The five named had no objections.

They all thought similarly, at least internally.

However, they were curious.

What was Beatrice planning?

“I’ll take that as no objections. Now, I’ll tell you why I called you.”

Competition drives human progress.

There’s a saying that humans are “born to discriminate.”

When someone discriminates, the discriminator or even bystanders think one of two things.

‘This feels great,’ or, ‘I shouldn’t end up like that.’

No one likes being discriminated against, so it’s a natural response.

This drive is more powerful than one might think.

Beatrice had experienced it firsthand—the strategic value and political gains that simple discrimination could bring.

This was also a fundamental principle embedded in Torze Officer Academy.

The Crown Prince likely intended this.

‘I’ll perfect it for him.’

Beatrice decided to support the Crown Prince’s strategy.

Using her modern knowledge.

Thoroughly.

Though it pricked her conscience—

It was far better than letting them die pointlessly on the battlefield, a million or even ten million times better.

“I was deeply shocked today. Watching people lose their senses and do absolutely nothing even with the enemy before them.

You, at least, rolled up your sleeves and did something.

But those others? They just lay there and pissed themselves.”

Beatrice split the group into two halves.

She made them recognize that they were fundamentally different from the others.

“That’s why I’m worried.

On the battlefield, can I trust them enough to have my back?”

“…We also…”

“No.”

Beatrice was firm.

“You. You. And you.”

She pointed at all five of them with one hand.

“I could see you giving your best. You were just a bit clumsy. But compared to them!”

-Bang!

Beatrice struck a nearby tree with her sword, a gesture to express her frustration.

“What about the others? Gareth, let me ask you one thing.”

Beatrice deliberately singled out Gareth.

‘Even a bat can be medicine if used right.’

She figured he would give the answer she wanted.

Gareth looked at Beatrice with a serious expression.

“We are nobles. Are we not?”

“…Yes.”

“Nobles must uphold honor. Correct?”

“…That is also correct.”

“Then, pissing oneself in front of the enemy—is that honorable?”

“No. Never.”

“Can someone without honor be called a noble? Should they even be acknowledged as one?”

“At least, I think they should not be acknowledged.”

“Exactly.”

Beatrice now turned to look at all of them.

“I don’t want to treat them as fellow nobles.

If anyone here knows me, they know I’ve always respected everyone.”

Of course, she was just saying this.

The cadets strongly agreed.

Despite her immense strength, Beatrice had never belittled anyone or behaved overly rudely.

Even in a system designed to promote blatant discrimination, Beatrice had remained relatively quiet.

It was all because of her.

The strongest among them refrained from discrimination, and so the others followed suit.

This was a fact even Beatrice herself didn’t know.

The cadets had long been watching her carefully.

This was due not only to her strength but also to a unique aura she naturally exuded.

An aura that made people want to follow her.

Just like now.

“I don’t want to hold back anymore.

No, I shouldn’t.”

“…Then what should we do?”

Gareth looked ready to die if Beatrice told him to.

He was a pragmatic and rational man.

Every word Beatrice said resonated deeply with him—it was like she was speaking directly to his soul.

“Humiliate them.

Humiliate them openly.

Don’t treat them as nobles—or even as humans.”

“…Beatrice! That’s too harsh.”

Argos, who had a fundamentally righteous nature, protested.

Gareth shot a cold look at Argos and said,

“Why don’t you listen to the end first? Do you think Beatrice is speaking thoughtlessly?”

“……”

“The monster subjugation has only just begun.”

Beatrice continued as if nothing had happened.

“When the subjugation begins, at least the five of you will take the lead—with the knights.”

“…!”

“To discriminate, you need qualifications.

Otherwise, there will be backlash.

This means you need to establish justification.”

This was the key point.

To give them valuable experience.

But Beatrice had no intention of stopping at improving just these five.

“The criteria for harassment are simple.

Those who hunt monsters versus those who do not.

Be as harsh as possible. Gareth, your role is particularly important.”

In her eyes, Gareth was perfect for this.

His previous actions had already proven that he was a master of nagging and scolding—it was practically an art form.

Such roles suited people like Gareth.

Argos, being too soft-hearted, couldn’t handle it properly.

“Understood.”

“Good.

For the rest of you, if you don’t want to be harsh, focus on hunting monsters. Especially you, Argos.”

Argos hesitated for a moment, then bit his lip and nodded.

He understood too.

This was reality and the most reasonable approach.

“And do you remember the ranking I just mentioned?”

“…I remember.”

“Make it obvious to the others.

Assign small tasks in front of them and show that they follow orders without question.

Let them understand the concept of ‘hierarchy,’ just as I have.

And Gareth.”

Gareth nodded.

“Climb to the top as quickly as possible.

As soon as we return, grab anyone and challenge them to a duel. Win. Can you do that?”

-Smirking.

Gareth raised one corner of his mouth and nodded again.

“It will be easy.”

“Good.

And remember.

This plan isn’t about discriminating against anyone at random.

Nor is it about discriminating against the incompetent.

It’s about discriminating against cowards.

Useless burdens who waste air and bring harm.

If someone steps up with courage, praise and elevate them.

That way, they’ll strive to outperform the person next to them.

Do you understand?”

Beatrice’s words ultimately conveyed one thing.

In her dictionary, freeloading was no longer an option.