How Could the Villainous Young Master Be a Saintess?

“Nice eyes, blue-haired kid. You remind me of those dusk wolves on the prairie—every one of them with light blazing in their eyes, never backing down even when they’re facing beasts much bigger than they are.”

The big tribal rider turned his horse away as he spoke in that lazy, drawn-out tone.

Obviously, he’d never planned on actually making a move on them from the start. He’d just ridden over to scare people.

After all, they were wearing Carillian Academy uniforms, and they were surrounded by Carillian Academy teachers and students. A few instructors had already noticed what was happening over here and were heading their way.

Worst-case, even if things really did go sideways, Carillian Academy had already discussed this trip with the northern tribes’ leaders ahead of time. If something went wrong now, the tribes would be the ones taking the blame.

These tribal people were rough, but they weren’t stupid.

“People aren’t beasts. Strength and weakness aren’t decided by size,” Vinny called after the departing riders.

“I can feel the aura on you. You’re definitely not some weakling who can’t decide his own fate.”

The tribal captain tightened his reins, dropped that line, and left.

Vinny watched the riders’ backs in silence, getting his first rough grasp on how these tribespeople worked.

The weaker you were, the more you swallowed your anger, the more they looked down on you and stepped on you. On the other hand, the stronger you were, the more you showed your strength and hardness, the more likely you were to win their respect instead.

That was the northern tribes’ law of survival: the weak were meat, the strong were food-eaters. In their eyes, any misfortune that happened to anyone could be summed up with one sentence—“You weren’t strong enough.” That was their rule.

They only respected the strong.

So, when the ancient Tyrelis Empire was at its zenith, when it smashed the tribal coalition head-on and easily routed them, cutting down the tribal chief of that era, all those tribes had instantly knelt. They’d expressed their willingness to pay tribute and bow to the Tyrelis Emperor and the Head of House of Carillian.

If he remembered right, one book had put it like this: when you’re weak, the northern tribes are a wolf—a wolf that might take your life at any time. But when you’re strong enough, the northern tribes are a dog—a docile, obedient dog.

After the Tyrelis Empire fell, the kingdoms and principalities that had once bowed to the Carillian line all declared independence. The northern tribes were naturally among them.

The Tyrel Empire, which styled itself as inheriting the orthodox mandate of the ancient Tyrelis Empire, of course also had the ambition to reunify the Tyrelis Continent. But when the ancient empire collapsed, it fractured into far too many little principalities. Some of them acknowledged the Tyrel Empire’s orthodox status, some stayed neutral, but most of them sneered at the Tyrel Empire’s claim of being the true continuation of Tyrelis.

Because of that, the Tyrel Empire had no choice but to beat every last one of those principalities into submission first—give them all a good thrashing.

Only after they’d beaten those principalities into obedient little brothers, willing to follow them willingly, did the Tyrel Empire turn its spearhead toward the Kingdom of Camella. They demanded that Camella, too, follow the old Tyrelis imperial system and pay tribute to the Tyrel Empire.

The result was the King of Camella flatly refused.

The two nations went to war with each other, but neither side managed to truly do anything decisive to the other. The Tyrel Empire also worried that bleeding itself too hard before it had consolidated its own strength would only spark rebellion from its restless lords. Under that pressure, it was forced to sign an armistice with the Kingdom of Camella instead.

Even though the two countries had been at peace for many years now and relations had eased somewhat, it would be a stretch to call their relationship “good.”

Camellans blamed the Tyrel Empire for starting the war. And the Tyrel Empire, on its side, really couldn’t understand it—on paper, by legal succession, it was the orthodox heir. Asking Camella to pay tribute was just a formality, just “joining” the Tyrel Empire in name. So why was the Camellan royal family so dead set against it??

Meanwhile, while the two countries were fighting, in corners no one paid attention to, the tribes had already gone from the chaotic, civil-war state they’d fallen into after the Tyrelis Empire’s collapse to a unified force, and had begun to expand outward.

Gradually, they extended their claws toward the Moon Elves. Logically speaking, Moon Elves should have been something the tribes would think twice about provoking. The tribes themselves were a loose structure; no tribe truly accepted another’s rule.

It was at that moment that a powerful warlord was born—someone who unified the fragmented northern tribes and then steadily devoured the forces around them. When their army turned its spearhead toward the Moon Elves, the Moon Elves actually lost to that integrated northern tribes force.

No one knew if it was that the Moon Elves had suddenly dropped the ball, or that the unified tribes had simply become too strong. Either way, the Moon Elf kingdom was defeated and conquered by the northern tribes.

As that tall mounted tribesman’s figure shrank into the distance, Shicodale’s condition didn’t improve at all. He still huddled behind Vinny, afraid to lift his head, shaking like a frightened little white rabbit.

She’d probably been dragged right back to the scars of her homeland being invaded by tribesmen and the memories of her kin and family being enslaved and slaughtered.

Vinny didn’t say anything. He just patted Shicodale’s back in silent comfort.

Right then, Fecolin walked up beside Vinny and Shicodale. From the moment he’d seen the tribal cavalry ride up to them, he’d already started heading over in silence.

“Damn it. A big lump of a man on a big horse, and he’s still got the nerve to bully kids.”

Trust Fecolin—he took one look at the retreating cavalry and immediately swore, spitting on the ground. “Whose genius idea was it to pick a dump like this for a study trip, huh?”

“You two don’t take it to heart. The guy’s already half buried in the ground, and the only thing he can still do is lean on his realm and bully a bunch of freshmen. Relax—with your talent, give it a few years and someone like him won’t even be able to touch either of you.”

Fecolin glanced at Shicodale as he spoke.

“Teacher Fecolin, weren’t you going to meet the local guide you were supposed to link up with?” Vinny asked.

“I found him. We’ve already linked up. What I didn’t expect was that bunch of cavalry coming over just to make their presence felt a bit.

Fecolin looked toward the tribal cavalry. They were now in talks with the other Carillian Academy instructors.

This sort of thing obviously needed to go through the motions.

“Anyway, just stick with the main group from here.” Fecolin glanced at the march of students and teachers ahead of them.

Clearly, almost all the students had noticed the cavalry on the hillside. Everyone was sneaking curious looks that way.

Even knowing those cavalry weren’t going to just randomly attack them, seeing that neat line of tall, lightly armored riders holding lances up on the slope still pressed on people’s nerves.

You couldn’t help picturing it: in some ancient low-magic era, if you ran into cavalry like that thundering downhill from the high ground, would the people standing below really have had any option besides waiting to die?

The carriages that had ferried the students and instructors here were now on their journey back. The tribal cavalry were mostly staring up at the unicorn carriages streaking across the sky. It was obviously their first time seeing something like that.

To be honest, they couldn’t understand how the people sitting inside could stay nice and steady without getting tossed all over the place.

In reality, all of that was thanks to the dense, advanced enchantment inscriptions engraved on the unicorn carriages, packed as tightly as fine scales. Those inscriptions created an extremely stable travel environment inside the cabin.

That was technology passed down from the ancient Tyrelis Empire. Supposedly, every single component used its own unique material and inscription. Just hearing that was enough to tell you what kind of cost and technical level went into a single unicorn carriage. And on top of that, you needed to find a unicorn that was willing to pull people.

That was definitely not something an ordinary national power could afford.

Leading Shicodale along by the hand, Vinny looked around, scanning the crowd nearby for familiar faces.

Aesphyra, Mirexia, Isatia—even Milian—he didn’t see any of them.

They were probably in carriages further away. After disembarking, they’d ended up some distance from him.

Thinking about it, that was probably for the best. If Milian had seen that scene just now, she’d probably already have gone bristling straight up the hill to pick a fight with those cavalry.

Once they’d rejoined the main group and there were no tribespeople around, and with Vinny’s attempts to soothe him on top of that, Shicodale’s state noticeably improved. At the very least, he dared to lift his head again.

Watching the students being herded along by their teachers, Vinny had no idea why, but he suddenly got this déjà vu of grade-school spring outings from his previous life.

Honestly, it wasn’t even that different. It really was a spring outing.

Vinny looked around. The pasture here was incredibly rich. Aside from a few scattered hills, most of the area was flat, endless grassland, which only made the tall barren mountain in the distance stand out even more.

“Hey, little bro Vinny! So you were here? Finally found you.”

Just then, a familiar voice rang out behind Vinny.

“Ferdi?” Vinny turned his head. Unsurprisingly, he saw Ferdi’s big familiar face.

“Yo, little sis Dale—cough, I mean, little bro Dale, you’re here too!”

Ferdi spotted Shicodale and, once again, reflexively tagged him as a girl.

“Ferdi, you forgot again?”

“Yeah, yeah, my bad, my bad. I keep mixing it up. Sorry about that, little bro Dale.” Ferdi turned to apologize to Shicodale.

“It’s fine, Brother Ferdi.” Shicodale shook his head obediently to show he didn’t mind.

Because Ferdi often came to find Vinny for cards, he’d gotten to know Shicodale too. But even now, Ferdi still blurted out “little sis” every time he opened his mouth. He just hadn’t managed to correct himself yet.

Ferdi counted as one of the people Shicodale was more familiar with. Seeing so many familiar faces gathering around, plus teachers and classmates he knew, Shicodale slowly calmed down.

He still couldn’t help recalling a lot of ugly things from the past, and the fallen homeland and suffering clansmen of the present, but Shicodale now understood that bringing it up and chewing on it again did no good.

Like classmate Vinny had said—if you already know it’s a lump of that stuff, why keep “tasting” it over and over? People have to look forward.

If you drown in the past, you’ll never move toward what’s ahead. The real priority is figuring out how to take back what belongs to you and save your own people.

“By the way, I thought I saw a tribal cavalryman ride over toward you just now. Did I see that wrong?” Ferdi brought it up.

“You didn’t.” Vinny told Ferdi what had happened earlier.

“Wow, what an asshole.”

Looking at the still-a-bit-pitiful Shicodale, Ferdi clicked his tongue. “Doing crap like that and then sprinkling chili powder on a survivor’s scars—what a piece of animal shit.”

“Little bro Dale, don’t you dare take someone like that to heart.”

“Thank you, Brother Ferdi.”

Having someone speak up for him warmed Shicodale’s chest. He thanked him. As for why he called him “Brother Ferdi,” it was because Vinny called him “Old Bro Ferdi,” so Shicodale had just followed along.

“Exactly.”

Vinny glanced back at the low hill from before. The cavalry were already gone; there was no sign of them now.

“In this world, anyone who leaves other people’s families broken and dead deserves to die,” Vinny murmured, dazed.

Ferdi looked at Vinny and stayed quiet. He knew what Vinny had gone through growing up, and could only silently pat his shoulder without saying a word.

The three of them walked together, chatting on and off.

“Oh, right, little bro Vinny—since it’s a rare study trip, you brought your cards, didn’t you?” Ferdi suddenly asked with a grin.

“I knew you were going to ask that.” Vinny snorted. “Of course I brought them.”

“Good, good. If you hadn’t, who was I supposed to farm for free wins on this trip?”

“Get lost. Drop dead. ‘Farm for free wins’? Did you already forget that crushing loss you suffered last time??” Vinny said with undisguised contempt.

“Crushing loss? Where was it a crushing loss? I clearly just got careless and didn’t dodge, that’s all. You barely scraped out a win. Where was it a crushing loss??” Ferdi protested.

“Oh? You’re not convinced?”

“Yeah, I’m not. This time, I’m definitely taking my pride back!” Ferdi laughed.

“Take it back? That depends on whether you actually have what it takes.”

Watching the two of them bicker, Shicodale’s lips curled up at the corners and he let out a soft laugh.

This kind of familiar, light everyday life let him forget some of the pain that earlier memories had stirred up.

Life at Carillian Academy, aside from his childhood, was the happiest time he’d ever had.

Back then, he’d had his parents, retainers, and clansmen who loved him. After his homeland fell and he fled to Carillian Academy, he should have lost everything, and yet he’d met new people.

New people who were willing to treat him well.

Even though he was useless in every respect, they were still willing to accept him.

With that thought, Shicodale turned to look at Vinny, who was still arguing with Ferdi beside him, and his smile sank in even deeper.

Before long, the Carillian Academy group drew closer and closer to the distant mountain.

“Hey, little bro Vinny, little bro Dale, you see that mountain?”

“Yeah. Isn’t that mountain where we’re camping for this study trip?” Vinny raised a brow.

“Yup. But do you know what that mountain’s called?” Ferdi pressed.

“No idea.” Shicodale and Vinny answered in sync.

“Heh, see? You don’t know. Let me tell you then—that mountain’s called Kamov Mountain. It’s an extinct volcano sitting right on the northern tribes’ border.”

“This terrain has an extinct volcano?” Vinny’s tone turned odd.

“Who knows? Back in the primordial era, there was a great war of the gods. The whole continent was torn to pieces back then. Because of the effects of divine power and magic, a ton of weird landforms got left behind.” Ferdi spread his hands.

“The hot-spring inns on Kamov Mountain are a really famous tourist spot, you know. Good thing it’s the off-season right now.”