Chapter 40 - The Daffodil Blooming Beneath the Hooves (10)
Sssshhh! Whinny!
Sebastian's horse toppled, rolling over the ground and scraping to a halt, letting out a mournful cry. The startled spectators erupted in alarm.
"Ahhh—!"
Immediately after, Sebastian's scream echoed throughout the arena.
"Bereter!"
At Ernest's thunderous shout, Bereter, who had been ready to ignore the fallen horse and keep running, was jolted into abruptly slowing down. Up till then, Bereter had been entirely focused on victory and didn't even realize why he had stopped.
"...."
"Kk...aaah..."
Bereter came to a complete stop. The Balt Psychokinesis, which had gripped Sebastian—who was still clutching Ernest's hand as he hung there—so tightly as to be nearly crushing, began to settle down.
As soon as Bereter stopped, the Balt Psychokinesis covered both riders and their horses, pressing them down together and holding them perfectly still so nobody could move.
If Bereter hadn't stopped, the Baltracher would have killed the rampaging Bereter to prevent further harm, no matter what. Even for the most skilled Baltracher, it would have been nearly impossible to control such a large, powerful, out-of-control horse delicately enough to keep both boys from injury—and compared to a cadet, killing a horse was nothing.
Thanks to that, the worst didn't happen: Sebastian's broken leg, caught in the stirrup of the fallen horse and clinging to Ernest's hand, didn't get twisted completely off or torn away from being dragged and scraped across the ground. Ernest wasn't thrown off, either.
Thud, thud, thud, thud!
The two cadets, completely immobilized by Balt Psychokinesis, were passed by Rider No. 2 and Ferdinand as they swept by. Then, Rider No. 2 crossed the finish line in first place, with Ferdinand following in second. Ernest and Sebastian had come to a stop right in front of the finish line.
However, there was no cheering for the winner. Even those who had finished quickly left the course, dismounted, and rushed over, while the riders behind them stopped altogether.
"It's done. Let go."
As a Baltracher approached and spoke, Ernest realized he had no further reason to keep holding Sebastian's hand. When Ernest let go, the Psychokinesis, glowing with blue Balt Light, set him upright in his saddle.
Everything that happened next unfolded in a flash. The stirrup, which had twisted Sebastian's leg and held it fast, snapped cleanly, and Sebastian was gently lowered to the ground in that same position. Sebastian's leg had twisted from his ankle up to his knee, hip, and waist. Not only was the pain excruciating, but it was a devastating injury that could leave him disabled for life. He wouldn't be able to move a single toe.
"Shield the area."
"Yes."
Still, the Baltrachers showed no sign of agitation. A Balt Shield formed, shining brightly to block all outside eyes, as the First-Class Baltracher who had been with the high-ranking officers strode briskly into the arena. The Balt Shield parted just enough to let him through, then closed again.
"Well done. Krieger."
Although the Baltracher spoke, Ernest only stared at the Balt Shield obscuring Sebastian, his face pale as a sheet. In his ears echoed Sebastian's muffled scream, and his mind kept replaying the horrific sight of Sebastian's lower body, twisted and shattered beyond recognition.
"If you hadn't caught him, he might have fallen and died right then. You saved his life."
"…Yes."
The Baltracher spoke calmly to Ernest, and only then did Ernest snap out of it and manage a reply.
"How's your arm?"
At that question, Ernest realized a terrible pain was radiating through his arm and shoulder.
"It's not in good shape."
He had grabbed the much bigger and heavier Sebastian with one hand while riding hard. Worse, because Sebastian's foot was caught in the stirrup, the weight of the fallen horse had added unimaginable strain to Ernest's arm. Although Ernest was no stranger to all sorts of injuries, even he couldn't quite comprehend just how badly damaged his arm and shoulder were.
Still, the fact that Ernest could calmly assess his own condition and endure the pain in this moment showed he was truly extraordinary.
"Wait here for a moment. Neumann's case is more urgent, so I'll tend to you after."
"Yes, understood."
The Baltracher found Ernest's composure almost unsettling. To the Baltracher's eyes, Ernest's shoulder was dislocated, every tendon in his arm dangerously overstretched, and perhaps even his wrist or fingers broken. Even for an adult, it wouldn't be unusual to collapse in agony screaming from an injury like this.
But considering how Ernest had been frozen stiff just moments before recalling Sebastian's condition, it was clear—at heart, he was still just a boy. The Baltracher gently lifted Ernest's body up with telekinesis and carefully laid him down on the ground.
"…Bereter, I'm sorry."
With his right hand—the only part of him that was reasonably unscathed—Ernest stroked Bereter's sweaty neck and whispered softly.
Bereter glared fiercely at Ernest, his eyes burning with anger. Victory had clearly been within his grasp, but because Ernest had stopped to catch Sebastian, Bereter had lost, robbed of the win by another horse.
Whack!
Bereter shook off Ernest's touch and, with a powerful swing of his head, slammed into Ernest's right shoulder. With his left arm ruined, Ernest lost his balance and collapsed straight to the ground.
The Baltrachers reached out toward Bereter.
"Wait! It's fine!"
Ernest called out urgently. Bereter continued to snort, staring down at the fallen Ernest, but didn't attack any further.
The Baltrachers exchanged glances, intending for a moment to kill Bereter, but pulled back when their eyes met.
Unable to contain his fury, Bereter circled on the spot, pawed at the ground, then whipped his head and tail in frustration. Marching angrily over to the finish line, he kicked down the flag with his hind leg, then stormed off to the stable on his own.
"…He's a clever one."
Watching this up close, the Baltrachers realized that Bereter was not simply wild—he was remarkably intelligent. He understood the concept of the race perfectly and knew exactly where he was supposed to return. He was almost like a human.
With a sigh, the Baltracher helped Ernest back to his feet. Given the state of his left arm, even the slightest movement must have caused excruciating pain. It was clear that getting up on his own would've been nearly impossible. Yet, even under these circumstances, he hadn't let out so much as a groan—it was enough to make one worry if something wasn't quite right in his head.
"Is Neumann okay?"
"Krieger doesn't look so good either."
"So, what's going to happen with the results of the race?"
The crowd buzzed in confusion. Of course, they were concerned about the condition of the two cadets involved in the accident, but this also made it hard to determine a winner.
Naturally, Gustav, who was in charge of the event, was discussing the issue with others.
"If we're just looking at the results, neither of them actually crossed the finish line."
"But if things had gone as they were, Krieger would have won."
"In that case, we also have to consider that Neumann might have won if the accident hadn't occurred."
Debate broke out over how to interpret the outcome. It wasn't easy to just wrap things up hastily, given the prestige attached to the Silver Horseshoe Tournament.
As a tournament, there needed to be a winner. But no matter who was declared the victor, there were bound to be complaints.
"If we try to account for every hypothetical situation, we'll never reach a decision."
After much deliberation, Gustav spoke in a careful voice.
"We'll follow the rules."
Gustav decided to award first place in the finals to the number two rider, who was the first to cross the finish line. Naturally, that cadet would be the winner of this year's Silver Horseshoe Tournament. However, up until the accident, first place had belonged to either Ernest or Sebastian. The gap between them and the rider in third was so wide that, had the race continued normally, there would have been no real chance for anyone else.
Naturally, protests erupted. The clamor was so loud it was almost painful to listen to.
"Even though Neumann and Krieger didn't technically cross the finish line, it's true that they put on an outstanding performance worthy of an award."
In the midst of the confusion, everyone quieted down to listen to the small, gentle voice—because the speaker was Wilfried, son of Duke Ravid. Wilfried looked at Gustav with a gentle smile, his bright blue eyes sparkling along with his grin.
"Yes, so let's give them a special award separate from the Silver Horseshoe."
Gustav didn't hesitate to grasp the helping hand Wilfried had offered.
"Their exceptional skills certainly left an impression, but unfortunately, someone else crossed the finish line first. No matter what accidents may have occurred, we cannot overlook proper recognition for the winner. So we'll prepare a new award, not for their skill, but to honor their noble character."
Gustav spoke so smoothly, he made it sound as if the idea had been prepared in advance. He wasn't the type of man to be flustered and fumble in a moment like this.
"We'll create a new Silver Daffodil Award and present it to both of them
"Does that settle it?"
We'll craft a daffodil out of silver, symbolizing nobility, and present it as an award. It will be the very first Silver Daffodil Award given at the Silver Horseshoe Tournament. Both Ernest and Sebastian competed with honor and dignity, and, in the final moments, Ernest even caught Sebastian's hand and saved him as he was about to fall.
Gustav announced this decision to the still-confused crowd. Fortunately, no one objected. There wasn't a single fool who didn't understand that this was the best solution.
The award ceremony would be held separately at a later time. After all, they couldn't very well celebrate with cheers and applause while Sebastian was still being treated in the middle of the arena, hovering between life and death.
Out of respect, the spectators waited quietly for Sebastian's treatment to be completed. Even in that long, tedious silence, no one left their seat early.
After a while, the Balt Shield that had been concealing Sebastian during his treatment flickered off. Everyone turned to look. The officer's uniform draped over Sebastian's body was a deep blue, but it was now so soaked in blood that it had turned almost black.
Those who saw it whispered in alarm.
A First-Class Baltracher, looking a bit weary, glanced around and caught the eye of Headmaster Armin, who was quietly watching him.
He wiped the blood from his hands—though they still gleamed dark red—and placed them over his chest, giving Armin a confident smile and a slight tilt of the head.
"Waaah!"
No one failed to understand that he was signaling Sebastian had been successfully treated. At last, the cheers that everyone had been holding back erupted throughout the arena.
Armin nodded with a gentle smile, and finally, everyone breathed a sigh of relief and broke into delighted laughter.
If Armin hadn't made the decision to deploy a Baltracher in advance today, both Sebastian and Ernest might have lost their lives. Had the Bereter not acted up before the competition and clearly shown everyone how dangerous the situation was, Armin likely wouldn't have bothered stationing a Baltracher either. So, in a way, you could say that everything worked out thanks to Bereter. Or maybe not.
Sebastian was carried away on a stretcher. Though he was unconscious and his body was twisted and broken from his toes all the way up to his waist, he wasn't being stabilized with Balt Psychokinesis—instead, people were carrying him directly on the stretcher. It was clear he had made a complete recovery.
"Krieger."
"Yes."
Ernest, too, was able to receive treatment. For the first time, he was treated by a First-Class Baltracher, and the process was a bit... no, quite a lot different than he had imagined.
Crack!
"…"
The Baltracher reset Ernest's dislocated shoulder, then spent a long time manipulating his elbow, which throbbed with pain from overstretched ligaments, twisted his sprained wrist back into place, and pressed down hard on his broken thumb to realign the dislocated bone.
During this, blue Balt streamed into Ernest's body through the Baltracher's hands, soothing his injuries. Despite Ernest's endurance, the pain was so intense he nearly screamed, but after the lingering ache faded, all his wounds had healed perfectly.
Treatment with Balt was much rougher than he expected, and it required far more specialized medical knowledge than he had imagined. It wasn't the kind of miraculous power that just cured everything without any difficulty, as Ernest had vaguely believed.
"It wasn't a full break, so I didn't have to cut you open. But for the next few days, be careful with your left hand. And if anything feels strange, report to the Disciplinary Officer immediately."
And from what he said, it sounded like for more serious injuries, they would actually have to make an incision to set the bones. It's understandable why Sebastian ended up covered in blood. And even after treatment, things don't instantly return to normal.
Still, no one could dismiss the power that can completely heal even someone who should have died.
"Yes, thank you."
"You did well."
The Baltracher who treated Ernest's arm grinned and patted him on the right shoulder.
Every finger and his shoulder had been a mess, and the treatment involved pressing and twisting all his injuries. It was basically torture. Yet Ernest hadn't screamed even once. Judging by the cold sweat pouring down him like rain, he was clearly in pain—it wasn't as if he didn't feel it.
Adding that to his performance in the earlier match, the Baltracher felt genuine pride for this young cadet. Surely, everyone else felt the same.
"Krieger! Krieger! Krieger! Krieger!"
As Ernest approached the stands after his treatment, everyone chanted his name. Ernest, looking a bit embarrassed, glanced around awkwardly, then hurriedly slipped in among the First Years to hide.
"Krieger! You didn't win, but you're the main character today! Step up and say something!"
"Yeah! Are you really not going to say anything at a time like this?"
"Nope, I'm not going to say anything."
Everyone was hoping Ernest would say something inspiring, but he stubbornly refused.
The award ceremony would take place later, once the Silver Daffodil was completed and Sebastian had recovered. In the end, the finals of the Silver Horseshoe Tournament came to rather an anticlimactic conclusion.
For the record, Gustav himself would be placing a special order for the Silver Daffodil.
But he didn't regret the extra expense at all.
To him, spending a bit more money was hardly worth worrying about if it meant the tournament could wrap up safely despite the accident.
From now on, in all the Silver Horseshoe Tournaments to come, the Silver Daffodil Award would be given to the athlete who demonstrated the most honorable and noble performance. Gustav himself would be the one to present the very first award—an honor more than worth the cost.
"Ernest!"
As the crowd began to disperse, Robert called out to Ernest in an uncharacteristically excited voice. When Ernest turned around, Robert was looking at him with an expression he couldn't quite interpret.
"What is it?"
Ernest frowned slightly. He never knew what Robert might say at times like this, and that made him uneasy.
"...Ernest. Watching your growth and progress today, this Teacher Robert was moved to tears."
"What are you talking about? Are you crazy?"
"Even though you didn't win, Ernest, I witnessed with my own eyes the nobility you showed today."
Robert declared this with a solemn expression on his face.
"To give up victory at that moment and reach out to help someone else! The Ernest I remember—the one who used to grin while setting traps, eager to catch upperclassmen—would never have even imagined such a thing!"
As Robert exclaimed passionately, the First-Year Cadets gathered around Ernest began to slowly back away.
There was no way they didn't know what Robert was referring to: the infamous incident when, right after arriving at the academy, Ernest had set a trap and completely incapacitated a senior student.
"...Robert. Could you please shut up?"
"Ernest, there's nothing more I can teach you now. So, I'll just…"
Robert—who had been going on rather enthusiastically—darted away to hide among the others the moment Ernest stepped toward him.
That was it. If he pushed things any further, he'd end up paying for it once they were back in their rooms. "The Worst Guy," Robert, was truly deserving of the title—he always knew the perfect moment to tease Ernest to his heart's content and retreat to safety.
"..."
And as soon as Robert ran off, Marie—who had been hiding behind him—suddenly popped out. She glanced around nervously before carefully looking up at Ernest. Her face was still twisted in that fiercely defensive expression.
"…Hang in there."
Marie whispered this, then hurriedly shoved the other First-Year Cadets and ran away.
"Yeah, you hang in there too, Marie."
As she ran off, Marie clenched her teeth at the sound of Ernest's voice. She looked like a wild beast about to tear out someone's throat.
"Ernest, that was an impressive race. If not for what happened, the victory would have been yours."
Despite the slightly awkward atmosphere Marie had left behind, Ferdinand approached Ernest without concern and offered his right hand. Ernest took it, and they shook hands.
"You never know how things might turn out. Congratulations on second place, Ferdinand. That was tough luck."
Ernest spoke without a hint of regret, instead congratulating Ferdinand.
Ferdinand had finished second in the final. He missed first place by just one step, and since no one else crossed the Finish Line after him, he earned the highest points available for second place in the Finals, making him the overall runner-up.
Even though he didn't win, being runner-up was still an honor.
"Next time, I'll win fair and square, so you'd better be ready."
Ferdinand, looking unusually resolute for his age, smiled as he spoke. Ernest smiled back at him.
"Yeah, give it your best shot—if you can."
No one could accuse Ernest of being arrogant when he claimed he'd win for sure. He really did have the skill to back it up.
With that, Ernest and Ferdinand let go of each other's hands after exchanging a friendly handshake. The tension melted away, and everyone started laughing as they headed back to the dormitory.
"Ah! That was exhausting!"
"What was so exhausting for you, anyway?"
Robert, known as The Worst Guy for teasing Ernest earlier and then ducking out of sight, strolled up next to him, speaking as if nothing had happened.
"Didn't you hear me? I cheered so much that I completely lost my voice. You have no idea how hard it was for me."
"Oh, sure. I'm sure it was."
"You may not have won, but you still got a prize. And not just any prize—the first-ever Silver Daffodil in the history of the Silver Horseshoe Tournament! You can brag to your father about that!"
"...But wouldn't the Silver Horseshoe have been better?"
"Well, maybe. My father probably would have preferred the Silver Horseshoe too, but not all fathers are the same, right."
Ernest felt a little disappointed that he had ended up giving the Silver Daffodil to Haires instead of the Silver Horseshoe, which he had originally wanted to gift him. However, Robert cautiously guessed that Haires might actually like the Silver Daffodil more than the Silver Horseshoe.
It was like Robert had teasingly remarked earlier—this was proof that Ernest, who once showed no interest in others, was now willing to reach out a hand and risk himself for someone else.
Even after the Silver Horseshoe Tournament ended, the excitement failed to die down. To give an idea of how much things had changed: so many people—not just first-year cadets but even senior students—wanted to ride horses and learn equestrian skills with Ernest that he found himself in a rather tricky situation.
"Krieger."
"Neumann, sir."
Then, two days after the finals, Sebastian came to see Ernest, leaning on crutches. Sebastian's injuries had been so severe that, even after being treated by a First-Class Baltracher, he still couldn't walk normally on his own.
More than anything, Sebastian was mentally exhausted. The pain and terror of that moment still lingered vividly.
In truth, he barely even had time to feel afraid of dying. By the time he thought, 'I survived,' the agony of his twisted lower body had already left him half-unconscious. Also, while most people overlooked it because it seemed like a minor injury by comparison, Sebastian's right arm—which had clutched Ernest's hand—was not in perfect shape either.
What terrified Sebastian most was the possibility that he might become disabled. His back had been completely twisted. His spine was injured, and if he was unlucky, it could have meant death—if he was lucky, paralysis from the waist down.
Becoming an officer would, of course, have been out of the question, and he would have even lost control over his basic bodily functions. Everything Sebastian knew as his life as a human would have been utterly stripped away.
But even thoughts like these were only possible because he'd survived.
And if, in that moment, Ernest hadn't grabbed Sebastian's hand and had just kept riding to cross the finish line, Sebastian might not even be alive today.
"Thank you, Krieger. You saved my life. I'll never forget this debt."
Even with his haggard appearance, Sebastian's dark brown eyes sparkled as he expressed his gratitude to Ernest.
"There's nothing I can do for you right now. So I'll become an officer before you and establish myself. When the day comes that we meet again, make sure you let me, Sebastian Neumann, give you what you rightfully deserve."
"I didn't do it because I expected anything in return."
When Ernest looked uncomfortable, Sebastian answered in a solemn voice.
"It's the price of my life. Don't treat it lightly, but accept it gladly."
Faced with such sincerity, Ernest couldn't bring himself to refuse.
"All right When that day comes, I'll do as you say."
"Good."
Sebastian grinned and, leaning on his crutch, struggled to extend his right hand to Ernest. Ernest quickly grasped it, and they shook hands.
"Of course, even while we're at the military academy, if you ever need help, just let me know."
"If I ever need help, you mean."
"Hahaha!"
With a hearty laugh, Sebastian hobbled away on his crutch.
"Wow, he really is an impressive guy,"
Robert remarked in admiration as he approached, having deliberately stepped back so as not to interrupt the conversation between Ernest and Sebastian.
"Unlike you, that is,"
Ernest retorted sarcastically. Lately, The Worst Guy Robert had been running his mouth so much that Ernest was a little annoyed with him.
"Oh, as expected of the upperclassman hunter, Ernest Krieger! This time, you've snagged yet another older student."
"······."
"···Did I go a bit too far?"
Ernest didn't bother responding to Robert in words. Robert immediately tried to make a run for it, but after just two steps, Ernest caught him.
"Aaagh! Let go of me! This guy keeps going on about nobility or whatever—owww!"
"Tsk tsk tsk... You really should have known when to stop."
"He totally deserves this."
No one felt sorry for Robert as he got what was coming to him. He had been so relentless with his teasing lately that even bystanders felt angry just watching.
The next day, the Silver Daffodil that Gustav had urgently ordered was finally finished, making it possible to hold the award ceremony at last. Senior officers, including Armin, attended the award ceremony and added to the occasion.
After receiving the Silver Horseshoe, Ernest and Sebastian stood side by side to also be awarded the Silver Daffodil together. Unlike the Silver Horseshoe, which was about the size of a palm, the Silver Daffodil was a small badge, only as big as a thumbnail. Gustav, the head of the tournament, personally pinned the badge to the left side of Ernest's and Sebastian's chests like a medal, and amid cheers and applause from everyone, the tournament came to a close.
Even though it was a bit less impressive than the Silver Horseshoe, Ernest thought the Silver Daffodil was still more than enough. It probably wasn't because of the value of the tiny silver ornament itself, but because of the crowd cheering and applauding for him—and, more than anything, because their attitudes toward him had changed.
Ernest couldn't wait to give the Silver Daffodil to his father as a gift. However, even after Ernest received the Silver Daffodil, the reply from Haires that he'd been so desperately awaiting still hadn't arrived.
Before he knew it, summer had come.