#28
“You’ve completely lost your sense of judgment, sir! You’re trembling before an illiterate fool just because he calls himself a king!”
Everyone in the hall gasped at once and turned their eyes toward Baberi.
Baberi, who had been resting her chin in her hand and watching with amusement, raised an eyebrow when she noticed all the attention.
“Are you picking a fight with me right now?”
Well, if someone picks a fight, it’s only proper to accept it.
Baberi rose from her seat.
Seeing her approach, Medo grabbed Glady by the head and forced him to his knees.
“You idiot.”
Her voice mixed anger and regret. Glady suddenly came to his senses, realizing what he had just done—and fear struck him late.
“I beg your pardon, Your Majesty. I failed to discipline him properly.”
Medo bowed deeply, apologizing as though he had committed a grave sin.
Glady, lowering his head, saw the brown boots of Baberi standing before him and sucked in a breath.
“Look up. I want to see the face of the one who dared call me stupid.”
Glady trembled as he slowly lifted his head.
Before he could even register what was happening, a fist came flying—and darkness swallowed his vision.
“Smells like alcohol.”
Baberi frowned, grabbing the unconscious Glady by the collar.
“Who let this one drink?”
She pointed at the people sitting around where Glady had been.
“Was it you? Or you?”
Sabo was about to step forward and admit it, but Baberi waved a hand.
“Forget it. You’re all getting locked up.”
“Your Majesty, this is all my fault for not managing the knights properly! If you must punish someone—!”
Medo tried to intercede, but Baberi cut him off with a raised hand.
“Oh? You want to be locked up too? On your wedding night, leaving your bride alone?”
She hissed, shoving the limp Glady toward Medo.
“Lock him up properly. And tomorrow, when he sobers up, bring him to me.”
Dusting her hands off, Baberi glanced around the frozen crowd.
“Well? What are you all staring at? Keep talking. Keep partying.”
The next day, Glady was dragged before Baberi, pale as a ghost.
He knew full well he’d done wrong; even the slightest move from her made him flinch.
“You know your crime. You ruined the atmosphere of Baberania’s very first royal wedding.”
“I’m sorry,” Glady whispered so faintly it was like a mosquito buzzing.
Baberi looked down at the kneeling boy with clear dissatisfaction.
“How should I make you pay for this? I thought about it for—oh, a good fifteen minutes last night.”
Kill him? Exile him? The thought had crossed her mind.
But after about three minutes, she realized she couldn’t.
After all, she couldn’t afford to lose a single citizen right now.
She was trying so hard to gather more people; why get rid of one with her own hands?
“I hear you’re decent with a sword?”
According to Medo, this kid was quite capable—a skilled mercenary who’d ranked second in his old troop.
“Y-yes, ma’am.”
“Sounds like you’re confident.”
Baberi grinned. A talented swordsman was too precious to waste.
Still, that didn’t mean she’d just let him off.
“Take this.”
She tossed him a wooden sword.
“I’m going to beat you up now.”
The chilling declaration made Glady’s jaw drop.
Baberi swung her shoulders, loosening up, resting the wooden sword on one shoulder.
“I won’t tell you to just stand there and take it. If you can block it, block it.”
Glady’s eyes darted around quickly, trying to gauge the situation.
He was proud and stubborn, prone to mistakes—but not stupid.
“Can I… fight back?”
He’d realized she wasn’t trying to kill him, so he asked carefully.
Baberi’s eyes went round. Then she threw her head back and burst out laughing.
“If you can, then go ahead and try.”
That’s what she said—so it was fair game.
Glady’s expression said as much.
Baberi smirked, gripping the sword properly now.
And as promised, she gave him a proper beating.
“Why are you so fragile?”
Baberi tilted her head, puzzled. She hadn’t even hit him that hard.
This was disappointing—even Medo had handled more.
“Where’s that confidence you had before?”
Glady lay sprawled on the ground, gasping for breath. He couldn’t even lift a finger.
Sure, she was strong—but he was also barely moving.
“What a letdown.”
Stung by humiliation, Glady forced himself to stand, straining with all his might.
But his legs gave out immediately, and he collapsed again.
He felt so pathetic that tears welled up in his eyes.
“Crying? You crying because you got hit a little?”
“N-no, s-sniff, no!”
“No? Sure doesn’t look like no.”
Glady bit his lip hard, but tears streamed down anyway.
“Well done, Your Majesty. You’ve managed to make a child cry.”
That was Kur, watching from the sidelines.
Baberi flinched and raised her voice defensively.
“You didn’t say a word while I was hitting him, and now you criticize me?”
“I told you you should go easy.”
“When?”
“In my heart.”
That’s not helpful! Baberi shot him a glare that said shut it.
“Stop crying. How was I supposed to know you were that weak?”
She was trying to sound comforting, but it only made Glady sob harder.
Baberi glanced helplessly at Kur.
“…”
But Kur just stared blankly back.
That damn lizard’s only useful when it’s time to burn everything down.
“Hey. Don’t cry. Santa won’t bring you free presents if you cry.”
Glady didn’t even know who Santa was, so the tears kept coming.
Baberi scratched her head, at a total loss, when Glady finally spoke.
“When I was little, I was kidnapped by bandits and forced to work like a slave. It was… horrible.”
…Wait, a backstory now?
Baberi blinked rapidly, caught off guard.
Glady sniffled and continued.
“You were one of the mercenaries who came to take down those bandits.
When you heard my story, you found me a job as an errand boy at a blacksmith’s.”
Baberi had a feeling this would go on for a while. She wanted to stop him—
but noticed his crying had eased, so she let him talk.
“You changed my life, sir. You became my role model—a truly admirable person.”
He had wanted to be someone like that, strong enough to rely on no one.
But Sabo told him he was wrong.
“Even the captain you admire is human. He needs someone to rely on, too.”
Glady couldn’t deny that.
When Medo swore allegiance to his lord, he’d genuinely rejoiced.
It made Glady realize his own goal had been an illusion.
“And now… I don’t know who to look up to anymore.”
Baberi looked down at the boy with his serious face, arms crossed.
Unfortunately, she couldn’t really relate.
She’d never thought Medo was particularly admirable—and she’d never once wanted to model herself after anyone.
Still, she roughly understood his problem.
“So you’re saying you’re a mess now, but once you find a new goal, you’ll get stronger?”
Baberi tucked the wooden sword under her arm and patted her chest.
“Then make me your new goal.”
She nodded firmly.
She didn’t know much about this sort of thing, but a higher goal was always better, right?
And what could be higher than the strongest person on the continent?
“You said Medo changed your life? Then I’ll change it too.”
She glanced at the weeds growing from the dirt where he lay and grinned.
“From now on, your name is Weed.”
…That’s the change she meant?
Glady stared wide-eyed, dumbfounded.
His tears had dried, leaving his cheeks stiff.
“Why are you changing my name…?”
“You insulted the king. You have to be punished.”
Baberi chuckled like a villain.
“Hey, servant.”
When Baberi called, Kur turned from dusting the room.
“I’ve got a new job for you.”
“What, cleaning again?” Kur’s tone sharpened, gripping the duster tight. His eyes said I refuse.
“Who said anything about cleaning?”
She sounded offended, but Kur still looked suspicious.
“Teach me how to read.”
Kur’s slit eyes went wide.
“That weed boy’s words got stuck in your royal heart, didn’t they?”
He eyed her curiously. “How sentimental of you, Your Majesty.”
“I’m not sentimental!”
It wasn’t exactly wrong—but Baberi refused to admit it.
It just felt wrong to agree.
“If I learn to write, I can send Grolok a letter that says ‘Baldy, die.’”
“…”
“Wouldn’t that make him furious?”
“…”
“It’s not an excuse—it’s a real reason!”
“…”
“Fine! Yes, that kid called me an ignorant king, and it ticked me off, okay?!”
She shouted defensively, and Kur snorted, folding his arms.
“Petty and thin-skinned. How regal.”
He smiled smugly, and Baberi had the distinct feeling she’d said too much.
“Should I start by teaching our foolish queen her alphabet?”
“I’m not that illiterate!”
She grabbed a quill and wrote her name on a piece of paper.
“See? I know how to write my name. And also…”
She scribbled another name—hesitating briefly midway, but managing.
“You know whose name this is? The cutest little thing in the world—our Actinus.”
Satisfied, she looked at the two names written side by side… then paused.
“Though I suppose that name’s your species’ mortal enemy, huh?”
She teased, but Kur didn’t bite.
“If you can write all that, doesn’t that mean you already know your letters?”
“I don’t. I just memorized the shapes by writing them a thousand times.”
Kur sighed and sat beside her, writing out the alphabet carefully.
He tried to teach her patiently, but she grew bored almost instantly.
“This is dull. Make it fun.”
“How much fun can I possibly make spelling?”
“How do you write your name?”
Kur wrote it down.
Baberi watched closely, then tried copying it herself.
At first, it was more like drawing than writing—crooked lines, uneven letters, barely legible.
Still, she looked at the half-filled page with satisfaction.
“Writing names is way more fun.”
As she kept writing Kur’s name over and over, an idea struck her.
