Chapter 15: The Old Wiseman’s Final Lesson —Ludwig Seeks Advice—

In the wee hours of morning, after the feast in the Lulu village wrapped up, Ludwig stood outside the chieftain’s house. Constructed from an interlocking pattern of massive logs, the wooden structure sat on a raised platform with a set of stairs connecting its entrance to the ground. Galv, who was staying with the chieftain that night, appeared in the doorway.

“Huh... Who’s that? Oh, it’s you, Ludwig.”

He descended halfway down the stairs and sat down on one of the steps. Turbid liquid swirled in the wooden cup he held. He took a swig, let out that characteristic sigh of the inebriated when downing a particularly satisfying gulp of strong spirits, and glanced up. Pale light, filtered through the forest canopy, streamed onto his face, which glowed with a rosy sheen. The man had clearly been enjoying a solo after-party of sorts in the form of a moonlit drinking spree.

The sight of this red-cheeked Galv surprised Ludwig. As long as he’d known him, his master had always seemed impervious to the effects of alcohol. In fact, he’d never seen him drunk. Until now. And the old man seemed to enjoy his state of intoxication, judging by his euphoria.

“Don’t you think you’ve had a bit too much to drink, Master?” asked Ludwig, his brows furrowing in concern.

Galv shot him a look of annoyance, though it was betrayed by his wide and mischievous grin.

“Maybe I have. But whose fault do you think that is, Ludwig? Yours. Look what you’ve done, man. You just had to go and set up this marvel of a meeting. I was supposed to wither away in some godforsaken corner of the forest, unseen and unheard. Well, so much for that. Now I have to work until these old bones give out on me. My plan to die in obscurity has been completely ruined.”

His eyelids drooped a little, and he spoke with a mild slur, but the sarcasm was unmistakable; there was far too much enthusiasm in his voice to interpret his words otherwise. Ludwig was glad for his master’s ebullience, but it seemed he’d have to give up on the original purpose of his visit; he could hardly consult Galv for advice in his current state of stupor.

“Here for some advice, I presume?”

He looked at his master with a start. A pair of bright eyes peered back at him through the half-open lids. Their gaze was as sharp as ever. He shrugged helplessly and lowered himself onto the same step as his master. After a quick breath to steady himself, he spoke.

“Yes, actually. I’ve been thinking...that Her Highness should lay claim to the throne. I strongly believe she should become empress, and I intend to help her do so. To that end, I would like to request your aid, Master.” Knowing the old man’s distaste for oblique dialogue, he had gotten straight to the point.

“Huh... Empress...” Galv stared into his cup of alcohol, thoughts swirling in his head like the murky particles in his drink. His eyes narrowed. “I see. Her Highness is wise. Wise enough to deserve her title ‘Great Sage of the Empire.’ With her at the helm, the empire may indeed chart a better course. But.”

Galv fixed Ludwig with a piercing look that made him flinch.

“Let me ask you one thing, Ludwig.”

“Certainly. What is it?” He straightened in anticipation of the question.

When Galv next spoke, it was in a voice he knew well—he’d heard its soft depth whenever his master had wished to impress upon him something very important.

“What is your reason for wishing to see her become empress? Is it because of her wisdom?”

Ludwig faltered. The question caught him off guard, not because he had no answer, but because the answer seemed so obvious. He briefly considered the possibility of it being a trick question before discarding the thought, choosing instead to nod.

“It is indeed, Master. Her wisdom rivals your own. Should she become empress, I have no doubt she will make a fine leader and rid the empire of its pernicious—”

“Then what if she were not wise?”

That gave him pause. He mused on the question for a moment before frowning in confusion.

“I’m sorry. I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Let me put it another way... What if she were to employ her intellect for misguided ends? What would you do then?”

“She wouldn’t ever do such a thing. Her intellect is impeccable.”

“Intellect can be as impeccable as it is evil, Ludwig,” said the wiseman in an astoundingly sober tone. “The foolish do not have sole agency over evil. Just as there is the evil of fools and the good of fools, there is the good and evil of the wise. The honed mind is as a blade. A sharper one cuts better, but it still cuts any which way.”

He fell silent for a moment, questioning Ludwig not with his words but with his gaze. Then he continued.

“With that in mind, Ludwig, I ask again. For what reason do you serve her? Is it because of her intellect? Or is there something else?”

“I...”

Ludwig found himself at a loss for words.

“That reason is crucial, for it will determine the trajectory of your actions...and may one day even point them counter to hers.” The old master let out a subdued laugh. “I advise you, then, to elucidate its precise nature.”

That night, Ludwig had a dream. It was as strange as it was ominous. In it, he witnessed the decline of the Tearmoon Empire. Stricken by plague and a great famine that emptied its coffers, it was further crippled by an exodus of government officials, all fleeing to foreign lands. He stood in the center of that spiral of despair, working under Princess Mia as he strove tirelessly toward his goal of restoring peace and stability to the empire. But the strange thing was...in the dream, he hated Mia.

The royal daughter was a symbol of incompetence who lived in decadent ignorance while her empire burned around her. She deserved every shred of contempt he could muster. In any other situation, he wouldn’t touch her with a ten-foot pole, much less come to her aid. With the empire teetering on the brink of destruction, however, he had no choice but to swallow his disgust and work with her to save their homeland.

He dreamt of a day on which the two of them went to visit a small village, which through some incredibly good fortune had avoided the plague and experienced only minor famine. Nevertheless, food was in short supply, and the starving villagers had either given in to thoughts of despair or wallowed in seething hatred of nobles while cursing their own fate. Upon arriving there, Ludwig and Mia received a frosty welcome. The villagers were unfriendly, though not outright hostile. The presence of imperial guards likely dissuaded any attempts at overt violence. They toured the village, expressed their sympathy for the local guards struggling to maintain order, and departed soon after.

While riding in their carriage, Mia said, “Ugh, I want cake. Where can we get some cake, I wonder... Hey, Ludwig, I know there’s no bread, but might there be some cake—”

“No, there isn’t, because there’s no wheat. Cake and bread are both made from wheat.”

“Th-They are? I-I see...”

She wilted in disappointment. He glanced at the crestfallen Mia, and his cheek twitched in annoyance.

It’s a struggle to find even a small loaf of bread right now, and she wants cake? I swear, I—

“Just one would be enough.”

“...What?”

“I don’t want too much. Just one whole cake.”

One whole cake? Of all the decadent, hedonistic, shameless demands...

His annoyance turned to disgust. This, he thought with an embittered sigh, was why he couldn’t stand nobles.

“If I could somehow get my hands on one whole cake,” she continued, “I’d have enough for the village. Maybe not the adults, but at least all the children...”

Ludwig’s thoughts ground to a halt.

“...Wha—”

“I mean, I’d prefer a big cake in that case. With enough strawberries on it to go around. Those villagers seemed so upset. If they all got a slice of cake with a strawberry, I’m sure they’d feel much better.”

He forcibly rewound his mental reel. Then, he carefully let the gears spin, the machinery of his memory crunching slowly through the last few seconds as he parsed her statements again.

She...wants to share this imaginary cake with others? I thought for sure it was all for herself.

At least, that was what the Mia he knew—or perhaps thought he knew—would have meant. As he dwelt on the discrepancy, he became gripped by the urge to test her with a question that was, on the whole, a little mean.

“Tell me something, Your Highness. Suppose that I was able to supply you with just enough cake for one person. What would you do with it?”

“Really?! You have cake?!”

“I said suppose. We’re talking about hypotheticals here.”

“Ugh, fine... W-Well, let me think.... A-Are we assuming that one person is, you know, a really big fellow? Like one of those guards?”

“No, we are assuming that one person is you, Your Highness. One slice, exactly enough for yourself.”

There was, of course, no cake. The question, therefore, amounted to little more than fodder for idle banter—a conundrum for the weary mind, offering relief through distraction. Despite that, Mia fell into near-silent contemplation. Rather than bat away the abstract—and admittedly, somewhat obnoxious—query, her brows creased in pained deliberation as low hums of mental effort escaped her lips.

“Hmmm... Hnnngh... W-Well, in that case, I suppose I’ll have to settle for just one bite. Oh, but the strawberry is more than a bite, isn’t it? And if I get the strawberry, then I’ll have to... Which means...”

She continued mumbling for some time. Ludwig regarded her, feeling like he’d just taken a sledgehammer to the brain.

She’s...seriously fretting over her answer?

The hypocrite wouldn’t fret; she’d simply claim to give it all away. The egotist wouldn’t fret; she’d proudly eat it all herself. Mia was neither. She fretted. Faced with the choice, she responded with genuine distress before making her stance clear—she would have the strawberry to herself. Implicit in that answer was a second meaning—so long as she had the strawberry to herself...

There existed people who, so long as they had enough to eat for themselves, were willing to share the rest with others. Not exactly saints in the making, perhaps, but they were still better than most aristocrats. The nobility was largely composed of those who wouldn’t think of giving away provisions to the people until their own meals were guaranteed, wherein the definition of “guaranteed” was an ever-moving goalpost—those with food for a day craved enough for two, those with two for three, then a month, a year, a decade, and so on.

That was the impression Ludwig had of nobles, and he’d always thought Mia to be the same. Therein lay the source of his shock.

“Hm? What’s with the look, Ludwig? Do you have something to say?”

Her question roused him from his stupefaction, and he shook his head.

“No... No, I don’t. I was just...surprised. I thought you’d keep it all for yourself.”

“My! Rude! Did you seriously think that after seeing the state of that village, I’d keep the cake all to myself?!”

“Absolutely. I never doubted it for a moment,” he replied without hesitation.

She glared at him and groused through clenched teeth, “Grrr... Stupid four-eyes...”

A flurry of mumbled protests followed before she huffed out a deep breath to calm herself.

“The fact you’d think that... Seeing someone was in trouble, and knowing I was in a position to help, that I’d choose to ignore them... Honestly, it hurts a little,” she said, shaking her head. “I’d feel just terrible doing something like that.”

“Would you now...” he replied with sincere admiration. “It seems, Your Highness, that you might actually be a half-decent human being.”

“What?! What do you mean half-decent? Ugh, stupid four-eyes and the stupid things you say... I swear, you can be so rude...”

“Says the one who consistently refers to me as ‘stupid four-eyes.’ Honestly, between the two of us, I’m pretty sure it’s you who needs to watch your language, Your Foul-Tongued Highness.”

Though his retort carried its usual bite, he began to see her in a different light. The princess he served was doubtlessly flawed...but she was, perhaps, still a princess worth serving.

In time, he came to know her better. She was indeed arrogant, but despite her grumbled protests, she always bent an ear to his counsel. She was indeed cowardly, but she did not flee, choosing instead to stay and struggle in hopes of restoring the empire. She was indeed a slow learner, but she endured his scathing remarks with teary resilience and a dogged, desperate effort to catch up.

And in time, he discovered in himself a budding wish...to see this foolish princess be rewarded, even if only a little, because by God, she was trying. It grew and grew, and before long, it had sprouted into a dream. If there existed a timeline where the empire successfully averted disaster and righted its course, he’d like to be there...with her. At her side, giving her advice, supporting her endeavors, and devoting himself as a vassal to her and the empire she would go on to craft. It would, he decided, be a future he wouldn’t mind seeing. Then he laughed, the sardonic tone this time directed inward, for he realized that he was not being entirely honest with himself. He certainly didn’t mind seeing it, yes, but it was more than that. He was fond of the idea. Longed for it even.

Which was why, when he stood there that day, watching Mia kneel under the guillotine’s blade...

He woke up.

“What happ— That was...a dream?”

Cold sweat crawled down his back. The scene was still vivid in his mind. Too vivid. The sounds and smells were too visceral. The emotions too real.

“Nonsense... It was just a dream. Her Highness could never be so foolish...”

It was an impossible dream—one so removed from reality as to be insulting to the Great Sage of the Empire. He tried to smile, but it came out as a grimace. Some part of him refused to laugh it off. Deep down, in his gut of guts, he couldn’t help but feel it was more than a dream—a memory, perhaps, and an important one at that. Something he couldn’t afford to forget. Somehow, he also knew, beyond both reason and doubt, that the girl in his dreams was indeed the princess he served, Mia Luna Tearmoon. On the surface, they couldn’t be more different. At their core, they were one and the same.

A vision of the slums appeared in his mind. He remembered seeing her there, rushing to the aid of a child collapsed on the street, and he remembered how she’d nursed him, paying no attention to the filth and grime. Her words echoed, dream and memory merging into one.

Seeing someone was in trouble, and knowing I was in a position to help...

He nodded to himself. When one saw a child in trouble, helping them was the natural thing to do. Whether it was due to moral integrity or political calculation, the conclusion was the same. But even so. Even if the vectors of virtue, protocol, and reason all pointed in the same direction, and it was patently necessary to do so... Just how many nobles would lift with their hands the squalid bodies of the poor and vulnerable? Even he, a commoner, had initially balked at the thought of entering the slums. Mia hadn’t. Not when she’d entered, and not when she’d seen the child. Because that was her. If Mia Luna Tearmoon saw someone in trouble, and she knew she was in a position to help, she’d feel terrible if she didn’t. That was the essence of her person.

“...So that’s it. I finally get it now.”

He realized at last. His admiration for her overflowing intellect remained unchanged, for it deserved no less reverence than before. His loyalty, however, had shifted its bearings.

“It’s her essence to which I should devote myself.”

The thought brought with it a flood of emotions. They filled his chest and spilled over to his eyes and nose. He felt as if he’d regained a long lost memory... Or, perhaps, been reunited with a faded and unfulfilled dream.

It all makes sense now... It’s not the Great Sage of the Empire. It never was. It’s the person inside. My dream...has always been to serve Her Highness...and realize her goals.

The next day, Ludwig returned to his master. Upon seeing the tranquil smile on his student’s face, Galv responded in kind. This time, his hands were empty; the drink was nowhere to be seen. After all, acknowledging his student’s resolve while drunk would be rude.

“It looks like you have your answer.”

“Yes, Master.”

“Let’s hear it then. What is your reason, Ludwig, for wishing to see her become empress?”

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he closed his eyes and set his jaw, taking a moment to fully digest the question. Then, he spoke.

“It is because Princess Mia...is the kind of person who may err in ignorance...but will never knowingly repeat a mistake.”

She might not know that there were people in trouble. But once she was aware, she would never leave them to their fates. She possessed a soul capable of loathing such neglect. That was why he pledged to her his loyalty, and his life.

“If she were ever dispossessed of that wisdom... If she ever lost her way... Then I shall tell her so. So long as I do, she will never choose the wrong path.”

Galv nodded in satisfaction at his answer.

“Well done. I see you’ve found your own conviction.”

“Yes, Master. I’m grateful for your advice.”

“And for you, it will probably be my last. Well, hop along then. I believe there is a princess who needs serving. Go on, Ludwig, and serve her well.”

“Yes, Master. With all my heart and soul. To that end, I look forward to your help as well.”

He lowered his head in a deep bow.

Meanwhile, the princess in question was entirely unaware she’d been at the center of such a gripping drama of personal discovery and devotion.

“Oho ho! And to think that Ludwig was stressing so much about this meeting. He’s a pushover! They’re all pushovers! Once I got involved, none of them stood a chance!”

Reveling in blissful ignorance and feeling supremely pleased with herself, she wore a wide grin throughout her trip back to the Berman manor. Granted, some questionable causal attributions notwithstanding, her sense of triumph was well-deserved. With the addition of Galv, along with all the students who answered his call, the staffing issues of Saint Mia Academy were solved in one go. Of course, she’d later run into another problem when hiring the Perujin Princess Arshia Tafrif Perujin as lecturer led to a minor uproar, but that’s another story. For the moment, she could rest easy in the knowledge that her school was safe.