"I–I… I'm Anya!"

Her voice was loud, yet it cracked halfway through.

"I'm Anya, daughter of Geralt and Elin!"

The field fell silent.

Geralt froze.

"…Anya?" he said, eyes widening. "What are you doing?! Put that down!"

But the girl straightened her back instead, standing tall like a tiny knight from a storybook. Her legs trembled, yet she forced her stance to stay firm.

"I–I'm the Iron Knight!" she cried. "I must protect everyone from bad people!"

She swallowed.

Then she looked at Lucas.

At the face of Lucian Voss.

The color drained from her cheeks.

Her breath hitched. Her eyes widened as if she had just seen a monster from a nightmare.

That face was—

Too cold.

Too calm.

Too unreal.

Anya flinched, stepping back half a pace.

The stick stayed raised…

but her grip faltered.

Silvara stood frozen.

Lucas frowned, staring at the child, completely unsure how to respond.

"…Huh?"

That single sound wasn't anger.

It wasn't a threat.

It was just instinct.

But to Anya—

it felt like a growl from a beast.

Her knees gave way.

The stick fell from her hand.

Her small body tipped forward—

Geralt reacted instantly.

"Anya—!"

He rushed forward and caught her before she hit the ground. The girl curled into his chest, trembling.

"Father…" she whispered. "His face… is scary…"

Geralt tightened his hold, then slowly looked up at Lucas.

There was no anger in his eyes.

Only worry.

And confusion.

Lucas met his gaze.

Then muttered under his breath,

"…Is my face really that bad?"

Silvara blinked once…

and immediately turned away, barely suppressing a laugh.

The tension in the field cracked ever so slightly.

Lucas let out a long sigh.

"Enough. No more drama," he said flatly. "Old man, let's fix the irrigation first. The water flow's a mess."

Geralt nodded at once. "Y-Yes, Young Master!"

But before he could move—

"D-Don't punish my father!"

Anya suddenly cried out.

She stood up again, face pale, eyes glassy, and picked up her stick.

With theatrical determination, she straightened like a stage knight.

"I… I, Anya…!"

A light breeze passed.

Tomato leaves rustled dramatically.

"I offer myself for the happiness of the man who gave me life!"

"O terrifying man…!"

"Take me instead—and spare my helpless father!"

Silvara stiffened.

Geralt flushed bright red.

"Anya! That's not it! I'm here to work, not to be punished!" he said hurriedly. "The Young Master just told me to fix the water ditch!"

Lucas blinked.

Once.

"…What?"

He rubbed his face.

"What kind of stories have you been listening to?"

"I'm not eating anyone," he said flatly. "And your father isn't being punished."

Geralt bowed deeply. "S-Sorry, Young Master! She's been listening to too many knight tales from Healer Mae!"

Anya remained frozen in her heroic pose.

Grand.

Tense.

Terrified.

When her eyes once again met Lucas's—

her body stiffened.

Her breath caught.

Her hands trembled.

Inside her heart, a quiet thought appeared.

So the rumors were true…

This man really is terrifying…

Lucas narrowed his eyes.

"Is she… about to faint again?"

Geralt bowed even lower.

"I-I'm truly sorry, Young Master—this is all my fault—"

"It's not Father's fault!" Anya shouted.

She stepped forward, still shaking, but her voice was firm.

"If someone must be punished—punish me instead!"

"Anya—stop—"

Lucas raised a hand.

"Stop."

He inhaled.

Then spoke simply.

"Fine. New punishment."

Anya stiffened.

Lucas pointed at the dirt.

"Write the name 'Lucian Voss.' Ten times. Right there."

Silence.

Anya blinked once.

Twice.

Then turned completely pale.

"W-What…?"

She hugged the stick to her chest.

"So this… is how terrifying men defeat knights…" she murmured.

"You know my weakness…"

She looked up at him in despair.

"…I can't read or write."

The wind picked up slightly.

"O terrifying man…" she whispered.

"Then… just hit me instead…!"

Silvara clapped a hand over her mouth.

Her shoulders shook.

And then—

"…Pfft."

She turned away, failing completely to hold in her laughter.

Lucas pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Why does this kid keep assuming she's going to get hit…?"

Then he sighed.

"If you can't write, you learn."

Anya froze.

"…Learn?"

Lucas nodded toward Silvara.

"You. Teach her how to read and write. Starting now."

Silvara flinched.

"M-Me?"

"Yes. You."

Geralt bowed so fast it looked painful.

"T-Thank you, Young Master! Thank you so much…!"

Anya looked at Silvara.

Then Lucas.

Then Silvara again.

Her heroic expression slowly collapsed.

"…So…" she whispered.

"I'm… not getting eaten?"

"No."

Her shoulders sagged in relief.

"…Then I shall accept this punishment like a true knight."

As soon as Lucas gave the order, the system panel appeared before his eyes.

[Disciplinary Action Detected, King~ (≧▽≦)✨]

[Oho~ you didn't just scare her~ you educated her!]

[EXP +10]

[PP +11]

[That's called "constructive discipline," you know~]

[You turned punishment into growth~]

[Civilization points secured! (๑•̀ㅂ•́)و✧]

Lucas frowned.

…Seriously?

The panel blinked.

[Discipline that strengthens others is a high-value action.]

[Morale-based outcome confirmed.]

Lucas clicked his tongue.

I get points for giving homework now?

[Yup~! (≧ω≦)]

[Terrifying face…]

[Even more terrifying teacher mode unlocked~ ✨]

----

Under an old tree at the edge of the field, Anya sat cross-legged, staring at the ground.

Before her, Silvara knelt, drawing letters with a small twig.

"This is L," Silvara said gently. "Down… then a line to the side."

Anya copied with absolute seriousness.

The twig touched dirt—

the result was crooked… hopeless.

Meanwhile, at the far side of the field, Lucas adjusted the water channel with a hoe, carefully guiding the flow toward the dry end of the land.

Water began to move.

Smoothly.

Perfectly.

Anya glanced at Lucas—

then back at Silvara.

A strange thought formed.

What if… Miss Silvara was being punished too…?

Silvara always looked so stiff.

So quiet.

So obedient.

Anya remembered how her father would comfort her whenever her mother scolded her—calling her a good girl.

As a future knight…

I must ease the burdens of the strong…

Anya stood.

Silvara looked up. "Hm? What's wrong?"

The girl stepped closer.

Slowly.

Carefully.

Then awkwardly—

she patted Silvara's shoulder.

"Pat… pat…" she whispered.

"Good… girl."

Silvara froze.

Her mind shut down for a moment.

"…Huh?"

Anya nodded solemnly.

"You look tired… Knights must… help each other."

Silvara stared.

Then her shoulders trembled.

She bowed her head.

And finally…

she laughed softly.

"…Thank you."

From a distance, Lucas glanced over.

Frowned.

"…Why does she look more qualified to be a teacher now?"

----

By noon, the sun hung high above the fields.

Lucas wiped his forehead and exhaled.

"Let's take a break, Old Geralt."

Geralt straightened, surprised. "A-ah? Are you sure, Young Master?"

"Yeah. We've done enough for now."

Lucas lifted one hand lazily.

The great hoe in his grip shimmered—

Then vanished.

Dismissed.

Meanwhile, beneath the tree, Anya was still practicing.

This time, her back was straighter.

Her hands were steadier.

"L… u… c…" she mumbled, tongue sticking out slightly as she traced the letters in dirt.

Silvara crouched beside her, watching patiently.

Anya suddenly grinned.

"I can write it now! Look!"

The letters were crooked.

Uneven.

But they were letters.

Silvara smiled softly.

"…Good job."

Anya beamed.

The worry and fear from earlier were nowhere to be seen.

She looked like a normal child again.

Silvara watched her for a second longer… then looked away, lowering her gaze.

Is this… what the Baroness saw when she looked at me as a child?

She blinked once, then shook the thought away.

From afar—

A man stood silently among the tall grass.

Aldric.

His eyes were locked on the field like those of a hunting beast.

"The preparation is complete," he murmured.

His fingers moved.

A thin, strange rod slid from his sleeve.

A miniature staff—dark, dull, and etched with faint symbols.

He knelt.

Drove it into the soil.

Nothing happened.

Aldric froze.

"…What?"

No reaction.

No pulse.

No response.

His eyes narrowed.

He pressed harder.

Still nothing.

"Impossible…"

His grip tightened.

"This cannot fail. The stone cannot be neutralized."

His breath grew heavy.

"Silvara couldn't possibly know. Even high-ranking knights struggle to sense it…"

His fingers trembled as he stared at the rod.

"…There's no way this can fail. That stone… is one of the Stones of—"

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