This world is full of monsters, bandits, and all sorts of scum who would harm Noelle. The only true solution is for me to watch over her constantly and protect her. I am five years old now, and Noelle and the Hero are the same age as me. I must ensure that by the time we all turn eighteen, Noelle will never become a general of the Demon King, and she will never curse the Hero. The Hero will face the Demon King at the age of twenty. If she can fight at full strength then, and win, the world will be saved—and my mission will be complete.
If I calculate correctly, in the worst case this mission will last only fifteen years. After that, I can do whatever I want… for hundreds of years in this world!
Had anyone peeked into the room that day, they would have seen a five‑year‑old boy striking strange poses in front of the mirror and making even stranger faces. If a maid had walked in, she might have thought he was possessed by the devil—or simply gone mad.
After Andras had summarized the details of his mission to himself, he spent a full hour posing in front of the mirror, then called out for the maid:
"Marta! Are you somewhere nearby?"
"Yes, my Lord! I'm coming at once!"
"Show me around the castle, explain what is where, what's important, what I should pay attention to, and so on!"
"As you wish!" she replied enthusiastically.
Marta guided young Andras through the halls of the castle, happily explaining the details. She was delighted to have been given such a task by her little master.
"Alright, that's enough exploration of the castle for today. What about the others?" Andras asked.
"Whom do you mean?"
"My father, my mother… the other Wolfwoods."
"I cannot say where Lord Wolfwood is at the moment. But your mother is usually in her chamber at this time."
"Very well, then let's go to my mother!"
"I'll take you there immediately," said the maid proudly, a broad smile on her face.
When they arrived, Marta knocked on the door of the chamber.
"Lady Wolfwood, good day! Your dear son is here, he wishes to see you!"
After a brief silence, the door opened. Another maid stepped inside and motioned with her hand for them to enter. Andras started forward, but stopped when he saw that Marta did not move.
"I'll stay here and wait for you, my Lord," the girl said softly.
Andras nodded, then continued toward his mother. Carla approached, bent down to him, and embraced him tightly. The five‑year‑old Andras was surprised at first, but did not resist. The feeling of being held pleased him—after all, it was a young, twenty‑three‑year‑old blonde beauty who embraced him.
Now this I could get used to… So she is my mother. Carla Wolfwood. I don't know much about her, but if she keeps hugging me like this, I'll visit her every day. Thanks to Eli's device, I've already mastered the language of Neptunia without study. I can read and write, but the five‑year‑old Andras Wolfwood cannot. I must pretend as though I am just beginning to learn, gradually acquiring knowledge. For this, the best choice is Carla, my mother. I'll ask her to teach me to read—and she can keep hugging me while she does. Two birds with one stone. It takes about a year for a child to learn to read and write. I'll adjust my plan accordingly.
Carla, after releasing him, stood up and spoke:
"My dear son, my precious only one… I am so glad you came to me. Your father forbade me from being near you, so I could not visit you earlier. But now it doesn't matter. What matters is that you are here, and I can see you."
"Why did he forbid you from seeing me?" Andras asked.
"That… only he knows," Carla replied sadly.
"Then I have good news," Andras continued. "From now on you will see me every day, because you are going to teach me how to read!"
"Who told you that?" Carla asked in surprise.
"I did. I want to learn to write and read so I can begin studying magic as soon as possible."
"You want to study magic? Don't you want to be a knight?"
"How could I know which of two pastries is tastier if I only try one? I will study both magic and swordsmanship. The years will decide what I become… or what I do not."
Carla remained silent. She did not know what to say. She thought this must surely be the custom of the Wolfwood House with noble boys. She did not know the knightly traditions of the kingdom, for she came from the Empire. She was the daughter of a wealthy and influential merchant, married to the lord of the Wolfwood House at her father's command. A marriage of convenience—nothing more.
"Let's not waste any more time, come, Mother! Take out paper and a quill, and let's begin practicing the first letter," said Andras.
Carla took the little boy's hand and led him to the writing desk. She sat down on the chair and placed her son on her lap. Warmth spread through her heart. In the six years since she had come to the Wolfwood House, perhaps for the first time someone had brought a genuine smile to her face. Thus began the lessons of reading and writing for five‑year‑old Andras.
Two weeks later…
The boy's hand already moved more confidently across the parchment. The letters were crooked, uneven, sometimes too large, sometimes too small—but they were letters nonetheless. Carla watched with pride as her son traced each stroke, his brow furrowed in concentration. Every day he had insisted on practicing, and every day she had sat with him, guiding his hand, whispering encouragement.
For Andras, it was more than just learning to read and write. It was the first step in building the foundation for his mission. Each letter was a brick laid in the wall of discipline, each word a weapon forged for the battles to come.
Wolfwood Castle, the Knightly Great Hall
Bandorn Wolfwood, current head of the house, sat upon the noble seat. He was listening to the daily report of the master mage. A short, slender man, about one hundred and seventy centimeters tall, with long dark‑brown hair and blue eyes. His noble attire was black, bearing the wolf crest—the symbol of the Wolfwood House.
Anyone who looked at him could see at once: he was not the knightly type. He knew nothing of swordsmanship. The house's legendary blade, the Wolf Fang, he could barely lift, let alone wield. If not skilled with the sword, he was all the more adept with the black market. Behind his back, members of the other great noble houses mocked him as the "Rogue Wolf." In Wolfwood itself, of course, no one dared call him that—unless they wished to lose their head.
At his right side stood, in knightly posture, Janos Wolf, lieutenant of the Wolf Knights and the house's second‑strongest knight. Opposite them stood the Wolfwood House's master mage, Florian, the Wolf Mage, holding a scroll from which he read the daily matters.
After they finished discussing the tasks, Bandorn turned to the mage master:
"Master Florian, what of my son?"
"He is currently with his mother, learning to read and write," Florian replied.
"What?! Did I not order that his mother be kept away from him? Wait… learning to read? But he is only five years old! I myself began reading at twelve. Is this some imperial custom? Do the imperials begin their studies so young?"
"In my opinion, imperial merchants are very cunning people," Florian answered. "I would not rule out that his maternal grandfather planned it this way."
"That sly merchant!" Bandorn growled, then paused in thought. "Very well, I don't mind. My son may remain with his mother. It only glorifies our name if he learns to read at such a young age. I'll have something to boast of before the king."
"Perhaps this will even bring us closer to the Princess's hand, ahead of the other three great noble houses," Bandorn Wolfwood thought.
One year later