Allusia Sitrus
Master Beryl really is strong.
On the way home from the tavern, I stretched, allowing the cool night wind to lower the temperature of my flushed body. When I let my thoughts wander, they naturally drifted back to the events of the afternoon.
“That was a splendid display, Master.”
“Aah, thanks, Allusia.”
The sudden mock battle started because of Henbrits’s false accusations, but it worked out well in the end. After all, Master Beryl was able to display his strength for everyone. The match lasted ten minutes—a long ten minutes. Afterward, I approached Master Beryl with a towel in hand. He was sweating a fair bit, but his breathing was perfectly level, and I could see that he still had plenty of stamina. In contrast, Henbrits’s shoulders were heaving up and down.
Their bout had been almost entirely one-sided. The reason I say “almost,” despite Master Beryl not taking a single hit, was because our instructor had always attacked after Henbrits—before every strike, Master Beryl had taken a moment to observe and get a perfect read on the situation. Considering my master’s strengths, his style of always reacting to his opponent was in no way a mystery.
From the very first thrust, into a strike, and throughout the remaining ten minutes, Master Beryl had handled everything with utmost certainty. He’d made sure to visually confirm every one of his opponent’s moves, and his reaction speed and kinetic vision had been far beyond the skills of an average swordsman. His other techniques were also at a fairly high level, but on those two points, my master clearly deviated from the norm. I was incapable of continuously reacting as perfectly as he did. He was simply a genius who accomplished such feats with casual ease. That was the great man known as Beryl Gardinant.
“Anyway, it looks like there are things I can teach the knights. That’s a relief.”
“Again with the humility. Everyone has a great many things to learn from you, Master.”
However, the man in question seemed ever so modest and sometimes acted like he was unaware of his own strength. It was laughable for someone who’d reached such a high level to believe he was just “so-so” as a swordsman, but I chose not to point this out.
He wasn’t boastful about his strength, nor was he superficially polite about it. He’d come to terms with his own limits and now maintained a relaxed attitude. I like that about him.
Even now, there was still so much I wanted him to teach me. These feelings inside me hadn’t changed since childhood, when he’d bestowed me with a farewell sword.
◇
I clearly remembered that day from years ago—it felt simultaneously like a distant dream and something that’d happened yesterday.
“Allusia, I’d like to give you this.”
“What is it...?”
I studied swordsmanship under Master Beryl for four years, and my strength grew every day, which never ceased to surprise me. Nevertheless, I still couldn’t reach his peak—the omniscient blade, movements that shaved off every last bit of waste, a stance that appeared to be the absolute embodiment of a natural posture. I was still far too inexperienced to enter Master Beryl’s realm.
Despite my firm belief that I was not even close to his level, on that day, he handed me a farewell sword—a gift that signified I’d mastered everything he had to teach.
“You’ve grown more than strong enough. I have nothing left to teach you.”
“You can’t mean that, Master! I still have so much more to learn!”
I was honestly happy that he acknowledged my progress. However, if asked whether I was satisfied with my current abilities, I would doubtlessly answer no. If skill level could be measured by height, I’d barely reach his shins. How could I have possibly mastered everything he had to teach?
“It is, of course, up to you whether you leave the dojo. However, I truly have nothing left to teach you. I’d like you to understand that.”
I detected a slight trace of guilt in his voice and expression, but his sincerity was present as well.
At that moment, I came to a realization. Yes. In all likelihood, this man is unaware of his own strength. Humility had piled atop humility to the point where he’d arbitrarily decided on his own limits. It was rude to put it this way, but Master Beryl’s abilities were meant for far more than being an instructor at a backcountry dojo. However, in such a restricted environment, he hadn’t been permitted to realize that.
“Understood... It’s my honor to accept it.”
And just like that, I departed the dojo in Beaden, leaving with the goal of preparing a more suitable place for his brilliance.
Naturally, I found myself striving for the Liberion Order. They were the greatest symbol of swordsmanship in the country, and as far as I knew, this would be the best place for Master Beryl to shine.
“We will now start the practical exam!”
A strict voice resounded through the hall from what appeared to be a knight instructor. First were mock battles between fellow candidates. After that, those who showed promise were picked out to spar with the instructor. That was how they evaluated our practical abilities.
In my opinion, entry into the order went by all too quickly. Each and every one of my opponents was far too slow. Master Beryl is three times faster than anybody here. Even the so-called expert serving as the instructor was only half his speed. I’d grown so accustomed to Master Beryl’s lightning reflexes—having always recognized his skill as the summit of swordsmanship, this test was nothing more than a minor roadblock.
Ultimately, I scored perfect marks on the practical and written exams and became a member of the Liberion Order immediately after leaving Beaden. A lot happened between then and ascending to the seat of knight commander. Because the order was an organization under the direct control of the monarchy, merely having sword skills wasn’t enough if I wanted to climb the ranks. It was fortunate that I had a level of immunity to politicking thanks to my parents being merchants.
“Hee hee, he’s just the same as always.”
I indulged myself in thoughts of the past as I read his reply letter. Even after leaving Beaden, I sent missives to Master Beryl at fixed intervals. This was mostly driven by my personal desire for him to know about my current circumstances, but also to maintain a connection.
He sent back a reply every time. I was slightly worried that he saw me as a shameful and clingy woman, but as far as I could tell from his letters, he wasn’t growing exasperated with me. However, this was something I couldn’t know without asking him directly. Not that I have the courage to do so...
Master Beryl’s humility hadn’t changed, even after my graduation. Conversely, that was exactly what made him who he was. I closed my eyes and pictured him smiling broadly and gripping a sword. My fingers naturally went to the sword at my waist.
“I finally got approval, Master.”
Please wait just a little longer. I’ve prepared a suitable stage for your abilities.
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