Interlude
In Beaden, the days started early. The adults began working at the break of dawn, breathing life into the entire village first thing in the morning. As if to match that, the children also rose with the sun. This was everyday life in the countryside.
Recently, a young man and his family had moved to the village.
“Oh, Randrid. Help me out for a bit.”
“Sure thing!”
An old man called out to the village’s newcomer, wanting help with the task of chopping wood. The young man and his family had wished for this country lifestyle and were doing everything they could to become proper members of the community. Though the village was small, the connections between people were strong, and the tiniest bit of interpersonal friction could threaten the entire ecosystem. Whenever a new resident moved in, rumors spread fast. Everyone then had to appraise the newcomer for themselves. It hadn’t taken much time for Randrid’s reputation to take root in Beaden.
The young man started chopping wood without looking the least bit bothered by the task. However, another old man came by and immediately began complaining.
“Hey Reddick, don’t go using our Randrid without asking.”
“Aw. Can’t you spare him for just a bit? He’s a valuable youngster.”
In contrast to the old men’s squabbling, the young man acted like it was no big deal.
“It’s fine, Grandmaster. This is for the sake of the village!”
In truth, chopping some wood for the village hardly took up any of Randrid’s energy. He’d been driven into far harsher environments countless times before this. Not many in the community were properly aware of that fact, though.
“Well...chop a little then come back to the dojo. It’s about time for the pupils to show up.”
“Ah, right. Understood!”
Even if he was a newcomer, Randrid’s job in the village wasn’t to chop wood. No, he had a different responsibility to fulfill. The grandmaster—Mordea Gardinant—had come to retrieve Randrid, but was a little thrown off by how unexpectedly eager the young man was.
“If you’ll excuse me, Reddick, I’ll stop here!” said Randrid.
“Sure thing. I don’t mind.”
Randrid couldn’t just keep chopping wood forever—once the pupils were gathered at the Gardinant dojo, he needed to begin his work as their instructor. Reddick didn’t want to get in the way of that, and it’s not like he’d intended to keep Randrid detained for too long. But Reddick was an old man now, and chopping wood made him keenly aware of how heavy his hips and arms had grown with age. So, he simply wanted whatever help he could get.
After gathering the wood he’d chopped, Randrid parted ways with Reddick and headed for the dojo. He couldn’t keep the children waiting—having been named assistant instructor by Mordea and Beryl, he had to live up to everyone’s expectations. By nature, Randrid was an endlessly honest and steady man, and he was deeply grateful that he’d been taught how to use a sword.
“Ah! It’s Instructor Randrid!”
“Hi, everyone. Sorry to keep you waiting.”
As Randrid opened the door to the dojo, he was greeted by a few children who were just picking up their wooden swords. He responded to their greetings with a smile.
Pretty much all of the pupils at this dojo were children. This hadn’t been the case during Mordea’s era, but around the time Beryl’d succeeded him, the proportion of children had rapidly increased. The reason for that wasn’t quite clear. Perhaps it was something as simple as a change in trends over the years. It wasn’t like the Gardinants hadn’t done any publicity to advertise the dojo as a place particularly suitable for children. Honestly, Randrid didn’t even know how long this dojo had been around—there’d never been a reason to go out of his way and ask, so he’d never paid it any mind.
Randrid had only just started teaching at this dojo, but he handled the students fairly well. Some of the children had been really attached to Beryl, but they had quickly formed a good rapport with Randrid. It seemed that endlessly curious children paired well with a man who always maintained an honest personality.
“Is Master Beryl not here today?” asked one of the children.
“Master Beryl is far away on business,” Randrid answered. “That’s why I’ll be teaching you for a while.”
Randrid had no idea how many times he’d given that explanation already, but he nonetheless always answered politely. Since he had a child of his own now, Randrid viewed these moments as practice—interacting with these children was like training that would pay off with his own in a few years, so he didn’t see their questions as a waste of time.
“Okay! Let’s all do our best today!”
He got the children all fired up for their lessons, and they stopped messing around. The air in the dojo changed to that of an instructor teaching his students.
Randrid’s title as a former platinum rank adventurer wasn’t just for show. From the perspective of general society, being platinum meant he had significant skill. And even out in backwater Beaden, he was able to put that skill on display.
The children still didn’t understand this, but the lack of any backlash at the sudden change in instructors was largely because of Randrid’s strength. Normally, if a dojo suddenly swapped out a beloved teacher, it would be hard to retain students—after all, many of those students had gone out of their way to attend the dojo for a specific style of instruction. However, Randrid’s status as a former platinum rank adventurer held great weight.
“Right then, students! Let’s begin like we always do and check your basic forms.”
Randrid carried a wooden sword and stood in front of his pupils. And just like that, a typical morning in Beaden passed by peacefully.
◇
“Good work today, Randrid.”
“You don’t need to mention it.”
Teaching children wasn’t something that could drag on for hours on end. The lesson had started right as the sun rose and had naturally ended when noon came around. Though the dojo’s days off were well established, its operational hours weren’t strictly set in stone—this was a feature of being out in the countryside. Randrid still needed some time to get used to the somewhat liberal nature of his new environment.
“So, now that you’ve given it a try, how does teaching feel?” Mordea asked.
The older man had entered the dojo after lessons ended and sat cross-legged in the master’s seat. It’d been a while since Mordea had stepped down as instructor, but Beryl, Randrid, and all the dojo’s pupils—both current and former—still looked up to him. He simply had that much skill and grit, and over his many long years, he’d achieved so much.
“It’s a fresh experience,” Randrid answered, sitting upright on his heels in front of Mordea. “I’m discovering new things every day.”
Now that the children were gone, these two men were the only ones left in the dojo. It was just past noon, but a tranquil atmosphere filled the room. Only the thunk, thunk, of someone chopping wood in the distance, and the sound of livestock outside, could be faintly heard through the walls. The two of them liked this kind of atmosphere. As fellow followers of the blade, this background noise was far more pleasant than the hustle and bustle of the city that could disturb the mind.
“Well, he was pretty good at teaching,” Mordea muttered, stroking his beard.
In contrast to Mordea’s relaxed posture, Randrid hung his head slightly. “Are you...really sure about this?”
“Hm? About what?”
“Master Beryl becoming a special instructor for the Liberion Order is worth celebrating,” Randrid said, his expression cheerful yet also bewildered. “But having me serve as his substitute...”
“It’s fine,” Mordea replied curtly. “You don’t regret it, right?”
“Well...no. I certainly don’t.”
Mordea wasn’t talking about Randrid becoming Beryl’s substitute at the dojo. No, he was asking whether Randrid had any misgivings about retiring as an adventurer and moving his family from Baltrain to Beaden. Mordea wondered if Randrid had any lingering attachments to his old life, but truly, the young man had no regrets. He’d given up his dangerous former life because he loved his beloved wife and child above all else. Fortunately, he’d saved up during his adventurer days, and he’d also found a job here, so this environment posed no hindrance to raising his family.
“I’m sure you know this,” Mordea said, his eyes turning to the door, “but that guy shouldn’t be wasting his time out here in the middle of nowhere.”
“I know,” Randrid agreed, immediately understanding who Mordea was talking about. “I never once managed to beat him, after all.” He, too, turned to look at the door. It was closed, but he could easily imagine the scenery outside. A path into the forest stretched out from the dojo’s door, down a gently sloping hill, then passed through the sparse houses of Beaden. It was simplistic and pleasant, totally different from the big city.
Randrid naturally recalled the time he’d spent under Beryl’s tutelage. Even after all these years, he vividly remembered Beryl’s outstanding swordplay and seemingly inhuman reaction speed. In the end, Randrid hadn’t reached that summit himself, but through his humble efforts, he’d still managed to become a platinum rank adventurer. Now, if he could somehow become a stepping stone for Beryl to reach further heights, that didn’t seem so bad. Beryl’s influence on his life had simply been that enormous.
“Ha ha ha!” Mordea laughed heartily. “Well, let’s look forward to how far he can go, shall we?”
“Let’s,” Randrid agreed. “I’m sure he’ll achieve things I can’t even imagine.”
The two of them pictured the great figure of a son and a teacher. Nobody knew when that day would come—not even Beryl himself. However, these two in the dojo believed that their imagination would become reality in the not-too-distant future.
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