Chapter 1: An Old Country Bumpkin Looks for a Sword
“Hmm. I’m feeling awfully restless...”
Several days had passed since the training excursion with the young adventurers and the battle against the named monster Zeno Grable. I finished my usual breakfast at the usual inn, and, upon heading outside, my fingers naturally reached for the empty space at my hip.
Now then, what do I do about this?
I was, of course, planning to continue instructing the knights. The guild’s request had been a diversion from this, but now that all the excitement was over, I figured I could return to my original...duties? Yet, even if Nidus wasn’t being exactly open about it, I could tell he was trying to keep me involved with the guild. Porta’s team weren’t the only newcomers, after all. And if what Selna had mentioned was true, they were short on staff capable of training youngsters. But still, dragging this old man out to supervise dungeon attacks? I’d been sweating buckets in the battle against Zeno Grable—I definitely would’ve failed had Selna not been there. Even if named monsters didn’t appear all that often, I wanted to be spared from seeing anything like that again. The lifestyle I desired was slightly more...peaceful. In that sense, being the special instructor for the order wasn’t all that bad.
“Oops, my thoughts are drifting.”
I shook my head, trying to clear my mind of all this entanglement with the adventurer’s guild. Right now, I wanted to get a replacement for my broken sword—as soon as possible. I could train with a wooden one, but a swordsman simply had to have a real blade at his hip. I’d spent so many years living that way, so being without a sword made me feel restless.
“Well... I guess a visit to a blacksmith is in order.”
I recalled the smith Allusia had introduced me to. He had some nice longswords, which I favored. A longsword was an orthodox type of blade you could find anywhere, even at a smithy out in the sticks. I didn’t travel around all over the world or anything like an adventurer, so I didn’t need something super high quality. Still, given the opportunity, I wanted to upgrade from my last blade. It’d be great to buy something a little nicer...but my wallet wasn’t exactly bursting.
Selna naturally knew that my sword was broken, and she’d brought up having the adventurer’s guild pay for a new one. I’d refused her, though. Somehow or other, I didn’t want to feel indebted to the guild. This wasn’t because I had a bad impression of them—Nidus and Meigen were good people. No, I simply had scruples over being in their debt. Unlike the order, the adventurer’s guild was clearly a business that saw things in terms of profit and loss. Honestly, I didn’t want to get involved in that world.
“I wonder if blacksmiths are even open this early,” I muttered as I walked the streets of Baltrain.
Lucy had picked a fight with me around this time of day, but nothing was accosting me at the moment. I strolled through the sparsely populated townscape while enjoying the calm atmosphere. After walking a while, I spotted a petite woman jogging toward me. When she got close enough to see who I was, she gave me a beaming smile and called out to me.
“Oh? Master Beryl!”
“Hm? Kewlny?”
“What’re you doing out so early in the morning?” I asked.
“Running! A good body is the foundation for a good knight!”
Kewlny was all smiles. Despite it being near dawn, she was already drenched in sweat. Maybe she’d jogged all the way here from her home in the eastern district. That was a good distance—most people would’ve used a carriage.
“Did you run here from the eastern district?” I asked.
“Hm? Yep! Sure did!”
“Ha ha ha... How energetic.”
Man, I definitely can’t pull that off. Youth sure is amazing.
“So, Master, what’re you doing out this early?” Kewlny asked, her large blue eyes staring up at me.
I found it hard to overwrite the mental image I had of her as a little girl, but as a young adult, she was very pretty in her own way. Considering how much older I was, I didn’t have any wicked thoughts, but her unguarded behavior had me a little worried. I kind of felt like a dad. Not that I have any kids...
“I’m also out for a morning walk,” I answered. “I was thinking of peeking into a smithy somewhere too.”
“A smithy...?”
“Yup. A lot happened.” I tapped my hip where the sheath for my longsword would usually be.
“Ah, now that you mention it...you’re not armed?”
“Nope—it broke. I need to find a new sword.”
“Hm! I see!”
Kewlny was getting excited for some reason. Is there really a need for that? Well, picking a sword is a major event for a swordsman. I guess I can understand getting a little fired up. It wasn’t a big deal to me, though.
“Hmmm, Master’s sword... I’m guessing you’ll get one, like, custom made, right?” Kewlny asked.
“No, no, not at all. I don’t give it that much thought.”
Perhaps having hit a good stopping point for her morning run, Kewlny walked at a casual pace next to me, and we continued chatting. A custom-made sword was exactly what it sounded like—everything from the length of the blade, the balance, the materials used for the hilt, and so on were made as ordered. People naturally had different arm lengths, hand sizes, and hip positions, which meant that the ideal weapon was unique to every individual. Taste played a large part too, of course. Altogether, it wasn’t all that rare for a swordsman to have a thoroughly personalized sword.
Ordering a custom blade obviously came with a ridiculous price tag, though. You had to meet with the blacksmith more than once, working out the details thoroughly as you went. For each custom order, you could expect a huge amount of time, effort, and money to vanish into thin air.
“Aww, what a waste,” Kewlny said.
“So you say, but I don’t have that much money.”
Having been kicked out of my home in Beaden, I was paying for board at the inn every day. Apparently, I’d gotten a good discount for being a long-term resident, but I couldn’t leisurely waste money. Not that buying a new sword was in any way a waste...but I couldn’t be excessive.
“For now, I plan on just taking a look around,” I said.
“That so? Well, I hope you find something you like! Ah...” Kewlny trailed off like she suddenly remembered something.
“Hm? What’s wrong?”
“Oh, um, I need to get my sword sharpened. I totally forgot...”
“Ha ha ha, you’re the same as ever.”
During her time at the dojo, she’d been rather forgetful and had always been in a fluster. It made me feel warm inside that this part of her hadn’t changed over the years. As a knight, though, she probably needed to be a little more put together...
“Oh right! How ’bout you come along after training today?!” Kewlny asked excitedly.
“Hm? You have some place in mind?” Allusia had already introduced me to the order’s recommended blacksmith, but there were likely others around here.
“Mr. Baldur’s place!” Kewlny exclaimed.
“By Baldur...you mean that Baldur?”
“Yeppers!”
Hmm. Haven’t heard that name in a while. Never thought he would really be running a smithy. My, how the years fly by. Now I’m starting to get excited.
“Sounds promising,” I said. “Let’s drop by after training, then.”
“Righto!”
Now then, that was enough chatting—both Kewlny and I had to devote ourselves to training. Swordsmen could only grow through constant effort. Well, I guess that applies to pretty much any art.
◇
The Liberion Order’s training hall was rarely empty—at any given time, a good number of knights could be found practicing there. The order didn’t have a fixed schedule for when people trained, so each knight came by whenever they were available and motivated. Of course, there were fewer people around as it got later into the night. Knights preferred early mornings and early evenings. My schedule as an instructor wasn’t set in stone either, so I showed up sporadically when I had the time. At most, I made sure I was there throughout the morning until just past noon.
Allusia had mentioned that since I’d arrived, more knights had started dropping in for daily training. This brought me great joy as an instructor. Knights were serious and honest, and a person who dedicated themselves to swinging their sword was sure to improve over time. As for what I did specifically, well, I observed the knights’ swordplay, gave them advice, participated in mock battles, and other instructor-like things. This wasn’t the dojo, so we didn’t have everyone gather and go through basic forms or anything. Knights weren’t violent people by nature, but because they pursued further strength, many tended toward asking for more practical guidance, like mock battles. It was a fresh experience. They also truly listened to any advice I gave, so there’d been hardly any problems to date.
“All righty! Let’s go, Master!”
“Yeah, yeah, after we get changed.”
Having finished her daily training regimen, Kewlny once more struck up a conversation with me while drenched in sweat. She really did get sweaty a lot... Well, being energetic was a good thing. Just as we’d discussed this morning, I was planning to visit Kewlny’s blacksmith after training. I hadn’t expected much from her suggestion at first, but once I learned that it was Baldur, my expectations had soared.
“Master, may I accompany you as well?”
“Allusia? Well, sure. I’ve got no reason to say no.”
Allusia had also been instructing the knights and was glistening with exertion much like I was. Another sweaty person joins the conversation... I didn’t really mind her tagging along, but was there a point? I couldn’t think of one. Not that I was going to admit that.
“When it comes to selecting your sword,” Allusia said, “it’s only natural to check that the blacksmith has the skills to forge the highest quality blade possible.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I said. “Calm down, okay?”
Welp, here comes Allusia’s hopeless side. Let’s chill out a bit, okay? Allusia had been using the farewell sword I’d given her this entire time. There were countless swords out there that were better, but she obstinately refused to get a new one. She probably had an interest in weapons, and given her position as the knight commander, I would’ve preferred that she carry a better, nicer-looking blade. Perhaps this was just a form of parental meddling, but given the opportunity, I wanted Allusia to pick out a brand-new sword too...though that hope was very likely a waste of energy on my part.
“Okay, then. Let’s meet up outside the office once we’re all changed,” I said.
“Understood.”
“Righto!”
So, we were now going to visit Kewlny’s blacksmith as a group of three. The visit was just to pick a sword for little old me, so this lineup made me as restless as ever. I have got to get used to people staring at me. What a pain.
“Thank you for waiting.”
“Thanks for waiting!”
As expected, a man like me was changed and ready before the two women. I waited a while in front of the office until Allusia and Kewlny came outside. Kewlny was, as usual, dressed in a casual outfit that was easy to move in. Allusia, while not quite dressed flashily, wore something that really highlighted her body’s lines. Wasn’t she embarrassed? Well, if she was fine with it, then it wasn’t my place to say anything. Kewlny carried a blade that was shorter than my old one or Allusia’s. This was probably the shortsword that needed sharpening. The weapon suited her petite frame quite well.
“Shall we get going?” I asked. “I’ll leave the navigation to you.”
“Okay! Mr. Baldur’s place is in the central district.”
I didn’t know the way, so Kewlny took the lead. We walked for a while, and then Allusia turned to me.
“Master, I suppose you’ll be choosing a longsword again?”
“Yeah, that’s the plan.”
I was very familiar with the weight and length of a longsword, so I hadn’t even thought about switching to something else after all these years. Frankly, it would be pretty hard to get used to a new weapon at this age. My lack of explosive strength had been made evident in the battle against Zeno Grable, but I wasn’t in a position to fight against such monsters to begin with—that had been an entirely irregular event, and I prayed that I never got thrown into the powder keg like that again. Well, as long as I remain the special instructor for the order, I shouldn’t end up in situations like that.
We continued walking through the central district, which was different from the tumult of the western district but still had a certain energy in the air. I definitely saw a lot more people in stiff-looking outfits. Many organizations that were pillars of the country had their headquarters in Baltrain, including the Liberion Order and the adventurer’s guild, so these people were likely part of one such organization. Strictly speaking, the guild wasn’t under any nation’s jurisdiction, but they’d integrated themselves all over the world. Every country relied on the guild, especially when it came to maintaining public order, though the degree to which they did so differed.
Now that I thought about it, I wondered where the magic institute was. I didn’t really have any business there, but I wanted to complain to Lucy’s face. If I have time later, I’ll look into it and pay a visit.
“Here we are! Right over there!”
“Hmm.”
After walking for a while, we found ourselves in front of a typical house that’d been remodeled into a smithy. The large sign hanging over the door was emblazoned with the shop’s name—Baldur’s Smithy. Simple and right to the point. Kewlny opened the door energetically and the three of us went inside.
“Mr. Baldur!” Kewlny yelled.
“Ooh! Wel...come... Oh, Kewlny.”
“Mrgh! What’s with the rude greeting?! I’m totally a customer here!”
“Gah ha ha! Sorry! Sorry!”
A somewhat old man with firm muscles came out from the back to greet us. He had a dry and mature voice. His short silver hair and well-trimmed beard gave off a somewhat dapper impression. His burly biceps were visible beneath his short sleeves, and his pecs stood out clearly, even through his clothes. The man’s large body certainly didn’t match his age...in a good way, that is. He was older than me and younger than my dad.
“Oh, I see you’re with Lady Sitrus, and... Ooh?!”
After glancing at Kewlny and Allusia, his eyes stopped on me.
“Long time no see, Baldur.”
“If it ain’t Master Beryl! It’s been a while!” Shock and joy were clear in his voice and expression. “How many years has it been? How’ve you been doing?”
“I’ve been getting by,” I responded. “It’s good to see you in good health, Baldur.”
“Yeah. You can tell just by looking at this body!” he exclaimed, flexing his biceps.
He really was healthy. It felt like illness and injury were foreign concepts to him.
Allusia seemed somewhat taken aback by our exchange. “Master, are you acquainted?”
This was a perfectly reasonable question from her perspective. Allusia and Baldur’s time at the dojo hadn’t overlapped, so it made sense that she didn’t know.
“Yeah. It’s probably surprising, but he’s also one of my former pupils.”
Baldur Gasp—I remembered him very well. After all, among the many pupils I’d taught, he’d been the only one older than me. He’d attended our dojo at the same time as Kewlny and Ficelle, which was why Kewlny was so friendly with him. Allusia had come afterward, so she didn’t know him.
As an aside, in Beaden, the dojo was pretty well-known, so being a pupil there was a point of connection for people. However, in Baltrain, hardly anyone knew about the dojo, so talking to people about one’s training there was pretty meaningless.
Now, back to Baldur. He’d attended our dojo for just over a year. His goal hadn’t been to perfect his swordsmanship, so he hadn’t stayed for very long. He’d knocked at our doors, hoping to understand how it felt to swing a sword—this, he’d said, would enlighten him on his journey to become a blacksmith. He was older than me but still filled with such curiosity and an insatiable thirst for knowledge. It’d left me really astonished.
That was why he’d swung a sword—not to learn techniques, but to figure out what made a swordsman choose a certain blade. Honestly, I’d spent more time giving him lectures about what factors made a weapon suitable for a swordsman. He’d paid the tuition fee, so I’d had nothing to complain about. Still, the sight of him staring from a corner of the dojo as the other pupils eagerly swung their swords over and over was still fresh in my mind. Baldur had been the only one like that. Though, of course, he’d participated in our training too.
“You really set up your own shop,” I said. “Congratulations.”
“Yeah, thanks. It was a pretty rough road.”
Baldur proudly gazed around his shop. It was fairly small but still looked nice. I owed a lot to blacksmiths because of my profession, so I was capable of distinguishing whether the people working the smithy were properly doing their jobs. The cramped walls of Baldur’s shop were lined with all sorts of weapons, and judging by appearance, each one was very well maintained. It was easy to imagine how sharp they were. This gave me a small glimpse at his skill.
“So?” Baldur turned to us. “I assume you came here ’cause you need something.”
“Yup! Sharpening for me!” Kewlny answered immediately.
We could leave my sword for later. I was honestly just tagging along.
Baldur nodded. “Let’s take a look-see.”
“Here ya go.”
Kewlny removed the shortsword from her waist and handed it to Baldur. He drew it from its sheath and stared at the blade for a while.
“Kewlny... You serious?” Baldur sighed. “Buy a new one.”
“Waaaah?! Why?!”
Everything had a life span, even weapons and armor. Much like my longsword coming to a sudden end, the day would come when a blade became unusable (though it was pretty rare for swords to break as cleanly as mine had). My sword’s demise had been an accident and nothing more—it would’ve been impossible for anyone to predict that. However, barring unusual circumstances, a blacksmith could judge a weapon’s life span.
“Is her blade busted or something?” I asked.
“Hmm, not exactly,” Baldur answered. “Several chips along the cutting edge are too deep. Sharpening won’t fill them in.”
“Ah, I see.”
This was less a problem of life span and more an issue with the wielder’s technique. Well, that’s pretty common. Weapons weren’t all-purpose, and there was a proper way to use each one. To cite an extreme example, slamming the flat of the blade against your opponent could never cut through them, no matter how sharp the sword was—that technique prevented the blade from functioning at its full potential and rendered the weapon useless.
If used properly, tools—especially weapons—could be used for a surprisingly long time. Swords were meant for fighting, so they were made to be very durable. There were three main reasons a blade might get chipped like this: the sword was reaching the end of its life, the wielder tried to cut something not meant to be cut, or the swordsman’s skills didn’t match the weapon.
“Kewlny, did you try to cut something weird?” I asked.
“Why would you think that?!” she protested. “I’ve only ever used it for training and combat!”
Training and combat, huh? Neither option excluded the possibility of her trying to slice through something strange, but I decided to leave that topic alone for now.
“I’ve witnessed her swordplay,” Allusia chimed in. “I don’t believe she’s been swinging it that recklessly.”
“Hmm...”
Well, Kewlny had studied at our dojo—she wasn’t likely to be careless as a member of the order. I’d also observed her training, and I hadn’t seen her trying to force victory with brute strength. All in all, I concluded that there had to be a different reason for the damage to her sword.
“You say all that, but, Kewlny, you don’t normally get chips like this,” Baldur insisted. “How’ve you been using this thing?”
“Normally! Totally! Normally!”
“Now, now.”
I tried to calm Kewlny as her discontent flared. We weren’t here to bully her, and we weren’t going to get anywhere by prodding her for faults. Hmm. It’s hard to imagine, given her build, but maybe...
“Kewlny, how does it feel when you use a shortsword?” I asked.
“Hwuh?” She froze for a moment, not quite sure how to react. “How does it feel...? It’s nice and light, I guess?”
“That’s it,” Baldur and I said in unison.
“Huuuh? Wh-What do you mean?” Kewlny asked.
“A simple conclusion,” I answered. “Shortswords don’t suit you.”
This made the most sense. To state the obvious, everyone had a different weapon they were good at wielding. There were, of course, many kinds of weapons aside from swords too. It sounded simple to find something that fit a person’s style, but it was actually pretty difficult. This was also a completely separate problem from getting a custom-made weapon. To put it plainly, getting something custom-made meant taking a specific weapon type and tailoring it for one’s body and technique. However, a person had to first identify the correct weapon—it was meaningless for someone who specialized in using spears to order a custom-made sword. Kewlny hadn’t been this strong during her days at our dojo, so she must’ve grown a lot upon joining the order.
“If you can’t even feel the weight of your weapon, there’s no way you can swing it around properly, yeah?” Baldur sighed, folding his arms. “That’s probably why you’ve been feeling sluggish lately.”
I nodded. “Yeah. I’m thinking the same thing.”
“Hrmm...”
It was no exaggeration to say that Baldur had attended my dojo precisely to give advice like this. In that sense, it looked like he hadn’t wasted his time. Anyway, Kewlny feeling sluggish was an entirely different matter, but judging by her reaction, he wasn’t entirely wrong about the reason. Weapons only functioned when you could feel some adequate weight, which offered feedback. Though, being too heavy was no good either. Every individual’s ideal weight and balance was different. In my case, a longsword was perfect. In Kewlny’s, a shortsword obviously wasn’t the answer.
“Baldur, can I take a look at your swords?” I asked.
“Sure, browse all you want.”
I perused the weapons on the wall, searching for something that would suit Kewlny. If a shortsword was too light, the same probably went for a longsword. Though they were named differently—“long” and “short”—these blades weren’t actually all that different in length. In terms of pure weight, a spear or axe would be candidates, but Kewlny’s movements were optimized for swordplay. I couldn’t deny the possibility of hidden potential within her, but it would be hard to dig those traits out at this point. I didn’t personally know anything aside from swordsmanship anyway. Besides, swords were a staple for knights...probably.
I turned down candidates in my head one after the other. Then, my eyes fell upon a sword. I picked it up.
“Oh, how about this?”
“Huh? Like, seriously?” Kewlny asked, taken aback by my choice.
“Just try holding it for now,” I suggested.
“Uh... Sure.”
It was large, very large, and the huge blade was highlighted by a blunt ricasso right above the hilt. This was a two-handed sword commonly referred to as a zweihander. Efficiency, taste, and compatibility couldn’t be determined without actually trying new things, and Kewlny had a lot of physical strength despite her small frame—it was possible this kind of weapon suited her.
“Hup... Like this?” Kewlny asked anxiously, holding the zweihander in a fighting stance.
“Yeah. Doesn’t seem all that bad,” I remarked.
Our dojo pretty much only had one-handed wooden swords. Kewlny still used a shortsword, so her taste had likely been informed by her days training at the dojo. So, I understood her bewilderment at suddenly being recommended a two-handed sword.
“How does it feel?” I asked.
I wasn’t trying to force it on her or anything. At most, my goal was to find her a suitable weapon, so if this didn’t jive with her, we simply had to look for something else.
“Hmm... It’s not light, but not exactly heavy either,” she answered.
“Mm. Not bad, then.”
It was pretty impressive to hold a two-handed sword and claim it wasn’t heavy. When did Kewlny turn into a muscly power type? Honestly, forgetting about swords and going right for a halberd or poleaxe might suit her, which was a somewhat frightening thought. Seeing her like this, a shortsword probably hadn’t felt heavier than a twig to her, which explained why she hadn’t been using it properly.
“This, um, ricasso? I think? It really stands out.” Kewlny shifted her hands on the hilt, trying out different grips.
“Yeah. The way you use this is a little different from most two-handed swords.”
Unlike normal two-handed swords, a zweihander had a blunt section near the handle called a ricasso. By using it as a fulcrum, it was possible to wield this sword like a halberd. Altogether, a zweihander had a wider breadth of tactical applications than the typical sword.
“It suits you and all, but if you want it, you’ll have to pay up,” Baldur said, pointing out the obvious.
He couldn’t just go around handing out weapons for free. As a blacksmith, this was, without a doubt, his livelihood. I wondered how much the sword would cost. I’d recommended the zweihander casually, but given the current mood in the room, Kewlny’s choice had been made. Was that really okay? Maybe I should’ve given my suggestion more thought.
“Ah, right. How much?” Kewlny asked.
“Let’s see...” Baldur said, thinking it over. “I’ll give you a discount—eighty thousand dalcs. That’s as low as I can go.”
“Mrgh... I don’t have enough on me,” Kewlny responded, grimacing.
The dalc was the local currency in Liberis. It depended largely on where and how luxuriously you lived, but a hundred thousand dalcs a month was enough to live a comfortable lifestyle out in Beaden. Eighty thousand dalcs... Considering the type of weapon and the quality, that was pretty cheap. But Kewlny had only come here to get her sword sharpened. She was likely being honest that she didn’t have enough money on her. All in all, it was a lot to spend at once. Still, it was a good price for a brand-new weapon. Definitely discounted.
Incidentally, I was paying three thousand dalcs a night for the inn I was staying at. I had it booked long-term, so this was apparently quite the discount too. Maybe I should’ve just rented a house. I’ll have to give it some thought.
“Oh well. Wait here a sec.”
The moment he heard Kewlny didn’t have enough, Baldur vanished into the back of his workshop. He came out a moment later holding a zweihander with a somewhat shorter blade.
“You can take this one for twenty thousand.”
“Huh?! Really?!”
“That sure is cheap,” I said, taking a good look at the zweihander. From what I could see, it didn’t have any defects. There weren’t any visible chips, and it looked nice and sharp. “Why sell it for so little?” No matter how I looked at it, this blade was worth more than twenty thousand.
“Ah, I made this thing a while ago just to test things out,” Baldur explained. “It’s something like a prototype. The blade is pretty short, yeah? But it’s just gathering dust in the back. If Kewlny is gonna use it, I’ll let it go for cheap.”
“I see.”
This was a pretty rare occurrence, but it did happen. All craftsmen strove to hone their skills. Advertisement and such could draw in business, but a blacksmith’s income largely revolved around their skill. So, after forging all sorts of things to hone their abilities, they would inevitably end up with odd items—things that were fairly good but that the smith was reluctant to sell because of emotional attachment. If the item in question was poor quality, a smith wouldn’t hesitate to scrap it, but if it was well-made, then the item went into a sort of limbo. I’d received such swords from the blacksmith in Beaden too.
“The blade being shorter might actually work out better,” I commented. “Kewlny is awfully short.”
It was extremely cheap for a sword and of decent quality—this was a good combination of factors for one trying out a new type of weapon. What’s more, the relatively short blade for a zweihander turned out to be a bonus. Kewlny was short, so it would be difficult to handle an excessively long blade.
“Gotcha! Then I’ll take it!” Kewlny decided.
“Sure thing. Thanks for the business.”
And just like that, without really questioning it at all, Kewlny quickly settled on a zweihander as her new weapon. I was the one who’d recommend it, but was that really all right? I was a little worried.
“Ah, by the way, Allusia?”
“Yes? What is it?”
Suddenly coming to a realization, I turned to Allusia. She’d been observing the swords on the wall. Apparently, she really did have an interest in blades. If only she’d buy herself a replacement already...
“Um, is it fine to use a zweihander in the order?” I asked. “Everyone usually uses a longsword, right?”
Allusia used a longsword, and judging by Henbrit’s swordplay, that was also his forte. Pretty much all the other knights trained using standard wooden swords too. In short, they favored longswords. It would feel weird to have one person among them using a zweihander.
“There are no particular restrictions in that regard,” Allusia explained. “A longsword is bestowed to each knight upon joining the order, but it’s ceremonial at most.”
“I see...” It seemed it wasn’t really a problem. That was a relief.
But...hang on, Allusia. If the order gave you a sword, then why not use that one instead of the old one from the dojo? Can I tell her that? No? Well, maybe the sword given by the order wasn’t suited for combat, and more for ceremonies or festivities.
“Ah, Master, Master!” Kewlny called out to me in delight, accepting the sheathed zweihander from Baldur.
“Hm? What’s up?”
“This is my first time using a two-handed sword. Can you, like, teach me a bunch?”
“Oh, sure. I’ll teach you the basics.” Sending her off on her own with nothing more than a zweihander would leave her stumped, after all.
“Sorry, but we don’t got room for that here,” Baldur said.
Ah, so he didn’t have a space for practicing. This was the central district, so land price was at a premium—having enough room to swing a zweihander would mean paying far more.
“All right, then let’s use the order’s training hall,” I suggested.
“Sure! I’ll be in your care!”
There were surprisingly few places in Baltrain where one could freely swing a sword around. The order’s training hall and the one in the adventurer’s guild were the only spots I knew of. You couldn’t exactly brandish a sword on the street.
I’d been the one to recommend a two-handed sword, but I hadn’t really mastered one myself. My knowledge of the longsword could be applied to its general use, but still...
“Please wait a moment, Master.”
Kewlny’s business here was done, so I was ready to head off to the training hall to teach her the basics, but Allusia suddenly called me to a halt.
“You still haven’t chosen a sword for yourself,” she said.
“Oh, right.”
I totally forgot. Thanks, Allusia.
“Hmm? A sword for Master Beryl?” Baldur asked. His ears pricked up, and I couldn’t overlook the suspicious glimmer in his eyes.
Cut that out! I just want a normal sword!
Baldur’s keen gaze fixed on the empty space at my hip. “Oh yeah. I see you don’t have one on you.”
“Aaah, things happened. Mine broke.” There was no point lying about it. It had, in fact, broken. Not that I’d expected it to.
“I doubt you misused it or anything,” said Baldur. “Had an accident?”
“Something like that.”
Baldur let out a hearty laugh.
Hey, it actually was an accident! How else would you describe jamming a sword in a named monster’s mouth only to have a black rank adventurer dice up the blade along with said monster’s head?
“Anyway, a longsword, right?” Baldur inquired. “We’ve got those, but won’t it make more sense for you to get something custom-made?”
You’re saying the same crap as Kewlny! I’m fine with a normal sword!
“Well, I don’t exactly have money to spare,” I said. “I’m fine with buying a blade off the shelf.”
This wasn’t a lie, though I had to admit—a custom-made sword was an enticing prospect. Any swordsman would want to own such a weapon at least once. However, I found it questionable whether I was skilled enough to be worthy of wielding one. I also didn’t have the money or time to spare on such an investment. Well, actually, I probably do have the time.
Baldur nodded. “If you say so, I won’t keep insisting. But still...”
Time for me to shift the conversation slightly. “Honestly, I feel like Allusia needs a custom-made sword more than I do.”
I was a bit pleased that she was still using my farewell sword, but it really was just a mediocre blade that’d been forged out in the sticks. One could hardly claim that it was suitable for the knight commander of the Liberion Order. I hadn’t given her something worthless, but considering her status and skill, her stubbornness on this point was hard to stomach.
“No, I already have my sword,” Allusia insisted.
Baldur stared at her flatly. “So she says.”
Aaand that was the problem. Allusia largely listened to whatever I had to say, but this was one instance when she obstinately refused to back down. What spurred her to act like that? I couldn’t understand.
Baldur shrugged. “Well, no point trying to convince someone when their mind’s made up. C’mon, I’ve got plenty of longswords. Pick any you want.”
“Sure, thanks.”
The reason I didn’t want a custom blade differed from why Allusia refused to use anything but my farewell sword, but there was one commonality between us: nobody else could force us to bend. Recognizing this, I simply had to give up on trying to convince her.
I shifted gears and began looking at the longswords decorating Baldur’s walls. There were plenty of them, but they all looked very similar. The blades were largely eighty to a hundred centimeters long. They all had about the same thickness—more slender than Selna’s broadswords—and they all weighed about the same, which was a heft I was very familiar with.
“Hmmm.”
I picked up and inspected one after another. None were bad. Every sword was sharp and well-balanced. When compared to the ideal of a typical longsword, I could find nothing to complain about, and my senses told me that these were in no way inferior to the swords I’d seen at the order’s official purveyor.
“They’re nice,” I mumbled. “Each one has a splendid edge.”
“Well, yeah. I do this for a living.”
Hmm. I kinda feel like any of these will do. They were all made with quality in mind and all very similar—in a good way. I did, of course, have an interest in weapons other than the longsword, but I wasn’t going to train myself to use something else after all these years.
“Do you have any recommendations?” I asked Baldur.
“Can’t really say... The longswords here are all pretty much the same.”
His answer was roughly what I’d expected. A longsword’s forte was versatility, and it was useful in all sorts of situations—this was the defining feature of shortswords too. Any weapon with a specialty would be given a different name. In other words, longswords were completely mediocre.
“If you’re having this much trouble picking one, shouldn’t you, like, go with a custom-made sword after all?” Kewlny interjected.
Her new zweihander was a little too large to hang at her waist, so she was using a strap to carry it on her back. The juxtaposition between her petite stature and the huge sword was kinda cool. It was still unclear whether she could use it properly, but appearances were important to a knight too. Of course, I had no idea whether the order would accept her wielding it.
“I haven’t really thought about it...” I mumbled. “Hmm, maybe I’m still influenced by my old sword.”
My beloved broken sword hadn’t been a masterpiece, but it’d served me quite well, and I’d gotten used to it over the years. Maybe I was still unconsciously attached to it.
“You do become bonded to a weapon you use for years,” Allusia agreed.
That was exactly my point, but coming from her, the statement felt a lot heavier. It’d be nice if this was all just a case of my imagination working overtime, but I knew deep down that what she’d said was true. You could never have the same weapon twice. Even if you used identical materials and forged using identical methods, it would still be different. There were times when you could take one look at a weapon and spot the difference, but often you couldn’t tell until you started actually wielding it. My last blade, like Allusia’s farewell sword, had been a plain old weapon forged in Beaden, but I’d used it for a really long time. Its peculiarities must’ve been ingrained within me, though I hadn’t realized until now.
“Well, fate plays a part in the selection process too,” Baldur said. “If it’s not a huge inconvenience to go without a sword for a bit, you don’t gotta buy one today.”
Baldur was a blacksmith—a craftsman by nature, and a swordsman through training, but not quite a merchant. As such, he didn’t press people for a sale. I was grateful for that.
“Yeah...”
I couldn’t shrug off how restless I felt without a sword, but I wasn’t sure whether I should buy one right now. Though I was picky, it wasn’t to the point that I wanted something custom made. Baldur’s swords weren’t in any way inadequate—they just didn’t resonate with me for some reason. I couldn’t really give a logical explanation for it.
“Oh yeah.” Baldur’s eyes lit up. “If you ever go on a dungeon attack or something, bring me the materials. I’ll buy them off you, and if you want, I can use them to forge you a sword.”
“Ha ha ha. I will, if it ever happens.”
Why did everyone assume I wanted to go on dungeon attacks? Baldur didn’t know that I’d gone to the Azlaymia Forest. Allusia probably knew, but it wasn’t really something to spread rumors about. Nonetheless, the topic had still come up. Why? Why does everyone think it’s logical for me to go on dungeon attacks? I’m just a plain old man who wants to live in peace.
As I continued looking at swords, still unable to choose, the door to the shop opened.
“Excuse me,” said a voice from the entrance. “Baldur, are you here? Oh, Master...and Sitrus.”
“What’s with that look?” Allusia complained. “Well, I suppose we have been meeting a lot lately.”
Baldur turned to the door. “Oh? If it ain’t Selna. What’s up? Pretty sure I just sharpened your broadswords the other day.”
It was the black rank adventurer, Selna. Guess meeting up here was just a coincidence—she actually has business with Baldur. Anyway, we really did bump into each other a lot. Even when adventurers had stayed in Beaden, I’d hardly ever seen any, but since coming to the capital, I’d been constantly bumping into them.
“Yeah you did. I’m not here to get my swords sharpened, though.” Selna nodded and dropped some items onto the counter with a thud. “These are materials from the named monster Zeno Grable. I’d like you to use them to forge a longsword.”
“A named monster? When did you bag such big game?” Baldur mumbled as he inspected the claws, hide, bones, and other parts.
“Just the other day,” Selna replied proudly. “The materials have finally been collected.”
Baldur picked up a piece, flicked it with his finger, and then, perhaps because that was inadequate, he pulled out a small hammer and started tapping it.
“Hmm... Sure is solid.”
Zeno Grable had been awfully sturdy. It’d taken me everything just to scratch its outer hide, so its claws and bones were surely tough as well.
Baldur finished inspecting the items and then asked the obvious question on everyone’s minds. “Selna, why do you want a longsword?”
I had a bad premonition. Well, phrasing it like that was somewhat rude. Regardless, I figured I was right, but I held my tongue and hoped I wasn’t.
“I was thinking of giving it to Master Beryl,” Selna answered. “And since he’s already here, it makes things simpler.”
This is exactly what I expected.
“Selna,” I said. “I’m pretty sure I already refused.”
Despite my protest, I was indeed grateful. I was missing a weapon right now, and I couldn’t even feign disinterest in a blade made from a named monster’s materials. Honestly, it sounded pretty exciting.
However...
Selna had been the one to defeat Zeno Grable, and the whole expedition had been under the guild’s jurisdiction—I didn’t want to be the old man who barged in and ran off with the goods. Also, as previously mentioned, I didn’t want to owe the adventurer’s guild anything.
“But, Master, this stuff is really high quality,” Baldur said, offering his unvarnished opinion. “The outcome’ll depend on my skill, but I feel like I can make something pretty great. Since she’s offering, shouldn’t you just accept it?”
“Hm? ‘Master’?” Selna tilted her head. “You studied there too, Baldur?”
Ah, right. We hadn’t yet explained how I was acquainted with Baldur. Not many people knew. Though she and Baldur had both trained at the dojo, they’d been very different types of students. Strictly speaking, Selna hadn’t acted much like the others. I’d taught her how to use a sword, but at the time, our relationship had been different from that of an instructor and a pupil. This was partly why I couldn’t help but look at her with the eyes of a guardian.
“Yeah, Baldur also went to our dojo,” I replied. “But he was only there for a little over a year.”
“Is that so?” Selna asked. She seemed somewhat taken aback, but she quickly came to an understanding. “That explains why he has the senses of a swordsman despite being a blacksmith.”
“Well, that’s what I enrolled in the dojo to learn,” said Baldur.
It was as he said—that had been his entire reason for coming to Beaden. He’s a pretty strange old man. I was sure there were tons of dojos out there, so why had he chosen one in the backcountry? Well, so long as he didn’t regret his choice, that detail didn’t really matter.
“Master, allow me to correct you on one matter,” Selna said. “The adventurer’s guild is no longer related to this.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
Selna knew I was reluctant to accept a custom sword. So, if she was still trying to secure me a weapon made from Zeno Grable’s materials, it meant she had some way to clear my apprehensions.
“These items are my personal possessions,” she explained. “They were included in my reward for eliminating the target. What’s more, you haven’t accepted any money for defeating Zeno Grable.”
“You’re the one who killed it,” I retorted. “I don’t have any right to accept a reward.”
“Not so. Even if a team was temporary, everyone on the expedition should receive compensation. Porta and the others have been rewarded for their part as well.”
“Hmm...”
Knowing that made it harder to refuse. I’d heard that the elimination of a named monster came with a bounty. But since the world of adventuring was so distant from my own rural lifestyle, I’d never known any more than that. If those three newbies had accepted money, then there was no reason for me to refuse. I didn’t truly understand it, but I did know one thing: I had no intention of taking money from the guild.
Selna seemed to anticipate my thoughts on the matter. “Even if you want to disregard the monetary reward...well, I broke your sword, and I’d like to make it up to you. That’s all.”
“When you put it like that...” I’d already said that she didn’t need to worry about my sword, but the whole issue had definitely been bothering her.
“At this point,” Baldur said, “it would be rude of you to not take her up on it.”
“Yeah...”
He did have a point. If this had nothing to do with being rewarded by the guild and was instead a personal gift from Selna, then it shouldn’t bother me, right? But it does. There’s no reason for Selna to use these precious materials on me. Yet, objectively speaking, Selna had broken my sword. Would it be poor manners to consistently refuse her the chance to make it right? I didn’t really understand the subtleties of the heart in this respect. Perhaps this was an adverse effect of having spent too much time holed up in a backwater village.
“Hmm, well...” I thought about it one last time. “If you insist, then I guess I can accept. I’m grateful.”
Selna nodded vigorously. “Yes! I insist! Please do!”
My primary concern had been to avoid getting involved with the adventurer’s guild more than necessary. If I didn’t have to worry about that, then accepting her offer didn’t seem so bad. And I do need a new sword.
“A sword for Master Beryl!” Baldur bellowed, staring at the materials. “I’m itching to get started!”
Well, the weapons in this shop were proof of his skill. I could only pray that my sword didn’t come out as a one-of-a-kind oddity.
I leveled Baldur with a serious stare. “A normal sword—you got that?”
“Sure thing,” he replied energetically. “I don’t plan on forging anything weird, so relax.”
“He seems to be a skilled blacksmith,” said Allusia. “I can tell by looking at his swords.”
During my conversation, she’d been browsing the weapons in the shop with Kewlny. It’s good that you have a discerning eye, Allusia. Now, this old man would love it if you would go with the flow and get yourself a new sword too. No? Guess not. Dammit.
“Let’s see... I’ve gotta process the materials too, so gimme a week,” Baldur said. “You can come get it after that. Can I assume you’re footing the bill, Selna?”
“Yeah, I don’t mind,” Selna answered. “I don’t care about the price—give it everything you’ve got.”
“Gah ha ha! Roger that!”
It was supposed to be my sword, but things were proceeding without my input. Was the blade really going to end up normal? And was the cost going to be reasonable? I’m a little worried now.
“Well, I guess I’ll look forward to it,” I said. “Be back in a week. You good with that?”
“Sounds great,” Baldur replied. “Keep your hopes up, Master. I’ll see you all later.”
Baldur immediately took the materials off the counter and vanished into the back. He was probably excited about forging a weapon, regardless of whether it was for me or not. What’s more, when the materials were first-rate, it was the perfect chance for a blacksmith to put their skills on display.
Kewlny and Selna seemed to be finished browsing, so it was probably time for us to leave.
“Okay, Master, let’s go back to the training hall!” Kewlny exclaimed, a huge grin on her face. She stood by my side, the zweihander strapped to her back.
“Oops, almost forgot,” I murmured.
One way or another, she was probably looking forward to trying out her new weapon. It was different from anything she’d used before, so I would focus on teaching her how to wield it. She had good instincts—once she understood the fundamentals, she would be able to grow on her own, at least to a certain extent.
“Master, I’ll excuse myself here,” Selna said.
“Ah, thanks, Selna. I’ll gratefully make use of the sword once it’s done.”
“It’s fine. Don’t mention it. Bye, everyone.”
Having dropped off the materials, Selna left the Baldur Smithy. She had an awfully refreshed expression, almost like she’d been relieved of a tremendous burden. Had breaking my longsword weighed that heavily on her mind? Considering her mental state, me refusing might’ve affected her pretty badly. Well, now that I know, I’m going to get my hopes up for the finished weapon.
I turned to Kewlny. “Shall we? We’ve already trained today, so let’s keep it light.”
“Yes, sir!”
“I’ll head back as well,” Allusia said. “I have a few duties to attend to.”
Wait. She had obligations, but she still decided to come along? I hope this didn’t mess up her schedule. Well, Allusia always seemed busy, so I hoped that browsing swords had served as a good break for her.
Now then, it’d been quite some time since I’d taught anyone how to use a two-handed sword. Kewlny had left our dojo in the middle of her training, so being given the chance to guide her once more was a blessing.
Hup! Time for this old man to put in some work!
◇
“Okay, ready to start?”
“Yes, sir!”
I stood in front of Kewlny in the Liberion Order’s training hall. We’d already finished one round of practice for the day—she and I were back for round two. Oddly, nobody else was around. This was a rare sight, as normally there were several people here no matter what time it was. Dusk was just about to fall, so maybe it was simply too late. The silent training hall seemed all the more spacious, and our voices reverberated through the empty air.
“First, try holding your sword in a fighting stance,” I instructed.
“Gotcha!”
Kewlny held her new sword at the ready. We normally trained with wooden swords, but this was her first time wielding a zweihander. Therefore, I wanted her to get a feel for the real thing. We wouldn’t be exchanging blows or anything—my sword was wooden, after all.
“The basic mechanics will be similar to what you’re used to with a shortsword,” I explained. “However, there are two major differences.”
“Hm. Hm.”
A two-handed sword was far larger, but still a sword, so the fundamentals weren’t all that different. Still, there were several factors you had to be aware of.
“First, diagonal slashes. You should almost never hold a zweihander up high and swing it down.”
“Huh? Like, really?”
Kewlny seemed to be surprised by this, and I understood where she was coming from. Many might be attracted to the idea of hefting a huge sword and swinging it straight down. That move looked massively cool. However, very few idiots actually tried it.
“Yeah. There are several reasons for this, but it’s mostly about stamina. Heaving a zweihander above your head over and over will tire you out quickly. Try giving it a few test swings downward.”
“Yes, sir! Hup! Hyah!”
Kewlny did just as I said and swung her sword down a few times. Obedience itself could be a great weapon... It was fine to have doubts, but it was also extremely important to try something for yourself before throwing questions around.
“Ah, it’s unexpectedly tiring,” Kewlny remarked.
“Yup. The bigger the weapon, the more strength you’ll need. If you throw your blade around recklessly, you’ll exhaust yourself right away.”
Swinging a weapon straight down mainly drew on arm strength. It was hard to use other muscles to share that burden, so no matter how you sliced it, fatigue came quickly. You could make use of gravity and the mobility in your dorsal muscles and hips to swing downward—this resulted in an intense attack, and in terms of pure force, it was probably the best move you could make. But none of that mattered if your target happened to dodge, and this scenario also didn’t account for multiple opponents.
I explained all this to Kewlny. “Swinging downward naturally grants you the most force possible. However, this attack leaves you wide open, and it’s hard to hit your opponent.”
“Hm, is that so?”
“It is.”
This strike could devastate an opponent who was immobilized. But those weren’t the types of enemies a knight could expect to face. Humans and monsters alike could be counted on to move and dodge. I say leave the massive downswings to miners. After all, ore veins and rocks don’t move. That’s why pickaxes have been designed for downward strikes—the force is enough to shatter stone. It makes perfect sense. When used in combat, however, this type of swing was hardly ever the correct choice.
“The only time you should swing downward with a large sword is when you only have one opponent, and they’re in a state where you’ll definitely hit them. That’s why, when you’re using a two-handed weapon, you want to focus on broad strokes.”
“Broad strokes?”
“Horizontal slashes rather than vertical ones,” I explained. “Unlike a shortsword, a zweihander has reach and weight, so you can make use of centrifugal force. Don’t let the sword get away from you. Just like this.”
I gripped my wooden sword in two hands and swung it. I didn’t use my arms to swing—I slashed with my hips. My arms moved, of course, but the pivot point of this swing was actually in the core and pelvis. To understand this technique, you had to throw away the notion of using only your arms to strike. Truly mastering swordplay took more effort and technique than simply training arm strength.
“Oh, I get it!” Kewlny exclaimed.
“To state the obvious, a horizontal slash is much more likely to hit your opponent than a vertical one. Also, it takes less stamina than having to hold your weapon up high.”
“Hm. Hm.”
Kewlny swung her sword while listening to my explanation. Though she understood the general idea, she lacked finesse. Guess an explanation alone isn’t enough. She was already familiar with swordplay, so I’d figured I could just teach her the differences and the rest would be a cinch. Not so, it seemed.
“Also, when you want to thrust or increase the power behind your swings a little, brace one hand against the blade’s ricasso. That’s the second difference.”
The farther back the fulcrum was, the more centrifugal force could contribute to the swing—in other words, by gripping a sword at the base of the hilt and swinging around, you could enhance the power of the blow. However, controlling a swing like that required significant strength from the wielder. If one strike was all you needed, then that would be fine, but that wasn’t realistic for an actual battle. That was where the zweihander’s ricasso became convenient. The ricasso was located far closer to the sword’s center of gravity, so if you gripped it instead of the hilt alone, you could have better control over the swing. Also, when thrusting, this technique kept shaking to a minimum.
“Ooh... Oooh? Ah, I get it.”
Kewlny swung a few times from the grip, then tried some with a hand on the ricasso, stabilizing the strike. She then performed several thrusts. There she goes—she’s starting to get a feel for it. After a few trial-and-error runs, she’d established the proper technique for wielding this weapon.
“I mentioned this already, but don’t swing with your arms. When you use a sword, you cut with the waist.”
“Cut with the waist! How nostalgic!”
It seemed Kewlny remembered my teachings. I was grateful to hear it. “Cut with the waist” was something I’d often taught at the dojo. Those who weren’t familiar with swords often tried to use only their arms to swing. And with enough muscle, this could work (to an extent), so it was difficult to correct the habit. That was why I drilled this mantra into all my pupils from the very beginning of their training.
That same logic applied to diagonal slashes from longswords and shortswords: accumulate strength on one side when you raise the sword, then pivot to the opposite side when swinging. This knowledge of the body was essential—I couldn’t expect much improvement from students unless I drilled this into them from the start. Swords, along with all other weapons, were meant to be wielded with the entire body.
Of course, there were exceptions. I was sure some unconventional swordsmen existed out there in the wide world. But such exceptions were only permitted to those who’d mastered the basics. Those who were self-taught and wielded a sword that way were just wasting effort. I didn’t want my pupils to end up like that. So, I focused on teaching the fundamentals.
I wanted each of my students to master swordplay. And if they forged their own paths, full of unique possibilities, well, I wouldn’t complain. In fact, I welcomed that outcome—it would mean that they had the potential to break the mold.
Unfortunately, Kewlny hadn’t reached that territory yet. She was still young, with plenty of room to grow, so training her up from the basics would get her on the right track. Our mentoring relationship had expanded beyond the confines of the dojo, but I was still her instructor through the order, and it was my job to lead her down the right path.
“Come on, you’re still using your arms. Focus more on your waist and legs.”
“Yes, sir!”
“You’re trying to move your arms independently. Think of all your limbs as a single connected part.”
“Th-This is tough!”
“It’s a problem of focus, and that problem won’t go away if you ignore it. Pay constant attention as you swing your sword.”
“Y-Yes, sir!”
“Yeah, that’s the spirit! Let’s see ten more swings. One. Two...”
“Hah! Hoh! Hyah!”
We were a man and woman alone in one room, but there was nothing sweet about the atmosphere. Kewlny and I devoted our whole selves—bodies and minds—to training.
“Oops. It’s already this late?”
The sun was already hiding below the western horizon. The shadow at my feet stretched all the way into the darkness.
“Haah...”
Kewlny was gasping for breath. You can’t look down on learning the basics. Holding a heavy two-handed sword at the ready and swinging it around exhausted a lot of stamina. This went double for an unfamiliar weapon.
“Mm. It’s your first day, so let’s call it here.”
“Y-Yes, sir...”
I’d spent a good amount of time observing her basic form and leading her through practice swings. The training hall was illuminated, but outside, it was pitch-black, and the sun had set completely. Hmm, maybe we’d gone a bit too long or had been a bit too keen. Kewlny was confident in her stamina, and even she was dead tired.
“Let’s focus on the basics for a while.”
“Yes, sir!”
The path to mastering the sword couldn’t be traversed so quickly. If it was possible to improve in a single day (and just a few hours at that) nobody would have a hard time. Swordsmanship was built on repetition, repetition, and repetition—enough to send your blood pumping and your sanity fleeing. Well, that probably applied to pretty much any skill. If magic could be perfected in a day or two, the magic institute wouldn’t exist.
Judging by what little I saw today, Kewlny’s movements were better than average. However, as expected, she had a bad habit of using brute strength to swing her sword. Maybe she wasn’t conscious of it. That would take time to correct, but she had good instincts. Though, looking at it another way, she had enough base strength to rely on her arms alone to swing a sword, which was impressive.
It’s best to proceed patiently.
Anyway, it was difficult to notice errors in habits and technique unless you were specifically looking for them. And to do that, you needed to anticipate potential issues. Kewlny wasn’t even aware that she was swinging her sword the wrong way, and it was extremely difficult to catch this when watching from a distance. That was exactly what an instructor was for, though. This reinforced my desire to oversee Kewlny’s growth until I could give her a farewell sword. Her weapon of choice was now a zweihander, though, so it was questionable whether I would actually give her one.
“My arms hurt a little, but my waist and thighs are totally throbbing,” Kewlny complained.
“That’s a good thing. It means you’re actively working those muscles.”
Bracing your legs properly was even more important when using a large weapon like a zweihander, but it meant putting more of a burden on the lower body. It wasn’t good to push anyone too hard, so I thought it best to finish up before her body started screaming at her. Also, it was fairly late.
On a side note, watching the petite knight swing a huge weapon around had been quite picturesque. This was probably a reflection of my personal preferences, but there was a real charm to it. I use a totally plain weapon, so maybe that flashy style just sticks out even more in my eyes...
“Hmm, it’s awfully dark,” I remarked as I walked out of the office.
“The streets are totally empty,” said Kewlny. “But I guess that makes sense.”
There was nobody in sight aside from the few knights who were standing guard. Considering the time, that seemed obvious.
“Kewlny, want me to walk you home?”
“Ah, no, no, no. I’m fine! I’m still a knight, y’know!”
“That so? All right, then.”
Even if this was the capital, a relatively safe place, it was probably dangerous for a woman to walk alone at night. I was pretty sure even an old man like me could serve as a ward against ruffians, but Kewlny rejected my offer vigorously. Well, she was definitely a knight, so there was no point in forcing the issue.
“See you, Kewlny. Be careful.”
“Righto! Thanks for the hard work, Master!”
“Mm, good job today.”
I parted ways with Kewlny in front of the office and walked off on my own into the darkness. Luckily, there was some light bleeding from inside the buildings, and street lamps glowing overhead, so it wasn’t completely dark. Visibility was still poor, though.
It was only a short walk from the order’s office to the inn I was staying at, and on the way there, I reflected on the day’s events. I’m getting old. After living for so many years, I tended to forget things if I didn’t dig through my memories like this.
Kewlny seemed to have an aptitude for a two-handed sword. She was the type to rely on power anyway, so despite not yet being used to the new blade profile, she wasn’t letting the sword get away from her. Her lower body was stout too, so rooting down and swinging a large sword seemed like it suited her style. My one apprehension was that she might stand out as the only person in the order to wield a zweihander. Allusia had told me it wouldn’t be a problem, so she was probably all right.
“Hm...”
As I contemplated today’s training at length, I noticed a figure walking toward me. It was late at night, so there was pretty much nobody except me using this street. Even though the darkness significantly reduced visibility, my eyes were drawn to the unexpected sight of another person. It was pretty rare to see people out and about after the sun had set.
The ambient moonlight helped me see just a little better. The person walking toward me was wearing a dark robe that made them blend into the darkness. A hood hanging low over their face obscured their features. Not that there was any point in seeing the face of some passerby. It seemed suspicious to walk around in the dark wearing a hooded robe, but I couldn’t say much—I also looked pretty odd walking alone through the night.
There’s no point in jumping to conclusions about some stranger. Maybe it’s best for me to hurry back to the inn before the local garrison sets their eyes on me.
“Oops.”
The street wasn’t all that narrow, but as we passed, the hooded figure bumped into me. It wasn’t nice to stare, and as much as I wanted to yield the way, forget all about this, and get a drink at the inn...
“Can’t say I approve of that.”
“Hgh?!”
I grabbed the hand that had reached for me in the darkness. I’d thought this person was kind of suspicious, and my instincts had been correct. A pickpocket—a skilled one at that. One second they were walking normally, and the next, they were going right for my pocket. But too bad for them! My eyesight is the one thing this old man is particularly confident about.
“Fuck! Let me go!”
“No can do.”
The pickpocket was a woman, and judging by her voice, she wasn’t very old. She froze for a moment, but immediately regained her senses and began struggling. It pained my heart a little that such a young kid was out stealing, but I still had to hand her over to the local garrison.
“Tch!”
“Whoa?!”
Suddenly, above the girl’s captured arm, flames flared to life.
Magic?!
I reflexively defended myself from the heat. Naturally, this meant I had to let go of her arm.
“Ah...”
By the time I noticed, it was too late—the fiery diversion had worked, and the girl had vanished into an alley without sparing me another glance. For a moment, I thought of chasing her, but I hadn’t been in Baltrain for very long. I didn’t know the area well and was essentially ignorant of any alleys. Add the darkness to that, and there was no guarantee I’d be able to catch her. Regrettable. Well, she hadn’t actually succeeded in picking my pocket, so I hadn’t come to any real harm.
“Hm...?”
While gazing in the direction of the alley, I noticed something on the ground glimmering in the moonlight. I approached it curiously.
“A pendant? Guess someone lost it.”
I picked it up. It looked awfully old but well taken care of. Small scratches marred the surface, though there wasn’t a speck of dust or dirt. I didn’t know whether knights handled lost item cases, but I decided to take the pendant to them the next day. Allusia or Henbrits would probably at least tell me where I could drop it off.
“Man, I’m starting to hate fire...”
First Lucy, then Zeno Grable, and now this—recently, I’d had nothing but bad experiences with fire. Anyway, for a wizard to fall so low that they’d pick pockets... She had to be in a bad place. Judging by her voice, she was just around Kewlny’s age, or maybe even younger. Not that I could do anything about it. Something unfortunate had obviously happened to her, and I had no choice but to leave it at that. I wasn’t a hero or some chivalrous thief; I didn’t possess that kind of noble righteousness. Not that I was a villain either.
“Well, back to the inn, I suppose.”
Naturally, nobody responded to my muttering. On days like these, it was best to go home quickly, take a bath, and get some sleep. Walking down the empty streets of Baltrain, I heard nothing but my own quiet footsteps.
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