From Old Country Bumpkin to Master Swordsman: My Hotshot Disciples Are All Grown Up Now, and They Won’t Leave Me Alone - Volume 5 - Chapter 2

Chapter 2: An Old Country Bumpkin Has His Fill

“Oh, we can see it now.”

Our carriage had left Baltrain early in the morning, and with several breaks along the way, we’d proceeded without any major problems. As we’d traveled, Curuni had energetically tried to get along with Mewi. We’d taken lunch by the riverside with our horses, and things had been so peaceful—or rather, boring—that Curuni and Mewi had dozed off. I’d casually watched these scenes play out.

Before I knew it, we’d reached Beaden.

I wondered what time it was. The sun hadn’t set, but it felt like our trip had taken most of the day. A four-horse carriage could pull plenty of weight, but filling it with people and luggage still placed a burden on the horses. Add in the current summer heat, and it meant that the horses got exhausted quickly. Ultimately, the carriage hadn’t gone all that fast, and we’d had to take multiple rests for the animals. This had led to our trip taking quite a bit of time.

Still, it was a good thing that no real problems had occurred along the way. Things were safe in Baltrain’s vicinity, but this far out into the country, it was entirely possible to be attacked by bandits or beasts at any hour of the day.

“Ugh... Are we finally there?” Mewi asked with a tired sigh. She was as exhausted as I’d expected after her first long-distance carriage ride.

“Just a little longer,” I said.

Looking over a gently sloping plain, we could see the faint outline of buildings in the distance. The only real human settlement in this area was Beaden, so they couldn’t have been anything else.

“Looks like we’ll manage to get there before dark,” Henblitz remarked.

“Yeah.” I nodded. “I’m glad nothing happened on the way.”

Things would’ve been very different if a battle had broken out during the journey. It would’ve taken us even more time, and at worst, we could’ve been forced to camp outside. The knights of the Liberion Order were probably used to a forced march, but I wanted to avoid such things with Mewi in tow, so our luck had been good.

I listened to the gentle clip-clop of the horses’ hooves. In Baltrain, there was always the hustle and bustle of people, except in the dead of the night—it’d been a while since I’d found myself in such a tranquil atmosphere.

Unfortunately, the day was practically over, so we couldn’t enjoy the scenery to our hearts’ content. That could wait for tomorrow. For now, we would arrive safely and get some rest.

“We’re here.”

Shortly after the village came into sight, the horses pulled up to the defensive perimeter—which looked meager compared to Baltrain’s, but we’d actually put some effort into it for a small village—and the driver informed us of our journey’s end.

“Thank you,” I told him. “It was a pleasant ride.”

“Glad you enjoyed it. I look forward to your continued patronage.”

I stepped out of the carriage. The ground wasn’t paved with stone like in Baltrain but was covered in natural grass. This sensation was more familiar to me than those hard roads. I’d lived my whole life in the countryside, so this really did feel more comfortable to me.

“Mmm! It’s been so long!” Curuni said, stretching herself out.

She’d slept for a long while in the carriage, and now she was full of energy. It certainly had been a while since Curuni had visited Beaden. In fact, pretty much none of our pupils went out of their way to visit after graduating. Allucia’s visit had been a truly rare occasion. This did make me feel somewhat lonely, but it was a good thing in its own way.

It might sound strange coming from me, but Beaden was a backwater among backwaters. I was glad my pupils had come to learn our swordsmanship, but that didn’t mean they had to be forever bound to this village in the middle of nowhere. There were many futures beyond learning the sword, like becoming a knight, adventurer, or wizard. Everyone had their own path to follow, and that was perfectly fine.

“Let’s go to my house,” I said. “I’ll lead the way.”

Once everyone was out of the carriage with their luggage, I started walking toward the dojo. The coachman turned his horses smoothly in the direction of the relay station—it seemed this wasn’t his first time here, so I didn’t have to worry about him.

Of our group, the only ones who knew the local geography were me and Curuni. She was taking it easy, as this was all familiar to her, but there was an air of tension surrounding Mewi and Henblitz. Mewi in particular was looking around restlessly. She wasn’t a very talkative girl to begin with, but she was even quieter than usual. Henblitz was probably used to going to unfamiliar places for expeditions, but this was genuinely a first for her, so I could understand why she was nervous. And she was sure to be anxious in an entirely different way when we reached my house. My parents were going to latch on to her and refuse to let go.

The sun still hadn’t set, so I doubted they were already asleep. This far into the country, it was pretty common to have nothing to do but sleep once the day was over. In contrast, Baltrain had plenty of taverns and such to go to in the evenings and after dark. Unfortunately, such pleasures weren’t available in such a remote village.

“Here we are. This is my house and dojo.”

“Ooh... It’s huge,” Henblitz observed.

A while after getting off the carriage at the village’s entrance—well, it was a small village, so it wasn’t that long a while—we safely arrived at my house. Just as Henblitz had said, it was on the larger side of things. It was nothing compared to the order’s office or the magic institute, but the countryside had plenty of land relative to the number of people who lived there, so it could be larger. Safety and land had a tendency to be inversely proportional, though.

“I’m pretty sure my parents should still be awake...”

Standing in front of my familiar home, I felt a little nervous for some reason. It really reinforced the reality that I’d left Beaden to live elsewhere.

With everyone behind me, I placed a hand on the door.

“I’m back.”

I hesitated a little over what to say, but decided to just act the same as usual. This was my home, so saying “excuse me” like a stranger didn’t feel right.

“Ooh, I wondered who it could be. You’re back, Beryl.”

Without showing any hint of sensing my internal turmoil, my old man, Mordea Gardenant, came to the doorway. It hadn’t been that long since we’d last talked, but it still felt like it’d been a while since I’d seen his face.

“It must’ve been a long trip for all of you,” he said to the others. “There’s nothing to do outside, so come on in.”

“Thank you for the consideration,” Henblitz replied. He was the most familiar with meeting strangers. “Pardon the intrusion.”

Now that I thought of it, my dad had only ever taught swordsmanship. I’d rarely ever seen him go outside for other tasks. He’d been a strict instructor and had almost never spoiled me. He’d sent me that letter, so he must’ve considered the possibility that I would come back, but he couldn’t have known that I would bring additional guests. Nonetheless, he wasn’t shaken or reticent in the least.

“Pardon me!” Curuni exclaimed cheerfully. “It might be my first time coming in this way.”

“Hm? You one of ours, little lady?” my dad asked.

Between the two of us, my dad had probably sent more pupils out into the world. I could see myself catching up, though. After all, I’d spent less time as an instructor than him so far, and I was sure to continue training pupils in the future. We hadn’t had an explosive increase in students, so it was simply a matter of how long each of us had been teaching. After he’d handed the dojo over to me, he’d only dropped by occasionally, which was why he didn’t remember many of the pupils I’d taught. Curuni hadn’t spent that long at the dojo, and she’d left for the Liberion Order halfway through her training, so it would be unreasonable to ask him to remember her.

“Yup! I’m Curuni Cruciel! I’m learning a lot from Master Beryl!”

“Ooh, it’s good to have so much energy. You may already know, but I’m Mordea Gardenant. I’m technically this guy’s father.”

“There’s no technically about it,” I quipped.

“Oh, hush. It’s a figure of speech.”

Dammit, dad, think of how I feel being called technically your son.

“Thank you for having us. My name is Henblitz Drout, and I serve as the lieutenant commander of the Liberion Order.”

“Ooh, a real big shot. I appreciate you taking care of this brat of mine.”

My dad was a little taken aback by Henblitz’s introduction. No one in Beaden would imagine that the Liberion Order’s lieutenant commander would come all the way out here. Allucia had come to recruit me, so that had technically made sense, but not even I had been able to predict Henblitz tagging along. He wasn’t one of our pupils, so he had even less of a reason to do so.

“That means the little one here is the girl you mentioned in your letter, right?” my dad asked, looking at Mewi.

“That’s right,” I said. I turned to Mewi. “C’mon, introduce yourself.”

“Uhh... Hello...I’m...Mewi.”

“Ha ha ha! I guess being surrounded by all these old men would make anyone nervous! Come on in. Think of this as your own home.”

My dad blew away Mewi’s stiff greeting with a hearty laugh—in a good way. It was my first time seeing Mewi so tense. She’d been rather nervous during our first visit to the magic institute, but it hadn’t been this bad. The institute and the order had been completely outside her world, however, this was my home. On paper, that made it her home too, and Mewi had no idea how to respond to that. It was adorable in its own way.

“There’s no point in standing out here and talking,” I said. “Come on in, everyone.”

I urged the others into the house. Today’s plan was to relax, get our introductions over with, have some food, and get some sleep. Our business in Beaden, including the saberboars’ investigation, could start tomorrow. I also wanted to take a look at the dojo. Lessons were likely over for the day, but the pupils would be there tomorrow.

As we walked down the mid-length corridor into my house, my dad turned around.

“By the way, Curuni, was it?”

“Yuppers!”

“Are you Beryl’s potential wife?”

“HEY!” I yelled.

This goddamn geezer!

“Hwuh?! Wuh?! W-Wife?!” Curuni exclaimed, heating up in an instant.

“Curuni, don’t pay this old fart any mind,” I said hastily.

I could understand Curuni’s total panic. She’d come all the way to this remote village to find out how far her abilities had grown, and upon meeting this geezer for pretty much the first time, he’d asked her if she was this other old man’s wife. I wouldn’t have blamed her for suddenly resorting to violence.

Fortunately, Curuni wasn’t belligerent by nature, so there was no need to worry about that. This stupid father of mine seriously shouldn’t complain if someone suddenly punches him one day—it wouldn’t be an unreasonable reaction to him at all, just a consequence of his behavior.

“Huh? You’re not?” he asked with a blank look.

“She’s not!” I shouted. “Do you think about your pupils like that?!”

He was acting like he’d done nothing wrong. If this hadn’t been my house and my father, I would’ve hit him already. Well, even if I tried, he would’ve probably warded it off with ease. Violence wouldn’t achieve anything beyond venting my frustrations.

“I see...” my dad mumbled.

“What’re you acting depressed for?!”

His emotions were totally incoherent. I understood his lament over his aging son’s inability to get married, and while I questioned his way of expressing it, I didn’t mean to reject his concern. However, this definitely wasn’t the time or place to be so frank about this topic. This incident had surely damaged Curuni’s mental image of me and caused a misunderstanding. It also wasn’t something I wanted to talk about in front of Mewi. This geezer had finally gone senile. Despite him being my father, I couldn’t help but think that.

“Wife...?” Mewi muttered with a frown.

“Mewi, don’t pay it any mind,” I told her. “Just ignore him.”

She likely knew the word, but it wasn’t really something she was used to hearing. Considering Mewi’s educational needs, it would be wonderful to have a wife to fulfill the role of a mother. Mewi wasn’t an infant who needed constant supervision, but there was a limit to what a single man could do.

Still, that was a difficult future to achieve. Hypothetically speaking... Just hypothetically speaking—say a woman appeared who felt affection for me and wanted to get married. That would be worth rejoicing over. It was a bit selfish, but even I felt a desire to have a beautiful wife by my side. Though none of that is actually possible for now...

On paper, Mewi was now my daughter. And though I didn’t really want to put it this way, she was part of the package. To a woman who was in a position to marry me, that could be a hindrance. After all, looking only at the superficial facts, Mewi was an orphan from the slums whose bloodline was a complete mystery. Even taking her talent for magic into consideration, would a woman who wanted to look after a stranger’s kid ever appear before me?

The situation could change after Mewi graduated and became independent, but that would be in a few years at the earliest. I would only get older in the meantime, and fewer and fewer women would be interested. Not that that was even the primary issue. The probability of finding anyone was already close to zero, so those conditions pushed things even further in that direction.

I wasn’t shifting the blame to Mewi, of course—it was definitely my fault that I’d gotten this old without even the slightest hint of romance in my life. There were some questionable aspects to how I’d become Mewi’s guardian, but I didn’t regret any of it.

“I thought you’d bring back at least one love story after going to the capital...” my dad grumbled.

“Sorry I didn’t live up to your expectations,” I said. “I’ll say this over and over, but you’re the one who raised me this way.”

“I have Frenne, though.”

“That’s true, but still...”

Frenne Gardenant was my dad’s wife—my mother. Unlike him, I’d never heard anything about her being a rising swordswoman or even being ridiculously strong. It was possible I was the only one kept in the dark about it, but I’d never seen her show up at the dojo for training or anything.

To me, she was a kind mother who snapped when it was time to get angry. I couldn’t recall her ever getting angry without a good reason, though. Maybe this was a son’s bias, but I believed she was a good mother. How had a woman like her ended up getting married to my dad? I’d never asked them about it. My whole life had been dedicated to the sword, so for a long time, I’d never had any interest in romance. Also, it was pretty embarrassing to ask your parents about that stuff.

From my perspective, they got along very well as husband and wife. They did fight every now and then, but it was usually my dad’s fault for doing something stupid. At those times, he would apologize to her in a feeble voice—one that was hard to imagine given his usual behavior. There were times when my dad had clearly gotten less food at the table than everyone else—that had likely been the outcome of said fights.

“Ha ha. Oh, forgive me.”

And as I continued this fruitless conversation with my dad, I heard a laugh from behind me. It was Henblitz.

“I see you can’t win against your father, Mr. Beryl.”

“As embarrassing as it is...yeah.”

To be precise, I couldn’t win against either of my parents. My dad always had me beat in a martial contest or swordsmanship, while my mom was unbeatable in all sorts of other ways—she stood head and shoulders above us.

“So...was this one of the reasons you ended up coming to Baltrain?” Henblitz asked.

“Ooh, that’s the lieutenant commander for you,” my dad said. “You’ve got keen insight. I don’t suppose you can use your influence to find him one or two nice girls...?”

“Cut it out, dad. You’re being a bother—to both of us.”

Henblitz was suddenly putting his “keen insight” on display while my dad went along with it shamelessly. I didn’t want to be introduced to a wife through the use of authority—that made it seem like a noble’s political marriage. I’d rather just be an eternal bachelor. Actually, I wanted this conversation to come to an immediate end. I’d been prepared for it to come up, but not in front of everyone like this.

“Augh...”

Curuni’s spirit still hadn’t returned to her body. I really did understand why she was frozen, but I questioned whether it was all right for a knight to have such a poor recovery rate. On the battlefield, a moment’s distraction could lead to death. Compared to Ficelle, who was around the same age, Curuni’s mental fortitude still had a long way to go. Of course, this exact situation would never come up on the battlefield. I must’ve been quite shaken myself for that ridiculous thought to come to mind.

“Anyway, sorry about that,” my dad said, not looking or sounding sorry in the least. “I guess that wasn’t a topic to bring up out of the blue.”

At least he’d apologized. It would be pretty lame to stubbornly stick to this topic. A small part of him probably didn’t want Mewi to see him as a narrow-minded person.

“Mewi,” my dad called out. His expression was suddenly so soft.

“Huh...? Ah, yes?”

“Allow me to say this once more,” he told her. “There’s nothing out here in the sticks, but please be at ease. You’re my granddaughter. That fact will never change.”

His voice was unbelievably gentle compared to the sword instructor I knew. I hadn’t told my dad about all of Mewi’s circumstances—there’d been a limit to what I could put on paper. Still, there was determination behind his words. I didn’t know how to explain it exactly, but I could sense my dad’s resolve, and that definitely wasn’t a bad thing.

“Mm...”

Mewi wasn’t very book smart. She wasn’t stupid or anything, but she hadn’t gotten much formal education. However, she had a sharp eye for human emotion. She was capable of identifying the feeling my dad had put behind his words. She was also a good enough person at heart to realize his intent and avoid acting in a way that would put it all to waste.

“Shall we start with dinner?” my dad suggested. “We can get into the details then.”

“Sounds good,” I agreed. “We’re pretty hungry.”

During the carriage ride here, we’d taken breaks and had even eaten, but that had been no more than the bare minimum for the voyage, and quite some time had passed since then. I was hungry enough to devour anything placed before me.

This would be my first taste of my mom’s cooking in a while. She wasn’t an extraordinary chef or anything, nor did she make anything particularly intricate. Objectively speaking, the food in Baltrain was higher quality. However, a mother’s cooking was something else—it had a charm that couldn’t be replaced by any fine dining. Unable to suppress my excitement, my stomach let out a loud grumble.

“Yo, Frenne. Beryl’s back.”

We proceeded down the corridor and entered the living room. My house was large, and this was the biggest room. Even if there were more of us, there would be plenty of space for everyone to relax.

As a child, I’d wondered why this place was so needlessly large, but taking into consideration any guests we had to entertain, it was just about right. There was a long table big enough to comfortably seat everyone around it. Farther within, I spotted a woman restlessly moving around the kitchen.

“Welcome back, Beryl. Oh my, you brought so much company.”

“Mm. I’m home, mom.”

The woman turning around with a large pot in her hands was Frenne Gardenant—my mother. Her hair was half brown and half gray, cut to a moderate length, and tied back. Neither my dad nor mom had been gray-haired when I was a child. I vaguely remembered their hair starting to turn around the time I became an apprentice swordsman.

My dad’s hair had gone gray relatively quickly. Now, both his hair and beard were completely gray. It made him seem like even more of an experienced veteran, so it wasn’t a bad thing. I just had a small clump of gray in my bangs—in my opinion, it wasn’t all that attractive.

My mom’s hair was changing very gradually. More and more of her hair turned gray over the years at around the same pace that wrinkles formed on her skin. Now, she looked like a complete granny, but in a sense, she had more vigor than my dad.

I felt like I could never win against either of them. No matter how much older I got or how much I improved with a sword, this was something I simply couldn’t overcome.

“I’m sorry we can’t provide much in terms of hospitality.” Her voice was cheerful yet apologetic.

“Don’t be!” Henblitz exclaimed. “There’s no need for you to worry about that, madam. We’re the ones intruding.”

This was my home, and Mewi was a little young to be received like a guest, but she was my daughter on paper, so there was no need for such formalities. Also, the original plan had been for only Mewi and me to come here. Henblitz and Curuni had technically forced their way in. It made sense for Henblitz to speak up, but his words did seem a little too stiff for me.

“You’re so well-spoken for someone your age,” my mom observed.

“You humble me with your praise. My name is Henblitz Drout. I serve as the lieutenant commander of the Liberion Order.”

“Oh my, a real VIP!” my mom said, wide-eyed. “Thank you for the courteous introduction. I’m Frenne Gardenant.”

The lieutenant commander of the order really was a considerable big shot. He definitely wasn’t someone who should be visiting a backwater village on personal business for an extended period. I’d almost forgotten after seeing him in the training hall every day, but he wasn’t someone who would normally have anything to do with me.

“I’m Curuni Cruciel! Nice to meet’cha!”

“My, what a cheerful girl.”

My mom had pretty much never come to the dojo during training, but many pupils had come and gone through our doors, so she was very used to interacting with strangers. She had plenty of experience chatting with the guardians who’d come to pick up their kids too. Little by little, she’d built up some significant social skills.

My dad wasn’t the type to care about that stuff, so maybe my mom had been a major influence on why I did my best to socialize with my pupils and their parents. Perhaps that was why we had more pupils now than during my dad’s time. Even to this day, his skill with a sword went without saying, but he was not the type to be kind and thorough with his instructions. He was like an artisan in that respect—he wove his art into the future, and while it sometimes took the right shape, sometimes it didn’t. It was simply a difference in methodology—my dad and I had slightly different philosophies, and depending on the desired result, the optimal process differed. That was all there was to it.

“I’m...Mewi.”

“Oh! Oh my! Oh dear! So you’re Mewi Mewi!”

And as I pondered somewhat unnecessary thoughts, Mewi finished off the introductions, raising my mom’s spirits to astounding new heights. She knew the bare minimum about Mewi thanks to my letter, which had only gotten her more excited about it. Normally, Mewi would be complaining about the nickname, but perhaps she was overwhelmed by my mom’s vigor or something because she didn’t voice a single objection.

“Come, come, everyone sit,” my mom said, her voice still somewhat shrill. “You must be starving.”

“Yeah, I’m definitely hungry,” I said.

Sharing a fun meal together was the best way to open up conversation. It was better to talk over food than to awkwardly stand face-to-face exchanging pleasantries.

“Hmm, but I wonder if we’ll have enough,” my mom mused.

“If there isn’t, you can just make more,” my dad said.

“Oh! In that case, you’ll be making any second helpings, my dear.”

My dad fell silent. Just as I remember... This is how their arguments always go. I didn’t remember a single instance where my dad had won.

Cooking was hard labor. Thinking up a menu was troublesome on its own, and judging how much to make was a pain. And that’s not even mentioning the actual cooking part, which always took a good amount of time. My mom managed pretty much everything about our kitchen, so her voice carried extra weight when it came to matters of housework.

At any rate, cooking was just a matter of one’s state of mind. I was proof of that—after all, I didn’t mind making food for Mewi whatsoever. That said, it was easy to take my dad’s earlier statement as “Food will appear without me having to lift a finger.” My mom’s cold retort had been justified.

“Are you worried this won’t be enough?” I asked. “It almost seems like a bit too much...”

The contents of the pot felt like overkill. It was a stew filled with large cuts of meat and vegetables that was clearly too much for my mom and dad alone. My letter to them had been sent quite a while ago, and I’d received a reply recently, but there’d still been no telling when I would return to Beaden.

In other words, they shouldn’t have known when I was going to be back. It was supposed to have been a mystery whether I was even coming back at all. The letter had even phrased my return like it was an optional thing. It didn’t make sense that they had so much food here—they couldn’t have known that I’d be returning today.

“A bit too much? Did you forget about Randrid?” my dad asked.

“Oh, right.”

I slapped my knee. I’d completely forgotten.

Sorry, Randrid. Seriously.

“Okay then, guess I’ll go get him,” my dad said, getting up and walking out of the living room.

After their previous argument, he couldn’t possibly tell my mom to go collect him. My dad’s back seemed just a little smaller than usual.

“Master! It’s good to see you again!”

“Yeah, it’s been a while.”

Some time after my dad left the living room, he came back with the dojo’s current assistant instructor—Randrid—along with his wife, who was carrying a small baby in her arms. If I remembered right, the woman’s name was Fanery. During our first meeting, she’d given the impression of being the quiet type while doing whatever she could to support her husband. She was a courteous and good wife. The baby was... What was the name? Oh, right, Jayne. He was still too young to hold his own head up.

I hope he grows up splendidly. Children are adults’ greatest treasures.

“So you’ve been lodging here?” I asked.

“Yes. I’m borrowing one of the detached rooms,” Randrid confirmed. “I’ve been teaching swordsmanship while helping out the villagers when I can.”

“I see.”

Just as I mentioned, our house was rather large, so there were a good number of rooms—Randrid’s family had borrowed one. He had mentioned moving in to the village but hadn’t yet settled on where to live. It took both time and money to build a new house, so he was probably saving up funds and getting to know the villagers in the meantime.

“Randrid... You’re Randrid Pattlerock!” Henblitz exclaimed.

“Hm? You know him?” I asked.

There was clear shock in Henblitz’s expression. At first glance, you’d think the Liberion Order and adventurers didn’t really have anything to do with one another. However, Allucia and Surena seemed to have known one another for a while, so maybe the upper echelons were acquainted.

“He’s an extremely talented adventurer who was on the verge of becoming an ocean rank,” Henblitz explained. “It would be rude for any who study the sword to be unfamiliar with his name.”

“Huh? Is that so?”

I knew Randrid was a platinum rank adventurer. I also knew he retired after Fanery blessed him with Jayne. However, this was my first time hearing about him being on the verge of ocean rank.

The general public’s appraisal of ranks placed gold as a full-fledged adventurer, platinum as top class, and ocean as the elite. This really made Randrid’s retirement seem like a waste. That said, we’d already had this conversation when he’d decided to move to Beaden, so there was no point in bringing it up again.

Randrid chuckled. “Ha ha ha. That’s an overestimation of my abilities, Sir Henblitz.”

“So you know Henblitz too, huh?” I asked.

“Yes. The Liberion Order’s name roars throughout the kingdom like thunder. It would be rude not to know about its lieutenant commander.”

He seems to have a lot of respect for Henblitz. Randrid really seems to have mellowed out.

During his days at our dojo, he’d still been an agreeable youth, but there’d been more of a wildness in his eyes back then—in a good way, that is. What had changed and when? Perhaps he’d calmed after meeting his wife or after the birth of his child. Maybe coming to Beaden and getting away from the hustle and bustle of the big city had done it, or even just the simple passage of time. At any rate, I believed it was a change for the better. There were things to gain by falling back from the front lines of a conflict to raise a family. After all, my outlook on life had expanded in all sorts of ways after taking in Mewi.

“Now that we’re all here, shall we start dinner?” my mom asked with a clap of her hands.

The bare minimum of introductions was over, so it was time for all of us to enjoy a meal, chat, and get to know one another. Henblitz, Curuni, and Mewi would be staying here for the next few days, so we had plenty of time for that.

“Frenne, allow me,” Fanery offered as my mom began pouring soup for everyone.

My mom refused with a smile. “Oh no, it’s fine. You have Jayne to take care of.”

I did understand Fanery’s restlessness. From her perspective, she was freeloading at the house of her husband’s employer. I could easily declare that my mom and dad weren’t the type to work her to the bone because of that. Frankly, I would’ve ended up with a far harsher personality had I grown up in such an environment. My mom’s intentions had been good when she’d refused Fanery’s help—the new mom couldn’t let go of her baby, after all.

“Fanery, we’ve told you many times now that there’s no need for such consideration, remember?” my dad said.

“Mordea... But I’m...”

Fanery remained unconvinced. She couldn’t honestly accept that when she was so indebted to them. Just from this exchange, I could tell Fanery was a good person. My parents knew this too, which was why they didn’t want to cause her undue anxiety.

“You have a duty to raise Jayne properly,” my dad said. “You can repay us when you no longer need to look after him.”

That was a great way to put it. After observing Fanery’s personality, it looked like forcing their good intentions on her could leave her with bad feelings. On that point, telling her she could repay them would alleviate the mental burden. Dad also scored highly for saying she could do so when she was done with her duty.

Now then, was my dad really the kind of man capable of such consideration? Maybe this had been an order from my mom. Or maybe I’d simply never known because he’d never acted that way toward someone who was both his son and pupil.

I thought back on my younger years. Despite having spent a lot of time together as a family, I didn’t know much about my father’s public-facing personality. With the dojo’s pupils, he’d always been the same as usual.

“Understood...” Fanery said. “Then allow me to take you up on your generosity.”

“Mm. Please do.”

Just as that conversation came to an end, our food was lined up in front of us at the table. There was bread, cheese, and a soup lavishly filled with meat and vegetables. Considering that we were out in the sticks, this was a terrific menu.

In Baltrain, you could eat anything as long as you had the money to pay for it, but that didn’t apply in the backcountry. There were far fewer goods in circulation, so even if you had all the money in the world, there were ingredients you simply couldn’t buy. For better or worse, that made living in the city very cut-and-dried. As long as you had money, you could get what you wanted, and if you didn’t have money, you couldn’t act as freely. Fortunately, I didn’t currently have any money problems, so my life in Baltrain was going relatively well.

At any rate, I was a little afraid of getting used to my city lifestyle. I wasn’t thinking of becoming someone wealthy and out of touch who basked in luxury and extolled the righteousness of honorable poverty—nothing so extreme—but I wanted to avoid ending up thinking that life in the capital was the norm. After all, I planned on returning to this village one day.

“Thank you for the food.”

I set those thoughts aside for now and focused on dinner. Everyone gave thanks in unison. Jayne couldn’t speak yet, but he seemed to find it amusing that everyone was speaking at once, so he offered up his own “daaah” to match us. It was pretty cute.

Thinking back on it, I didn’t have much experience sharing a meal around a table with so many people. Here, we had me, my parents, Henblitz, Curuni, Mewi, and Randrid’s family. Even if we didn’t count the baby, that was eight people.

“Ooh! This soup is delicious!”

“Oh my, thank you.”

“What a calming taste. I feel like I could eat this forever.”

“It’s...really good.”

“My! My! Mew Mew, don’t hold back! Have as much as you like!”

“Ah... Okay...”

With more people at the table, things were much livelier. I usually had my meals with just Mewi, and though we chatted sporadically, it could never be considered lively. I could have a lot to say when I felt like it, but Mewi definitely wasn’t the talkative type. This meant we naturally tended to have silent meals.

“Mewi, you all right?” I murmured, worried that the atmosphere might be too boisterous for her.

“Mm... I’m fine. There’s someone nosier at the institute.”

“Aaah...”

I thought Mewi would be unaccustomed to such a lively meal, but that didn’t appear to be the case. Now that she mentioned it, the magic institute did have a cafeteria. Of her school friends, I could guess who the nosier one was. It was very likely—or rather, guaranteed—to be Cindy.

“So Mewi attends the magic institute?” my dad asked.

“That’s right,” I answered. “She has a talent for magic.”

“That’s nice. Her future is secured.”

Even those who’d spent their whole lives in rural villages like me knew that being a wizard put you on the fast track to some of the highest positions in the country. That was how improbable it was to manifest a talent for magic.

“Hmm, so she’s a budding wizard,” my dad said. “It seems there’s a lot to look forward to.”

“Yeah, she also started learning swordsmanship,” I said.

“Swordsmanship?! Now that’s a novelty...”

“The institute has a new sword magic course. I’m actually helping out there as a temporary lecturer.”

“Meaning Mewi is also your pupil... Hah! Just like you and me.”

“I do think she has talent. She’ll surpass me in no time.”

“Hey! Cut that out!” Mewi protested.

“This is how she hides her embarrassment,” I told everyone.

“HEY!”

Ha ha ha. I could talk about Mewi forever.

◇

“Master, you’ll be staying here for a while, yes?”

“Yup, that’s the plan.”

As we continued our lively chatter over dinner, Randrid tossed the conversation my way. If he was living in the dojo, he almost definitely knew about the letter I’d sent to Beaden and the one my parents had sent back. In other words, he knew my reason for returning. His question was basically confirming that I was participating in the saberboar hunt—he knew that my visit wasn’t just a temporary homecoming.

“How many are there this year?” I asked.

“We haven’t gone that far out yet, so we aren’t sure,” Randrid explained. “However, there are signs that there are more than last year. There have even been sporadic sightings of saberboars nearby.”

“Hmmm...”

Randrid had studied the sword under my guidance for six years. In that time, he’d absorbed all my techniques and had graduated from the dojo. In other words, during his time as my pupil, he’d participated in the saberboar hunts—and not just once or twice. I’d only just arrived and hadn’t gotten a look yet, but according to Randrid, the pack was larger than last year’s. Eliminating them would be kind of a boring job for a platinum rank adventurer who’d been on the verge of becoming an ocean rank, but it was a necessary path to walk if he wanted to live in Beaden. I was going to rely on him greatly.

“By the way, have you changed swords?” my dad asked out of the blue.

“Oh, this?”

I realized that I hadn’t told him anything about my sword yet—it hadn’t seemed important enough to include in my letters. Since I was in Beaden to fight, of course I had my sword on me. Henblitz was equipped with his longsword, and Curuni had her zweihander.

The only one who’d come without a weapon was Mewi. She was learning how to fight in the sword magic class, but she hadn’t had enough lessons yet. She was not yet skilled enough to challenge a saberboar—not even close. The plan was for her to watch the house and relax with my mom and Fanery.

“My last one got sliced in half,” I said. “So I had a new one forged.”

“Hmmm...” My dad observed my sword with sharp eyes. “It’s not just simple steel.”

“Sure isn’t. It’s so good that it’s wasted on me.”

To be precise, the blade had been forged from the remains of the named monster Zeno Grable. I felt like it wasn’t really my place to spread that information though, especially since Surena had been the one to actually defeat it.

“Master Beryl’s sword is amazing!” Curuni exclaimed. “It’s forged from the remains of the named monster Zeno Grable!”

“Ah...”

I’d kept quiet to stop the topic from becoming an uproar, but everything had been exposed thanks to Curuni’s swift attack.

“That is impressive,” my dad said. “Did you defeat it?”

“No, Surena was the one to finish it off,” I answered. “You remember her?”

“Of course I do. So Surena defeated a named monster... How’s she doing?”

“Very well.”

“That’s good to hear.”

My dad narrowed his eyes as he basked in memories. Surena hadn’t been one of our dojo’s pupils, but we’d taken care of her for around three years until we could find someone to adopt her. Neither I nor my dad saw her as a pupil. She was kind of like what Mewi was to me now, or perhaps a little sister who was far younger than me. To my parents, she was something like a granddaughter.

“Surena!” my mom exclaimed, raising her voice joyfully. “How nostalgic!”

I was an only son, and I’d be lying if I said I’d never wanted brothers or sisters. I didn’t know whether my parents hadn’t been blessed with more children or if they’d intentionally chosen not to have more. It wasn’t something I could really ask them about.

“Twin Dragonblade Surena Lysandra, you mean?” Randrid asked. “I never knew she was from this village...”

“She wasn’t—not really,” I said. “Hmmm... How do I explain it...?”

It seemed Randrid was unaware that Surena had lived in Beaden for a while. Well, I doubted Surena had told many people about that. I didn’t know how to explain it. This was personal information, so I was reluctant to disclose it without permission, and also, I didn’t want to mar her reputation when she held such an outstanding position and a dazzling history of achievements.

The Surena I’d known in the past had been a quiet and timid girl. Now, she was a splendid, powerful woman—it was hard to reconcile the two versions of her, and I didn’t want to spread any negative rumors.

Henblitz then spoke up, changing the topic. “Oh yes. Mr. Beryl, shall we work out our plans for the near future?”

“Yeah. Let’s see...”

Now that our bellies were full and things had calmed down a little, it was time to discuss our plans. He and Curuni had forced their way onto this trip so that they could help suppress saberboars. It would leave them ill at ease if we didn’t discuss how we would go about doing that.

“Dad, no one has gone into the mountains yet, right?” I asked.

“They haven’t. We’ve been keeping an eye on the base of the mountains, but we haven’t had enough hands for a hunting party.”

If they hadn’t entered the mountains yet, it meant the investigation hadn’t really started.

Let’s talk geography for a bit. We were referring to the Aflatta Mountain Range that ran across northern Liberis. Our nation occupied a large portion of northern Galea, with its capital located somewhat northwest of the center. Going straight west from Baltrain would get you to Beaden. Farther to the west was the Aflatta Mountain Range.

The mountains were inhospitable. Quite frankly, people pretty much never went there as it was completely wild territory. The environment was simply too harsh for anyone to live in, so almost none of it had been cultivated. It was possible that there were untapped resources in the mountains, but the return on investment was too poor for anyone to find out.

What made things even more complicated was that the mountain range extended southwest into the neighboring Salura Zaruk Empire’s territory. Honestly, no villager knew exactly where the national borders were in the middle of those craggy mountains. Clear borders had apparently been decided upon, but once you were in the mountains, there was no way to identify them.

It wasn’t a huge issue for travelers or residents of the local villages to accidentally cross these borders. There was room to consider the extenuating circumstances, so there was a tacit understanding between the two sides. However, things would be really bad if members of the military, like the order or the magic corps, were to cross the border—even if it was to conduct an investigation. A breach like that could even lead to war. Both sides wanted to avoid such an incident.

Say the situation was reversed and the empire was sending knights to investigate after giving a formal notice. Our side would still see this as a military exercise right on the border or as the first steps to an invasion. Even if the incident didn’t immediately break out into a war, it would raise international tensions. War was one means of diplomacy, but no one resorted to bloodshed for the fun of it. At the very least, I couldn’t imagine anyone wanting that.

So, very little of the Aflatta Mountain Range had been investigated or cultivated. I had no idea how things were on the empire’s side of things, of course, but if I had to guess, things were likely similar over there.

And, before any governmental considerations, the mountains were filled with ferocious beasts and monsters. Even without the problems concerning national borders, it was a harsh environment to be in. Saberboars were native to the mountains too. When their numbers increased during their breeding season, they often came down from the mountains in search of prey. Settlements like Beaden, which were situated close to the Aflatta Mountain Range, suffered the effects of this breeding season. We had the dojo, so we were capable of defending ourselves, but their incursions were likely harsher for other villages.

When it came to monsters and beasts, it was impossible for humanity to completely drive a species to extermination. Our sphere of influence simply wasn’t wide enough. So, our only choice was to cull them when they propagated enough to cause harm. The saberboar hunt was, in essence, necessary to thin out their numbers. We couldn’t exterminate them, so we only reduced their numbers until they were no longer a threat.

“Hmmm... First, I guess I’ll take a look at the dojo’s lessons for a day or two,” I said.

“The dojo?” Henblitz asked incredulously.

“Yeah, to recruit any kids who seem like they’ll be able to help,” I explained.

In short, I wanted to check and see how many people we could take into the field. To that end, I wanted to look for any kids who were interested in participating—and any who could endure a fight against a saberboar and a trek through the mountains. I wasn’t going to force anyone just because they could fight. The bare minimum to include them among our numbers was their ability and their willingness.

Not everyone attending the dojo was trying to reach the pinnacle of swordsmanship. I felt like we had a large ratio of pupils who were, but there were also kids trying to learn the basics for self-defense or those who were trying to overcome a lack of athleticism. There were even some who had no intention of ever fighting, even if they had a tremendous talent lying dormant within them. It was pretty meaningless for such pupils to get any combat experience, so their presence would only make things more dangerous.

That was why we had to see who was available. If I had to guess, there were a few who would be willing to go. I hadn’t been away from the dojo for long, so I could mostly rely on my last memories of its pupils to draw up a fairly accurate estimate.

Even in the worst-case scenario where no students could come, it wouldn’t really be a problem. After all, we had me, Randrid, Henblitz, and Curuni. There were more than enough frontline fighters, and my dad could handle protecting the village on his own.

“How nostalgic,” Randrid said. “I was a volunteer back in the day.”

“You were always raring to go,” I remarked.

“Ha ha, how embarrassing...”

My thoughts drifted to the past as I chewed on what little cheese had been left on the dining table. I wasn’t so old that I had nothing but my memories to keep me going, but I’d taken in so many pupils and had sent so many out into the world. Even now, those days remained vivid in my mind. When I could no longer swing a sword, maybe it would be nice to spend my days basking in such memories.

“May we also take a look at these lessons?” Henblitz asked.

“Of course,” I answered. “If anything, I’d love to get the lieutenant commander’s opinion.”

“Ha ha ha, what a heavy responsibility.”

Our dojo did teach people how to fight, but the knights who fought on the front lines were supposed to have better senses when it came to sniffing out people who could contribute in the field. So, I planned to rely heavily on Henblitz and Curuni’s opinions.

“Well, that’s the gist of it,” I said. “Let’s just rest for today.”

I was planning to go scouting once we finished checking out the dojo, so I had to recover from the fatigue of our journey while I could. Mewi was watching the house, so it didn’t really matter in her case, but the two knights had to be properly rested.

“I can’t move the way I want to anymore,” my dad said. “It’s in your hands, Beryl.”

“Ha ha, how shameless.”

You sure got a mouth on you, you damn geezer. His skills had deteriorated since his prime. However, even in his old age, he was still the greatest swordsman I knew. There was no way he would lose to a run-of-the-mill fighter, and he could easily hunt saberboars. Still, I wanted to avoid exploiting my dad now that he was retired. That was why I’d gone out of my way to come home.

“Okay then,” my dad said. “Beryl has his own room, so he can just use that. If we give the lieutenant commander a room of his own... Well, we didn’t plan for this many guests, so I guess Curuni and Mewi can share a room.”

“That works for me!”

“Whatever...”

“Hm?” My dad cocked his head. “Mewi, would you prefer to stay in Beryl’s room?”

Mewi paused for a long moment, then muttered, “I’ll go with Curuni...”

“Ha ha ha!”

Ah, Mewi hesitated for a sec there. She’s so damn cute.

◇

“Morning. You sleep well?”

“Yes, without any issues.”

“Yup! Like a rock!”

The day after we arrived in Beaden, after sleeping in my own bed for the first time in a while, I found Henblitz and Curuni already in the living room. They’re ready early... Still, I’d pretty much expected them to be like this—they had forced their way onto this trip, so they didn’t want to be a bother first thing in the morning. I would’ve been fine with them relaxing a bit more, though.

“Curuni, where’s Mewi?” I asked.

“Aah, she was still sleeping, so I let her be... Should I have woken her up instead?”

“No, it’s fine. I’m sure she’s exhausted from the trip.”

Mewi had slept in the same room as Curuni, and it seemed she wasn’t awake yet. Just as I’d said, she must’ve been tired from the carriage ride. Even if it hadn’t been a particularly rigorous journey, it was exhausting for those who weren’t used to traveling long distances. So, it was best for Mewi to get some proper sleep. They say sleep brings up a child well, after all.

“Oh, good morning, Beryl.”

“Morning, mom.”

My parents were also in the living room. My dad was seated and having some tea, and my mom was preparing breakfast. That meant, excluding Mewi, that I had been the last to wake up. It wasn’t a competition or anything, but it was a little vexing. I was pretty confident in how early I tended to get up.

“Shall we start with breakfast?” my mom suggested as she placed food on the table.

For now, it was time to eat. My mind wasn’t going to work without refueling. After that, I wanted to wash up in some cold water. It didn’t matter whether I was in the countryside or the city, it was still summer. And though it was just a little after sunrise, it was still hot enough for me to build up a slight sweat.

I wasn’t going to ask for the luxury of a hot bath. In this weather, a splash of cold water was more than pleasant enough. Fortunately, Beaden had no issues getting fresh water—we could be generous with the stuff. I didn’t know if this would still be the case if we had more fields and villagers, though. There were definitely advantages to having a small population.

“Thanks for the food.”

Everyone’s voices sounded in unison. It was important to have good manners in all things. I’d been raised fairly strictly in this regard—my parents were big on manners. Henblitz and Curuni were also conscientious. You always had to give thanks for the food on your table and the person who made it.

Today’s breakfast was bread, salad, and chicken soup. Baltrain’s inn would’ve provided milk too, but unfortunately, Beaden didn’t really have any animal husbandry. We got almost all of our meat from hunting and trade, so we were lucky to get any milk or eggs. The standard of living in Baltrain really is amazing. Well, it makes sense that a large gathering of people means a large gathering of goods, so maybe I shouldn’t be surprised by that.

“Will we be dropping by the dojo after this?” Henblitz asked after some lively chatter over breakfast.

“Yeah. There’s still some time before lessons start, so how about I give you a tour of the village? We can wash off in the river while we’re at it.”

“The river! That sounds great!” Curuni exclaimed, jumping on my suggestion immediately.

Not that I really care, but shouldn’t you be more conscious of being a woman? Even though Henblitz was with us, I would’ve preferred for her to be somewhat reluctant to bathe with an old man. It would be kinda depressing if she were plainly revolted by the idea, but still... My state of mind on the matter was awfully complicated.

“I brought plenty of extra clothes, so it’s a-okay!”

“I-I see...”

Curuni ignored my concerns entirely—she was fully intent on playing in the river. Beaden was close to the Aflatta Mountain Range, so there were plenty of brooks running nearby. And since they were all natural, the water quality was great. Having access to bathing spots and drinking water nearby was a big deal for a settlement. Even if it was hard labor to carry it back to the village, access to water cost us pretty much nothing.

“Okay, once we’re done eating, shall we take a stroll to the river?” I suggested.

“Yeah!”

Curuni was in high spirits, and Henblitz looked interested too. The hot weather did make you want to dunk yourself in some cold water. Also, a trip to the nearest river would just happen to provide a good tour of Beaden. That said, I doubted that there would be anything new and exciting for them to see here.

“Breakfast was great. We’re heading out.”

My body couldn’t handle entirely skipping my morning meal, but that didn’t mean I could eat a huge breakfast right after waking up. Bread, salad, and soup was a perfectly arranged breakfast menu. I expected nothing less of my mom.

“Please take care of Mewi if she wakes up while I’m out,” I added.

“Yes, yes, of course. Have a good day,” my mom replied.

With breakfast over, I grabbed my sword, a towel, and a change of clothes, then left the house. Henblitz and Curuni also brought the bare essentials with them.

“What a peaceful morning,” Henblitz commented with a smile. “You never see this in Baltrain.”

I chuckled. “Ha ha, you know just what to say.”

Put another way, we were out in the middle of nowhere, and he had chosen a very apt way to describe the village. Baltrain was lively and noisy first thing in the morning, so this was probably very peaceful for people who were used to that. It could grow tiresome given a few days, though.

About the only sounds we heard were birdsong and the rush of the wind shaking the trees. I’d been in Baltrain until yesterday too, so it’d been a while since I’d experienced such tranquility. The stillness was very comforting. That said, the dojo was an exception. It was going to get rather noisy there soon after our pupils arrived. I decided to enjoy the familiar peace and quiet until that time came.

“That’s the village’s only relay station. And that’s the village’s only smithy,” I said, casually giving a tour as we walked.

“What does the blacksmith make?” Henblitz asked.

“Mostly farming tools. But there are people like me around, so he technically makes swords too.”

Pretty much every facility in the village was the only one of its kind. Our house was the only dojo too. This far out into the country, there was nothing to gain by trying to start a second dojo—it would just lead to a scuffle over an already small customer base. The only real exceptions were hunters and farmers. Hunters usually tried to specialize in different types of prey, and farmers decided what to grow based on what their land could sustain.

Those were two professions you could get a late start in out here and still catch up, given the right skills and assets. One other option for finding success was becoming an adventurer and striking it rich. Those who failed usually ended up returning to the village, and those who succeeded had no reason to come back. At any rate, adults who put down roots in such a remote village usually had a good reason for doing so—be it good or bad.

“Looks like you all have everything you need,” Henblitz observed.

“Well, yeah. It’s small, but this is still a proper village.”

In terms of scale and quality, there was no comparing it to Baltrain. We had a blacksmith, and though his skills weren’t bad, he was never going to be making any masterworks. Balder’s skills far surpassed his. Nevertheless, we had everything you needed to make do one way or another. I was sure there were other villages that had it far worse.

“Anyway...it’s a little unexpected,” Henblitz muttered.

“Hm? What is?”

“Beaden isn’t that far away from Baltrain, yes? I thought it’d be somewhat more developed...”

“Aah, that. To put it bluntly, we have no reason to do so.”

“Why not?” Henblitz asked, somewhat bewildered.

Just as I said, the village had no reason to develop further. This wasn’t about me hating the village or anything—it was an objective fact.

“What’s over there in the distance?” I prompted, pointing.

“The Aflatta Mountain Range, yes?”

“That’s right.”

In terms of simple distance, there were countless cities and villages that were farther from Baltrain than Beaden. Just as Henblitz had mentioned, we were relatively close. As long as there were no issues along the way, a carriage could make the trip in a day. However, despite this proximity, our population hadn’t grown, and we’d continued to be a backwater village.

“To add to that, while the land isn’t barren, it isn’t particularly fertile either,” I added.

“Hmm...”

Agriculture in Liberis was prosperous, so there was a lot of knowledge in that field. Our land wasn’t exactly unfit for agriculture, but it took time and money to cultivate. That meant people needed a reason to spend time and money developing the land. We required something to draw people here.

“Also—and this might be the most important fact—geographically, there’s nowhere to go from Beaden.”

“What do you mean?” Henblitz asked.

“It’s a dead end for traffic.”

Things would be different if Beaden was a key point between cities. However, the only thing beyond our village was the Aflatta Mountain Range. There was no reason to stop here, even if you were on your way to Salura Zaruk.

Still, even as small as it was, Beaden was a village. We had connections with nearby villages and traded with Baltrain. This wasn’t for the sake of expanding the village, but it was the bare minimum people needed in order to get by.

Because of all this, Beaden had always been a backwater village. If anything, it’s actually developed relatively well. Normally, there wouldn’t even be a relay station at a dead end like this.

“Things would be different if the continent was a little more peaceful, though,” I added.

“Well...the same applies everywhere.”

Above all else, monsters all across the land were a tremendous issue, and this far into the countryside, even the main road wasn’t perfectly safe. It was unreasonable for a village to freely expand without a care in the world. Beaden had to deal with saberboars pretty much every year, and they had countless smaller incidents.

“Can nothing be done about that mountain yet?” I grumbled.

“At present...it would be very difficult.”

“Figures.”

It was all the fault of the Aflatta Mountain Range! Though the rivers were a blessing of the mountains, so it wasn’t all negative. Still, if those mountains had been a flat plain instead, Beaden could have been a checkpoint between Liberis and Salura Zaruk, making it far more prosperous. Maybe it would’ve even been a full-fledged town by now.

“It sure is complicated,” Curuni said.

I nodded. “Yeah. Things are never simple.”

In the future, as the population increased and technology developed, things might change, and the threat of monsters could wane. However, that would take decades at best, and centuries at worst. In short, there was nothing we could do about it in the present day. From a national perspective, Liberis was pouring effort into the research of magic to fulfill that future, and we could only place our hopes in the tomorrow promised by our statesmen.

“Ah, there it is.”

“Oooh!”

And just like that, after walking and chatting a while, I spied a clear stream running across the plains. It had a gentle flow and was shallow—the deepest part only came up to my knees, so if our goal here was swimming, it would be inadequate. However, it would be hard to drown here. It was also close to the village, so we were greatly indebted to this spot for everything—from drawing water to letting children play.

“The river is small and the view is unobstructed, so there shouldn’t be any danger,” I said.

“Roger that! Hyoh!”

The moment I finished talking, Curuni dashed straight for the river.

How badly did you want to play in the water?

She kicked off her shoes clumsily, got down on her knees, then plunged her face into the water. After a short while, she whipped back her head and shook off the water.

Are you a dog?

“Lieutenant! Master! It feels great!” Curuni shouted with a terrific smile.

“Ha ha ha, that’s good to hear,” I said.

Well, getting into some cold water first thing in the morning on a hot summer day was quite the luxury—one you couldn’t experience in Baltrain. While the city had thriving steam baths and such, there were no nearby rivers to enjoy.

“But, how do I put it...?”

“Agreed...”

“I don’t know where to look...”

“Indeed...”

Henblitz, Curuni, and I were all lightly dressed—it was summer, after all. Getting wet naturally made any clothing stick to the skin. At worst, your clothes could turn transparent. Due to a combination of these factors, Henblitz and I couldn’t look directly at Curuni.

“Let’s cool ourselves off a little farther away,” I suggested.

“Yes...let’s.”

At a glance, there were no other villagers around, which was a small mercy. Henblitz and I plopped down into the river. The water was pretty chilly, and it cooled our flushed bodies nicely.

◇

Henblitz and I soaked our feet, washed our faces, and refreshed ourselves by wiping away the grime. Curuni, meanwhile, had become soaking wet and, without our intervention, would have kept playing in the water until she’d gotten hungry or sleepy. So, we had her get changed before we all returned to my house.

“We’re back.”

“Yo, welcome.”

My dad came out to greet us. He was moving as sluggishly as ever. After retiring and handing me the dojo, he’d mellowed out considerably. He was still far nimbler than he should be, but he’d changed significantly compared to his prime. Anyone who’d known him in the past would probably be shocked to see him now. Still, he was doing what exercise he needed to keep his body moving, and on very rare occasions, he still peeked in on the dojo to see how things were going. Nowadays, he was an old geezer who only ever grumbled about being hungry, or his hips hurting, or why he didn’t have a grandchild yet.

“Mmm! That was sooo refreshing!”

Curuni was in a terrific mood. It must’ve felt great to play around in the water that much. Though, with all her bouncing around, I’d needed to avoid looking directly at her. Curuni was a little too old to be called a girl, and she was now a full-fledged knight, so it was only proper to treat her like an adult.

Yet despite her age and station, she seemed to lack modesty. She retained the cuteness of youth, and she could also display plenty of charm as a woman. However, she was completely unaware of this. From a man’s perspective, it was a bit problematic.

Henblitz also seemed to be troubled by it, so maybe Curuni’s lack of self-awareness was a problem within the order too. I wanted her to figure it out already, but I felt like it wasn’t my place to say anything. It sure was a complicated issue.

“Mm... Welcome...home?”

“Yup, I’m back.”

Mewi, who hadn’t been with us for breakfast, had woken up while we’d been on our walk. It seemed she still wasn’t sure how to process her current situation, and her voice sounded quite bewildered. She was probably confused about greeting me in someone else’s home. She’s so damn cute.

“Did you have breakfast?” I asked.

“I did...”

She’d eaten, but she was still only half awake. She probably still hadn’t gotten over the fatigue of the ride here. Since she didn’t have much stamina to begin with, and her body still wasn’t very healthy, it would take time for her to get used to being here.

“You could’ve slept in more,” I told her.

“No... I’m fine...”

“That so? Just don’t push yourself.”

One goal I had for this homecoming was to let Mewi kick back, so I didn’t want her to exhaust herself. It would be problematic if she lived in complete self-indulgence, but since the institute was on break, I wanted her to let loose and enjoy herself.

“Dad, where’s Randrid?” I asked.

“Oh, he should be in the dojo about now.”

Ah, it was about time for the dojo to open. He was probably doing warmups in there. Instructors—as long as we weren’t taking part in nonstop sparring—got far less exercise than our pupils. That was fine for someone who’d retired, but being an instructor was somewhat insufficient for maintaining a good physique. If you focused entirely on teaching, your body would gradually weaken.

Even though Randrid had retired from being an adventurer, he was a little too young to start withering away. He knew this too, so he made sure to get some real exercise in on top of giving lessons at the dojo. It was a truly wonderful mindset.

The order’s training was far more intense than what we did at a backcountry dojo. That was a great boon for me, though sometimes it was a little too intense and my stamina couldn’t hold out. The knights of the Liberion Order were basically all stamina monsters. There were times when I found it too harsh to train among them, but for cases like this saberboar hunt, they were reliable allies. After all, having exceptional sword skills was useless if you didn’t have the stamina to do something like trek through the mountains.

“Okay, shall we take a look at the dojo?” I suggested.

Henblitz nodded. “That sounds good. It’s been on my mind.”

“How nostalgic!” Curuni exclaimed.

The two knights seemed to be looking forward to this. That made me pretty happy.

The sun was higher in the sky now, so the serious pupils were likely trickling into the dojo already. Our dojo was out in the sticks, so we didn’t have a fixed schedule or anything, and our pupils showed up at fairly disparate times. We never ran all that late either. Both my dad and I had generally held lessons in the morning. Things were likely still that way if Randrid hadn’t made any major changes.

The dojo was a separate building from our house, and I still didn’t know which had been built first. There was probably some history behind it, but no detailed records remained. If I had to use my imagination, I figured that one of our ancestors had built a place to train and hone their swordsmanship. This had likely attracted people hoping for instruction, so the dojo and house had been built. Neither my dad nor I had any idea what the truth actually was, though.

“Ooh.”

As we moved from the house to the dojo, faint sounds could be heard from within—voices and the noise of objects clashing together. In other words, today’s lesson had started. This was supposed to be my dojo, but I felt a little nervous as I put my hand on the door. I’ve been away for a while... I wanted to believe that my pupils hadn’t already forgotten me, but what if there were a ton of new kids who’d shown up during my absence? Randrid had been a talented adventurer, so it was entirely possible that rumors about him had attracted many hopefuls.

“Master! It’ll be okay! I’m sure of it!” Curuni called out cheerfully as I hesitated in front of the door.

“Yeah... You’re right.”

She really was good at cheering other people up. I wasn’t sure whether she was aware of it, but I’d been saved by her fathomless optimism in the past too. Joining the Liberion Order hadn’t changed that part of her. I had a hunch that she’d been allowed to join—despite her sword skills still needing some polish—because they’d seen this attribute in her. If that was true, then the knights who’d given Curuni a passing grade during her test for the Liberion Order had good eyes. It made me proud.

“Okay, let’s go in,” I said, not quite steeling myself but at least calming down a little before I opened the door. “Ooh, looks like they’re all working hard.”

The door clattered open to reveal a space far more cramped than the order’s training hall. Inside, several students were receiving lessons from Randrid.

“It’s Master Beryl!”

“Ha ha, long time no see.”

The pupils gathered around me with their wooden swords still in hand. This made me happy, but I felt a little bad about interrupting Randrid’s lesson. At a glance, it didn’t look like the number of pupils had changed much. Actually, almost all of them were familiar faces.

Most of our pupils were relatively young. The reason was simple: very few people chose to start fresh and learn swordplay after reaching adulthood. Usually, by that time, people already had an established livelihood. It was rare for someone to be whimsical enough to cast that aside to learn to use a sword from the bottom up. Balder was one such rarity.

“Are the people behind you here to observe?” one of the kids asked.

“Hmm, something like that.”

It was only natural that a bunch of kids in the sticks didn’t recognize individual knights of the Liberion Order. Curuni had left the dojo quite some time ago too, so I doubted there was anyone here who’d met her.

“A pleasure to meet you. I’m the lieutenant commander of the Liberion Order, Henblitz Drout.”

“Liberion knight, Curuni Cruciel! I’m Master Beryl’s former pupil!”

“The order?! Wow!”

The room was astir at the knights’ introductions. Even if they didn’t know the names and faces of individual knights, the order itself was well-known across the entire kingdom. Also, they were excited that Curuni had come from this dojo. The Liberion Order’s reputation sure was amazing. It really reinforced how powerful a title could be.

“Randrid, I’ll leave the lesson to you,” I said. “I’ll be watching with these two.”

“Understood! Knowing you’re watching has me pretty nervous, though.”

My pupils were glad to see me return, even if it was only for a little while, and I was grateful for that. However, I had to return to Baltrain once this matter with the saberboars was cleaned up—I had my duty as a special instructor to fulfill. It was only right to have Randrid continue to give the lessons here, and it would be meddlesome for me to get involved.

“Master Beryl and the knights are watching, so let’s give it our all,” Randrid told the pupils.

“’Kaaay!”

It seemed they wanted to show us what they could do. As an instructor, I could ask for no greater happiness.

“Hmph! Showing off to Master Beryl is one thing, but I’m betting the knights are no big deal!”

And just as things were proceeding with a nice mood in the air, one voice resounded through the dojo. It was a short girl around the same height as Curuni. Her bluish-black hair was of moderate length, and her confident golden eyes were slanted at the corners much like Mewi’s. She had a strength of will behind those eyes that made up for her slight stature.

In truth, she didn’t have a rough temperament—she was just very willful. The girl was very serious and diligent during training, but once she had her mind set on something, she was too stubborn to budge. That didn’t mean everyone hated her or anything. Her characteristic optimism and competitive spirit actually attracted people to her, and her personality was well suited for swordsmanship.

“Adel! Don’t be so rude!”

“How is that rude?! I didn’t say anything wrong!”

Even after getting scolded by Randrid, her attitude remained unchanged. It was pretty hard to stop her once she got started. That hadn’t changed at all from the day I’d started teaching her. Randrid seemed to have problems reining her in, and it’d been rather difficult for me too, to be honest.

At any rate, the atmosphere in the dojo was pretty tense now. It didn’t look like they were going to have a harmonious lesson anymore.

“As a knight, I’m curious as to why she’s come to believe that,” Henblitz muttered, still calm despite the verbal attack.

He lived up to his title as lieutenant commander of the kingdom’s greatest order. Flaring up from some country girl’s provocation would be disgraceful for a knight. Curuni, on the other hand, was in a completely speechless panic. She could definitely learn to be more knightly.

“Adel,” I said. “I’m not going to deny you your personal opinion, but shouldn’t you at least start with an introduction?”

At any rate, while Henblitz was fine, Adel needed calming down. She tended to put her emotions on full display, but that didn’t mean she was stupid. If anything, she was rather clever.

She suddenly gulped and fell silent. She was the type of girl to immediately consider anything you said as long as you had a point. Therefore, if I could get her to calm down for a moment, we could talk things out properly.

“Adel... Adel Klein,” she started, her expression, tone, and gaze still as aggressive as before. “I’m Master Beryl and Master Randrid’s pupil. I’m going to become a great adventurer like Master Randrid one day.”

“A wonderful goal. Allow me to introduce myself once more. I’m Henblitz Drout.”

Adel Klein was one of my pupils and Randrid’s pupil now too. She was around fifteen years old. She hadn’t grown up in Beaden, but in the neighboring village of Ard. We were the only swordsmanship dojo in the general vicinity, so we had quite a few pupils who’d been born elsewhere.

Adel had a talent for the sword. She’d spent about three years at our dojo and had picked up on things very quickly, but her swordsmanship differed from the likes of Allucia and Ficelle due to her aggressive personality. She was far more similar to Surena, though Surena hadn’t technically been my pupil.

There was also one other peculiarity about Adel’s upbringing.

“S-Sis, calm down... Everyone’s shocked...”

“Edel! Don’t you agree with me?!”

A timid boy cut into the conversation. This was Edel Klein, Adel’s twin brother. Twins weren’t exactly an uncommon sight, but it was rare to see ones of different genders. He was somewhat taller than Adel, had shorter bluish-black hair, and his golden eyes had a reddish tinge. However, what differentiated him the most were his downturned eyes. In a sense, they reflected his nature perfectly.

Adel and Edel had similar facial features and were naturally the same age, but their personalities were polar opposites. The sister was self-assured and knew no fear, while the brother was docile and reticent. What made it even more interesting was that Edel was the slightly stronger of the two. There wasn’t a clear gap in their abilities or anything—they simply fought differently.

Edel’s swordsmanship was influenced by his personality. He specialized in a careful and fluid style. In contrast, Adel always charged in greedily, so she was poorly matched against him. However, that did mean there were opponents Adel could beat that Edel couldn’t, and they were ultimately closer in ability than not.

“Edel, do you share her opinion?” Henblitz asked gently.

“U-Um... I, uh...”

The fact that he didn’t deny it immediately showed he did share Adel’s opinion, even if not to the same degree. I hadn’t expected them to feel this way. After all, during my time teaching them—in other words, before I’d left for Baltrain—this line of conversation hadn’t come up a single time.

Public opinion placed the knights of the Liberion Order at the pinnacle of an already honored occupation. They received exceedingly high praise on the streets, and there were many like Curuni who’d striven to learn the sword for the sole purpose of joining the Liberion Order. Naturally, adventuring was also a very popular occupation, but in a direct comparison, knights came out on top. That made the acceptance rate that much lower, so joining the Liberion Order was no small feat. Regardless, this was my first time hearing anyone look down on knights. That was simply how famous, popular, and strong the Liberion Order was.

“He’s acting all timid, but his opinion is pretty much the same as mine,” Adel declared bluntly, tired of waiting for Edel’s reply.

“That makes me all the more curious...” Henblitz said. “May I hear why?”

I shared Henblitz’s curiosity. The Liberion Order rarely came all the way out here, but that also benefited its reputation—it was strange to have such a negative impression of the order without ever having encountered a knight.

“I’ve never met a Liberion knight before today,” Adel said, puffing out her chest as if to say her opinion was irrefutable. “Even when my village was attacked by monsters, even when a poor crop yield threatened us, and even when Master Beryl and the others went to defeat the saberboars, not a single knight ever came.”

Henblitz remained silent.

“The ones who saved us were adventurers, hunters, and Master Beryl,” Adel continued. “You’re always just holed up in the capital. How can anyone like that be impressive?”

“That really hits home...” Henblitz said with a dispirited look.

I understood where she was coming from, even if she was a little too blunt about it. No knights would get dispatched just to clean up a backwater village’s issues. They had their own priorities to maintain, as well as their limits.

The royal garrison existed to cover such gaps, but they didn’t exist across the entire kingdom either, and they didn’t have a local presence in Beaden. So, people who lived in such remote villages relied on adventurers or their local hunters. Mercenaries were also technically an option, but they couldn’t expect good pay in the sticks, so while their reasons differed from any knights, they pretty much never came out to villages like this.

I personally understood why the Liberion Order was incapable of protecting every corner of the kingdom. They simply didn’t have enough personnel. Liberis was vast, and even if the entire order was mobilized, they could only defend a fraction of the nation. That might prompt the question “Why don’t they just hire more knights?” but that was an entirely separate problem. Increasing their numbers would mean lowering the difficulty of the entrance exam. In other words, an increase in quantity would come at a drastic loss in quality—both in terms of martial prowess and a knight’s spirit.

To add to that, if the quality of knights deteriorated, their reputation across the kingdom would also plummet. That would lead to an inevitable decrease in budget from the nation and also cause management issues. At worst, the organization itself could become corrupt.

For any organization, it was necessary to be somewhat selective to retain a level of quality. If a knightly order only needed to be a gathering of martial force barely any better than a bunch of ruffians, they could just recruit endlessly. No one wanted that, however.

Given all this, Adel’s opinion made sense. In fact, it was pretty normal for someone to only consider events they’d personally witnessed. I would’ve liked for her to expand her outlook somewhat, but there was a limit to what could be accomplished out in the country. Compounding the issue, an adventurer had become an assistant instructor at the dojo, which had reinforced her opinion further.

“As one of the kingdom’s knights, it is disheartening that we are unable to secure the people’s safety,” Henblitz responded sincerely. “On that point, I can say nothing in my defense.”

I was grateful for his attitude, but it wasn’t really enough to change Adel and Edel’s impression of knights.

“However, this doesn’t mean the order has given up on it,” Henblitz continued. “It may sound like a poor excuse, but we train every day to that end. I can only devote myself to this path in hopes that you come to accept that, even if only a little. If necessary, I’m not opposed to showing my resolve.”

The Liberion Order wasn’t protecting all of the kingdom’s citizens. It would be an impractical feat, but even so, their policy was a serious problem for those exposed to real threats. However, the order had its pride. They were the strongest force in the kingdom. They defended their homeland. Those emotions were clear behind Henblitz’s voice.

“Hmph. Are you trying to claim you’re strong?” Adel snorted.

“Not as strong as Mr. Beryl, but yes, strong to an extent,” he replied.

“Just say you’re strong...” I quipped without thinking.

Why bring me up as part of answering the question? Have some confidence. You’re plenty strong enough as is.

“Master Beryl? Is this guy actually good?” Adel asked.

“Don’t call him ‘this guy.’ Be polite,” I said. “Well, I guess it’s weird coming from me, but he is. At the very least, he’s stronger than you.”

“Hmmm... Bring it on!”

Oops, I didn’t mean to egg her on. But what else could I say? Henblitz was very strong. Adel was talented and had a great foundation for swordplay, but it was unreasonable for her to win against the lieutenant commander of the Liberion Order. Even Curuni was more skilled with a blade than she was.

In short, Adel still didn’t know how vast the world was. She saw degrees of strength entirely from the tiny world of a dojo in the middle of the sticks. I wanted her to see how huge the world was and how many kinds of strength there were out there.

Randrid seemed to be of the same opinion. He wasn’t making any attempt to stop the conversation. He only watched on with a half look of resignation. Well, if he could’ve stopped her with words, he probably would’ve by now.

The next words to come from Adel’s mouth were something pretty much everyone present had expected.

“Sir Henblitz, if you’re willing to back that claim, then have a match with me.”

However, Henblitz’s response was far from expected.

“I don’t mind,” he said before pouring more oil onto the fire. “If you’d like, both you and Edel may come at me at once.”

“Why you...! Don’t look down on us!”

“H-Henblitz?” I said.

“Sorry... Am I overreaching?” he asked, an air of regret in his voice.

He thought he’d been a little too provocative. He wasn’t thinking a two-on-one would be harsh in any way. In other words, he didn’t foresee any problems with facing Adel and Edel at the same time.

“Hmm... I wonder about that...” I muttered.

Looking only at the outcome, it seemed like Henblitz had been the one to provoke them into this, but my statement had technically sparked it off. Tracing it all the way back, Adel had been the one to pick a fight. That said, his assessment of their respective strengths was correct. As long as Adel and Edel didn’t pull off some extreme surprise attack, Henblitz was sure to defeat them—even two-on-one. That was simply how skilled he was compared to them. I knew this because I was aware of all their individual abilities, but it would be impossible for the twins to understand that before seeing him fight.

“Master! Are you saying this guy is stronger than us?!” Adel protested.

“Not ‘this guy.’ Henblitz. Anyway, even if you both take him at once, he’s still stronger.”

“WHA?!”

I felt like I was repeating myself, and my answer wasn’t going to change. The twins were talented, but to put it harshly, they were nothing more than trainees with barely any practical experience. It would be a different matter in a twenty-on-one, but the Liberion Order’s lieutenant commander wasn’t such an empty title that he would lose to these youngsters.

I’d won against Henblitz during our first match, and I hadn’t taken even the slightest graze of his sword, so you could say it’d been a complete victory. However, I’d never once looked down on him or doubted his abilities. I wasn’t just assuming based on his title or anything. He was genuinely strong.

He could draw out significant power and speed from his well-built physique. He had more than enough toughness, stamina, and technique too. He also had a good sense for the flow of battle. The reason I’d beaten him was simply because I’d had a larger accumulation of experience over the years. If I’d fought Henblitz back when I was his age, I would’ve lost—even with my good eyes.

Incidentally, I’d never seen Henblitz lose to any knight other than Allucia. This was despite him showing up to the training hall pretty much every day and having a good number of bouts. Also, during the royal escort mission where we’d fought alongside Gatoga and Rose, he hadn’t lost against the assassins. It was only because someone ludicrous like Allucia was always next to him that you could forget how ridiculously strong he was.

“In that case, let’s see it! Edel, let’s do it!”

“Wh-Whaaa...?”

“No complaining!”

“F-Fine...”

Unable to take it any longer, Adel finally snapped and challenged Henblitz alongside Edel. Normally, this would be the point where she challenged him one-on-one, but Adel was a clever girl.

At heart, she refused to believe she could lose. However, having gained some information on Henblitz from me, her internal assessment of him had gone up significantly. Being able to honestly take that information into account was one of her strong points—the ability to properly measure your opponent’s strength was a matter of life or death for a swordsman. Well, she still doesn’t have a good measure of her opponent. If she did, she wouldn’t have picked a fight with the Liberion Order’s lieutenant commander...

Henblitz looked eager, so I decided to use him to expand Adel’s outlook on the world.

“Um, Master? Is this, like, really okay?” Curuni asked.

“As long as Henblitz is fine with it.”

I wasn’t quite sure which side Curuni was worried about. Either way, it was going to be fine. Henblitz wasn’t going to slam his full strength into them or anything. You’re not going to, right? Right? You totally went all out against me, though...

“Let me ask you this, then,” I said to Curuni. “Two or three years into learning swordsmanship, do you think you could’ve won against Henblitz? Let’s assume there were two of you too.”

“No way,” she answered instantly. “I doubt even five of me would’ve been enough.”

“That’s the gist of it.”

I couldn’t imagine myself winning against Henblitz as a newbie swordsman either.

“You good with this too, Randrid?” I asked.

“So long as you are, Master.”

“Then there isn’t a problem.”

Now that we had the current assistant instructor’s permission, things could go ahead. Honestly, I didn’t believe Adel and Edel had any chance against Henblitz, but I was interested in how the two would fight and how Henblitz would handle them.

“You can keep going until you’re all satisfied,” I said. “However, if Randrid or I decide things are getting dangerous, we’ll put a stop to it. You good with that?”

“Not a problem.”

“Sounds good!”

“Ugh... Understood...”

In large contrast to Adel, Edel was acting like he’d gotten caught up in some accident. Still, he wasn’t the type of kid to hold back or slack off in a sword fight. If he was really against this, he would’ve never agreed to participate in the first place. He clearly believed that the two of them could put up a fight, even if they couldn’t win. It was hard to call Edel cheerful by any metric, but that didn’t mean he lacked confidence. He had pride in his swordsmanship too, and that pride was being put to the test here and now.

“Okay then, get in position,” I said. “The rest of you kids keep your distance.”

The three backed off from one another and readied wooden swords. The other pupils moved to the walls. There wasn’t as much space here as the order’s training hall, but it was still large enough for a two-on-one fight.

A sudden silence filled the dojo. I liked this kind of atmosphere.

“Then...begin!”

“Haaaaaah!”

The moment I gave the starting signal, Adel let out a tremendous battle cry. Yup, yup, that’s a splendid display of spirit. This was the way of an aggressive swordsman. Her choice of move to open the match was correct. Shaking an opponent with pure spirit was honestly pretty effective. This was especially the case against an unfamiliar opponent. Creating even an instant of hesitation could lead to an advantage. However, that was only against an opponent of your level or one who was weaker than you.

“Shaaaaaah!”

Henblitz roared in response. This was also the correct choice. If your opponent was mustering their spirit, you just had to meet them with even more of your own. It was very simple logic, but a sword fight could be decided in such a fashion. And, if your spirit was about equal to your opponent’s, all that was left was to settle things another way—with genuine technique.

“Gh! Guh!”

Adel charged in with a two-handed vertical strike. Henblitz chose not to dodge it at all and catch the blow head-on. Their blades locked, but the equilibrium was broken in an instant. Henblitz’s physical strength far surpassed Adel’s.

“Hrrrm!”

Henblitz put even more strength behind his sword, and unable to escape it, Adel’s knee buckled. He was making sure she could see the difference in their strength.

Henblitz can be more mischievous than I thought... His approach wasn’t exactly wrong, but it was kind of mean-spirited.

“Hmph!”

“Shaaah!”

Seeing Adel was in a bad situation, Edel lunged with a sharp thrust from the side. However, quickly sensing his presence, Henblitz pulled back his sword and parried the thrust.

“Wh-Wha?!”

A violent thud, one you wouldn’t imagine coming from wooden swords, resounded in the air and Edel was blown back by the impact.

Wow, he smacked the core of his sword as hard as he could.

It was impressive that Edel had kept a hold of his sword. A strike like that against someone’s body would definitely knock them out.

Is this really okay? I’m starting to get worried now.

“Edel! Together!”

“M-Mm!”

Regaining her balance in the meantime, Adel yelled an order. She’d deduced that going at Henblitz one at a time just meant they would be crushed again and again. Seeing that they couldn’t beat him alone, she’d had them shift tactics—they would attack simultaneously or in waves. The twins had pretty good instincts for fighting.

“Hiyaaaaaah!”

“Hah!”

Adel charged in with another battle cry. Unlike before, Edel also charged at a subtly different angle.

“Haaah!”

“Wha?!”

Just like before, Henblitz met them with an intense battle cry of his own. He faced Adel and stepped in close. No longer at the correct range, Adel couldn’t muster a proper swing—her sword was blown back by Henblitz’s violent strike. By moving forward, he’d also managed to escape Edel’s initial range.

Using the instant Adel was stumbling from his blow, Henblitz swiftly turned and intercepted Edel’s sword. In terms of pure physical strength, Edel was physically weaker than Adel. There was no way he could oppose Henblitz’s might. As a result, the twins were once more repelled with ease.

“Hmmm...”

Man, Henblitz really is strong. He was obviously skilled with a sword, but he also knew how to fight multiple opponents at once. As a lieutenant commander, he was in a position to command other knights, so maybe it was natural that he was used to fights that involved great numbers.

“Tch! Not yet!” Adel shouted.

“That’s the spirit!” Henblitz roared. “Come!”

Despite being knocked back so splendidly, Adel’s fighting spirit remained. She charged in once more. This time, she came at him with a thrust but pulled back with a feint just as she was about to come into range. She was giving this a lot of thought. It’s important to keep your brain active in the middle of a battle.

Meanwhile, Edel circled around Henblitz and attacked from behind, but Henblitz sent him flying backward with a kick.

Do you have eyes on the back of your head?

While waiting for Edel to recover, Adel stopped her big flashy attacks and focused on smaller quick strikes, but all of them were knocked aside or dodged.

Adel and Edel were now on the defensive. It was pretty much over. They didn’t possess the technique to manage Henblitz’s strength.

“He’s pretty amazing...”

Surprisingly, despite the considerable strength Henblitz was putting behind his blows, he hadn’t struck their bodies a single time. Every clash had been between wooden swords. The only direct hit so far had been that kick.

He’s probably trying to avoid injuring them. This was despite Adel and Edel mercilessly trying to hit him with everything they had. There was an absurd gap in technique and experience between them.

“Aaaaaah!”

“Gh!”

Even though it hadn’t been that long since this had started, Adel and Edel’s clothes were already rumpled and dirty from tumbling across the ground over and over. Regardless, they didn’t give up. Their willpower was worthy of praise, but this couldn’t go on for much longer.

One’s mental condition was very important in a fight. A slight difference in ability could be compensated for with strength of heart, but this worked both ways. At first, Adel and Edel had been sure of their victory. However, that had changed to a desire to win at any cost, then to a desire to at least get a hit in, and now, to knowing they had no chance. Once things progressed that far, they were a lost cause. They were already at a strength and technique disadvantage, so if they were losing the mental battle too, there was no way they could win.

“Enough!” I yelled.

I’d watched over this for a while but decided they were at their limits. Henblitz remained silent at my declaration, while Edel looked despondent. Adel maintained a look of uncontrollable anger, but she lowered her sword too.

“Why?!” she asked. “We can still keep going!”

“It’s no good,” I told her. “You’ve clearly lost focus. Any more of this and you might get injured.”

“Ugh!”

She still had plenty of stamina. My pupils all started their training with a lot of running and conditioning, so she wasn’t exhausted yet. Nevertheless, her mind was considerably fatigued. A single mistake in that state could lead to a major injury. Adel had to know this too. She didn’t argue and just hung her head.

“Well done, Henblitz,” I said.

“Thank you very much,” he replied after taking a single breath, not showing much fatigue. “I must say, they’re far stronger than I initially estimated. I suppose I should’ve expected that from your pupils, Mr. Beryl.”

Despite being faced with such animosity, he made sure to show due consideration. He really was a capable man.

The mood wasn’t quite right to get back to lessons. Just as I was wondering what to do next—

“Sorry!”

“Whoa.”

—Adel suddenly apologized. She kept her head high and puffed out her chest, though. Adel, that’s not the right way to say sorry.

“You really are strong! Forgive my rudeness! But I’ll definitely catch up and overtake you!”

“That’s the spirit. I’ll be ready to accept your challenge at any time.”

Adel’s declaration was so bold it was refreshing. This had gotten across to Henblitz, who replied with a genuine smile.

I guess that settles it. Well, as long as they’re all okay with it now.

I still didn’t know how her skills would develop or what kind of person she would become in the future. It was entirely possible she would stop walking the path of swordsmanship halfway. Maybe she would become an adventurer just like she’d claimed. Maybe she would even become a knight. Regardless of what it was to be, I prayed these children had bright futures. We adults could pave the way for them to an extent, but what path they chose was ultimately up to them.

“Randrid, sorry for taking up your time,” I said. “You can go back to the usual.”

“Ah, yes. Understood.”

Our goal in coming to the dojo wasn’t to have Henblitz fight Adel and Edel. That had been more of an inexplicable accident. We were here to select pupils we could take along on the saberboar hunt.

It was time to fulfill our original objective.

◇

Some time after Adel and Edel’s sudden mock battle, the atmosphere in the dojo had pretty much returned to normal. The pupils swung their swords as they repeated after Randrid.

“Next, second defensive form! One! Two!”

“One! Two!” the students called out.

“This really takes me back,” Curuni muttered as she watched.

“Right?” I nodded. The order never practiced forms, so even I felt somewhat nostalgic watching this.

“Are these your school’s basic forms?” Henblitz asked.

“Yeah. We have five offensive forms and eight defensive ones.”

Despite having just finished sparring, Henblitz’s breathing was perfectly regular. That probably didn’t even serve as a warmup for him. The lieutenant commander’s looking more and more superhuman.

This was a dojo, so we had proper forms that defined our style—as mentioned, we had five offensive and eight defensive. To put it simply, these were fixed sword-fighting patterns that we drilled into our pupils, and we taught them to react in certain ways depending on their opponent’s movements. The reason we had more defensive forms was mostly due to our style, since we prioritized countering and blocking an opponent’s attacks.

That said, these drills were nothing more than the basics, and our students were practicing fundamental movements. You could hardly ever use an exact form in a fight. Still, having the patterns drilled into your mind came in handy at critical moments. You couldn’t underestimate the power of practice by repetition. And even though swordsmen couldn’t often use exact forms in a fight, there would be moments when they realized, Hey, I’ve gone through this flow of offense and defense before when practicing basic forms! Humans were capable of remaining remarkably calm when dealing with familiar phenomena. The forms existed to widen that breadth of familiarity.

Incidentally, the techniques passed down in our dojo were all pretty much within these forms or derived from them. The branch breaker technique I often used was part of the fourth defensive form. That said, though the movement was built into the form, using it in combat was an entirely different matter.

Once Mewi was in better physical condition, I wanted her to try experiencing a lesson at the dojo. There were a ton of things that couldn’t be conveyed in the sword magic course, and if Mewi took a liking to swordplay, I would gladly lend her a hand.

However, leaving her out today ended up being the right choice. Much like Adel and Edel, Mewi’s impression of Henblitz probably wasn’t set in stone yet. Seeing such a violent side to him might freak her out, and I certainly didn’t want that.

“So? Any hopefuls?” Henblitz asked.

“Hmm... Well, Adel and Edel are basically locked in.”

He was referring to the saberboar hunt. Those two had more than enough talent, especially considering how young they were and how much experience they had. Henblitz was honestly just too strong. I wasn’t going to do anything reckless like abandon trainees on the front lines, but if they were interested, I wanted them to get some valuable combat experience.

There were things you could only learn through lessons and things you could only learn in combat. Adel in particular wanted to become an adventurer, so it was best for her to get as much practical experience as possible.

“As for the others...let’s go over our list after watching a bit longer.”

To put it less diplomatically, at a glance, none of the other kids seemed advanced enough to bring along. Allucia, Randrid, Ficelle, Curuni, and Rose had all been strong students with splendid attributes—and now they could all boast a fantastic set of accomplishments. However, I couldn’t use them as a standard. If I did, the bar would be way too high for most novice students.

Setting a standard based on a small group of geniuses is sure to lead to disaster. As an instructor, I can’t afford to make that mistake.

Naturally, there was no telling how these pupils would grow up. I could only make a judgment based on the present, so since we would be fighting dangerous monsters, we couldn’t take anyone who wasn’t currently strong enough.

There were also pupils who coincidentally hadn’t come to the dojo today. The plan was to keep an eye on things for another day. The dojo’s doors were open at all times except for some fixed days, but that didn’t mean our pupils showed up whenever it was open. The days that students trained differed from person to person, so we couldn’t make our decision in a single day. After all, it was physically impractical for those who lived in other villages to attend the dojo every single day.

In addition, I was just observing the students drill through basic forms. It was difficult to measure true strength this way—an instructor could get a general grasp of students’ abilities based on the precision of their form, but more observation was needed to pinpoint their actual skill levels. This only really applied to pupils of our dojo, though. There were definitely kids who could suddenly showcase their strengths when doing striking or attack practice. Knowing all of this, it would be overly hasty to finalize our saberboar hunting roster on the spot.

“This is rather interesting,” Henblitz said. “Their footwork in particular appears very distinctive. Is that a result of prioritizing parrying?”

“You have a good eye.”

Our style focused on defense, and this was evident from the number of defensive forms we had. However, we didn’t just block attacks head-on—we honed our skill at diverting attacks. The crux of this technique was in how you used your lower body, and the footwork could look strange to someone not familiar with it.

Our fighting style was less about winning and more about not losing. That was why we had pupils like Allucia, Ficelle, and Rose, who prioritized reacting rather than pushing forward to take the first move. It was also why I didn’t believe our style suited Surena. Her current style wasn’t very compatible with mine.

Powerful types like Curuni and Adel did pop up every now and then, though. Having brute strength was definitely an advantage, but a sword that depended entirely on power was surprisingly brittle. I didn’t want my pupils to end up like that.

“This lesson truly reinforces why you place such an emphasis on core strength,” Henblitz remarked.

“Ha ha, I’m glad you understand.”

The core was indispensable for properly manipulating your lower body. When trying to perform our style’s basic forms with precision and speed, the inexperienced often found that their center of gravity was thrown off. That made it impossible to move as you wanted.

“The lessons here are super strict in that regard,” Curuni joined in. “I’m pretty confident in my core and abs too.”

I nodded. “That’s probably one reason you adapted to a zweihander so quickly.”

“R-Really? Heh heh heh heh!”

Core strength was important for longsword users like Henblitz and me, but it was even more important for Curuni and her two-handed sword. Arm strength was enough to just lift the thing, but not enough to skillfully manipulate such a long and heavy blade. Thinking back on it again, a two-handed sword really did suit Curuni well. Her abs were practically bulging. Though defined muscles weren’t necessarily a sign of immense strength.

“Mr. Beryl, I assume you’re the best at the forms, right?” Henblitz asked.

“No, that would be my dad,” I answered immediately. “But I am pretty confident.” I’d spent years with our sword style, but my dad was still the best at it.

“I see... He must be very strong.”

“He is. He’s the strongest swordsman I know.”

I didn’t have much else to say—I wasn’t the type to be brimming with confidence. However, when it came to my dad, I could make a definitive declaration: he was the strongest. Allucia and Henblitz were plenty strong, but one-on-one, they could never win against him.

“So that means, even you can’t...” Henblitz started.

“Yeah, I’m weaker than him.”

“He’s that strong...?” Curuni asked. “That’s kinda scary.”

“Ha ha, he’s a happy-go-lucky geezer when it comes to everything else,” I said. “He’s just a devil when it comes to swordplay.”

Quite frankly, my dad was abnormally strong. I’d been swinging a sword for as long as I could remember, putting in significant effort over decades to master the blade, and I still couldn’t imagine coming anywhere close to beating him.

In truth, I’d never seen him lose. It didn’t matter if it was sparring with a pupil or a dojo challenger, or participating in a contest between schools—my dad had always won a conclusive victory. I couldn’t even remember him taking a hit. As far as I knew, the only person who would have any chance against him was Lucy. That would be a fight between monsters—one I would pay money to see.

Thinking back on it, my dad had always been several steps ahead of me on my path toward mastery. I had confidence that I was far stronger than before, and I was aware of my growth. However, no matter how much others praised my skills, as long as my dad remained so far beyond me, I couldn’t honestly accept any of it. How could I take pride in my skills when I still couldn’t beat my aging father? Those feelings always hounded me.

“The summit is so far...” Henblitz muttered.

“I couldn’t agree more,” I said. “We’ve got a long way to go.”

Every now and then, I wondered what the view was like from my dad’s perspective. The world was vast. I wasn’t going to claim that my dad was the strongest in the world. However, I remained incapable of picturing what kind of techniques a swordsman could use to defeat him. That didn’t mean I was going to stop aiming for the summit. I wanted to reach those heights one day, but they still seemed so far away.

“Well, let’s focus on the pupils,” I said.

“Indeed.”

We returned our focus to the lesson. For now, the plan was to pick any hopefuls today and tomorrow, and then, depending on the weather, head into the mountains. We dealt with saberboars pretty much every year, so we had a general idea of where they roamed. It would be too dangerous to venture deep into the mountains, though. We weren’t really adventurers or explorers or anything, after all—well, except for Randrid. Our goal was to cull their numbers at the base of the mountain so that they would no longer threaten the nearby villages. There was no need to recklessly charge in. Even if there were more saberboars than usual, we had plenty of helping hands this year. As long as we remained vigilant, there weren’t going to be any major problems.

“Nine! Ten! Okay, take a break!”

“Yes!”

And just like that, forms practice came to an end, and the students took a short breather. Befitting a former adventurer, Randrid’s lesson plan left plenty of room for recovery. It was hard to get anywhere if you just pushed nonstop, and above all else, the dojo was really hot. With so many people moving inside an enclosed space, it only got warmer and warmer.

“Good work,” I told Randrid. “It was a nice lesson. Sound, steady, and faithful to the basics.”

“Thank you. I’m still fumbling around a lot, though...”

“You’re doing fine. Have some confidence.”

He really was doing a good job. He was probably better than I had been when I’d just started as an assistant instructor. His skills and experiences as a top class adventurer were definitely playing a big role. These days, I had plenty of opinions when it came to teaching swordplay, but at first, I really had been fumbling around. Even though I’d seen my dad teach, there was a world of difference between watching and doing. I’d stumbled quite a lot before establishing my current teaching style.

“Make sure to stay hydrated,” I added.

“Yes, I will. The summer heat saps away your willpower and stamina rather quickly.”

“Ha ha ha, I guess I don’t need to tell that to an amazing adventurer.”

A platinum rank adventurer must’ve seen some harsh environments. He probably had far more experience in the field than I did.

“Honestly, what do you think?” Randrid asked, changing the topic.

“Judging by their current skills, a few at most,” I answered.

“Thought so. Only a few...” he said, his tone a little bitter.

If possible, I would’ve liked to bring all of our pupils along. But that couldn’t happen. Each was talented to a different degree, and they were growing at different rates. That naturally limited the number of those who had the strength to withstand actual combat.

And also, not everyone here wanted to fight at every opportunity they had. A fair number of kids were just studying swordsmanship for self-defense. However, even some who wanted to fight were going to be left behind. That was one thing we really couldn’t do anything about.

“Things never go the way you want, huh?” I muttered.

There were always kids whose talents and bodies couldn’t keep up with their desire to learn swordsmanship, make a name for themselves, or become mighty. Even if they did have dormant potential, there were plenty who didn’t manage to draw it out in their lifetime. For example, Curuni had the makings of a great swordswoman, but during her days as my pupil, we hadn’t taken her out to hunt saberboars.

Maybe things would be easier if the degree of talent decided everything, like in the world of wizards. However, anyone was capable of wielding a sword. I guess it would be problematic in an entirely different way if geniuses like Allucia came pouring out of the woodwork. I don’t really want to imagine a world where that’s considered normal.

“Maybe all we’re capable of is teaching each student with sincerity,” Randrid said.

“Ha ha, you’re not wrong.”

I couldn’t help but agree with him. There was a persuasiveness to that argument, especially coming from someone who’d been on countless adventures. Yes, an instructor couldn’t refuse to teach someone because of a lack of talent—that would be an insult to all those who strove to master the blade. The only thing we could do was teach each and every pupil with the utmost sincerity. By doing so, we could reconcile their dreams with reality.

“Well, it’s about time to get back to it,” Randrid said. “Everyone! Break’s over!”

“’Kaaay!”

After a bit of rest, Randrid got the lesson started again. I had no idea how many of the people in this dojo would find success and how many would give up on the sword. However, at least for the moment, it was Randrid’s role to oversee it, not mine.

Being a special instructor for the Liberion Order was indeed a great honor, and it was pretty fun for me too. Tempering career knights who’d passed a grueling selection process was something I couldn’t experience at the dojo. It was very fulfilling.

Nevertheless, I felt a little vexed that I couldn’t see where the pupils I’d trained from scratch were going to end up...even if only for a little while.

“It’s possible that more future knights will be born in this dojo,” Henblitz said. “Something to look forward to, huh?”

“Yeah... You’re right.”

This emotion was only just now building up within me, and it had been triggered by coming back to the dojo after an extended absence. I found myself unable to come to grips with it.