Chapter 123
Chapter 123
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 123
Chapter Title: One Against Three
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[Chapter 122 - Teaching]
When Arsen returned to the mansion for lunch, he was greeted by unfamiliar knights. There were three of them in total.
They were chatting with Bazkal and Anun, who had come back ahead of him.
In the middle of their conversation, Bazkal and Anun, who happened to be facing Arsen's direction, lit up and called out to him.
"Brother!"
"You've arrived?"
Arsen approached while returning their greeting, then bowed first to the knights of Gal aio.
"Pleased to meet you. I'm Arsen of Belluan."
The knights responded with equally polite bows.
"I'm Shami, daughter of Alturan."
"I'm Ronon, son of Piden."
"I'm Daltis."
Unexpectedly, the knights' attitudes were courteous.
Arsen had imagined they'd be like the young knights he'd encountered while crossing the mountains to the western lands in the past, so he regarded them with a touch of curiosity.
First off, the knights introduced themselves and explained why they were there.
They were all disciples of Hetia. Yesterday afternoon, they'd heard stories about the foreigners—particularly the knight who slew the messenger in a single strike—and learned that he was staying at Hetia's mansion. They immediately sent her a letter requesting a meeting.
That very evening, they received a reply inviting them by this afternoon, so they'd delegated their assigned duties here and there to make time and rushed over.
"You're all quite... enthusiastic."
It was a roundabout way of calling them irresponsible, but whether they didn't catch it or deliberately ignored it, they just grinned broadly.
At that moment, the tall, lanky knight Ronon suddenly piped up.
"By the way, I heard from Sir Bazkal just now that he learned a technique from you, Sir Arsen."
"That's right."
"I knew it! We were debating something earlier with Sir Bazkal and couldn't reach a conclusion. If an opponent swings their sword up toward your right shoulder..."
"Ronon, enough."
When the knight beside him nudged him, Ronon—who had been passionately diving into battle theory—finally snapped out of it. He cleared his throat awkwardly and apologized cautiously.
"My apologies, I got a bit carried away."
"No, it's fine."
'He's the type who gets excited talking about his interests.'
Arsen had seen plenty of this sort, so he simply nodded.
The knight who had stopped Ronon, Shami, spoke up.
"Have you had lunch yet, by any chance?"
"No, I was just coming to eat."
"We came to have a meal with our master after so long. Would you join us, if it's alright?"
After a brief moment of thought, Arsen nodded.
He had no desire to dine with a pack of fame-hungry jackals, but upon meeting them, they didn't strike him as quite so impure.
Of course, you never really know people until you've dealt with them, but at least their first impression was decent.
"Sure."
* * *
"So, what happened next?"
"Don't tell me Daltis pissed himself!"
"Hey!"
The lunch table was quite lively.
Hetia's disciples, sharing the same master and being around the same age, seemed quite close-knit. Even with a guest and their master present, they laughed and bantered without restraint.
Arsen preferred quieter meals, but this wasn't so bad either.
Bazkal and Anun were mingling with them like old friends.
"Ahem, Ronon. Mind your manners in front of a guest."
"Oh dear, my apologies, Master."
Watching the scene, Anun, seated next to Arsen, leaned toward Bazkal beside him and said,
"Remind you of anyone, Sir Bazkal?"
"Hmm."
It wasn't hard for Arsen to guess they were thinking of Maroon. Honestly, in Arsen's eyes, Bazkal was much the same.
Suppressing an inner chuckle, Arsen was approached by someone.
It was the knight named Shami.
"So, how should we go about this exchange? Will those two here join in as well?"
At her question, Arsen glanced at his subordinates.
Deep down, he'd like to take on all three at once by himself, but he didn't feel like coming off as overly arrogant.
He could play the haughty character if needed, but modesty and restraint suited his nature better.
"Let's do that. We have two more knights on our side, but... they're not suited for sparring."
Rino hadn't even finished the basics yet, and Maroon, who loathed close combat, went without saying.
At that moment, Hetia, who had overheard Arsen, shook her head.
"I have a different idea."
Confirming everyone's attention on her, she continued.
"Someone of Sir Arsen's caliber could probably handle my three clumsy disciples at once."
"Master!"
Unlike before, Ronon called out to his master in a heated tone.
His face was stiff with obvious wounded pride.
But Hetia countered as if she couldn't comprehend it.
"I don't know why you're glaring like that, Ronon. Do you doubt my eyes?"
Her question carried a sharp edge, plunging the table into brief silence.
After a moment, Ronon mumbled in a deflated voice.
"...No, that's not it."
Arsen inwardly admired the sight of Ronon slinking back into his seat like a dog that had lost a fight.
Even if she was a great knight in her prime, she was retired now with age catching up—yet she handled active knights like this.
Then Hetia turned her gaze.
"That said, it comes down to Sir Arsen's preference. What do you think? I believe it's feasible, but since your safety is at stake, the decision is yours."
Deep down, Arsen felt taking them one by one wouldn't hone his skills enough.
It was just etiquette that made it hard to say so outright.
After a suitable pause, Arsen nodded and replied.
"Sounds good."
Whether they took it as a provocation, the knights' eyes blazed.
Their auras were impressive—they seemed ready for a spirited spar.
* * *
After the meal, as Arsen stepped out, he noticed an unusual racket from outside.
Hetia frowned at the commotion and summoned a servant with an order.
"Go find out what's going on."
"Right away, ma'am."
The servant dashed outside and soon returned to report a visitor.
'Is it Diev and Blaset?'
Arsen wondered if it was the estate lord's sons, but his guess was off.
The servant announced that the guest was the lord of this domain himself.
Moments later, over twenty soldiers and five knights entered the mansion.
And finally, one more—a knight Arsen recognized.
Arsen bowed deeply to him.
"My lord."
Urta, the estate lord of Gal aio.
He had a round face with a hefty belly—bluntly put, obese.
Not all knights were bodybuilders or fighters with zero body fat.
Some grew paunches with age, others stayed pudgy from poor self-care.
But the lord's build stood out even more; he looked like someone who'd never exercised a day in his life.
As an awakened knight, he must have been different in his youth, but it was hard to imagine from his current form.
"Sir Arsen! I hope my sudden visit isn't an imposition."
The lord chuckled heartily.
Diev and Blaset stood beside him, both with sour expressions.
They probably weren't thrilled about coming with him.
At that point, the mansion's owner, Hetia, emerged to greet the lord.
She wore a rare bright smile, and the lord beamed back happily.
"What brings you here unannounced, my lord?"
"Ah, Aunt! Forgive this clumsy nephew for dropping by uninvited. I just heard such intriguing news that I couldn't resist."
He then chided his estate's knights for trying to hog the fun spectacle without him—though in jest. The knights chuckled and apologized lightly, not taking it seriously.
Arsen had initially wondered why the lord came, but upon reflection, it wasn't that surprising.
Gal aio was about the size of Belluan, maybe a bit larger. Even accounting for their martial culture yielding more knights, it was probably only twenty or thirty at most.
With five Gal aio knights gathered here—including his heir, his own son—it made sense for the lord to take interest.
Plus, a rare spar with an outsider knight would pique his curiosity.
Still, showing up in person was a bit excessive.
As the lord and Hetia dove into conversation, Arsen stepped back to give them space.
Bazkal sidled up and whispered.
"That's the local lord? He doesn't look much like a knight..."
"Watch your mouth."
"Eek."
To curb his subordinate's loose tongue, Arsen stomped on Bazkal's foot.
It was far enough that words wouldn't carry, but if anyone overheard, it could spell trouble.
Some knights had special talents, so one could never be too careful.
Gossiping behind backs wasn't proper anyway.
"B-brother... I think my toe's broken..."
"Get it healed. And if you yap like that again, I'll sew your lips shut."
Visibly spooked, Bazkal clutched his mouth while hobbling off. Anun snickered beside him.
Arsen instructed the grimacing Bazkal to see a mage for treatment, then approached the lord again.
They had just finished their greetings.
"Sir Arsen, I hear my son... Diev is set to spar with you as well."
"Yes."
The lord cleared his throat, narrowing his eyes slightly.
He seemed about to broach a delicate topic.
"I know it's dishonorable for a knight to say this, but please go easy on him. He's a boy who might inherit this estate someday."
"Ah... Of course. I won't let anything unsightly happen. We're using sparring weapons and armor anyway, so no need to worry."
"That's music to my ears. May it be a spar without incident."
Pleased with Arsen's response, the lord smiled warmly.
Arsen had no intention of seriously harming Diev from the start, so it was an easy promise.
But it didn't satisfy everyone—Diev's face beside the lord twisted unpleasantly.
Arsen sympathized deeply with his feelings.
'His pride must be stung bad.'
It was like a pro boxer prepping for a sparring match when his dad suddenly shows up and warns the opponent not to hit his precious boy too hard.
The opponent assures him it's fine, they'll hold back.
Who wouldn't feel humiliated as a warrior hearing that exchange before the fight?
Soon after, they moved to the inner training grounds.
Thanks to the building's design, a cool breeze flowed despite the walled enclosure. The ground was covered in fine, well-maintained dirt without a blade of grass, showing clear signs of care.
By then, Bazkal had gotten quick treatment and returned.
"Keeping a training ground this nice must take some effort."
"No kidding. Not a single weed in sight."
Anun and Bazkal marveled, scuffing the ground with their feet.
Amid their admiration, Arsen donned his sparring armor.
Thicker than combat gear to prevent injuries.
Lately, he'd grown unused to standard armor from wearing relic pieces, so Bazkal and Anun assisted.
For his weapon, he chose a blunted longsword.
Though he'd wielded various arms recently, the longsword was what he'd mastered over the longest years.
Once prepared, he stepped to the center, where the three knights waited in their sparring gear and weapons.
'Alright then...'
Arsen steadied his breath.
'Second time fighting three at once?'
He'd battled multiple knights before. First, the young ones in the west who challenged him one by one. Then in Eden, mistaken for thieves.
The first was sequential duels; the second used relics and his black lion, crushing them in a near-cheating manner.
That was to assert dominance clearly and prepare for any post-spar brawl.
Unlike then, this was a pure test of skill.
Could he handle three in this setup?
'I'll find out.'
Bolstering his confidence with that self-assurance, Arsen advanced toward the three armed knights.