A Resolute Departure (1)
The third day at the royal palace.
In the morning, I borrowed the Royal Guard's training grounds to test the skills of the twelve selected candidates.
It was a stage for them to show off whatever they could using all the equipment they had.
The candidates came forward in order as their names were called, swinging their swords like shadowboxing, thrusting spears, or smashing down with maces or hammers—each flaunting their techniques and specialties.
Then, the fourth candidate stood out particularly.
The previous ones had shown incredibly dynamic swordplay and spearmanship.
But this one held his shield up in a stance ready to thrust at any moment, scanning the surroundings.
Among the group, he was one of the older ones in his forties—a Royal Guard knight named Parlen. His face resembled a plaster statue from an art academy, with white hair and dark skin.
The white hair didn't seem like stress-induced grays; it looked natural. The people around here called him "Captain Parlin" since his name was a bit hard to pronounce.
Just holding a shield wouldn't be anything special, but maintaining an unmoving stance for over ten minutes, then emitting enough killing intent to make someone approaching from the front flinch—that changed everything.
To test Parlen's reactions and responses, I went behind him, drew my sword, and said,
"From now on, I'm the rear guard. The enemy is that straw dummy."
He nodded without shifting his gaze.
Then he positioned his shield to block between the dummy and me, holding his unmoving stance.
As I moved, he slowly turned his body, keeping me at his back.
The dummy and I were still blocked by his shield.
"Loading arrows!"
Considering my line of sight, he lowered his body while holding the shield.
"Rear guard, thrust!"
Noting that I was right-handed, he shifted slightly to the left.
As an attacker, it felt incredibly reassuring—not only solid defense, but no hindrance to my attacks either.
This is a tank! And an experienced one at that!
In truth, Parlen's background had piqued my interest a bit.
He was listed among the recommendations, but he'd been a soldier from Darania's 4th Knight Division in the past.
Apparently, he'd built up fame and experience before applying to the Royal Guard, so he had plenty of combat experience against both people and monsters.
That made him one of the skilled ones I'd been wary of.
His tanking earlier, and the moment I said I was rear guard, his Status Window popped up.
Status Window
Parlen — Veteran Shield Knight
Level: High | Traits: Unyielding Defense, Combat Veteran
Hmm...
This guy's a pass, for sure.
Next to catch my eye was the seventh, Chiria.
She had long, straight black hair and stood over 190 cm tall—a towering woman.
She wasn't Royal Guard, but the daughter of some martial family.
Maybe because of that, even in armor and weapons, she stood demurely like a noble lady, hands clasped.
She barely spoke, her voice was soft, and her bangs hid her eyes, making her expression hard to read.
She looked ill-suited for combat at first glance, but the recommendation emphasized her exceptional spearmanship and archery, so I'd selected her for now.
I tried to gauge them through interviews, but you can't fully understand decades of a person's life in just an hour or two of talk. So, I decided to trust the recommendations.
They might have investigated aspects I didn't know and noted them down.
There's no other way but to see for myself like this.
Chiria carried five spears and a longbow as tall as she was.
First, she drew a spear taller than herself and thrust at the straw dummy.
I thought, Decent basics for a spear grip.
But I never imagined she'd nock it on the bowstring and shoot.
A greatbow? Or maybe a dragon-slaying siege bow.
Anyway, the dummy hit by the flying spear wasn't just pierced—it got yanked off its post and shattered to pieces.
Pass.
This level of power is worth testing on a dragon's thick scales.
After that, I checked two knights and two mages.
Finally, the twelfth, a mage named Damish, left a deep impression.
He looked like a lean thirty-something with lean, efficient muscles—no excess fat. Not sure if he was really that age, though. A headband-like horn protruded through his brown hair.
And his canines were longer than a normal person's.
His appearance mixed demon, human, and other races, making him stand out from the city folk.
His magic skills were excellent, as selected by Academy President Paradilan.
Or maybe magic swordsman? He wielded a sword instead of a staff.
A massive two-handed greatsword, swung with magic.
Specifically, the blessing of Pandelsinkarashi.
Panash from Iyer had the same blessing before—people blessed by the earth god Pandelsinkarashi must name themselves similarly.
Anyway, he cleaved the dummy with a downward sword strike,
Then roots sprouted from the ground where the blade hit, pummeling the already split dummy.
As he swung the sword again, the roots coiled like wind,
Turning into dozens of thorns that flew toward the swing's direction.
And the ability that interested me most: praying to the earth god to heal wounds to a certain degree.
With enough prayer time, he could even reattach a severed arm.
Not as good as Ashu, but a healer of this caliber is impressive.
Reviving someone on the brink of death was a miracle only Saintess Ashushikara could perform.
The passers were already decided, but I postponed notifications until tomorrow morning.
Only call in the passers tomorrow.
"What do you think, Academy President?"
"A good lineup. But no matter how much experience you've had with people, you can't know them fully in one day. Especially in adventures, that's something to watch out for."
An long-lived elf saying that carries real weight. There's that old adage: you don't truly know someone until you've spent seven days in a dungeon with them.
"How can we fill that uncertainty and anxiety?"
"Make rules, or earn trust. Use the prep time before departure. I'll join you too."
Starting tomorrow, we should do mock battles or spars.
While we're at it, establish combat rules and precautions, and devise tactics to leverage each other's abilities.
If these diverse skills don't synergize, Damish's roots will block the path ahead, Chiria's arrows will pierce allies' backs, and Parlen's shield will block sight. Then Ragi would probably just run.
Damn, I instinctively pictured a hell party.
To avoid that, let's think it through from afternoon onward.
For now, it's noon—time to see Ashu.
Yesterday, since the goal was prayer and blessings, we only prayed and couldn't talk with Ashu.
I didn't want to feel that distance again today.
So this time, I told the priest who came to greet me outright: "I'm here to see how Saintess Ashushikara is doing."
The priest said he'd guide me to her room. Should've done this from the start.
Finally alone in a room with Ashu.
Hmm... The bishop's here too, along with elderly priests and nobles.
Ashu saw me and introduced me brightly to everyone: "This is Kirgil, who worked miracles with me."
As everyone greeted me, Ashu said,
"My journey with Kirgil is my most precious memory. It still shines in my heart."
Memories, huh.
I felt a pang of hurt, like she was classifying our time together as the past and drawing a line.
Ashu placed a hand on her chest, emphasizing her heart's memories... Wait, what?
As everyone's eyes turned to me, she tapped her chest lightly with her fingertips.
A signal! But...
I was startled inside once I understood the meaning.
Is that really what it means?
Do it in front of people?
After my introduction and greetings ended, and eyes shifted back to Ashu, I acted on her signal.
Agnes would chew me out for this. But Ashu makes me do it when needed.
The signal meant: sneak the letter from her cleavage during time stop.
Obviously, that required slipping a hand into her clothes.
I half-doubted it until the end, but when I reached into Ashu's chest, I felt the letter for real.
I quickly pulled it out, straightened her clothes, and returned to my spot.
All in under a minute during time stop.
Never imagined the experience of undressing Ashu with my own hands would come in handy like this.
So tense I broke a sweat.
The moment time resumed after I finished, Ashu blushed, cleared her throat, and lightly adjusted her collar and chest.
After the worship and sermon ended, Ashu left while keeping distance from me like yesterday.
I read the letter from her cleavage in a secluded spot.
Before reading...
"...Sniff sniff."
Ashu's scent lingered on the paper. Already missing it after just a few days.
Dearest Kirgil,
First, the situation around me and our contact method: [details on surveillance, secret signals via time stop, etc.].
I'm sorry for the distance. All this pent-up frustration and complaints... I want to sneak to your room at night, but guards and maids watch my every move. They demand I behave primly for a while and even give me successor training. It's driving me insane! I want to purify my mom!
Your Ashu ♡
The letter started with her circumstances and contact methods.
Then apologies, followed by a long list of built-up regrets and complaints—longer than the main content.
Ashu writes like she's chatting. The front is formal like an official document, but the back is noisier and more chaotic than her usual speech.
Being in the same building, she wants to rush to my room at night, but with guards and maids monitoring her every action, demanding proper conduct, and successor training—it's infuriating! I want to purify Mom!
On the outside, she plays the gentle, demure saintess, but inside, she's suppressing more than a teenage tomboy's heart.
But am I a bad guy?
Reading her tormented complaints eases my mind more than worrying me.
I even hope she suffers a bit more like this.
Why?
...This feels like seriously twisted fandom.