Winter of the Cold Rose (6)
I could not help but be astounded by my father's words.
Yet, maintaining my usual expressionless face, I kept my composure and pressed him.
"Are you saying you intend to accept him, Marc Visus, into the order?"
The Serion swordsmanship, passed down through generations, was steeped in the wisdom and tradition of our ancestors. It was not something to be easily revealed to outsiders.
Thus, learning the Serion swordsmanship was only permitted after one became a member of the Serion Knights—established under the family's name—and bound themselves through a covenant pledging their personal mana.
Since he, Marc Visus, had no ties to our family, it was only proper that he undergo these steps to be taken in as a disciple.
Or else...
"...Similar, but slightly different. He has not yet finished his studies at the Academy, so it is too early to induct him into the knights."
"Therefore, I am speaking of a more direct method."
The only other way was to be of the direct bloodline carrying the Serion blood. Furthermore, one was permitted to learn the Serion swordsmanship if they were designated as the next head who would inherit the family.
In other words, my father's words right now were tantamount to naming Marc Visus as the next head of the Serion family.
Just as the Serion family's swordsmanship was famous, the strict conditions to learn it were also widely known. Not only the covenant made upon joining the knights, but also the requirement of bloodline or being designated as the next head.
As if to prove this, the moment my father spoke those words, the surrounding students and staff grasped their meaning and began to murmur in commotion.
"Do you realize what those words imply right now?"
"I simply felt that it is now necessary to teach him our family's swordsmanship. With his talent and skill, he will have no trouble learning the Serion style."
"In fact, he might reach a height beyond our imagination."
Marc Visus—I, too, agreed that he was strong.
My father had been watching him for a long time, and I had expected a day like this would come eventually.
In the first place, I had no greed to become the family head.
But that was not what was important.
"...Are you saying... that I am not enough? That my skills are lacking?"
Becoming the head meant one's strength was recognized by the family.
Ever since my eldest brother passed away and my second brother left the family, even before I was named the sole successor, I had trained constantly.
I had never stopped my efforts, even while being praised by those around me for my innate talent.
I did not despair looking up at the wall, nor did I grow arrogant looking down.
The strength I had built by dedicating my entire life was now being denied in an instant.
Even though I knew the man before me was my father, I could not help but object.
"I have already spoken with the other members of the family, including the relatives. They hesitated a bit, but in the end, they accepted it."
"And haven't you also begun to realize it by now? That you fall far short of the man standing before you."
"But...!"
"I know well what your dream is. The title they used to call my old master—the Sword Saint."
"Indeed, to help you achieve that dream, our family spared no support. I also remember the countless days of training you have endured."
"That is why I, too, sincerely wished for you to reach the realm that I could not. But I have found someone far more suited."
"A possessor of talent greater than anyone I have ever seen. That is all I have to say."
"Haha... Even so, I think you are being a bit too harsh, Master."
Marc, who stood between my father and me, spoke up cautiously.
Although it was by the family's command, I had been friends with him for quite a long time.
How was Marc taking this situation?
"It's a pity. Truly a pity. I want to apologize for unintentionally creating this situation."
"But... isn't this just how it has to be?"
"...What did you say?"
"We've sparred for a long time, so you must know by now. The gap between our skills is immense."
"And I view this opportunity positively. The Serion swordsmanship will surely lead me to greater heights."
"So rest easy, Seraphina. I will reach the realm you cannot touch on your behalf. It might be impossible for you, but I can do it."
My teeth clenched at his words.
I hadn't expected much from him to begin with, but to think he would act like this.
Marc's insolence did not end there. He stepped closer to me and whispered in a voice so quiet that no one else could hear.
"I'm planning to marry into the Serion family as a son-in-law soon. I've already finished talking with your father."
"Well... if you think about it carefully, you know the terms aren't bad. I won't mind if you keep swinging your sword and training in the future."
"In return, I'd appreciate it if you put that much effort into supporting me as a good wife."
Unable to endure any longer, I drew my greatsword and swung it in a wide arc. My face contorted in a rage that shattered my usual stoic mask.
But Marc had already drawn his sword at some point, lightly blocking the strike that was practically a surprise attack.
"What's wrong? I didn't mean to make you angry..."
He replied with a look of pity.
"...I challenge you to a duel. Marc Visus! I challenge this man to a duel, with the position of the next head of the Serion family on the line!"
Pointing at Marc, I raised my greatsword and shouted fiercely.
Without giving a proper answer, he simply glanced toward my father.
"...Very well. If you are dissatisfied with this choice, prove it through your actions."
My father, who had been watching the situation from behind, spoke.
Yet, he did not seem particularly moved. It was as if he already knew the outcome was decided.
I rushed forward quickly, swinging my greatsword and clashing in a contest of strength with Marc.
With our blades locked, I swept my sword to push his back, spun a full turn, and aimed a strike at his flank.
This was different from the emotional swing from earlier. It was a heavy yet sharp blow, filled with my utmost sincerity, honed under the name of Serion.
Clang!
I couldn't even see his hands move. With a crisp sound, Marc had lightly deflected and parried my greatsword.
"I didn't want it to go down like this either, but I guess it can't be helped."
I could not help but be shocked upon seeing Marc's stance.
The way he held his sword, the posture he assumed—it was all the Serion swordsmanship. He had already learned the basic forms.
Though he had likely only recently learned them, his movements were clean and flawless.
No matter what direction or what kind of attack I launched now, he would easily read it. Having spent years mastering the Serion style, I could foresee this.
The Serion swordsmanship, created for geniuses, seemed to flow naturally through his body as if it had been born for him.
I had sparred with him countless times and knew his strength.
I cannot win.
Shamefully, that was the first thought that crossed my mind.
But even so, I could not give up like this. Gritting my teeth, I launched a second strike.
However, my blow only cut through the empty air, and a sharp pain immediately flared in my ribs.
Having read my attack, Marc had swiftly lowered his stance to evade and counterattacked at the same time.
Since he had struck with the flat of the blade, it was not a fatal wound, but I was sent flying, crashing to the ground in a cloud of dust.
The pain was excruciating, but the shock of not even lasting a single exchange was far greater, leaving me no room to care about the physical ache.
When I came to my senses, I was on my knees, my clothes soiled with dust, and I had slid close to the spectators watching the scene.
Then, the murmurs of the crowd began to reach my ears.
The whispering was done very cautiously in low voices, but unfortunately, my sharp hearing picked up every word.
"It's a bit cruel, but it can't be helped. The Serion family is a meritocracy, after all..."
"But that Seraphina Serion, did she really get blown away in a single hit? Ha! She always acted so aloof and high-and-mighty, but she's nothing special."
"Right? 'Cold Rose' my foot. Turns out she was just a privileged lady riding on her family's coattails, wasn't she? No wonder Knight Commander Regulus named someone else as the next head."
"Anyway, what is she still clinging to? Even to someone like me who doesn't know much, Marc looks way better. Why is she being so pathetic?"
"Hmph, probably because she slacked off on her training, relying only on her family name."
I had never been one to care much about the gaze of others.
Normally, I would have ignored the chatter of these nobodies.
But right now, I couldn't just let those words slide. Every single word, though devoid of truth, flew at me like a dagger.
...How miserable.
One-sided violence where a fight couldn't even be established, and the mockery flying from all sides.
To describe the current situation, it was nothing short of an execution.
Even if I stood up again and rushed at Marc, it would no longer be a duel, but a public execution.
Anger, shame, confusion.
Along with helplessness, all sorts of emotions swirled and reached their limit.
Through the open ceiling, a light so bright it made my eyes sting blinded my vision. My head spun, and tears threatened to burst forth.
Just then.
The shadow of a familiar man blocked the light.
That back, which had always stood back up without breaking, despite having absolutely no talent.
He was certainly not a man who should be here.
Even though it was a situation that could only bring doubt, I could not deny the hope I felt toward him.
"...Rofel...?"