From Serf to Swordmaster, Chapter 3
From Serf to Swordmaster, Chapter 3
It was a wide clearing at the edge of the forest. On one side stood a crude shelter cobbled together from scraps of board and wooden posts. The forest warden stood beneath its shade.
Rustle.
When the boy he had been waiting for arrived, his gaze slowly swept over the boy's whole body. Just as it had months ago, when he had brought him here. Then that gaze came to rest on the boy's hand.
The axe gripped tight. Not only had he carried it all the way here, he still showed no sign of setting it down.
"Serf Berak."
"Yes."
As the official stared at him, the boy bent deep at the waist. For a commoner like himself, merely bowing his head would have been enough. That sort of thing was a common sight among serfs, who groveled before anyone above them. Though even then, the boy's hands and waist moved awkwardly, out of sync.
No matter how he tried to act politely, there was no dignity in it. Seen this way, he was nothing more than an unremarkable serf boy.
"I hear you do the work of two grown men or more."
"Not that much...... no, I-I mean, yes."
Even his flustered look, not knowing why he had been summoned, was the sort of thing commonly seen among serfs. But if the reports were true, his attitude being ordinary or not mattered little.
"There's no need to be so tense. I didn't call you here to scold you."
The boy remained stiff. The forest warden reached out and pointed to a corner of the clearing.
"Lift that and move it."
It was a huge log. Thick enough that even with both arms spread wide, a person could not fully wrap around it. Its length easily exceeded twice the boy's height. It was the sort of size two adults could barely move together.
With a large-scale transport operation to the city approaching, he intended to test whether the boy could be drafted for it.
A laborer too short for the work would have to exert far more strength than the others. That was why he had prepared this log.
The boy set the axe down with a thud and stood before the log. He grabbed one end, lowered his body, and gathered strength in his arms and legs.
A part of him still doubted. Could a little thing like that really do it? He'd be lucky if the boy could even lift it. The moment he was staring with that thought—
"Hup—"
With a light grunt, the boy slowly straightened his back. The log rose gradually with him and settled onto his shoulder.
His head hung low, as if it taxed his strength considerably, but he had already more or less passed. Yet the boy went further.
Trudge, trudge.
Silent, slow steps moved forward. The log, slanting down from his shoulder to the ground, dragged behind him. Dust rose, leaving a long mark on the ground. He walked about ten steps like that.
"Stop."
Thud.
The log he set down struck the ground with a dull boom.
A moment of silence. The forest warden wore a rather astonished expression. He had heard about it to some degree, but seeing it in person was something else.
"Hmm......."
Over more than ten years of selecting trees and laborers, he had learned something. Outward appearance told you what results to expect.
The straighter and thicker a tree, the less deeply an axe bit into it. A tree with sparse knots made the work that much easier.
People were no exception. A man with broad shoulders lasted long. A man with a narrow waist collapsed within days.
But what of the boy before his eyes?
His height was perhaps a little over 130 centimeters. He did not stand out from others his age.
His build was the same. Not small enough to call stunted, but a lean frame that did not exceed the average either. His bones were not thick, nor did bulging muscles show.
But the sight of him lifting and carrying that log with such a body.......
'An insect.'
Yes, it called an insect to mind. An ant carrying prey far larger than its own body on its back.
"This much is sufficient. You'll be joining the transport work in a few days. See that you don't get hurt in the meantime."
"Yes."
"You may go. You still have today's labor left."
The forest warden's gaze lingered on Berak's retreating back for a while.
With that much strength at that age, leaving him to simply haul wood would be a waste.
How should he be handled to bring the greatest profit? The forest warden sank deeper into thought.
* * *
'Did it go over well?'
Berak's heart had been pounding from the moment he was summoned by the forest warden. He must not be caught hiding it. That thought had filled his mind.
He had not managed to think of clear charges like avoiding corvée labor or deceiving a supervisor. But he knew well that being found out would bring nothing good.
So when he received the instruction, Berak felt relieved. If the official had known his strength, he would not have prepared such a thing as a "test." It was a log he could have dragged along with one hand.
Still, he moved as slowly as possible so it would not look too easy. He even hung his head, afraid his calm expression would give him away.
In the end, he received no reprimand, and today passed without incident.
'If I get caught, I'll probably be punished severely.'
This time, he had openly deceived the forest warden. But there had been no choice.
'If I reveal what I've hidden all this time now, I'll be punished all the same.'
Then should he never have hidden it in the first place?
'No, that's not it.'
A serf cannot decide anything on his own. If he squeezed out all his strength, they would only work him without rest, just as they had in the village.
Then the surveillance would grow stricter, and his chance to learn letters would grow more distant.
But he could not stay as he was, either. Berak felt that.
There was always a risk his strength would be discovered. In the end, he would have to leave this place. As soon as an opportunity came.
"Hmm."
The leg of the man tossing beside him came up over his chest. Berak pinched the hem of the man's clothes with two fingers and lifted it slightly.
A grown man's leg floated up and then dropped to the side. Berak turned his back and curled toward the wall.
A dirt floor half-covered with straw. The most secluded spot even in the serf quarters. No matter how much praise he received for working well during the day, this had never changed.
Every time he fell asleep, it seemed to tell him. This is your place.
Berak hated that. It was another reason he wanted to leave this place.
* * *
Until now, Berak had used his strength moderately, reading the situation. But now a single reference point had been established.
Exactly the amount he had shown before the forest warden. Less than that, and they would say he was slacking. More than that, and his deception would be exposed.
However, "producing exact strength" was far harder than Berak had thought.
Having strength to spare meant control was difficult. From the moment he raised the axe, his arms and shoulders pulled taut on their own.
Even without exerting himself, his muscles heated up first. Like a running cart rolling downhill on its own.
Stopping that was quite difficult.
Of course, he had often held back his strength before. But back then, he had simply used less, roughly. Now it was different. He had to draw a precise line of how far to go.
Every time he lowered his arm, two muscles inside pulled in different directions. One tried to strike down, the other tried to hold back. The faint tremor created where they opposed each other ran through his elbow and shoulder.
Before he knew it, Berak's gaze was not on the tree but on the axe in his hand.
It was no longer axe work for cutting trees. It was "axe work for the sake of axe work."
Each time he swung down in that manner, the inside of his arm burned and tingled.
At first he thought it was simple tension. But as time passed, he realized.
'I'm not using less strength. It's more like I'm using all my strength in reverse. That's why it's so hard.'
More energy went into stopping than into striking down. By the end of the day, his whole body was exhausted. His clothes were soaked with sweat like the others'.
Since the letters had appeared, it had been a long time since anything had been this hard.
Berak did not know it, but this was the first training he had undertaken beyond set tasks like farm work or woodcutting.
「Body Proficiency + 1」
「Axe Proficiency + 1」
'Letters I haven't seen in a while!'
[Strength: 252] had not changed recently. Berak guessed the reason was that he had grown too strong.
Even when farming, the days when letters did not appear had grown more frequent over time. If he had kept at it, perhaps [Stamina] would have stopped too.
'Could it be that my strength has started increasing again? No, the shape is different. I cut wood the same way, so why is it different?'
No matter how much he pondered, only frustration piled up.
'I wish I could know what's different.......'
Then the letters showed a new form. As if responding to his thoughts. Just as they had once before.
◎ Education
[None yet]
◎ Labor
- Farming ... 279 times
- Woodcutting ... 157 times
◎ Training
- Strength control training
- Axe work training
'The letters changed. They probably showed me what's different. But... I still don't understand.'
Berak still did not know the meanings. He simply reached his own conclusion.
[Stamina: 248]
[Strength: 252]
[Dignity: 0]
[Body Proficiency: 1/100]
[Axe Proficiency: 1/100]
'For now, I should try changing the shape of the newly appeared letters.'
And so, days of self-directed training during his work passed.
「Body Proficiency + 1」
「Axe Proficiency + 1」
As Berak wiped away the sweat soaking him again today, someone spoke to him.
"Hey. Are you sick or something?"
It was Martin.
"No."
"Then why are you sweating like that? You didn't even look tired before."
"Ah, that's because I've been working a bit harder."
Berak mumbled evasively.
"What nonsense are you talking? Tch. Well. Even if you said you were sick, what would change?"
"I'm not sick, though......."
"For us, if we're sick, we can rest and just take less pay. But you can't even skip work. Just eat all of mine today."
Martin shoved his rationed bread at him. Berak felt uneasy. It looked like he had gotten food because of Martin's misunderstanding.
"I'm fine. Really."
"Enough, kid. Hide it quickly. You can't just keep holding it like that."
Neither the supervisors nor the other serfs liked a commoner looking after a serf. Martin knew that too.
"Thank you."
Berak now knew where Martin's kindness came from. Martin had mentioned it from time to time. That just last year, he had had a son about Berak's age.
"Had" was a story familiar to Berak as well. Children who never saw tomorrow were common in the village. He himself had nearly failed to make it through a winter once.
"Sleep well. We have to go to Delmore tomorrow."
"Delmore. Where is that?"
He knew they had both been drafted for transport work, but Berak still did not know the exact destination.
"It's the city where the lord lives."
"Then... what should I do if I meet the lord?"
Martin let out a short laugh.
"We won't ever meet him. We just unload the cargo outside the castle wall and that's it."
Berak nodded. His heart pounded. Even if he would not see him in person, wasn't this the place where that incredibly important lord he'd only ever heard about lived? Besides, the "city" itself was something he had always longed to see.
"They say the air in the city is sweet."
"Sweet?"
"They say no one goes hungry there, and the smell of bread fills every street."
Martin looked at Berak without a word, then laughed briefly.
"Sure, there'll be a smell. Not bread, though—shit."
"Then it's similar to the village......."
Berak tilted his head.
"There'll be more places to look around than the village you know, but... well."
"Why?"
"I'm planning to look around a bit when I go, but it'll probably be hard for you. So don't get your hopes up too much."
"Ah."
So just as commoners had different quarters and different meals, serfs there would not be able to do things like sightseeing.
"It's fine. It's better than staying here doing the same work."
He meant it. Ever since the letters had appeared, Berak had been thirsting for experience. He had realized that experience led to the appearance of new letters.
"Honestly. I told you not to get your hopes up."
Seeing Berak's expression, Martin let out a light sigh.
