Chapter 14
Chapter 14
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 14
Chapter Title: The Secret Passage
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Just a feather duster.
The idea of facing a wooden sword with something like that was absurd, but...
'I suppose it's possible.'
Carlyle knew Maranello's skill well, so he felt no shame.
A warrior of Maranello's caliber could probably knock out a sword-wielding Carlyle in an instant with his bare fists.
He was only using the feather duster because he was helping with swordsmanship training.
"Since it's the first day, let's take it easy, Young Master. Heh heh."
"I don't plan on overdoing it either."
For someone holding a sword for the first time in both his past and present lives, strenuous training was out of the question.
"Come at me first, Young Master."
"Alright."
Carlyle gripped the sword and searched his memory.
'So, this is how it's done.'
The real Carlyle's memories of swordsmanship surfaced.
"Alright, here I come."
Carlyle swung the wooden sword, following the Sigmund family's style.
*Swish, swish!*
The wooden sword flew toward Maranello with a menacing sound.
*Whoosh, whoosh.*
*Tap, tap.*
Maranello swung the feather duster, lightly parrying Carlyle's wooden sword.
*Zap!*
'Huh?'
A shock, as if electricity were running through it, shot up the hand gripping the sword.
Maranello seemed to be just lightly tapping it with the duster, yet Carlyle's hand felt like it was about to be torn apart.
"You've been leaving this spot open for a while, Young Master."
Maranello's feather duster touched Carlyle's side, just above his hip.
"...I'm dead."
Carlyle frowned.
"Yes, Young Master. You just lost a kidney to your enemy. And after that..."
"I'd get a sword through the heart or my head would fly off. Or I'd be cut in two."
"Correct."
"Again."
"Come."
The spar began again.
But the result was the same.
"You're dead again."
"..."
The skill gap between Maranello and Carlyle was as vast as the distance between heaven and earth.
Even with Maranello holding back to match Carlyle's level, it was difficult to last ten exchanges.
After about seven such bouts, Carlyle could no longer continue.
"Hah, haah, haah..."
He was so out of breath that he couldn't catch it.
The coppery taste of blood rose in his throat, and his stomach churned.
His arms were trembling, his shoulders ached, and his legs were about to give out.
The cause was his stamina.
[Alert: You have no stamina!]
[Alert: You have no stamina!]
...
[Alert: You have no stamina!]
Perhaps because this body had spent the last few years indulging in pleasure, he had the worst stamina imaginable.
"Wait... hah, hah... let's take... haah... a break. Hah, haah."
"Yes, Young Master."
"Haah, haaah."
"Use this."
Maranello handed a towel and water to the panting Carlyle.
It was a full five minutes later before Carlyle's breathing returned to normal.
"Young Master."
"Hm?"
"I believe you should start with physical conditioning. To be blunt, at your current level of fitness, swordsmanship is meaningless."
"...I suppose so."
"You'll become a laughingstock to the soldiers as well."
As a nobleman who had learned swordsmanship and studied military science from a young age, Carlyle was scheduled to serve as an officer.
The problem was that Carlyle, who was supposed to lead and command soldiers, lacked even a basic level of physical fitness.
In that state, far from commanding, he would be a burden even to the lowest-ranking soldier.
"There's still some time before your enlistment. How about focusing on physical training for now?"
"Yes, I'll do that."
"Then, will you be done for today?"
"I think I have to be."
Carlyle had no choice but to put down the wooden sword.
His muscles were already screaming in protest, making further training impossible.
* * *
The next morning.
"Ugh!"
Carlyle dragged his aching body to the training grounds.
"One! Two! One! Two! One, two, three, four! One, two, three, four!"
Despite the early hour, countless knights were already engaged in their morning physical training on the grounds.
"Young Master, let's run together."
"Yes, I'll run with you too."
Evangeline, who had joined them after finishing her move, also participated in Carlyle's training.
And so the run began.
"Hah, haah, hah, haaah, haah!"
Just five minutes into the run, Carlyle fell behind.
"Young Master, get up."
"Just... a moment. Hah, haah."
"You can do it, Young Master! Come on! Get up! I'll run with you!"
"You... you. Hah, hah. How are you... hah, haah... in such good shape? Haah."
Evangeline's stamina was exceptional, even for a commoner.
As the head of her household, she had taken on all sorts of odd jobs—sewing, gathering herbs, doing laundry—to feed her younger siblings, which had naturally built up her physical strength.
"Young Master, please get up. Many eyes are watching. You cannot show weakness."
"...I don't care."
Carlyle didn't care in the slightest whether others laughed at him.
The real Carlyle had committed a mountain of atrocities and shameful acts; this bit of embarrassment was nothing.
Yes, that was fine.
But being openly mocked was another matter entirely.
"Look like you're about to die? Heh heh!"
"So pathetic. Panting like that after such a short run."
The brothers, Gunter and Hector, approached, sneering.
They were drenched in sweat, having already run dozens of laps, but showed no signs of fatigue.
"How are you going to fight the barbarians with stamina like that?"
"Pfft! Brother Carlyle fighting barbarians? He'll just trail behind the soldiers and fall behind!"
Hector and Gunter mocked Carlyle without hesitation, acting triumphant.
And why wouldn't they? Though younger than Carlyle, their stamina was incomparably better.
And it wasn't just their stamina.
Their swordsmanship had also developed to a level where Carlyle was no match for them.
So, whenever they had the chance, Hector and Gunter would ignore Carlyle, mock him, and sometimes pick fights, tormenting him constantly.
Of course, Carlyle had a temper of his own and would resist with all his might, but it was true that he had started avoiding them ever since he was completely overpowered.
In other words, while Carlyle acted like a tyrant to those of lower status, within the family, he was nothing more than a loser who was looked down upon even by his younger cousins, Hector and Gunter.
He was reaping what he sowed, but...
However, that was not the Carlyle of now.
"Buzz off, you little flies."
Carlyle snapped, and Hector and Gunter grinned.
"Ooh~"
"Putting on a brave face because old man Maranello is here? Heh heh!"
Hector and Gunter felt no threat from Carlyle whatsoever.
To them, Carlyle was nothing more than an amusing toy.
In fact, when Carlyle was alone, the brothers would threaten him in all sorts of ways.
"Young Masters, it is not right of you to interfere when Young Master Carlyle has resolved to train."
Unable to watch any longer, Maranello stepped forward and smiled at Hector and Gunter.
The smile was certainly gentle, but that's not how Hector and Gunter perceived it.
If they picked a fight with Carlyle in front of Maranello, they could end up in a rough spot.
"Fine, it's because old man Maranello is here. Watch your back at night, brother."
"Heh heh! Yeah, watch your back at night."
Hinting at retaliation, Hector and Gunter left.
"Maranello."
"Yes, Young Master."
"How long do you think it would take for me to crush them?"
"In what regard, may I ask?"
"Stamina or swordsmanship."
"For stamina, it would take at least a year."
"And swordsmanship?"
"If you work very hard, it might be possible in two to three years."
As he said this, a smile actually formed on Maranello's lips.
Why?
Because he had caught a glimpse of a fighting spirit in Carlyle's eyes.
"That's a long time."
"You have wasted a great deal of time. In contrast, Young Master Hector and Young Master Gunter have..."
"I know what you're going to say."
Carlyle cut him off.
"I'm done for today."
"Pardon?"
Maranello frowned.
He was quitting already, so soon after starting his physical training?
"Young Master, if you give up so easily, you won't build any stamina... Young Master? Young Master!"
"What."
"Are you really giving up here?"
"Yeah, I'm giving up."
"Young Master, you must be patient. You need to at least build up your stamina. If you don't..."
But Carlyle didn't listen to Maranello.
"Get a bath ready for me when I get back to my room."
"Yes, Young Master."
Carlyle really did give up on his training and returned to his room.
"What did you expect?"
"Couldn't even last thirty minutes."
"Just as I thought."
Watching Carlyle leave the training grounds, the knights nodded as if they had known this would happen.
For the Carlyle they knew, even a resolution that lasted three days was too generous.
* * *
That night.
Before Carlyle went to bed.
"Well then, good night."
Maranello's voice, as he said this, was not as benevolent as usual.
It was extremely business-like and stiff, a clear sign of his deep disappointment in Carlyle.
After all, he'd given up on his training after just ten minutes; it was enough to make one wonder if he was even human.
But Carlyle paid it no mind, wrapping himself in his blanket as usual and preparing for sleep.
A few hours later.
*Rustle.*
Carlyle stealthily slipped out from under the covers.
"Young Master? Where are you going?"
"Just for a walk."
"We will accompany you."
"I'm going alone, so stay out of it."
"But..."
"I said, stay out of it."
The knights guarding the door reluctantly let Carlyle pass.
Carlyle immediately made his way to the garden.
"Did you hear about Young Master Carlyle?"
"Ah, you mean how that good-for-nothing collapsed on the training grounds?"
"I've never seen such pathetic stamina."
He ran into some knights on patrol, but Carlyle hid himself in the bushes.
Evading the patrolling knights, he arrived at a wall in a corner of the garden.
'It should be somewhere around here.'
Carlyle slowly scanned the wall.
It was deep in the night, but the unusually bright moonlight made it easy to examine the wall.
'Found it.'
Carlyle's eyes lit up as he spotted a slightly faded section of the wall.
*Slide, slide.*
Carlyle's pale fingers stroked the faded bricks.
The wall seemed to ripple for a moment, and then Carlyle's fingers sank into it.
'It worked.'
Seeing the wall change, Carlyle stepped forward without hesitation.
Soon, the scenery before him changed, revealing a long corridor lined with blazing torches on both sides.
[Alert: You have entered the .]
Carlyle ignored the status window that appeared before him and walked straight down the long passage.
After about five minutes of walking, a small basin came into view, and behind it stood a massive stone door.
In front of the basin, the following words were inscribed:
- Only those of the Sigmund family's blood may enter.