So That They Can Never Pull Such Tricks on the Young Master Again
The training ground was vast. Especially the exclusive one for the Knight Faculty cadets—it was enormous. It made sense, given that the Knight Faculty boasted the largest enrollment among the five faculties at Versa Imperial Academy, rivaled only by the Magic Faculty.
Alan walked toward it alongside Albert.
"This place is on a whole other level compared to the public training ground, bro."
"Just a minor difference."
"Minor? The scale is insane."
Alan glanced at the training ground. The grand hall wasn't small by any means, but this felt like two soccer fields smashed together. The public one was already ridiculously big, he thought. Guess that's what being in the imperial capital does—land for days.
"Young master, watch out…!"
Something whistled through the air. Before Alan could even turn toward the sound, the hem of a maid outfit fluttered dramatically in front of him.
Meia caught the incoming ball effortlessly with her left hand, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, then slammed it into the ground. It burrowed a hole and burst with a pop.
She shook out her hand lightly and turned to Alan. "Are you alright, young master?"
"Meia, your hand okay?"
"It's fine."
"Good, let me see it."
Alan snatched her hand. Knowing his stubbornness, Meia offered it without resistance.
She'd protected it with mana the moment she caught the ball, so there wasn't a scratch. After inspecting it thoroughly, Alan sighed in relief.
"Luckily, it's fine."
"Anyone who can handle mana would do the same."
"What if that ball had mana infused in it?"
"It's fine."
Albert smirked as he watched Alan bicker with Meia. From kid days to now, only Alan worries about her like this.
Alan's gaze shifted toward where the ball had come from.
"Who threw that?"
"Ah, sorry. Didn't think it'd fly that way."
A few Knight Faculty cadets approached, tossing another leather ball back and forth. Alan eyed them, irritation plain on his face despite their grins.
"Didn't think it'd fly that way, huh? That's a funny one."
Albert stepped forward from behind Meia, and the cadets' faces drained of color mid-stride.
"Who dares throw a ball at my little brother? On purpose, no less."
"Albert Eling von Mueller…?!"
"I don't recall giving you permission to call me by name so casually."
A suffocating wave of hostility poured from Albert, saturating the training ground's air in an instant. A cold glint flashed in his eyes.
"I brought my brother here for a tour, and this is how you welcome us? Care to explain?"
"That's…"
"They seem to be from the faction that disapproves of the young master, young master Albert."
Albert chuckled at Meia's words. "Oh?"
"Faces I remember. Cadets who badmouthed the young master behind his back. Nobles from the southern provinces."
"Hm. Is that so?"
Albert grinned with amusement and fixed his gaze on the three pale-faced southern noble cadets. He tapped the sword at his hip and declared boldly,
"Get up on the sparring platform. I'll give my brother a good show—and you lot a chance to cross blades with me."
The three southern noble cadets couldn't muster a word.
Albert added, "For the record, you don't have a choice."
Damn it, how did it come to this…?!
Every faculty had its share of stuck-up nobles. Imperial southern nobles were especially cliquey upon enrolling, heavily influenced by their many ties to the empire's literary circles.
The recently dismissed Professor MacKellan had been from the south too, and he'd favored his fellow southerners.
Naturally, these three noble cadets had been fed the same prejudices against the Shuren Chronicle.
"We messed up! So call off the spar—!"
"Y-yeah! It was just a prank! You're the Sword King's son! No way you couldn't block that!"
Desperate excuses, but Albert didn't even pretend to listen.
"You know what kind of reputation my brother has. Unless your ears are just for show."
The three clamped their mouths shut. They'd just touched a raw nerve.
Albert's eyes grew icy as he loomed over them.
"Sword King's son? What do you know about my brother to flap your gums like that?"
"Young master Albert. The wooden swords."
"Thanks, Meia."
A wooden sword flew to Albert on the platform from Meia's toss. He caught it smoothly and smiled.
From the spectator seats, Alan yelled, "Bro! Don't kill 'em just 'cause you're pissed!"
"Won't kill 'em, Alan."
Albert grinned back at him, then turned. "Though they'll be out of lectures for a while."
"Hiiik…"
"What'd we even do to deserve this?! We just wanted to teach that un-imperial-like novel-writing punk a lesson…!"
"You idiot!"
One noble cadet babbled half-mad under Albert's pressure. Albert stomped once, vanishing and reappearing before them in a blink. He swung the wooden sword.
No mana, yet it whistled through the air with a chilling whoosh.
The three stumbled back, faces ghost-white. Albert advanced like a specter, wooden sword at the ready.
"Draw your swords. Unless you want to be tenderized helpless."
The Sword King's eldest son radiated terrifying hostility, guardian of the empire.
"Some people really spout live stupidity. Unbelievable."
Alan clicked his tongue as Albert thrashed the three single-handedly. Using a wooden sword against real steel was insult on top of mercy, but they were helpless anyway. The metallic clangs on clashes proved it.
"Was bro always this strong…?"
The Albert in Alan's memory was a talented swordsman and knight candidate, but this felt a step beyond. The sword's trajectory was flashy—different from the techniques he'd seen in Albert's prior bout with their father, Duke Mueller.
Alan caught a faint whiff of Shuren Chronicle in that path.
Nah, no way…
Not perfect, but eerily, he read traces of Eastern swordsmanship in Albert's swings.
Impossible, right?
Born a Sword King's son himself, trained in the blade, he couldn't miss it. New flourishes mixed in.
"Meia."
"Yes, young master."
"Am I seeing things? Bro's sword style looks different from before."
"I sense it too."
Meia answered instantly. The three cadets crumpled before Albert's blade. Cold light flickered in her eyes as she watched.
…Those vermin dared aim at the young master.
If she hadn't blocked, who knows what injury Alan might've taken. Albert was there, so probably nothing happened—but that was just "probably." If it had, would they have strutted off unscathed?
Meia's eyes hardened coldly.
Can't kill them.
She wanted to dispose of them now, but they were nobles. Short of making them "disappear," one sure way remained: instill terror so deep they'd never try tricks on Alan again.
Young master Albert roughed them up once, but that's not enough. Need to ensure they never dare touch the young master again.
Alan suddenly felt a chill and sneezed.
"Atchoo!!"
"Damn, damn…! Albert Mueller, that bastard! Snooping everywhere!"
"Wrong approach. Needed more caution. That's how we avenge the professor."
Professor MacKellan was dismissed, not dead—but they spoke as if he'd been martyred. He'd greased their easy A's and perks in liberal arts, so to them, he was a benefactor.
"Didn't expect Albert tagging along. Damn it. Should've known when that non-Knight Faculty guy entered our exclusive ground."
"We're the idiots."
"Next time, hit him without Albert. He'll take swordsmanship lectures anyway, right?"
The three, battered just shy of death by Albert, limped away grinding their teeth.
"Damn, maybe contact those Kun'Rung guys? Heard they hate Alan Mueller too."
"The princess's guard supposedly despises him. Put in a request?"
"Careful. Dealing with Kun'Rung is a gamble. Plus, their princess is super friendly with Alan…"
A shadow fell over them.
They glanced up to see the white-haired, blue-eyed maid in the gloom.
"Maid?"
"You, Alan Mueller's…!"
"What?"
Meia faced them expressionlessly. "Meia."
She lifted her maid skirt slightly, baring a thigh. As they gulped and stared, she smiled—a dry, chilling curve matching her frozen eyes, lingering on the white-haired maid's lips.
"I'll leave you a lesson you'll never forget."
The sunset deepened shadows in the twilight. Night dragged its hem as it arrived, her snow-white hair swaying like a dragon's tail. Amid the fallen shade, Meia's deep blue eyes gleamed like jewels.
"So that you can never pull such tricks on the young master again."