Chapter 15: The Swordsmanship Guild
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 15: The Swordsmanship Guild
“My first kiss…”
Jin fanned her flushed face with her hand. A wave of heat rose through her body, making her head spin.
She remembered the warmth of Allen's breath on her face. His bright blond hair, his delicate, pretty features, and those eyes that seemed to look down on the entire world—it all came rushing back. She had seen many handsome men in her life, but never anyone like Allen.
“Is he really a scoundrel?”
After her encounter with Allen yesterday, her colleagues had crowded around her, unable to hide their concern. They told her he was Quaran's most notorious good-for-nothing and worried that she might have been hurt.
Jin found it all rather strange. The Allen she had met was a perfect gentleman. Although, she did wonder if there was something wrong with him… down there.
Jin was well aware of her own beauty and was confident in it.
“So it was just a baseless rumor?”
From what she had gathered, none of the colleagues who called Allen a scoundrel had actually dealt with him. The only one who had, Lucy, had few complaints.
He gets really rough in bed, does he? Considering how he had stolen a kiss from her, that part seemed true. For a moment, Jin couldn't help but imagine Allen roughly pinning her down, with her lying helpless beneath him, completely at his mercy.
“Ah, honestly.”
Her hand-fanning picked up speed. Jin had a weakness for handsome men, and an even greater weakness for those who exuded masculinity. He wasn't just good-looking; he was exactly her type.
“More importantly, how am I supposed to act?”
Jin forced her thoughts elsewhere. The problem was the proposal she had impulsively accepted. He had asked her to make everyone believe he was thoroughly enjoying himself with her.
Only later did Jin realize the issue. She couldn't give a realistic performance. She had no experience whatsoever.
“Seriously, what do I do?”
Sitting on the massage bed, Jin kicked her feet impatiently. She even considered just calling someone over and getting it over with. She wasn't opposed to the idea; she had accepted it as her fate the moment she started working at the brothel.
The problem was that not a single man who frequented the brothel could keep his mouth shut. Taking the virginity of Jin, the brothel's designated next ace, would be an achievement they couldn't resist bragging about.
That would lead to the exact opposite of what Allen wanted. Besides, a larger part of her didn't want to give her first time to just anyone. Thankfully, she had plenty of reference material around her.
“Aah—”
Jin's face flushed red as she tried to imitate her colleagues. Her own moans sounded so awkward, and she felt her whole body cringe with embarrassment at her own acting.
Time ticked by as she sat in silence. Jin grew more and more anxious. Her resentment toward Allen, who had given her such a difficult task before heartlessly leaving, began to swell.
And then, it hit her. An idea shot through her mind. As long as the result is the same, does the method really matter?
A grin spread across Jin's face as she opened her mouth wide.
“Aaargh—!!”
It was a scream so loud it momentarily silenced the entire bathhouse. Everyone who heard it thought the same thing: The scoundrel has started in on one of the prostitutes. That good-for-nothing is at it again.
And just like that, another layer was added to his already sinister reputation.
#
Quaran, a small port city at the southernmost tip of the continent, was bustling like never before. Small taverns were rowdy even in the middle of the day, and it was common to see drunkards getting into fights and dueling in the streets.
They were lower-class commoners in shabby clothes, knights in proper armor, and nobles trailed by several servants.
The Blood Princess.
They were all men with designs on the princess, the king's sister, who had been appointed Castellan of Quaran.
After all, marrying a princess famed for her beauty, who had inherited an immense fortune as the late king's favorite, would be the score of a lifetime.
If I hadn't known her true identity, I might have joined their ranks myself.
“Blood Princess Eleanor.”
One of the seven witches who would bring ruin to the continent. She possessed an ability akin to a natural disaster, absorbing all the luck from her surroundings to gain wealth and fame, while bringing misfortune to everyone around her.
Because of this uncontrollable power, she was a witch who would be ostracized by everyone in the mid-game scenario for bringing misfortune.
In that, she had something in common with Aenya, whose natural beauty caused chaos in the world against her will.
In fact, most of the seven witches were like that.
With one or two exceptions, none of them were villains from the start. They were simply ostracized for unintentionally causing chaos, and as a result, they fell into corruption, resenting the world that made them that way and seeking revenge.
In any case, judging by the crowd of men who had gathered with ulterior motives, it seemed the rumors about her ability hadn't spread yet.
“Still, some must have their suspicions. Including the princess herself.”
There was no way a beautiful princess who had inherited a vast fortune would end up as the castellan of a small city at the continent's southern tip for reasons unrelated to her ability.
From my perspective, that ability was already taking effect. The moths drawn to this flame, filling my vision, were proof.
Thanks to the sudden influx of people, the merchants were rejoicing. With the economy booming, the citizens praised their new castellan.
And that wasn't all.
“You bastards! Handle it gently! Like you would your lover! What? You don't have a lover? For fuck's sake! Do you have any idea how much one of those barrels costs? Do you?! It's more than you'll make in your entire lifetime!”
At the docks, a massive sailing ship was being unloaded. I watched the man who was yelling his head off at the sailors. His rough skin suggested he wasn't a noble, but his clothes were of a much finer quality than what most nobles wore.
“A merchant?”
In a world with no formal identification, there was no better indicator of one's status than their appearance.
“Ah, shit. I'm busy as hell, who's this no— Hmph.”
The merchant, who had been speaking irritably, clamped a hand over his mouth. He, too, had guessed my status from my clearer skin, my fine clothes, and the sword at my hip.
“Who might you be?”
“Allen Tobalts. I have something to ask you.”
“Ah, the! Ahem! So you are Lord Allen. It is an honor for my family to be able to speak with the renowned Lord Allen!”
It seemed he had heard of my notoriety. Sometimes, a bad reputation could be useful.
“Everything in those oak barrels looks like salt. Can a small city like Quaran really consume this much?”
The oak barrels the workers were struggling to move were filled with white chunks of rock. Unrefined rock salt.
An endless stream of barrels, filled with salt so valuable it was called 'white gold,' was being unloaded from the ship. This much would be worth a manor's entire annual budget.
“In the past, it would have been impossible.”
“Meaning it's different now.”
“Of course. Around here, we catch a lot of octopus, which the inland folk can't stand, don't we? But lately, I hear they're not only catching the occasional cod but also a fair amount of herring.”
“Herring?”
Thanks to their enormous numbers, herring was a common fish in most coastal towns. The waters near Quaran, however, were an exception; for some reason, the common fish was rarely caught here.
“On the other hand, the catch in Dresden has supposedly decreased. They say most of their fishermen turn to piracy when work is slow, so perhaps the Lord has shown his anger. In contrast, a person of high standing has come to Quaran.”
“You mean the Castellan?”
“It happened not long after she arrived, so it must be thanks to her beloved bloodline, wouldn't you say?”
This was an age with many phenomena that couldn't be explained by the current level of science. Believing in superstitions was commonplace.
“So you're saying now is the right time to invest in Quaran?”
The merchant waved his hands frantically.
“Heavens, no. This phenomenon will be temporary. Count Dresden has taken this matter seriously and has begun to suppress the pirates. Also, the head of my trading company said the same thing happened once before, but it returned to normal before long.”
In an era where the transmission of knowledge was poor, there was nothing more reliable than experience. The merchant glanced around nervously before quietly excusing himself. I left the docks behind and started walking again.
“Herring…”
The merchant had called it temporary, but I saw it as another result of the Castellan's ability. After all, in the game, Quaran's specialty product was herring.
An idea for making money came to mind. The problem was that it required a lot of capital, and my family's coffers were empty. It was too good an opportunity to pass up, so I kept mulling it over as I walked south.
It was only when I had nearly reached my destination that a plan struck me.
If I played my cards right, I could secure the capital, get rid of Roland, and even push Aenya into Quaran's castle.
The Swordsmanship Guild was surrounded by a high stone wall, but at my height of 190 centimeters, I could see inside clearly. In the center was a wide, rectangular training ground, with angular buildings behind and to its sides.
“Hah!”
“Agh!”
Some were swinging their weapons at wooden dummies, others were correcting their stance and sword paths alone, and still others were sparring. A dozen or so people were sweating profusely on the training ground.
The reason I came here was for experience points. The moment Roland was revealed to be Sophia's pawn, I needed another way to gain experience. I had readily accepted his proposal to come to Quaran precisely so I could visit this place without his knowledge.
“Hey! Who's spying over there!”
I must have been watching for too long. A figure strode toward me, clad in thigh-length chainmail, a brigandine made of iron plates fixed to cloth, and a helmet with a chainmail coif that completely obscured their face.
“I'm here to see Sir Andrei.”
“My father?”
“Father?”
I was taken aback by the unexpected title. The person removed their helmet, which had slits for eyes and breathing. A face with tanned skin, freckles, and short brown hair stuck to it with sweat was revealed.
Despite the strong features and husky voice, the beauty that left no doubt she was a woman was familiar to me.
“Piole.”
“Allen? Is that you, Allen?”
We recognized each other. Piole immediately scowled.
“What the hell are you doing here, you bastard? Get lost!”
The profanity was a bonus.
“I'm here to see Sir Andrei.”
“You think my father would see you? He's the one who had to duel Sir Maxim because of you! And now you show up acting like nothing happened? I won't allow it!”
To be honest, the Swordsmanship Guild was an uncomfortable place for me, too. Of course, the fault was mine.
Piole continued her rapid-fire tirade.
“Skimming your tuition money to spend on entertainment? I can understand that! It was your choice! But you should have told Sir Maxim the truth! Why did you lie and say you were still taking lessons, making him furious enough to come here after seeing your pathetic skills!”
In my immaturity, I had acted like a scoundrel to everyone without discrimination. Facing Piole's fury now was the price for that.
“Honestly! Sir Maxim was too much, too! Swinging his sword without even trying to find out what happened! Do you have any idea how dumbfounded I was?”
It had been a while, but Piole was a fathercon through and through. I didn't respond, waiting for her to calm down. Knowing her temper, any clumsy excuse would only provoke a stronger reaction.
As expected, Piole began to tire herself out. When she started panting instead of speaking, I repeated myself.
“I am here to see Sir Andrei.”
“You! Have you not heard a word I've said!”
“And you?”
“What?”
“Do you have the right to block Sir Andrei's guest?”
In an age where children were treated as little more than their father's property, it was impossible for a child to turn away their father's guest.
“Whaat? A guest? A guest?!”
Piole's face, flushed red, looked like it was about to explode. I paid her no mind. My gaze shifted to the man who had been standing behind her, watching the situation unfold.
“Isn't that right, Sir Andrei?”
The middle-aged knight, who wore a beard that connected his sideburns to his chin remarkably well, nodded with a stoic expression.
Andrei de Santo. A vassal knight of Quaran and a formidable warrior, reputed to be the strongest knight in the region, alongside my father.