Master of Body Arts (1)
Bentler and Ellen sat facing each other.
Between them rested a pot of tea still holding its warmth.
Ellen lifted his cup first. The excitement that had been racing through his chest since the garden seemed to settle at last.
"Ever since I heard about Master from you, I've been hunting for word of him without rest. Just as you said, I was able to pick up news of him in Tonton."
Ellen listened carefully, determined not to miss a single detail.
"But I still haven't confirmed whether that information is true. He's such a secretive man that even the informants couldn't say for certain."
Bentler flexed his fingers. The possibility that the lead might be false clearly weighed on him.
"True or not, as his disciple, the least I can do is go see him myself. But right now I'm bound to my duty escorting Lord Ethan Gronlead, so I can't leave. That's why I came to ask you."
Ellen nodded as if he already understood.
"You want me to verify it in person?"
"You're the only one I can ask right now."
Bentler bowed his head. This was the same man who had kept his pride intact even when Ellen had subdued him at the Gronlead estate. The desperation in the gesture was unmistakable.
I needed to meet him anyway. Putting him in my debt while I'm at it wouldn't hurt.
Ellen allowed himself a faint smile. Bentler, still looking down, never saw it.
"All right. I'll go check it out."
"Thank you. I'll spend the rest of my life repaying this."
Bentler looked as if he might cry as he seized Ellen's hand and shook it hard.
"By the way," Ellen said, "I don't actually know a single thing about your master."
Bentler seemed to hesitate. His mouth opened and closed several times before he finally clenched his fist, then opened it again, as though he had made up his mind.
"Master's name is Phillips. He was originally a knight from a house that had dealings with ours. But for personal reasons he left the family and has been roaming the continent as a mercenary."
Phillips?
The name left Ellen's mind reeling.
That man was Phillips?
Phillips.
It was the name of the man once called the Fist King.
His renown had thundered not only through Prode but across the entire continent. Knights from other nations had traveled great distances simply to become his disciples.
Then, when the succession conflict within his family reached a critical point, he had vanished without a trace.
Yet the Phillips Martial Arts he left behind later became a required subject at the knight academies. His style was especially renowned for the physical reinforcement training that preceded any work with the sword.
I failed to recognize someone like that?
Ellen had met him in his previous life.
The body-reinforcement techniques Ellen used had been learned from Phillips himself. Back then, though, he had thought of the man as nothing more than a skilled mercenary.
What I learned then wasn't the Phillips Martial Arts the world knows.
He had a rough idea of the curriculum taught as basic training at the academies. What Phillips had taught him was something else entirely.
I have to go find him.
This was a chance to learn the Fist King's secret techniques. Ellen's resolve hardened.
"I never imagined the man I met was Lord Phillips. When I see him in Tonton, I'll pass along your regards."
"You have to do a little more. You can't give up now."
"Uuuugh..."
The boy's pained groans filled the room.
"You have to get back up."
"Aaaagh!"
That sound was not the only thing filling the chamber. Stifling heat beaded sweat along the boy's forehead.
"Well done. You've hit today's target again."
The boy lacked even the strength to answer and settled for a nod.
"Compared to before, your numbers have improved a great deal. Congratulations, Your Highness."
Romiu felt as if his heart might burst. A boy who had spent his entire life with nothing but books had recently thrown himself into training with fierce dedication. There was no dramatic transformation yet, but his body was clearly growing firmer by the day.
"It's thanks to your help, Remi."
"You did the work yourself, Your Highness."
Romiu was genuinely grateful to Ellen.
Ever since the duel at the Magic Tower two months earlier, Ellen's visits to the royal palace had grown frequent. Each time, he sought Romiu out.
Having long admired Ellen, Romiu always welcomed those visits.
I want to become someone like Sir Veritati, too.
From that day on, Ellen had begun teaching him how to train. For Ellen, there was no better opportunity to draw closer to the heart of the royal family.
"Your Highness, I have something to tell you."
"What is it?"
Romiu's eyes went round as he looked at Ellen.
"I intend to make a trip to Tonton for a while."
"Tonton? Isn't that quite far from Harryford?"
Tonton was a city in the southwestern reaches of Prode. Even on horseback it was a long journey.
"Why do you need to go there?"
"There's someone I must meet. It will probably take several months."
Romiu's eyelids trembled. The thought of the first friend-like figure he had ever gained suddenly leaving filled him with unease.
"You are coming back, right?"
"Of course. I am a vassal of Prode."
The worry in Romiu's eyes showed no sign of fading.
"You mean it?"
He asked again. Faced with that near-tearful expression, Ellen almost let out a short laugh.
"Yes. I will return without fail."
"All right."
Romiu's slumped shoulders made his mood painfully clear. He was still a boy who could not hide his feelings.
"Even while I'm gone, you must not skip your training. When I return, I will examine Your Highness's condition myself."
"Okay. Be careful."
Ellen bowed in farewell and turned to leave. From behind him came a voice so forlorn it was almost pitiful.
"Remi."
This was the first friend the royal family's long-neglected problem child had ever known. It was not as if Ellen were marching off to war—he was only visiting another city.
Yet the fear that Ellen might leave forever would not leave him.
"You really will come back, won't you?"
After two months together, Ellen knew the boy's timid nature well. He answered with a small smile.
"Yes. I will definitely return."
The scenery of Tonton was nothing like Harryford.
All that met the eye were rocky hills and bare earth.
On this barren land, no crop could grow with any ease. Because of that harsh environment, the people here had long since chosen other livelihoods.
The land of mercenaries.
That was Tonton's other name. The principal income of its residents came from the wages of war and monster subjugation.
Naturally, a mercenary guild had taken root. By now, Tonton's mercenary guild had become the largest in all of Prode.
"Hey, quit being a nuisance and get out of the way."
"You talking to me?"
"Who else is hanging around up front being a pain in the ass?"
"You bastard—!"
A crash of bodies and furniture. In an instant the street became a battlefield. The crowd that gathered made no move to stop the fight; instead they began placing bets on the winner.
This place hasn't changed a bit.
Ellen pushed his way through the onlookers. With so many mercenaries about, the entire city carried a combative air.
Why did Lord Phillips choose to live here as a mercenary of all things?
The Phillips Ellen had known in the past had been far from wealthy—closer to destitute, if anything. He wondered what had driven the man to cast aside the title of Fist King and come to a place like this.
This should be about right.
According to the map Bentler had given him, Phillips's lodgings were in this very alley.
There!
Halfway down the alley hung a weathered sign that read "Sunset," above a shabby wooden door.
Creeeak.
Ellen carefully pushed the door open. The wood, completely unoiled, groaned with an unpleasant shriek.
"Excuse me."
Ellen was concealing his noble status. For quiet work, a title was only a burden.
No answer came. The interior of the inn was utter chaos.
Tables and chairs lay scattered everywhere. It looked as if someone had fought a massive brawl only moments earlier.
In Tonton, such a sight was hardly unusual.
"I'm sorry. We can't do business today."
A weary voice drifted from the kitchen.
In cases like this, only the innkeeper wore a long face. No one else ever took responsibility.
"I'm not looking for a room. I've come to find someone."
At that, someone emerged from the kitchen.
"If it's them, they ran off a long while ago."
"Them?"
"Aren't you looking for the Bena Mercenary Corps?"
"Ah—no. I'm looking for a man named Paulo. I heard he was staying here."
At those words the innkeeper's face went deathly pale.
"He left as well. He was the one who drove the Bena Mercenary Corps out, in fact. But I have no idea where he went after that."
The proprietor waved both hands emphatically as he spoke.
That's an extreme reaction. Why?
Even at a glance the innkeeper's behavior was unnatural. What Ellen sensed in the man's words was fear.
"I understand. In that case..."
Judging there was no more information to be gained, Ellen stepped back outside.
Back to square one?
The thought that he might have met the man if only he had arrived a little sooner left a bitter taste.
Ah—that's right. This is Tonton.
A memory surfaced in Ellen's mind.
I should go find them.
Decision made, he headed once more toward the marketplace.
The market was as noisy as ever.
The laughter of mercenaries already drinking in broad daylight battered his ears.
Ellen ignored them and walked on without hesitation. Yet no destination could be read in the path he took.
Anyone watching would have thought he had lost his way and was simply circling the same ground.
By now they ought to show themselves.
With that thought he turned again into the alley on the right. He never stopped moving his feet.
He had already passed through this alley several times.
But something was different now. Moments earlier the lane had been packed with people; now it was utterly still.
Ellen halted.
"How does a little brat like you know how to call us out?"
A man's voice from behind shattered the alley's silence.
"If this is a joke, you'd better be ready for the consequences."
He tapped the sword at his hip as he spoke.
"I came with a request."
Ellen drew a rather heavy-looking coin purse from his coat.
"You've got the wrong idea. I don't know whose young master you are, but go home. We don't move for money alone."
"I've come looking for Paulo."
A flash of steel.
The man's blade snapped up and leveled at Ellen's throat.
The razor-sharp edge rested against his neck. Ellen did not so much as flinch.
A sudden pressure.
"What the—who the hell are you?"
Vines had risen from the earth and coiled around the man's arms and legs.
"You don't need to know that much. Just take me to headquarters, why don't you?"