The Highest Place
Ever since it became known that I, alongside Edwin, had designed the Lebechia Swordsmanship, even my fellow first-year Literature Division classmates—and Martial Division students as well—began greeting me with a nod of recognition as I passed by. Senior students from other grades joined in too.
Simply because I was the creator of the swordsmanship practiced by so many in Lebechia.
But would they really want to get close to me just because of that reason alone? No. Not at all.
Edwin, my senior, is the son of the former Grand Chancellor of Dragonschulz. And since a child and his father are inseparable, knowing Edwin means I can claim ties to the chancellor himself. Yet until now, both he and his father had deliberately kept their distance from most others.
That meant almost no one had had the chance to build a connection with them.
Right away, for instance, his stepmother was the daughter of a tiny, obscure noble family rather than the heiress of a grand one. The truth had been staring me in the face the whole time.
“Since rain is falling heavily today, I’ll have to switch the lesson to indoor practice.”
The sudden downpour that had started after the afternoon had forced the swordsmanship class indoors.
Staffen, the instructor, was an ex-knight. He had no intention of canceling outdoor training just because of the weather. Yet he must have also considered that most students came from noble families, and they might balk at training in the rain.
Well… when I glanced at my classmates’ faces, I thought the professor’s decision had been spot-on.
Almost everyone wore the same wide-eyed, delighted expression: “Today’s swordsmanship class is a holiday!”
I probably would have worn it too, if I hadn’t been making progress with the sword.
“So today, let’s learn about the various swordsmanship styles that exist in Lebechia. The one most widely and effectively used in the kingdom right now… um, instead of me explaining it, wouldn’t it be better to hear from one of the creators?”
With that, Staffen turned toward me.
At the same moment, every classmate’s gaze swung my way.
There was no other choice. The swordsmanship most commonly and effectively used in Lebechia had been designed by Edwin and me.
‘…If only I had given it a name earlier, I wouldn’t be feeling this regret right now.’
Feeling a sudden wave of remorse wasn’t abnormal, of course.
I had never imagined the sword would grow so far. I hadn’t expected to reveal that I was the creator. Nor had I considered adding a fancy name to the style.
“Lucian student?”
“Yes, Professor. If it’s not too much trouble, I’d like to hear your explanation.”
“My explanation? I think Lucian student could explain it far better.”
“Of course he could. Among the creators of that swordsmanship, I am definitely one.”
I simply stated the facts.
Overly modest humility could invite trouble later, so I held back.
But I didn’t need to step forward either.
A modest, humble attitude always paid off in the end.
“Still, explaining it to someone else, teaching someone… that seems distant from me. You’re an expert in that field, Professor, so you belong here. I only came to the academy because there’s so much I need to learn.”
“…Hmm.”
“My classmates will understand your explanation much better than mine.”
I lowered my voice. Conversely, I slightly raised Staffen’s.
Even so, Staffen wouldn’t become the creator simply because of this.
The classmates had already firmly imprinted the name of the creator in their minds.
Knowing that, I had no reason to snatch up this delicious gift Staffen was offering me right now.
Instead, by using the opportunity to praise the professor’s authority, I could earn even better evaluations from him and my classmates. That was the true gain.
“Professor, I think explaining and teaching to the students would be far better coming from you than from Lucian.”
Raul noticed at once and lent support to my view.
With the actual creator and another student speaking up, it was impossible for Staffen to ignore the students’ wishes.
“Is that alright with you, Lucian student? I’ll give you an objective evaluation. A cold one.”
“That’s exactly what I want. Evaluations from veteran instructors like Staffen Professor are much more reliable and helpful in creating better swordsmanship. I’m expecting a truly objective and cold judgment, so there’s no need to worry.”
I didn’t care what judgment came out.
After all, I had refined the sword from the very beginning with not a single flaw.
Even Edwin, the High-ranking Knight and respected swordsman of Lebechia, had praised it: “This swordsmanship is almost unfair.”
I had left only tiny weaknesses, deliberately placed so that anyone using the style would need to fill them through their own effort and grow their skill.
If it became too perfect and stagnant, its future would be sealed. I had created that safeguard to prevent it.
‘The guy who couldn’t even swing a sword properly thought about that puzzle. I have to admit, it’s ridiculous. That’s why I never revealed the truth.’
While controlling my expression, I looked at Staffen.
After all, he wasn’t some idiot like the exiled Egmass.
He was a professor who knew how to behave properly, so I had nothing to worry about.
“Excellent. Then let’s begin with what’s commonly called the Lebechia Swordsmanship.”
Oh! The Lebechia Swordsmanship.
Not only had my own work—named after me—been adopted, but it now carried the kingdom’s name.
This was an enormous honor. If a kingdom was named after it, that meant the style carried a power rivaling the kingdom itself, and my influence as its creator must be equally vast.
“As everyone knows, the Lebechia Swordsmanship began with High-ranking Knight Edwin Lang von Dragonschulz and one assistant. And the veiled assistant listening right here is none other than—”
Staffen pointed to me.
I gave a slight nod, smiling shyly.
“Since no special name was given, some call it the Lebechia Swordsmanship. Its greatest feature is near-perfect balance in every aspect. Most sword styles lean aggressive or defensive depending on their origin and regional characteristics. By blending them, this one was almost reborn as something entirely new.”
Staffen’s explanation matched my memories perfectly.
It was designed so that even in any situation, the body would never break balance. It even considered the lower body for tricky attacks, showing every detail clearly.
No flashy movements at all. It was the very essence of conciseness.
“Now that we’ve discussed the advantages, there must be disadvantages too. Because this swordsmanship pursues absolute efficiency, finding any flaw is surprisingly difficult. If I had to point out one, it’s that there are small gaps between movements. For most people, it’s imperceptible, but anyone above a certain level will notice instantly. I believe the user of this swordsmanship is meant to fill those gaps themselves.”
Spot-on. The eyes of a professor who teaches first-year swordsmanship were exactly what they should be.
It seemed he hadn’t been assigned here by accident after serving as a knight.
“In any case, this nearly perfect swordsmanship is now used by many people in Lebechia. Each of them can fill its gaps and transform it into their own style. A swordsmanship that never stagnates and constantly seeks change. With that alone, I have no hesitation in calling it the greatest swordsmanship.”
I wanted to clap. It was that good a lecture.
Ah, Staffen Professor. Or should I say Staffen Professor? You truly belong in the first-year class.
Starting today, I had no doubt at all that I would make connections with the Burck family to which he belonged.
“Next, the swordsmanship that arose where the borders of Lebechia and Pirot meet, known far more widely as Esper.”
“It is the most aggressive of them all. Above all, it is the main style adopted by the Conqueror Knight Division—one of Lebechia’s three great knight orders.”
All the other swordsmanship styles Staffen explained were the ones I had compared and studied many times while developing my own.
The Esper Swordsmanship, which showed terrifying offensive efficiency, versus the Flanka Swordsmanship, which possessed unmatched defensive versatility, and many others.
I had already memorized every single one of them by heart.
Yet hearing them explained through someone else’s mouth gave me a far better experience than simply repeating them to myself.
At first, Staffen’s expression had seemed faintly displeased at the indoor setting. But once he began, he delivered an extremely passionate lecture. Thanks to him, my classmates listened with genuine interest, never growing bored or tired.
‘…No wonder they say Literature Division students take to books and words so easily.’
All the swordsmanship I knew had finally been covered.
Just as I thought there were no more to explain, one style came to mind.
A technique so close to genius that it was displayed by someone I knew very well.
“Staffen Professor.”
“Yes, Lucian student?”
“I’m curious about exactly what swordsmanship Rie Arche von Haniel uses.”
“…Hmm, I wondered why you’d ask that.”
The reason I asked and why Staffen answered that way was simple.
Rie had absorbed countless styles and created her own, just as I had.
But Rie’s swordsmanship was made only for her. No one else could replicate it.
To follow her style, one would need her talent first. I could swear with certainty that even I could never achieve it.
Far less anyone else following her blade.
“To answer directly, Rie Arche von Haniel student’s swordsmanship is…”
“…”
“The worst. That is my honest evaluation.”
When the word “worst” left Staffen’s mouth, most of my classmates—especially Raul, her biggest fan—were stunned.
They said that even searching the entire Lebechia kingdom would make it impossible to find a genius like her with a sword.
Yet how could they call her style the worst instead of the greatest?
‘Now I understand.’
I could read Staffen’s thoughts perfectly.
Why he answered that way, why he said Rie’s swordsmanship was the worst without hesitation.
“Rie’s swordsmanship is one that only she can use. It cannot be inherited by anyone else. Not unless you possess her overwhelming talent and tremendous effort.”