I Only Came to Train
Isabelle said, "They say this Müject is a tool that reveals the moments one must inevitably pass through to achieve their goals."
To achieve one's goal, the moments that must be passed through? Isabelle gently held out the book so Rood could confirm its contents.
"Look at this section. In other words, it means your goal can only be realized if the future shown in that vision comes to pass."
At Isabelle's words, Rood clenched his jaw so tightly his teeth ground together.
Rood had only one goal: to become a being who could accomplish his will no matter what external pressure was applied. To become a person who carried no burdens, infinitely free and strong. Did that mean he had to endure the pain he had witnessed in the vision?
Yet Rood was confused. He couldn't understand why kissing Isabelle in that scene had felt so agonizing. He had only experienced the situation itself; he didn't know exactly where that place was or what the kiss truly signified. From what he could guess, it was a prison, and the two of them were parting. That was all. The more he recalled the scene, the harder it became to calm down.
When too many questions arose, they could only surface as the emotion of fear.
"Rood. Are you all right?"
Rood simply stared at Isabelle's eyes. They asked the question with an expression of complete ignorance, yet trembled with the desire to comfort him.
Until now, my only goal was to become a strong human who never wavered.
Rood made a decision. He would change his goal. In doing so, he would completely break free from the horrific future he had faced.
I will protect you. I don't want to experience that kind of pain.
Rood, who had believed people only grew strong by overcoming trials, realized upon confronting the vision that there existed a terror greater than death. For a person facing an irreversible reality and falling into despair, nothing was more frightening than the time they remained alive.
"Can this object be activated again?"
Rood had grown curious about what kind of future he would need to pass through in order to achieve his newly changed goal.
"Actually, that is the problem. They say this Müject only reveals that future once every ten years."
After listening to Isabelle's explanation, Rood felt a hollow laugh rising, but he quickly steadied himself.
In the end, it all depends on what I do.
Whether he had seen the future or not, that future would ultimately change according to one person's efforts and choices. That was what Rood believed.
"Well, Rood. Since it seems this Müject will no longer be of use, exchanging it for another treasure should be fine."
Rood shook his head.
"Since I already used an opportunity that only comes once every ten years, it wouldn't be right to receive anything."
"Originally that would be unacceptable, but hasn't Rood saved my life twice? This time, take a proper treasure."
Listening to Isabelle's proposal, Rood stroked his chin for a moment before looking directly into her eyes.
"Then I have a request. I'd like to have a sword forged from the ingot I chose."
At Rood's words, Isabelle nodded.
"You're planning to use Ispero, I see. The Voenac family employs a dwarf. I'll entrust the crafting to him."
"How did you know it was Ispero? There were many other fine ores visible..."
Isabelle answered calmly.
"Watching you fight up close, I came to understand. Despite your nickname and appearance, your swordsmanship itself is delicate."
Isabelle continued.
"You use the principles of a powerful sword as a feint, seizing the enemy's movements through balance and speed. It pretends to be a tyrannical blade, but in truth, it completely predicts the opponent's actions and strikes at their openings."
Rood nodded at her words. On the battlefield, one had to know how to conceal their true intentions. Rood had thoroughly exploited his nickname and fiery temperament, pretending to fight with reckless abandon. It was such masterful acting that few could see through it, yet Isabelle had accurately discerned the truth after witnessing his swordsmanship only once. The fact that she had done so without even crossing blades with him made Rood reevaluate her powers of observation once again.
"Rood, it seems you and I share some similarities."
"You... with me?"
"Do you remember the Desert Drunkards battle?"
The Desert Drunkards. It was one of the battles Rood had taken part in. The enemy had launched raids and pursuits to sever and plunder the allied supply lines. The alliance had lured their entire force out, surrounded them, then deliberately opened a path of retreat that led the enemy straight into a canyon they would be forced to traverse. Because the terrain was desert, they needed a place to fall back to while enduring the scorching heat without proper supplies. The enemy had seized the allied supply wagons, but the wagons contained no real provisions. Eighty percent of their contents were straw and rum. When the enemy marched alongside those wagons, the supplies revealed their true value.
The moment the alliance's fire arrows rained down from the canyon ambush, the entire ravine became an inferno. Amid the screams echoing through the canyon and the thick stench of alcohol, even the hidden soldiers fell into collective frenzy, dancing and singing. Ninety percent of the enemy perished without ever engaging in combat. The remaining ten percent who escaped the canyon did so only because Galliot had arbitrarily diverted the rum from the supply wagons, preventing the fire from catching properly.
"I remember. That one-sided slaughter that wasn't the least bit entertaining... That was your handiwork?"
"Well, it probably wasn't entertaining for those doing the fighting, but we sweated blood over the behind-the-scenes preparations."
Isabelle smiled bitterly.
"Since our side only suffered thirteen wounded, it was the best battle I've ever had."
She wasn't smiling merely because her scheme had succeeded. On the contrary, Isabelle's tactics always required a degree of sacrifice. The Empire was a power strong enough to have endured for a thousand years. The Kingdom Alliance was a mere 140-year-old fledgling nation born from a coalition of certain royals seeking to escape imperial tyranny. They were perpetually forced to fight at a disadvantage. And to win such battles, they had no choice but to rely on the strategy of scattering bait and hooking the big fish.
Rood tried to imagine the mental anguish Isabelle must have endured as supreme commander, but soon gave up. He had never led a large army, so genuine empathy was impossible. And even if he could empathize, it likely wouldn't help her.
"It must have been difficult."
"Come now, could it possibly be as hard as for those crossing swords on the battlefield?"
"It's equally difficult. Because both sides need each other."
Still, Rood made sure not to forget words of comfort. He believed what she needed wasn't assistance, but the reminder that she was not alone. He barely stopped himself from saying she didn't have to carry the weight of those sacrificed lives by herself.
In this world, some things gain deeper meaning when left unsaid.
Isabelle covered her open mouth with her hand and asked,
"Rood, you can say things like that?"
"Just what impression do you have of me, exactly?"
"I thought you'd say something like, 'What's so hard about scribbling with a pen in the rear that you're complaining about it?'"
Rood felt a twinge at Isabelle's guileless words.
As expected, has living in the south made me soft?
Just as she said, the old Rood would have given exactly that answer. But perhaps because of the sensation and memory of having kissed her, he found he didn't want to treat Isabelle carelessly.
"It might be because I realize your strategy may have saved my life."
"My strategy?"
"Special operations soldiers mean those who fought alongside you, don't they?"
Rood continued.
"Until now I thought surviving the battlefield was nothing but luck, but meeting a guardian angel like you makes me think perhaps it wasn't."
Isabelle turned her head and mumbled something. Rood listened carefully but couldn't make out the words. He did, however, notice that the tip of one of her ears had turned bright red.
Rood pointed at the cubic object in his hand.
"Then I'll leave this behind."
After receiving Isabelle's permission, Rood handed the Ispero to Pete. Pete listened calmly to Rood's explanation and stated that he would deliver the ingot to the dwarf first thing in the morning.
"Anyway, I've been lying down too long. My body is starting to itch for movement."
During the roughly week he had spent there, Rood had roughly mapped out the locations throughout the mansion: the dining hall, the apothecary, the study, the conference room, the garden with its fountain, and even the training grounds where the guards drilled.
Time to train before I get rusty.
Rood slowly left the mansion and headed for the training grounds, which could only be reached by following the path through the rear garden.
When Rood arrived at the training grounds, so many soldiers were swinging their weapons that finding a quiet spot to train separately seemed impossible.
"Is that how you do it? Hundred thrusts, execute!"
"Execute!"
Standing on the platform was Moneck, the man who had treated Rood. Unlike before, Moneck was not in casual attire but wore a full uniform. His white coat was decorated with gold thread, and beneath it he wore white padded armor. His cloak was a deep azure, and the layered garments made Moneck's already powerful frame appear even larger and more imposing.
The soldiers were sweating buckets, yet none were slacking off or sitting down.
Quite well-trained.
Rood decided he should discard his prejudice that southern soldiers could not surpass those of the north.
While he was observing the training as a whole, his eyes met Moneck's.
"Soldiers! Everyone, cease your movements and look behind you!"
The soldiers all turned at once to stare in Rood's direction.
"Show proper respect to our honored guest! He is the very person who offered his valuable opinion on just how valiant and utterly pathetic the soldiers of Voenac truly are!"
The soldiers' eyes, which had been watching with curiosity and puzzlement, instantly filled with murderous intent as they glared at Rood.
"Because of that bastard, our training load..."
"Is that the bastard who called our Voenac soldiers nothing but trash?"
Moneck spoke.
"Everyone, silence!"
Moneck descended from the platform and walked toward Rood. Thud. Thud. His footsteps stopped.
"If it's not too much trouble, would you be willing to give one-on-one instruction to these pieces of trash gathered here?"
Rood immediately regretted coming to the training grounds, feeling he had seized the wrong end of the blade.
I only came here to train for a bit.