The Knight's Life
Behind the manor lay the training ground. After running laps across the open field until I thought I'd drop dead, as usual, I was listening to Sir Roland Ashford's explanation of swordsmanship.
"...which is why swordsmanship for fighting people does exist, but more importantly, delivering slashes or thrusts with precise form in any situation is key."
That was the gist of it.
In this fantasy world, opponents you faced as enemies were almost always physically much stronger or weaker than you—rarely on equal footing. Weak foes usually came in hordes, while strong ones were solitary.
When battling weak enemies like small magical beasts, goblins, wolves, kobolds, trolls, ogres, or bandits, it was almost always many-against-one. No matter how careful you were, you'd sometimes have to take hits with your body, but since their physical abilities couldn't properly block your attacks, a couple of solid strikes would kill them. So, donning full armor and swinging your sword with precision was the most efficient approach.
On the flip side, against mid-to-large magical beasts, orc warriors, trolls, or ogres—strong enemies—it was usually several allies versus one. Their overwhelming physical prowess meant that even a single hit could endanger your life, and they wouldn't drop easily from your attacks. Matching or parrying their weapons was nearly impossible, so the only option was to dodge swiftly while channeling all your strength into precise-form strikes amid the evasion.
In the end, Sir Roland explained, dedicated swordsmanship was only truly needed for rare cases like duels between knights of similar caliber or one-on-one fights against weapon-wielding hostile non-humans—which is why its importance took a backseat.
Hmm...
My takeaway from the lecture was this: since I was the third son destined for the priesthood anyway, he seemed to be teaching only the bare minimum.
Sir Roland didn't strike me as lying. It felt more like the practical knowledge for a "knight"—a high-tier soldier stronger than regular infantry, but not the heroic unit I'd imagined.
The books I'd read so far clearly described venerable family sword styles or Aura Heart secrets from ancient lineages. These weren't from legends or novels; they were documented in legitimate history books.
Great knights who overcame trials to rise to high nobility. Surely, heirloom sword arts and secret techniques were essential for becoming one of them—likely intellectual property passed only to designated heirs.
I'd heard that when my eldest brother started page training at my age, both Sir Roland and Sir Frey were already Father's vassals, yet Father taught him personally—unlike me. So my hunch was probably spot on.
"Haha! Fewer lessons than you expected, right? To become a knight, you need to handle all sorts of weapons. Think of it as just mastering basic sword use!"
Any budding resentment melted away at the sight of Sir Roland, chuckling as if impressed that a kid like me had listened so earnestly to his long lecture.
Yeah. How could I complain about someone actually teaching me like this? If I'd been born a farmer's son in this world, I wouldn't even get this chance. Better to buckle down, learn every scrap I could, and skip the griping.
This level of martial skill alone would be a huge boon for surviving here.
I steeled myself and refocused on the lesson.
Today's drill: downward slash, upward slash, horizontal slash, and thrust—alternating left and right hands, all in perfect form. One hundred reps each, totaling eight hundred.
Sir Roland demonstrated from grip to swing, and I mimicked him, getting constant form corrections.
Before long, I was swinging decently.
"You're adapting fast! At this rate, we can move to the next weapon in a month!"
Honestly, a month to learn sword basics felt too quick, but what could I do? I'd need to carve out extra solo practice time going forward.
We kept at it, refining my form with more swings, until today's training wrapped up.
Knight refers to someone granted knighthood.
Hereditary nobles of count rank or higher held the right to bestow knighthood. When taking on vassals, they granted not only the title but also weapons, armor, horses, and fiefs or salaries sufficient to maintain squires (heavy infantry/cavalry) and pages (attendants) under them.
Legally, all knights held the same rank, but in practice, they were stratified by their liege, fief size, and honors (achievements). From lowest to highest:
• Knight-Errant: Wandering knights with no liege or fief.
• Minor Knight (Household Knight): Salary-dependent, living on their liege's lands.
• Knight Bachelor: Granted a fief by their liege.
• Lord Knight: Holds a fief and has the wealth to command multiple knights.
• Knight Banneret: Granted a banner to lead an independent force, with fief/economy to sustain it.
Not every knight formed a vassal bond with the noble who knighted them. A knight serving under another meant the commander provided salary or fief to the subordinate—forming the feudal tie between giver and receiver. Loyalty went to whoever currently footed the bill, not the enknightener.
That explained why Father— a Lord Knight with two knights under him—was rarely at the manor: fief expansion.
To retain vassals, you needed incentives. A minor knight granted a fief rose to knight bachelor status—that was every knight-errant and minor knight's dream.
Bayfort's demesne consisted of the manor, one mid-sized village of over 1,000 souls, and a pioneer village of about 200. Excluding Father himself, it could support just one knight with a fief.
Yet Father, an Expert-rank knight still in his late thirties with a bright future ahead, faced his 17-year-old eldest son knighting soon. Factoring in the heir's share, he needed two more villages' worth of fiefs.
Luckily, the demesne bordered untamed frontier, so with muscle and manpower, pioneer villages weren't hard to establish. Gather free farmers, paupers, and criminals via liege Cedric Wainwright, focus all non-patrol resources on settlement-building, and fund it via expeditions into the count's territory.
No wonder Father had been absent for years—it was inevitable.
Pioneering was necessary, sure, but it could've been paced leisurely. Rushing fiefs for his vassals screamed Father's own ambitions for upward mobility.
Not impossible, either. The next step after Lord Knight—Knight Banneret—was quasi-baron level, with lands and wealth akin to a minor barony.
A banneret could earn merits leading troops, get recommended to the king by their count liege, and upon royal approval, ascend to hereditary baron on the kingdom's nobility rolls.
Father was young—literally good for another century. His lands bordered unclaimed wilds, not parceled inland estates. Keep pioneering and growing villages, and baron-tier fiefs weren't out of reach.
Eventually, those lands would abut foreign borders, sparking wars over frontiers. Build a fort, lead a dozen knights and hundreds of soldiers like other bannerets, rack up merits—no problem.
Survive that, and a new baronial house—and eventually marquessate—would grace the kingdom.
War, huh...
This pieced together from books I'd read and innocent questions to Sir Roland, Priest Ben, and servants—without raising suspicion.
My head spun. I sketched a future scenario based on it.
Live diligently like this, hit adulthood, and I'd naturally earn knighthood. But if my guess held, the count wouldn't grant me a fief.
I'd end up under Father or brother—and since priesthood meant no freeloading like my past life's kangaroo lifestyle, I'd work.
If ambition like Father's struck me then, I'd climb from minor to bachelor knight, growing Bayfort's cadet branch.
Otherwise, settle as a comfy bachelor knight with a manor to pass on, live moderately, and die.
Bound by fealty either way, I'd be endlessly mobilized for Father's goals till death—pulling a knight's full weight.
"......"
I recalled my previous life's cutthroat grind. Sacrificed present for comfy retirement per others' scripts, only to die without enjoying it.
Follow Father's all-out sprint for future glory like past life... would that glory be mine?
...No. For the house. For Father.
And I'd be on the knife's edge, risking life throughout.
Break midway and die? No different from before.
What life did I want?
Anything but a knight's, that was certain.