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Chapter 3: Swordsmanship instructor (3)
"N-n-no we're not!!!"
"We'll get everything ready right now!"
The maids hurried out of the room.
'Understandable.'
Setting aside the fact that those maids were precious personnel—
If he reported them to the Household Head, they'd be dismissed on the spot.
If he made it clear he was in an even worse mood than that, their lives might be forfeit too.
"What exactly am I supposed to be watching?"
Siellin asked, eyes on the retreating backs of the maids.
"How to manage those beneath you."
"Mister, you said you were a Swordsmanship Instructor. Why are you teaching something completely useless?"
"This is a form of swordsmanship too."
That was complete nonsense, of course.
But it was something that had to be done.
There were many things he needed to teach Siellin—but he lacked the specialized knowledge to serve as a proper tutor.
And it wasn't exactly fitting for a Young Lord to be doing that sort of thing either.
"What do you take me for...!"
Siellin flared up.
"That was a joke, obviously. But I mean it when I say you need to know this."
The latter half carried a full hundred percent sincerity.
So Siellin let out a long sigh too.
"...What am I supposed to know?"
The corners of Siellin's mouth were twisted, but to her credit, she took a listening stance.
"I've been observing your attitude carefully. How you treat servants, retainers, and the like."
"What would you know, Mister. You haven't even properly seen how I treat them."
Ah. Come to think of it, he hadn't, at this point in time.
Though he did have a way around that.
"What I asked you earlier—I can infer everything from that alone."
He continued naturally.
"When giving orders to those beneath you, clarity is the most important thing."
Siellin's commands left far too much room for interpretation.
Was she asking for this? Or for that?
Yet if anyone asked about it, she'd get angry.
With that going on repeatedly, those beneath her must feel like they're treading on thin ice with every single order.
Because if they happened to upset her just once—
There was no predicting how Siellin might react.
"I speak clearly enough."
"Get lost. Whatever. Do as you like. No. I don't want to. So what. Annoying. Irritating. None of that is clear. I'll give you that 'get lost' is at least direct."
"H-how do you know...!"
Siellin stumbled over her words, a slight flush creeping onto her face.
'How could I not know.'
While learning swordsmanship from the Sword Saint, those were the words he had heard most often.
He had been her student, so he had been privy to more than that—
But when she dealt with other servants and retainers, without exaggeration, that was the entirety of what she said.
"Because I know someone like you very well."
"Who?"
"You don't need to know."
The Sword Saint was someone he would never see again.
"Do you know that look on your face right now is really annoying, Mister?"
Siellin scowled.
He must have let something pathetic slip onto his face without realizing it.
"Anyway. The problem with your commands is that they leave those beneath you to judge things however they like."
"Isn't that a good thing? It gets rid of hassle for me."
"No. If you're the one losing out from it, what's good about it."
When those beneath you develop a will of their own—
They start choosing whatever option causes them the least harm.
Meaning they won't even consider options that require making use of Siellin's authority.
Because if Siellin turned out not to want that choice, it could be their heads on the line.
"Doesn't matter to me."
"That's because you don't know. What the life of a true Young Lady looks like."
"Mister. I said I don't want to know, so why do you keep..."
"There's a world of difference between having tried something and choosing not to do it, and not having tried it and refusing anyway."
Siellin had never experienced what it meant to properly live as a noble.
If she truly didn't want it, he had no intention of forcing it on her.
But refusing an easier path out of assumption, without ever having experienced it—
He simply couldn't let that go without a word.
"What I'm saying is this: when giving orders, state what you want clearly and directly. That's all it takes."
"Fine. I'll do it then."
Siellin grumbled, lips jutting out in displeasure.
Perhaps because it was unexpectedly admirable of her—
The corners of his mouth curved into a smile.
"Ugh... that's unsettling."
Siellin recoiled at the sight of his smile.
"Hm. Is it really that unpleasant to look at."
"...It's not that."
Siellin muttered, staring at the floor.
"When talking to someone, you look them in the eyes. That's the most basic thing about conversation."
"Get lost!"
"'Get lost' can serve as an answer depending on the situation, but it's generally not a good one."
"Ugh, seriously!"
Furious, Siellin stamped her feet on the spot in an outburst of frustration.
"Hey."
He ignored her and called out to a retainer.
"Yes."
"It's about time we got moving."
"I will show you the way."
The retainer gave a light bow and set off.
"Siellin, let's go."
"Don't call me by my name."
Siellin grumbled but fell into step beside him.
"Then what should I call you."
"Like before."
"Calling you 'you' all the time doesn't feel right either. What's the point of having such a pretty name."
Siellin faltered.
"You're doing that on purpose... haa. Fine. Do as you like. Call me whatever you want."
"Alright then, Siellin."
And so, exchanging small talk like that, they walked.
"We've arrived."
He gave a casual gesture and sent the retainer off.
Then, stepping inside the grand and ornate dining hall—
"Wow... hm."
Siellin let out a gasp before she could stop herself and covered her mouth.
Then she glanced at him, watching to see his reaction.
"At the Young Lady's standing, this is the kind of place you'd dine every day. The food that comes out would match accordingly."
He sat down at the wide rectangular table.
Siellin looked over several seats—
Finding none to her liking, it seemed, she ended up sitting right beside him.
"Wait, and food will be brought out. If you'd prefer, you can have them leave it without any explanation."
As he continued talking and glanced to the side, Siellin was turning the fine tableware over and over in her hands.
A whole new world for her, isn't it. There's no way she dislikes it.
He was thinking that to himself with a quiet smile when—
─thud
He sensed someone's presence.
'Who is that?'
He hadn't arranged anything in advance, so food would still take a while.
"Hm?"
A silver-haired man wearing a bright smile looked their way.
"I didn't expect to run into you in a place like this."
"...Shut up."
The man wasn't frightened of Siellin.
'Could it be...?'
"Isn't the age gap a bit too large? As an elder brother, I simply cannot allow my little sister to walk a wayward path."
The man looked back and forth between him and Siellin, then shook his head.
"I told you to shut up!"
Nardi Rekanof.
The eldest son of the Rekanof Household and first in line for succession.
Before the Regression, he had indeed been the next Household Head.
But he was also the first to lose his head after the Sword Saint fell into Madness.
"How unfortunate. I merely offered some advice."
His most defining trait was that infuriating way of speaking.
He was an expert at getting under people's skin with the lightest touch.
"Ah! I was so delighted to see my little sister after so long that I forgot to introduce myself. My apologies. I am Nardi Rekanof, eldest son of the Rekanof Household."
Nardi gave him a polite bow.
'Same as ever, even at this age.'
Delighted to see his sister—nonsense.
That had been a probe.
Nardi had likely already sensed that he was the son of a high-ranking house.
Even if he didn't yet know the exact family name.
Yet the reason he had disrespected him anyway was simple.
To see how he would react.
Whether he'd show open displeasure—
Or put up with it to an acceptable degree.
To gauge that, he had chosen a low-risk method to rattle him.
"Adrian Valter."
"So you are Young Lord Adrian! I have long heard the stories. I took up the sword myself while growing up on tales of your many exploits in your youth. What an honor this is."
Nardi smiled with easy confidence and extended his hand for a handshake.
He considered for a brief moment how to respond—
Then accepted the handshake.
"However, might I ask what brings you to our household? No news reached me of your visit..."
"I've taken the position of Siellin's Swordsmanship Instructor."
"Is that so?"
Nardi's eyes spun rapidly.
'He's still young himself, this one.'
Nardi was five years older than Siellin.
A boy of barely seventeen.
Quite impressive for his age, though.
What he was after was plain to see.
"My discernment may not be the sharpest, but I understand my sister's swordsmanship is quite exceptional... how would you assess it?"
Don't know, he says.
Nardi was the one leading the charge in treating Siellin as a monster within this household.
"It was outstanding."
"To have my sister's swordsmanship praised by you, Young Lord. What a joyous occasion."
Nardi said it with conviction.
His analysis of him was likely complete.
A swordsman superior even to Siellin, whom he thought of as a monster.
From Nardi's perspective, he was someone who absolutely had to be drawn to his side.
"Yet as an elder brother, I find myself concerned. That my sister may not have shown you the proper respect. Should she make any misstep, it would impose on you, Young Lord..."
As if to say—checkmate.
Nardi pulled up the corners of his mouth.
"So might I be permitted to observe one of those lessons?"
Noble society ran entirely on justification.
And here, there was no justification for him to refuse that proposal.
Nardi's grounds were sound.
On top of that, this was the Rekanof Household's home ground.
The man who was essentially the next Household Head had made a polite request on his own turf—properly speaking, one should bow one's head and let it go.
That was how it would go normally.
'Siellin, this is your lesson.'
He said it inwardly.
'The subject is...'
How to deal with someone who talks in annoying circles.
Something along those lines would do.
He gave a faint smirk and answered.
"Why would I?"