Chapter 22
Chapter 22
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 22
Chapter Title: The Count's Herald
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Tak!
I smacked Cutter over the head with the snack I was holding at his words. The dried fish shattered, scattering fragments everywhere.
"You think I wouldn't know that? Talk some sense. Why would that noble lady take an interest in me after just a few meetings?"
He protested as if he'd been wronged.
"No way! Thanks to you, bro, we turned the tide in a losing war. Isn't that reason enough? Damn, no matter what nice things I say..."
"Shut it and drink. Training starts tomorrow, so we won't see each other for a while."
We drank through the night like that. And the next morning...
"I'm heading out first."
"Ugh... you're a monster...? How many rounds did we knock back last night...?"
I left Cutter, who was a drunken mess and barely coherent, and headed to the mansion.
"Master Kyle?"
As I entered the mansion, a maid spotted me and hurried over. She scolded me for showing up so late when the lady had been calling for me, asking where I'd been all this time.
"This early in the morning?"
"The lady wakes up early. So you need to prepare for lessons ahead of time too, Master Kyle. And change your clothes! You weren't planning to meet her looking like that, were you?"
Before I knew it, she'd changed me into a simple tunic with a vest—a strange outfit. I'd never been measured yesterday, but she said they'd sized it by eye. Led by the hand of the maid, now dressed, I met the lady before the daze even wore off.
"You're finally here. Later than I expected."
She'd arrived early and was waiting. Dressed in a white shirt topped with a brown leather vest and pants, her flowing golden hair tied back in a neat bun, she gave me a slightly displeased glance.
"My apologies, Lady..."
As I bowed my head, a small laugh came with the warm feel of a hand on my shoulder.
"Hee hee... You're too timid for your size. How can your head be so light?"
"It's just a habit from dealing with nobles, Lady."
I looked up as I spoke, and the noble lady nodded as if she understood.
"I suppose... Many nobles are sensitive about that sort of thing. But most of them are all talk. From now on, you don't need to bow like that."
"But won't the other nobles think ill of me?"
"Don't worry. You're the one I've chosen."
With that, she drew her sword.
"Do you know what it means for me, an Aura user, to teach you the sword myself?"
"No, I don't."
"It means you're becoming like my own limb from now on. The boldest among Cligrove's vanguard—the captain of the vanguard swordsmen. And my personal guard. What say you? Will you refuse my offer?"
The noble lady—no, the woman who would be my lord—said this with eyes curved like crescent moons. What reason would I have to throw away the chance to become a noble I'd longed for? Even if it was only a half-baked barony.
"I pledge my loyalty."
I knelt before her. The heavy touch of the sword tapped my shoulder.
"Hero of the Cligrove domain war—the most valiant and honorable mercenary of all. From this day, you shall be captain of the vanguard swordsmen. Kyle, speak your desired surname."
My desired surname? I racked my brain. A surname, once chosen, was hard to change. Pick a weird one here, and I'd be stuck with it forever. Arthur, County, Reden—plausible names flashed through my mind, but none felt right.
The silence dragged on. Finally, the lady spoke first.
"I'll choose your surname for you. You're the brightest among the mercenaries. And one who has grasped honor. I bestow upon you the surname of the Enlightened. From now on, you shall be known as Lucas Kyle."
Lucas Kyle. Kyle the Enlightened. Not a bad name at all—meaning or sound. Looking up at her, I said,
"I pledge my loyalty!"
"Rise."
As I stood at her command, she gave me a bright smile.
"You are my guard, captain of the vanguard swordsmen, and Lucas the Baron. Though you bear the title of 'Sir,' it's not hereditary, so don't get your hopes up too high."
"Not hereditary? Ah... And here I dreamed of passing a noble title to my son. What a shame."
"Your son...?"
It was a throwaway joke, but her face stiffened at the mention of a son.
"Ah... You have a son...?"
"Ha ha! Just kidding. I'm twenty-five, but not married. Well, technically I was, but divorced."
To salvage the suddenly chilly atmosphere, my offhand remark hit the mark—her face relaxed again. Makes sense; having a family would make guard duty tricky.
Companies don't send family men on distant postings for nothing. Dependents create constraints. I understood the lady's position perfectly. What if the guy you're grooming as a guard can't be called upon when you need him?
"Your jokes are too mischievous. Enough—let's begin the lesson. Draw your sword."
As she glared lightly and spoke, I picked up the sword I'd brought. She stepped close beside me and took my hand.
"Don't grip the sword like that... Like this..."
Her small, soft hand adjusted mine. Rest the blade lightly against your shoulder, step forward with the left foot, pull the right back slightly.
"That's the basic stance. Your sword is much larger than most two-handers, but it's still the basic form."
"A two-hander's foundation is rotational power. Use length, weight, and spin to overwhelm the foe with relentless attacks. And..."
She glanced at my sword and shook her head.
"Truth be told, your sword is more ornamental."
"Why is that?"
The lady pointed to the hilt.
"See this part? Two-handers are long and heavy, so their handling differs from normal swords. Slashes and thrusts are similar, but length creates spacing issues."
She noted that a two-hander's length was an advantage, but a drawback in close quarters.
"To compensate, there's a blunt section above the pommel."
"..."
"Grip there for close swordplay... But this sword lacks a parrying hook to keep the blade from sliding in. You'll probably need an iron gauntlet to use it properly."
The sword I'd picked just because it looked cool turned out to be for show. No wonder it was so flashy—style over substance.
"Then I'll need to get a gauntlet."
How much would that cost? No war spoils, so I'd buy one with my first paycheck. As I mentally tallied expenses, the lady smiled.
"I can read your thoughts from your face... Don't worry. House Sarisa isn't so dishonorable as to make our soldiers provide their own gear. Tain!"
"Yes! Lady!"
A soldier guarding the training ground came running at her call.
"Fetch Alice. We need measurements—bring a tape too."
"Right away!"
She issued the order calmly and turned to me.
"Until the gauntlet arrives, training with that sword will be tough. Grab the largest wooden one."
I did as told. The wooden sword was far lighter than my usual blade—barely any weight, like punching air when I swung it.
"Impressive. Does that sword feel light? Like a toy?"
"It's wood, so yeah, super light."
"That's a wooden sword comparable to a longsword's weight... You really are special. Well then... Let's start training."
The lady said she'd teach me basic grip, swings, and defenses, then drew her sword. Just a wooden one, but in her hands, it felt like facing a beast—a chill ran up my spine.
"Same as before. Ten attacks. Just defend. But this time, maintain the grip I taught you."
I gripped as instructed; it felt awkward but firmer than before.
"You learn quickly. Ready? Begin."
Kreeek—!
Her sword whipped out the instant she spoke. I hurriedly raised mine to block.
"Ugh!"
The impact traveled up the blade—heavy for wood. Had I let my guard down thinking it was just a practice sword? The shock drew a groan before I knew it. How does that slender body generate such power? But before the thought finished, she smiled satisfied.
"As expected, you reacted. Put a bit more force into your defense next time."
"Got careless for a second."
"Because it's wood. Second attack incoming. Tip: Don't watch the sword—watch the shoulder first."
Shoulder? As I shifted my gaze, hers twitched. Left? Right?
Thwack!
"Kuh!"
I failed to block. It came diagonally from the right; I tried to react, but too slow. Her wooden sword smacked my head. She pulled back at the end—like a flick, not full force.
"Good to watch the shoulder, but decide faster. Think too long, and this happens."
Just the second attack. Eight to go out of her promised ten. Now I had the feel.
"Th-this... can't be..."
Lenia stammered in shock. She, trained as the count's heir to always stay composed...
'He was a total beginner who hadn't properly learned the sword...'
Kyle blocked the remaining eight strikes. Clumsily at first, nearly perfect by the tenth. Without instruction, he'd absorbed and deflected the impacts—technique worthy of veteran vanguard swordsmen.
'Everything's top-tier. Physical ability, reflexes... and sword talent.'
Perhaps surpassing even her, once called a genius. His only flaw: starting so late. But mid-twenties with this talent... She swallowed hard.
"That's enough for today."
"How was it? The last ones weren't bad, right?"
Not bad? That?
"Excessive humility can be a flaw. It was excellent."
"Ha ha! I panicked at first, but it felt like hunting."
"Hunting? Were you a hunter?"
At her question, Kyle nodded sheepishly.
"Quite a while. Nearly ten years after quitting the baron's house..."
Lenia listened with keen interest. Cligrove had hunters, but she'd never cared for it—first time meeting one.
"I see... Lived by hunting, then."
"Paid decently. A gold coin a month easy."
"Hm... So that's how you spotted the elves' traces before."
Then, a soldier burst into the training ground from outside. Sweating profusely, he reached Lenia and reported dutifully.
"Report to the lady! A herald from Count Sarisa has arrived!"