Chapter 23
Chapter 23
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 23
Chapter Title: Twisting Negotiations
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Lenia's face grew cold once more. The messenger from Sarisa Count. He must have come regarding the war reparations. Though reluctant, she decided to hear Kyle's story later.
"I'm sorry, but I must attend to this first. We'll continue your story later."
"How could I possibly complain? It's already an honor just to learn the sword from you, my lady."
"Then let's meet here again tomorrow at the same time. Oh, and have your measurements taken before you go."
With that, Lenia left Kyle in the training yard and headed to her office. She furrowed her brow, sensing that this negotiation wouldn't be straightforward.
"Greetings. I am the proxy of Count Cligrove—"
The messenger bowed his head and began his lengthy greeting, but Lenia ignored him and took her seat.
"Skip the pleasantries and get to the point. What does Sarisa Count have to say?"
"Ahem..."
Treated almost like he didn't exist, the messenger's face flushed red with humiliation. But as the representative of the defeated side, he could only clear his throat awkwardly and stand before her.
"Our count has a message regarding the war reparations."
"What message?"
It was obvious enough without asking. They wanted the reparations reduced, no doubt.
"It seems we need to renegotiate the amount of the war reparations—"
As expected. Lenia sighed at the messenger's words. What goes in doesn't come out the same. But before she could respond, someone else stepped forward.
Bam!
"You dishonorable scum! You came into our castle on your knees, swords at your throats without a word of protest, and now you dare claim you can't pay the reparations?"
It was Sir Karon. He slammed his fist into the sturdy ebony desk so hard it dented in the shape of his knuckles, bellowing at the top of his lungs. The messenger's face turned pale. He knew full well how shameless and dishonorable this was.
If Lenia, Cligrove's proxy countess, decided to take his head right here, no one would point fingers.
"Th-that's..."
But it was Lenia who spared him.
"Sir Karon."
Her icy voice echoed through the office. Realizing his mistake too late, Karon bowed his head.
"Yes, my lady."
"Whose knight are you?"
"I am the knight of the honorable Count Cligrove."
"Then who holds the count's full authority right now?"
"You, my lady."
"Who has this man come to see?"
"My apologies, my lady."
She had phrased it politely, but it was a clear warning not to overstep. No matter that he was one of the senior knights, the messenger represented Sarisa Count. For Karon to erupt like that before Lenia even spoke was deeply rude.
"I understand your feelings, but please be more careful in the future."
"Yes."
It seemed like she was letting it slide, but it was also a message to the messenger. A warning that she shared Karon's sentiments—that his head could roll if he pushed too far.
Catching the hint, the messenger hurriedly bowed his head again.
"Right. Where were we?"
The messenger couldn't bring himself to speak. Opening his mouth again might not guarantee his neck's safety.
"I'll relay everything to the count as is."
They hadn't even had a proper conversation, yet they spoke as if the reparations discussion was already over. As silence stretched on, the messenger, gauging the mood, bowed and tried to leave—but Lenia's voice stopped him.
"Oh, and one more thing."
"Yes."
"Tell Sarisa Count that reparations should be discussed face-to-face. I'll visit him personally soon."
"I-I'll relay that exactly..."
In the end, Sarisa Count's messenger fled Cligrove City like a chased dog, barely uttering his master's words.
"My lady."
Once the messenger had scurried away and the gathered knights dispersed, Edward—now alone with Lenia—addressed her cautiously.
"What is it?"
"It's about that mercenary."
"Sir Lucas, you mean?"
"Yes."
As Edward brought up the hulking mercenary named Kyle, he didn't miss how Lenia's expression softened for a moment. What kind of man was this mercenary that he could draw out an expression she rarely showed even to him, someone who'd lived alongside her for so long?
Jealousy boiled within him, though his pride refused to recognize it as such. No, this wasn't jealousy. It was righteous anger at a lowly upstart encroaching on noble ground. Straightening his twisted expression with effort, Edward pressed on.
"Granting a noble title to a man like that? Even if his war service was great, he's just a mercenary. A vanguard swordsman position would have sufficed..."
His words dripped with suppressed envy, but Lenia didn't notice.
"He's a diamond in the rough. An unpolished gem. We've only crossed swords a few times, but I could feel it clearly."
"Talent?"
Overwhelming talent. As someone who had caught the count's eye through her own gifts before even learning the sword, she knew for sure. Whether it was a gem or not.
His body was already perfected physically, and his sword talent was extraordinary. If she honed it herself, she was certain he could become Cligrove's new star.
"Talent... He possesses more than even I do. One day, he might become Cligrove's strongest swordsman, Sir Lucas."
"..."
As her words ended, the flame in Edward's heart burned brighter. The flame of jealousy.
"Still, elevating a mercenary to vanguard captain and entrusting him with your guard... Wasn't that too hasty?"
"Sir Edward."
Lenia fixed him with a cold gaze.
"Yes."
"I see it as overstepping your bounds. How far do you intend to meddle in my authority over appointments?"
"My apologies."
"You're dismissed for today. And give some thought to what honor truly means."
Think about what honor is. It was the kind of homework given to squires just starting their knightly training. In other words, Lenia was subtly saying he was thinking like a mere squire.
"..."
Grinding his teeth, Edward had no choice but to withdraw.
"Phew..."
"Good work."
It had been four days since he started learning swordsmanship from the lady. As if the initial lessons were mere play, she kept trying different attack patterns. Just when he thought he could block them, her blade would twist in bizarre ways, exploiting gaps—he could barely defend.
He wondered if he truly had talent, but at the end of each lesson, she always looked pleased as she regarded him.
"You have remarkable talent. To reach this level after just four days."
"All I did was defend, didn't I?"
"Plenty can't even manage that. And don't go bragging about it. The other knights and swordsmen might grow envious."
Though it relied mostly on physical prowess, which was a flaw. She added that caveat.
"At this rate, in half a year, you could hold your own one-on-one against an elite swordsman. Pure swordsmanship alone."
Her words brought to mind that swordsman from the recent battlefield. He was impressive, pushing Lucas back with simple technique despite being outmatched physically.
"How do elite swordsmen compare to knights?"
"How do they compare...? Hmm, I've never thought about it, but if I had to say, three elite swordsmen to one knight."
Three elite swordsmen to one knight. He felt a twinge of disappointment. That meant he'd lose to a knight without landing a blow.
Noticing his letdown, the lady spoke softly, like a gentle rebuke.
"Don't be disappointed. When elite swordsmen and knights see your progress, they'll feel deprived. They've dedicated over a decade to the sword—how could you catch up in mere days?"
True, but still.
"From their perspective, you'll seem like a monster. Imagine their despair hearing you'll match them one-on-one after just half a year."
Having chided him gently, she placed her wooden sword on the rack.
"Today's lesson ends here. And today, I have someone to introduce you to. Follow me."
"Yes, my lady."
When the boss says go, you go. He set down his sword and followed her. She led him to the office, where a man waited out front.
"At attention!"
The man snapped to salute at the sight of the lady, his posture rigid. From his armor, Lucas recognized him vaguely.
"This is Sir Willum, captain of the city guard. He's a fellow baron, and your duties will overlap, so get along well."
As her words ended, the man called Sir Willum extended his hand, as if he'd been waiting.
"Willum Carlson. Pleased to meet you."
He had the kindly, rotund face of a man from an American drama. The kind you'd see at a hot dog joint stateside.
"Lucas Kyle. Pleased to meet you."
The city guard captaincy was no minor post. People might look down on "guard captain," but it depended on the city's size and the number of men under him.
This man handled security for a major city like Cligrove. That explained a semi-noble holding the role.
Their handshake revealed thick calluses. At least he hadn't gotten the position just by being noble.
"Now that introductions are done, you're free to go. Sir Willum will explain your duties and new role."
Dismissed, they walked the estate grounds in silence for a while.
"So you're the famous Sir Lucas. The war hero, Mad Bear."
"That's what the soldiers are calling me."
Not a nickname he loved. Mad Bear? But Sir Willum wasn't done.
"And the man who's caught the lady's favor. Impressive. To draw her interest."
"..."
"We're the same rank, so relax around me. Vanguard captain or guard captain—both barons, right?"
"Sure."
No reason to refuse casual terms. But with nothing pressing to ask, Lucas kept his mouth shut as he followed.
"Here we are."
After about five minutes of quiet walking, Sir Willum stopped at a building near the estate. Stark and utilitarian, it screamed military facility. He pointed it out as the barracks for the vanguard swordsmen.