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The one who showed the most dramatic reaction to my words was none other than Vivian.
"W-Whaaat?!"
Her hair bristled like a startled kitten's as she sprang into the air, landing on her feet and looking up at me with a face drained of color.
"B-Brother! What on earth are you saying?! Me, stronger than Father?! That makes no sense at all!"
"Why wouldn't it? It makes total sense. Absolutely."
"Huh? R-Really...? Truly...?"
When I spoke with absolute certainty, her wide eyes wavered in turmoil and her ears pricked up attentively.
Hmm. Our youngest is surprisingly gullible, isn't she?
I didn't recall her being quite like this in the game... Was this another butterfly effect of the ducal house escaping ruin? At this rate, I had to worry she might get swindled by some con artist later on.
"Stronger than me, you say... Does she truly possess that kind of talent?"
"No. Not just 'that kind.' Whatever you are imagining, Father, it goes far beyond it."
I leaned forward with a smirk, staring straight into Urtega's eyes.
"Father, don't you think it's about time you considered stepping down?"
"...I am not so decrepit a relic yet, insolent brat."
"Is that so? That's not how it looks to me, though..."
"Whew... Cease your provocations. Regardless, you claim Vivian's talent is truly that exceptional?"
"Yes. You will see for yourself once you test her."
Urtega's penetrating gaze swept over Vivian. Paralyzed with pitiable tension, she shivered like a chick caught in the rain under that heavy stare and gulped hard.
"...Vivian. Take up your sword."
"Ah, y-yes! Your Grace!"
Schwing!
Hastily drawing her blade, she pointed the tip toward the ceiling in an awkward, clumsy grip. For a girl her size, the sword was far too long and heavy, making her look precarious, but I wasn't worried. This was Vivian, after all. What could possibly go wrong?
"Swing it."
"Um... I just swing it however I like?"
"Yes. As you wish."
"Y-Yes, sir. Here goes...!"
Clutching the hilt tightly with her small hands, Vivian set her face in fierce determination and raised the blade high.
"Huuu... haaaah..."
Then came the downward strike.
Clang!
Failing to control the weapon's weight, the steel struck the floor, ringing out in a clear, sharp chime.
"Urgh...!"
A bright red blush flared across Vivian's face in sheer embarrassment.
"...Oh."
To be frank, even to my swordsmanship-illiterate eyes, it had been a dreadful strike. Her arms hadn't extended straight, making the blade wobble like a wave; her balance had shattered, dragging her entire body forward; and her awkward posture had sapped whatever power the blow might have carried.
Yet precisely because of that, a glimpse of immense, terrifying talent shone through.
Somehow, that very strike called to mind the single sword swing Urtega had unleashed against the undead horde. The two had looked nothing alike on the surface, so why? I couldn't explain it myself, but there had to be some profound, underlying principle woven into her motion. It was astonishing, to say the least.
"How was that, Father? I'd say you have no choice but to acknowledge it."
"...Indeed. It appears so."
Letting his sword hang loose, Urtega pondered for a brief moment before finally nodding.
"Vivian."
"Yes! Your Grace!"
"Endure this."
"Pardon?"
The next instant, Urtega's blade carved a deliberate, slow arc straight toward Vivian's neck.
"Ah, gh...!?"
Vivian turned pale as a sheet, her entire body freezing stiff as a log.
"Hic! Ugh...!"
Tears welled up in her wide eyes. Her teeth ground together, and her limbs trembled violently.
"Aaaah! Aaaaaagh!!"
Claaang!
Even in that state of sheer terror, she swung with everything she had and deflected Urtega's blade.
"Haah! Haah! Heugh..."
"Splendid."
Murmuring softly, Urtega reached out and wiped away her tears with his own hand before declaring his verdict.
"Report to the underground training ground every morning. I shall instruct you in the sword for two hours each day."
"R-Really?! Waaaah! I did it! Brother! I did it!"
Overwhelmed with joy, Vivian charged straight at me with her sword held high. Carried along by her unsteady sprint, the blade wobbled precariously—aiming, with miraculous precision, directly at my carotid artery.
Clack!
"Lady Vivian. That is dangerous."
"Ah! Sorry! Muriel!"
"...Do you have some kind of grudge against me?"
"Huh? I only have gratitude for you! Anyway! Brother! Father acknowledged me!"
She threw herself into my arms. Patting her back as she clung to me, I shot Urtega a sharp glare.
"Father, treat her a little better on ordinary days, would you? Just how strict are you normally being for a child to act like this over a single word of praise?"
"...If your business here is concluded, leave. I must concentrate."
"Good grief. Yes, yes, whatever you say... Oh, right. Later on, take a look at the skills of the guests I brought with me. It would be even better if you gave them some instruction. It's not a difficult request, so you will, right?"
"......"
He glared at me with terrifying eyes, but I paid him no mind and merely offered a cheerful grin.
"I'll take your silence as an agreement. We'll be taking our leave now."
"Whew..."
Leaving behind the duke, who exhaled a weary sigh and turned his focus back to his blade, I exited the underground training ground alongside Vivian.
"Hehehe. Ehehe..."
"Are you really that happy?"
"Of course! I'm learning the sword from Father himself! That's an opportunity every knight in the empire dreams of! Honestly, even if I got permission, I thought I'd just be taught by the ordinary knights!"
"Is that so? Hmm... Well, since things turned out this way, do your best."
"Yes!"
I took a swig from my flask and ruffled her hair, and Vivian beamed proudly with flushed cheeks.
The morning after fulfilling my promise to Vivian.
"S-Save meeee... Uggghhh..."
"......"
It was a rare, refreshing morning where I had actually slept soundly, yet the sight of a half-dead zombie slumped over my bedside begging for salvation instantly ruined my good mood.
"What are you doing, Cacciola?"
When I sat up with an irritated scowl, she put on the most pitiful expression she could muster, desperately clutching my hands in supplication.
"Save me. Please...!"
"Anyone looking would think I'm the one trying to kill you. What is it this time?"
I let out a long yawn and glanced toward the window; the sun had not even risen yet. It seemed I had woken earlier than usual.
"......"
I patted around the bedside table for a bottle, but finding nothing in reach, my brow furrowed deeply.
"Where did Muriel go?"
"She's taking a shower! I only came because right now is my only chance! Please, stop that crazy woman!"
"Huh? I have no idea what you're talking about."
"The training! The training!! That isn't something a human being can endure! At this rate, I'm really going to die...!"
Ah. Come to think of it, she did mention that Muriel was putting her through training at dawn every day.
Only then did I scan her from head to toe. While she bore no visible wounds, her complexion was haggard, she was coated in dirt and grime, and her sturdy light leather armor had been shredded into something barely distinguishable from rags.
"Looks like Muriel's really putting you through the wringer, huh?"
Chuckling, I started to slide out of bed to go look for alcohol, but she yanked my arm with violent force.
"Whoa!?"
Dragged effortlessly like a sheet of paper, I ended up pinned beneath her in an instant. Annoyance flared up inside me, but with our overwhelming gap in physical strength, there wasn't a damn thing I could do.
"It's way beyond 'putting me through the wringer'! That lunatic! She's out to murder me! Please, do something!"
"...Can't you just bear with it? Muriel is setting aside her own time for the sake of your revenge."
"I'd bear it if it were bearable! I lost over five liters of blood just at dawn today! So much flesh was carved off that I can practically sketch the exact shapes of the bones in my arms and legs from memory!"
"You say that, but I don't see a single scratch on you..."
"Of course you don't! She treated every single wound with ridiculously high-grade potions! Dammit! Those potions work too well, and that's the problem! If the wounds hadn't healed, I could at least use them as an excuse to rest...!"
"Good grief... Fine, fine. I get it, so let go of me already. Or at least go find me a bottle of liquor."
"Really?! You'll truly do something about it?!"
Seeing her eyes light up with desperate hope, a sudden urge to mess with her surged inside me.
"Just kidding."
"Aaargh! Pleeease! I'm not asking for much! Just tell her to lower the intensity! Huh?! At this rate, I'll die before I ever get strong enough!"
"Guhk!?"
As she buried her face into my chest and squeezed me in a frantic embrace, the sheer, monstrous strength forced a squeal out of me like a stuck pig. Just how strong was this woman? I could literally feel my ribcage groaning under the compression in real time.
"H-Hey...! Let go! Are you going to let go or not?!"
"Never! I'm not letting go until you rein in that lunatic!"
"You little...!"
Right then, the crisp click of heels echoed across the floorboards, accompanied by a voice chilled to absolute zero.
"Just what do you think you are doing?"
"Eep!?"
Practically having a convulsion at the sound, Cacciola scrambled behind my back and peeked out at the newcomer. Standing there in an impeccably tidy maid uniform was Muriel, glaring at Cacciola with a look of mild exasperation mingled with cold disdain.
"A-Ah, well... I-I was just bonding with Master!"
"Oh, please."
The excuse was so absurd that a laugh slipped out of me.
"Hmph... Bonding, is it...?"
Muriel regarded her with a curious expression before sighing and delivering a stern reprimand.
"You might at least wash yourself first. Your attire is an utter disgrace... Did you run straight here the moment training ended?"
"Uh, yeah. B-But still..."
"You lack even the most basic etiquette. If you truly came to see Master, as you claim... it seems I must add etiquette lessons to your regimen as well."
"Urk...! I-I know far more about that kind of thing than you do!"
Having hailed from a prestigious noble house, Cacciola shouted back in wounded pride, but Muriel merely scoffed.
"Knowing it means nothing if you cannot put it into practice. What good is knowledge if you behave like this?"
"Kh..."
While Cacciola bit her lip in bitter frustration, I quickly chimed in.
"Muriel, just how hard are you running this girl? She's been throwing a fit since dawn begging me to deal with you, whining that—mmph, mmph!"
"Shh, shhh! Are you insane?! Are you trying to get me killed?!"
"Haaaah... Cacciola. I already know everything."
"...Huh?"
"I was watching the entire time from the shadows, you see."
At those words, all color drained from Cacciola's face.
"...E-Everything?"
"Everything."
Muriel offered an uncharacteristically radiant smile, though a deep shadow hung over her eyes.
"To think you would run to Lord Alzen to whine, completely unappreciative of my efforts... Prepare yourself. Starting tomorrow, the training intensity will be increased."
"More than this?! Then I really am going to die!"
"Mmph, mmph, mmph!"
I had no idea what kind of madness had taken over my morning. With my mouth clamped shut by Cacciola's hand, entirely unable to voice my thoughts, I simply slumped limp in bed until the two women finished their squabble.
Peace finally returned to the morning only after Cacciola was thrown out with a face of pure despair.
"...What now?"
I scowled as Muriel brought a spoon to my lips. The rich aroma of thick stew smelled undeniably appetizing.
"It has been some time since I last had the pleasure of feeding you myself."
"Muriel. Looking at you lately, I get the distinct feeling you think of me as some kind of pet."
"My goodness."
She feigned surprise as if caught red-handed. When I glared at her intently, her lips curved upward in a soft, teasing smile to show she had been joking.
"Do you dislike it?"
"I hate it."
"Eat it even if you hate it."
"......"
Rendered speechless, I stared at her, but she nudged the spoon forward without the slightest intention of backing down.
"Whew, fine. Do whatever you want."
As I obediently took the spoon into my mouth, she smiled faintly and pressed herself closer to my side.
"Lord Alzen, I do not do this without reason. If I do not go to these lengths, you simply refuse to look after your meals. Are you aware that you have only eaten twice over the past two days?"
"Stop nagging."
"Then give me no cause to nag. Please consider the heart of the one worrying over you."
"......"
I kept my mouth shut and dutifully swallowed every spoonful of stew she offered. Just then, a polite knock sounded at the door.
"Who is it?"
"Lord Alzen. It is Rebecca."
"Ah, you're finally back. Come in."
I had been thinking it was about time for her to return anyway.
"Pardon the intrusion."
Rebecca stepped inside with disciplined, measured strides. Seeing me being hand-fed, she paused for a brief moment and shot a sharp glare toward Muriel, but she quickly relaxed her expression and gently nudged the small child standing behind her forward.
"Come now, Leona. Do not be so nervous."
"Y-Yes."
Her younger sister, Leona, bore a resemblance to Rebecca yet gave off an entirely different impression. If Rebecca felt rigid, upright, and steadfast, Leona carried an air that was delicate, frail, and pitiable. It felt rather peculiar that despite sharing the same vibrant orange hair, the same orange eyes, and nearly identical facial features, the aura surrounding them could be so completely distinct.