Operations Commence (3)
His blood boiling with rage, Jerry swung his wooden sword with everything he had.
He even poured mana into the strikes without restraint. The speed with which he kicked off the ground and charged was that of a wild beast.
Thwack—!
Geren blocked Jerry’s sword with casual ease, never once leaving his spot. Both men had coated their blades thickly with mana, so the clash of the two wooden swords sent out a small shockwave.
“Certainly, this side of you is something worth boasting about.”
“Hmph. This is just the beginning!”
Jerry made full use of the wide training ground, darting in and out in a relentless hit-and-run rhythm. He spun the sword in his right hand with a supple wrist, probing for openings. His style favored thrusts far more than cuts.
Geren, who had lightly turned aside several attacks, stood with his feet planted wide—then suddenly shifted his stance. His empty left hand rose before him as if he were holding a shield, and from that posture he looked ready to charge. He resembled nothing so much as a shield-bearer at the vanguard of a battle line.
Yet without an actual shield, Geren’s left arm hung completely exposed. Jerry almost opened his mouth to mock the ridiculous pose, then thought better of it. If the man was going to leave an opening like a fool, Jerry would simply take it.
“Hah!”
Using mana to explode off the ground, Jerry closed the distance in a flash. The tip of his sword shot straight for the raised left arm—a thrust both extremely fast and extremely sharp.
Huh?
The instant he thought he had it, no one stood in front of him.
“Whoa—!”
Someone kicked the back of his leg from behind. Struck just behind the knee, Jerry’s strength vanished and he crashed down onto both knees before he could catch himself.
Geren walked slowly into view in front of the kneeling boy.
“You’re far too naive. I never expected you to go straight for the arm from the very first exchange. I thought you’d at least pretend to probe a time or two.”
“H-How did you do that?”
“Nothing special. I simply moved a little faster than you and took your back.”
Jerry could not comprehend it. Faster than he could even see? He had believed no such person existed. He had been more confident in his swordsmanship than anything else—yet he had just been outclassed by a mage.
“How long do you plan to remain on your knees?”
“Ah…”
Jerry scrambled to his feet, brushing the dirt from his knees, and faced Geren.
“Tell me how you did it right now!”
“I refuse.”
“Why not? You’re a teacher!”
“Where in the world does a student treat his instructor with such insolence as you do? I will inform the Baron that I have no further intention of teaching you.”
“……”
“That concludes today’s lesson.”
Geren turned on his heel and headed straight for the Baron’s study. The onlookers who had poked their heads out to watch hastily vanished. Jerry watched him go with a blank, devastated expression, then clenched his fists until his knuckles whitened and ground his teeth.
The next day, Roy’s confinement was lifted. Fortunately he had not caught a cold, so the punishment ended after only a single day.
Thus the entire lord’s family gathered around the breakfast table. Roy found himself strangely hungry and was sampling this and that when the Baron spoke.
“This will be the first you two have heard of it, but work will take me away from home for several days.”
Roy already knew. His informants were planted throughout the mansion; any conversation the Baron and Baroness held in front of the servants eventually reached his ears.
“Even so, I intend to return before Jerry leaves for school.”
“Yes…”
“Jerry, until then you will cause no more trouble and prepare thoroughly for enrollment. If anything like yesterday happens again, I will forget the Knight Academy entirely and lock you in the territory dungeon. Conduct yourself accordingly.”
“O-Of course, Father.”
“Roy, don’t overdo it with the magic practice either.”
“Yes. But where are you going?”
He needed to know the destination if he was to estimate the schedule.
“The Margrave of Biswald has summoned every surrounding lord. Skipping this time would be difficult for the sake of face on their end.”
“Dear. There won’t be any trouble this time, will there?”
“Well. A full southern summons is rare, but the last time I made an excuse and stayed home it was about his daughter’s marriage, I believe. It shouldn’t be anything major this time either, so there’s no need for you to worry.”
The Baron finished breakfast and set out not long afterward. The Biswald Margraviate lay immediately west of the Greenhilt Barony—right next to it on the map. Traveling by horse rather than carriage for speed, he would arrive in three days at the earliest, four at the latest. He clearly meant to return no matter what before Jerry departed for the kingdom’s Knight Academy.
Shall I start moving?
A week at the absolute minimum. Roy had been granted a stretch of freedom in which he could run wild to his heart’s content. The boy saw his father off and immediately summoned his exclusive attendant.
The Margrave of Biswald held vast authority granted by the king for the purpose of protecting the realm from the various monster hordes that inhabited the southern grasslands and great forests, and the mountain ranges farther south still. Aside from the king himself, he alone possessed the right to conscript and maintain a large standing army.
The nobles of the southern kingdom could not refuse his requests. A single word from him could pull away the very troops that safeguarded their lands; without those forces, monsters would overrun the territories and the people would flee to safer domains. One could, of course, hire the Mercenary Guild or professional monster hunters, but such men moved strictly for coin. Ensuring safety by mercenary strength alone, without the Margrave’s soldiers, was a difficult proposition in every respect.
The Baron’s absences were more common than one might think. Leaving the mansion for a day or two was routine, and even absences of a week or longer occurred once or twice a year. In his absence the head butler served as acting lord while the Baroness managed the household. Fortunately it was the height of spring; neither domain affairs nor mansion management were particularly demanding. There seemed little chance that Marek, still only an apprentice butler, would be called away for either duty.
“Marek. From this moment on, take this money and buy every item written here. If anyone asks what it’s for, make up something plausible. You can manage that much, can’t you?”
“These… right now?”
“Yes. Father may have ordered you to watch me thoroughly while he’s gone, but he isn’t here at the moment. The head butler and Mother are unlikely to call for you either.”
Marek examined the note Roy handed him and frowned.
“Why on earth these…”
“Because I need them all. Please select decent ones as best you can.”
“Well… understood for now.”
Marek left the mansion at once. The list was long and the shops that carried the items were scattered; if he did not hurry, the errand could easily consume the entire day.
Why these of all things…
No matter how he thought about it, he could not understand. The youngest young master’s shopping list contained more than a few items that seemed rather excessive for a five-year-old child to handle.
Still, I’ll get the money back, won’t I?
He did not dare hope for double. He simply wanted the principal returned cleanly. Being caught and scolded by the lord would be far worse…
“Haa…”
Ding-a-ling, ding-a-ling.
The doorbell jangled noisily as Marek pushed open the door of the weapon shop.
“What can I do for ya?”
“Um… I’d like to look at some daggers…”
“What for?”
“Well, I’m not entirely sure myself…”
The man who appeared to be the shop’s owner looked Marek up and down for a long moment with open suspicion before speaking again.
“Don’t look like a hunter or a mercenary. Lookin’ to kill someone?”
Marek heaved a deep sigh at the owner’s attitude, then pulled himself together and tried again.
“My master instructed me to inquire after the best-selling daggers in the shop and to begin negotiations.”
“Master? Ah…”
Having roughly grasped Marek’s station, the owner’s demeanor shifted at once.
“These here sell the best for daggers. Five silver coins a piece.”
“Hmm…”
“Can you tell just by lookin’?”
“Ahem. First, three of them, please. Ah, and…”
“Why? Wonderin’ if they’ll kill good when you stick somebody?”
“N-No, not that… Do you buy these daggers back later if I resell them?”
“What?”
“These daggers. If I bring them back later to sell, will you purchase them?”
The owner dug a finger into his nose with an expression that clearly said what kind of nonsense is this and answered,
“Bring ’em back in good shape and I’ll buy ’em for half what I sold ’em for.”
In other words: don’t talk rubbish. Suddenly treated like a lunatic, Marek felt a powerful urge to cry.
Why did the youngest young master tell me to ask about something like this…
Yet what Roy had ordered him to learn did not end there.
“Then show me the most expensive daggers you have.”
“Why the most expensive?”
Even as he grumbled, the owner retrieved a sturdy-looking box from a corner. He unlocked it with a key from his belt; inside, five razor-sharp daggers lay nestled in rabbit fur.
“How much are these?”
“Ten times.”
“What? Fifty silver coins each? They don’t look all that different from the ones I just bought.”
“If you can’t tell the difference, that’s your problem. Buyin’ or not?”
“S-Sorry, but one more question. Why is the price different between this dagger and that one?”
“This fellow—what’s with all the questions!”
Marek still could not fathom why Roy had insisted he ask such things. Yet the young master had repeated the instructions so many times that simply walking away without asking was impossible. Looking thoroughly exasperated, the owner finally answered. Marek could only be grateful.
“Hold this rabbit hide. Spread it out with both hands.”
“Ah, yes.”
The owner took the cheap five-silver dagger Marek had already purchased and the fifty-silver dagger in turn. The inexpensive blade skidded across the oily rabbit fur without leaving so much as a scratch; the expensive one parted the hide cleanly in two.
“See? The cheap one gets caught in the fur even if you put strength into it. This one just a graze and—shrrrk!”
Marek swallowed hard as he watched the demonstration.
“I-I’ll take all five of these daggers as well.”
“Oh my, all of them?”
“In exchange…”
“Hmm?”
“Since I’m buying five of these expensive daggers at once, throw in the cheap ones as a free service.”
Marek thrust out his chin and spoke with forced confidence, yet his heart pounded so hard he squeezed his eyes shut. This, too, was something the youngest young master had ordered.
“Ah, that much is no trouble. I’ll throw in two more with the three. But where did a green young man like you learn to bargain?”