Chapter 14
Chapter 14
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 14
Chapter Title: Training Grounds
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The Count couple's shouting match didn't die down until dawn. Thanks to that, the next morning, only Chel and Ian showed up at the dining hall. Chel, dragging his weary body, froze and rolled his eyes.
"Brother. Good morning."
"......"
Ian greeted him first, but there was no reply. It was a mystery why Father and Mother's seats were empty.
"You two are late today. Let's eat first just the two of us. Come, sit down."
Facing each other was uncomfortable enough—now eat together too? Was there any need to ruin his appetite first thing in the morning? As Chel subtly tried to turn away, Ian held him back in a low voice.
"Shall I pull out the chair for you?"
"Ah, no. It's not that."
Chel, fumbling for an excuse, finally gave in and sat down. Just last week, it had been Ian playing the weak one. How had the situation flipped like this?
'That golden eye from back then... what the hell was it?'
Was it a curse? Had Father planted a curse in Ian's body to exterminate the Cheonryeo Tribe before sending him off? All sorts of ignorant imaginings tangled in Chel's head.
Ian ate his salad while gazing steadily at him.
"Brother."
"...Yeah?"
"From what I saw yesterday, your stamina seems pretty low. Do you have any separate training?"
Training? Chel was the type to fake illness to skip even the physical training at school. There was no way he'd train on his own.
Ian urged him on in a tone full of feigned concern.
"Yesterday, both you and I seemed to lack stamina. We're the only sons in the Deruga Count family, so if we're both like this, I'm really worried about what the Cheonryeo Tribe might think."
Had he sensed something ominous? Chel slowly set down his knife. Ian smiled brightly and neatly arranged his utensils too.
"So, how about we go to the training grounds together?"
Chel gaped in horror.
The training grounds? That place where the private soldiers swung swords and spears?
"If Brother says so, Father will surely welcome it. He'll praise it as befitting the next Count."
In truth, Deruga had many worries. With the semi-wartime state against the Cheonryeo Tribe, the young masters' strong image was crucial, but Chel, despite being the first son, was far from that.
So the Count's chosen method was to elevate the captain's authority. Deo was one of the beneficiaries.
"Y-Yeah, he probably would..."
Chel hated even running, let alone swinging a sword. As he pondered how to refuse, Ian swiftly seized the opportunity.
"Good. Then after breakfast, let's go watch first. They say it's right outside the mansion's back gate."
"Right after breakfast?"
"Why? Will you back out?"
Eat first or go on an empty stomach—it was a choice between the two. Chel clamped his mouth shut and shot a resentful glance at their parents' empty seats.
Ian calmly portioned out his food as always. There would be quite a lot left over today.
* * *
The training grounds came into view as soon as they exited the mansion's back gate.
It was an old building used since the previous generation, worn but impressive with its gray walls embodying military grandeur. The Bariel national flag and Bratz family banner fluttered majestically in the wind.
"Deo."
"Young Master Chel?"
Entering the training grounds, they spotted Deo half-reclining on a bench. He was clearly still skipping training under the pretext of injury.
Surprised by the visit from the two boys who never usually came near, Deo sat up.
"What brings you here?"
"Uh. We came to look around the training grounds."
"You, young master? Why?"
At Deo's retort, Ian stepped forward from behind. His attitude was beyond insolent—practically cheeky.
"Is it so strange for the Little Count to visit the training grounds that you have to ask?"
"It's the first time ever."
"After yesterday's outing, I felt my stamina lacking, so I want to train together from now on. Even if my escort passes out drunk, I should at least be able to protect myself."
It was a reprimand for Deo collapsing drunk on cheap wine in the barracks. From Ian's perspective, it had been fortunate, but Deo had still neglected his duty.
The man smirked and ran his tongue over his blackened teeth.
'What wind blew this in?'
For Deo, it was an unwelcome change.
Though unlikely, if Chel showed interest and talent in martial arts, some of the captain's authority would surely be curtailed.
Well. He was still young, and with that chubby build, no need to worry...
"Yes. Then follow me. What's so hard about looking around."
Deo sauntered ahead leisurely. Inside the vast grounds, private soldiers trained freely. Most bare-chested, swinging swords or running with cart wheels on their shoulders—the raw feel permeated the air.
"Uwaaah!"
"One more time!"
"Push! Harder!"
"Uwaaah!"
They had gathered for personal training. The heat was intense, roars erupting everywhere. Chel tried to keep a straight face but looked deeply uncomfortable.
"This is the largest training ground, over there is the warehouse, and behind that the break room. For all-nighters, you can sleep and eat in the break room. Hm. And..."
Ian scanned the interior while half-listening to Deo's explanation, which reeked of annoyance. In the corner, young ones were slamming their heads down in prostration.
"What's that over there?"
Unlike the mostly adult private soldiers, they looked youthful. At most seventeen or so. Deo replied indifferently.
"Orphans."
"Orphans?"
The Bratz family, struggling even with taxes, wouldn't run an orphanage. For orphans wandering the streets without guardians, there was only one way to survive: become Deruga's private soldier. Joining the army at least got you food and a place to sleep.
Deo muttered with a grin.
"If you'd been unlucky, Sir Ian, you'd have seen me here."
Rude, but not wrong.
This body was a bastard born to a lowborn mother. It wouldn't be strange if he'd been discarded. Then Ian would have ended up here too.
"Is that what you think? Brother, what do you think?"
At Ian's question, Chel stiffened.
"...Deo. Don't say that."
Please, stop with the unfilial remarks to Ian.
Who knew what might happen if those golden eyes flashed again? It was a scolding born of fear, but Deo frowned as if surprised.
Just then, a commotion erupted in the center under the blazing sun.
"Slam your head properly!"
Crack!
A man who seemed the instructor whipped a thin lash mercilessly. Red welts stood out on the children's arms, backs, and thighs.
'Boy soldiers and abuse too. He's completely mad.'
Deruga, what the hell was wrong with this guy? It was beyond Ian's imagination. In Bariel under his rule as emperor, boy soldiers only appeared right before the nation's fall.
Wanting to ease the children's pain even a little, Ian called Deo.
"Deo, as you said, if I'd been unlucky, they'd be my comrades. Call them to the shade for some encouragement."
"Yes? You serious?"
"Do I need to say it twice?"
"That won't do. Even if the Count comes during training, it doesn't stop. It's policy for discipline. Understand."
Discipline my ass. Ian sat on a nearby bench and watched without replying. Once the damn training ended, he'd call them and check on them. Chel hesitated but stuck to the edge.
"Uwaaah!"
"Can't do it right? Wanna starve?"
"No! I can do it!"
"Arms straight up!"
"Aaaah!"
The screams were gut-wrenching. Loud enough not to be drowned by surrounding training noises. Bodies propped only on heads with arms behind began collapsing one by one sideways.
"Hold!"
Among them, one child particularly caught Ian's eye.
His disheveled red hair tied roughly, revealing eyes that were anything but ordinary. Pure venom. Not hidden, but the gaze through which he saw the world.
"That kid..."
Ian found himself speaking.
Red hair and eyes. Slender build, yet trembling violently but enduring to the end.
Deo, following Ian's gaze, replied annoyedly.
"Berik."
He didn't have outstanding physical ability. But he was so tenacious even instructors clicked their tongues. In selection combat, he'd faced an opponent nearly twice his size, bit his ear, and won. Of course, punished with three days' fasting.
Ian crossed his legs and watched Berik.
"Hngh..."
Only two left. Berik and another kid's necks bent as if about to snap. The instructor checked his watch silently. Waiting for one to remain.
"Uwaaah!"
Berik screamed to hold on. At that, the other kid lost strength and toppled sideways. His sweat-soaked torso smeared with sand.
Tweet!
"Stop."
At the instructor's word, Berik's knees hit the ground. Gasping, unable to stand, the boy barely turned his head to spit. His forehead was a bloody mess. Having poured everything out, he collapsed motionless.
"So that Berik kid is number one among them?"
Chel, horrified by what he'd seen, asked.
"Not at all. His grit is decent, but that's it. His skill doesn't match his temper. Especially in combat."
The instructor poured water on Berik's head. Yet the kid couldn't rise, closing his eyes in irritation. The other comrades who'd given up early had no trouble moving.
"With that kind of zeal, shouldn't he be a model trainee?"
"...There's such a thing as constitution. No matter how hard you try, some things just don't work. Talent has limits."
He arrived first and left last every day, but growth was slow. His venomous endurance was unmatched, but so what? Clenching teeth in front of an enemy's blade didn't win fights.
"So he needs to know when to quit. Everyone has their place. Berik seems suited for special missions over frontline, so planning to pull him aside."
Deo added for Chel and Ian to hear.
Leave troop management to capable ones like me—you keep your soft hands on pens. But Chel was too dim to get it, and Ian was lost in thought.
'Something's off.'
That gaze earlier was, well...
The very knight willing to die for conviction and honor. Evoking the flames of war vividly. Surprising for a kid not even adult.
And above all... he'd sensed faint mana when the boy screamed.
'Features of a sword-mage all around.'
A swordsman who handled mana.
Inner energy blocked by mana, slow growth until awakening. But once awakened, stronger than most humans.
'To unearth it, need a mana user to stimulate the latent mana. Rare in itself, so many die never knowing they were sword-mages.'
"Training's over, so call him now."
Ian directed Deo firmly.
As if he wouldn't tolerate a second refusal.