Alrn Knight Order Training (2)
The moment I heard Phoebe's story about the Church's business, I gave up on dragging her along.
Come to think of it, the Church is right in the middle of its busiest season. New Year's is just around the corner.
December, the month a new year begins, is when one important ceremony after another unfolds for the Church of the Main God — which means Phoebe, considered the face of the Church, naturally has to stay at the Holy Land and appear at all those events.
During summer vacation, with nothing much going on, she could take her sweet time, but now that simply isn't an option.
Once that thought settled in, I quietly examined the divinity dwelling within Phoebe.
Having recently taken in the Chief God's divinity, Phoebe had adapted to the new power remarkably quickly.
She'd already displayed overwhelming talent in handling divinity even before this.
With her natural ability and hard work, plus Johann's help thrown in, she'd grasped how to wield the Chief God's divinity in less than a few days.
Even now, watching her from the outside, there's nothing particularly unusual to be found in Phoebe.
Unlike me — I can feel the warmth of that loser Chief God's divinity because I'm His Apostle, but nobody else can.
Even Joy and Arthur, who are right beside her, have no idea how Phoebe has changed.
So even if Phoebe heads to the Holy Land now, only a handful of people would realize that something about her is different.
The problem is that handful of people, though.
As I committed each of those variables to memory one by one, I arrived at the conclusion that it was safe to let my worries go.
The bastards who deserve to be called trash would never guess at Phoebe's change anyway.
Phoebe herself had grown considerably, and Johann would be there by her side to support her.
Above all, that Pope fellow is sure to be delighted by Phoebe's transformation.
If someone holding absolute power in the Church dotes on Phoebe, nothing bad could possibly happen to her.
...Still, it's better to have at least one safety net.
Rising from my seat, I handed a ring to Phoebe, whose face had gone red and flustered.
She stared blankly at the ring resting on my palm, then slowly lifted her head.
"Um, my lady? What's this?"
'It's a gift? You don't want it?'
"What, you don't like a present from me? Well, can't be helped then. Give it back."
At my feint to snatch it away, Phoebe hastily clutched the ring in her hand.
"N-no, of course not! I was just curious what kind of ring it is!"
'It's a communication ring. Just in case, you know?'
"The loser Saintess is scatterbrained, just like her friend, after all. I figured I'd give you a way to contact me in case you do something ridiculous."
It was one of the miscellaneous items I'd picked up back at the auction house.
In the game it was nothing but a junk item, but in reality it seemed like it would prove quite useful, so I'd been carrying it around.
Since the magic circle inside was small, a crystal-ball-style conversation would be impossible, but for sending an emergency message when things got dangerous, it would be more than enough.
"My lady, you were worried about me..."
Cradling the ring carefully in both hands, Phoebe bowed her head once and then raised it, wearing the brightest smile I'd ever seen from her.
"Thank you so much! I'll treasure it forever!"
Um, you really don't have to treasure it? It's not nearly expensive enough for that.
"Lucy. Lucy."
Just as I was getting flustered by Phoebe's over-the-top delight instead, Frey had sidled up beside me and tugged at my sleeve.
"Me?"
...You? Why you?
"I'm an idiot. I cause a lot of trouble. You should worry about me too."
So basically, you're jealous that only Phoebe got a present, huh?
Hmm. There is a birthday gift for Frey sitting in my inventory that I bought in advance.
And a few other things in there she'd probably like too.
If I toss her one of them, she'd probably beam like an idiot — but just handing it over would be no fun at all, wouldn't it?
'Do you want a present that badly?'
"What's this, dummy swordsman? You want a present from me that badly? Puhahaha. Hmmm. Well now. Let me think."
"Yes! I really want one."
'Nope. Not giving you one.'
"B-but I want one~. You'll never give me one?"
"You won't? You really won't?"
...Huh? Why are her eyes getting watery?
No.
No, no, hold on a second.
I wasn't trying to make you cry!
I was only planning a little teasing, I swear.
"*Sniff.*"
Aaagh! Just wait a minute!
Okay. Frey. Here, a present, apparently.
It's something you can attach to the grip of your sword.
Forsell even advised that it wouldn't interfere with swinging the blade, so there won't be any problems whatsoever.
"...Present."
As if her teary moment from seconds ago had been a lie, Frey broke into a radiant smile, snatched the gift from my hands, fastened it onto her sword, and grinned smugly at me.
Haaah. I teased Frey, and instead I ended up getting played myself.
Well, as long as she's happy, who am I to complain?
"Joy, why are you so quiet? I thought for sure you'd be butting in over there."
"I already received my present long ago. That's what they call the confidence of a first friend."
"...Heh. How remarkable."
The Arlen Estate.
The frontier of the Soladin Kingdom — one of the regions bordering the Tersha Empire, that arrogant nation that styled itself an empire.
Decades had passed since the Tersha Empire declared its invasion, and after years of war, the land had recovered to the point where barely a trace of the fighting remained.
Arriving at the city where the House of Arlen resided at Lucy's invitation, Arthur looked upon the lively faces of its people and engraved his reverence for Benedict Arlen all the deeper.
The reason these people could smile without the slightest flicker of anxiety, despite having lived through war, was surely because Sir Benedict resided in this very city.
Because the knight among knights who had single-handedly turned the tide of battle was here, everyone had forgotten to worry.
Truly, this was a humbling honor. To think I would train under his family's name.
Ever since I witnessed his back as he stood against the dragon, not for a single moment have I let my respect and admiration for the man waver.
The reason I first took up the sword was to follow in his footsteps, after all. As long as I hold a blade in my hand, that reverence within me will never diminish.
...Of course, the various displays he'd shown while hovering at Lucy Aln's side were, to put it crudely, quite unseemly.
Interpreted generously, one might call that part of his human charm too.
As Arthur recalled the sights of Benedict beaming brightly at Lucy Aln's side one moment, making a tearful face the next, or clinging to his daughter's ankles and begging, he shook his head slightly, doing his best to banish the unsightly memories.
"Uuuugh. So this day has come at last."
Meanwhile, Joy, standing beside him, let out grumbles at every opportunity.
Swept up in Lucy's scheme, she was now participating in the Alrn Knight Order's training — just as she had been complaining this whole time.
Arthur had consoled her at first, but his patience was starting to wear thin, and at the sight of her drooping shoulders he lowered one eyebrow.
"At this point, give up and steel yourself. You already had to get Duke Patran's permission just to make this trip, didn't you?"
"Still, what I hate, I hate."
The three of them who were to train with the Alrn Knight Order had needed approval for a rather long absence.
That went without saying for Arthur, a prince in name only, but Joy and Frey were treasured members of their respective houses.
People like them leaving for nearly a month wasn't something that could be decided on a whim.
So Joy had pinned her last hope on her father.
She'd hoped to be able to say, 'I wanted to go so badly, but Father wouldn't allow it.'
Alas, upon hearing that Joy wished to train with the Alrn Knight Order, Duke Patran had offered nothing but admiration — not a word of dissuasion.
'Willing to go and experience that hell for herself. Our little girl has grown into quite the adult, hasn't she.'
Hell. That single word, spat out by Duke Patran with a look of pure dread, confirmed that everything Lucy had told them before was no exaggeration.
"I'm not some knight-worshipper like a certain someone, you know."
"It's fine, Lady Patran. The harder it is, the stronger you'll become."
"Lady Kent, I'm telling you one more time — I do not want to become that strong."
"Besides, it might help Lucy."
"...Uuuugh."
Not long after Frey brushed aside Joy's complaints with cold hard logic, the House of Arlen came into view.
At the residence of a famed margrave that felt surprisingly modest, the first to greet the three of them was a man who introduced himself as the Knight Commander of the Alrn Knight Order.
"My name is Forsell. A fortunate man who earned his current position through the grace of the head of our house."
"...Forsell, the Forsell? The one who supposedly charged in alone during the war and tore straight through the enemy's ranks?!"
"That was only possible because the enemy army was sloppily arrayed. I'm quite embarrassed by how the story has grown in the telling."
While the other two shot him horrified looks, Arthur, buzzing with excitement, peppered Forsell with one question after another — and only once he'd finally calmed did the three follow Forsell's guidance to meet Benedict.
He was processing a mountain of documents at a desk that seemed almost too small for his bulk, and the moment he laid eyes on the three of them, his eyes lit up.
"You've truly honored us! Lady Patran! Lady Kent! And Your Highness, the Third Prince!"
No trace of the terror once known as the Fang of the Kingdom remained in Benedict's tearful face as he sobbed about never dreaming his daughter would find friends.
Even so, Arthur could tell that Benedict had not declined one bit.
Only someone who had honed his strength through long years of training could sense it.
An overwhelming might with no discernible limit. To think anyone would call a man like this washed up.
It made him realize, all over again, just how ignorant those court idiots were of the world beyond the palace walls.
Even as Arthur's reverence for Benedict swelled, however, Benedict remained pointedly cold toward Arthur in particular.
While treating Joy and Frey with open warmth, he kept Arthur subtly at arm's length.
Sharp-witted as he was, Arthur could roughly guess what that attitude meant.
He thinks I have some interest in Lucy Aln.
I want to insist otherwise this very instant, but if I did, Sir Benedict — endlessly soft where his daughter is concerned — would likely just press me with 'why don't you like my daughter?' So I can't.
Haaah. What can I do? For now, I'll simply play ignorant.
Bringing it up would only invite trouble.
"I pray you gain much from this training."
With those parting words, the three of them filed out of the office, were shown to their respective quarters for the training period, changed their clothes, and emerged onto the Alrn Knight Order's training grounds.
"The training grounds are so quiet."
Not a single knight — not even one common soldier's face to be seen. Did they clear the field in consideration of our arrival?
The one who answered Arthur's unspoken question was Forsell, wheeling up a cart.
"They're circling the estate to build their endurance. They'll return shortly."
"...One moment. Did you just say they're running around the entire margraviate?"
"Haha. Surely not."
"They're not?"
"Doing so would require days of nothing but running — far too much for a mere warm-up. During training, they take a light jog of a few laps around this immediate area."
"...What?"
That certainly sounded like 'we could do it if we wanted to.'
While Arthur froze at a statement so far removed from common sense, Frey and Joy emerged behind him.
"Um, Sir Forsell? Where might Lady Alrn be?"
"She's training with the other knights. She'll be along shortly. Ah — there she comes now. The young lady will be at the rear of the column."
Turning his head to follow Forsell's gaze, Arthur watched the line of knights and murmured to himself.
"Why does the very ground shudder with every stride they take?"
"That would be the weight-magic tools. It's easiest to think of each of them as carrying a horse on their shoulders."
"...At that speed?"
"Haha. They're normally much faster. Everyone's simply worn out and slowed down right now."
As he reminded himself that this place was utterly deranged, Arthur suddenly realized that the things strapped to the knights' limbs looked just like what had been carted in moments ago.
"Sir Forsell — forgive me for asking, but the contents of that cart wouldn't happen to be..."
"They are. One must warm up properly before real training begins. Here — take yours."
"...Wha—?!"
The moment Arthur received the magic tool Forsell held out, his body lurched under a weight far beyond anything he had imagined.