Chapter 87
Chapter 87
Just before dawn broke.
In the coldest, darkest hour before morning, Ellen abruptly opened her eyes.
Ever since awakening her Force, waking precisely at her desired time had become effortless.
Moreover, today marked the beginning of a new life.
She had no intention of being lazy.
"I'll see you at the training grounds at dawn tomorrow."
Recalling Logan's words, she steeled her resolve, and her body responded immediately.
Rising from bed, she checked her condition and swiftly changed into a simple martial uniform.
Then, for a moment, her gaze lingered on the plain armor placed in the corner of the room.
"This is the only armor that fits my frame. I'll train with this for now."
Compared to the typically large-framed knights, this armor was unusually small.
Though Logan had purchased it for her during their journey to MacLaine, it was hardly anything to boast about.
The only redeeming feature was that it had been modified for solo donning—hardly a selling point.
Yet, strangely, she felt an attachment to it, thinking of it as equipment that would accompany her on this new journey.
"Let's do well together."
Ellen greeted the armor as if it were a friend, then skillfully equipped it.
By the time she grabbed her sword and stepped out, barely thirty minutes had passed.
The anticipation of her new life seemed to lighten her body further.
"What path will Lord Logan show me?"
What kind of training would she undergo? What kind of knight would she become?
Logan's swordsmanship, which had overwhelmed her with mere simplicity—could she ever learn it?
Thump-thump.
Her excitement erased even the lingering fatigue from her journey.
Arriving at the training grounds—
"A woman?"
"The rumors were true?"
"Hah, what is the Young Lord planning now...?"
The knights erupted into murmurs the moment they saw her.
"Good heavens. It really is her."
Amidst Patrick clutching his head, Ellen finally faced the barrier she had anticipated.
"I wouldn't joke about something like this, Father."
"I know. I just wished it were a joke."
"It isn't."
At Logan's firm words, Patrick sighed and looked back at his eldest son.
"Logan. She's a woman. In our kingdom's history, no woman has ever become a knight!"
"Father. She isn't just any woman—she's awakened her Force. Right now, we're in a situation where we need every capable recruit we can get. Half the knights here were originally from other households, weren't they? What difference does her being a woman make?"
"You madman—she's your fiancée! You're going to put your fiancée through knight training?!"
"Yes."
"Grrr..."
Seeing the unwavering determination in his son's eyes, Patrick scrambled for another excuse.
"The MacLaine Knights' training is far harsher than any other order's. No matter how talented she is, for a woman—a noblewoman, no less—to endure such..."
"Sigh..."
"If only Father had been stabbed once by an Imperial female knight, he'd drop that notion instantly."
Logan exhaled, recalling memories of his past life—
When suddenly, a sharp cry cut between them.
"I can do it!"
A high, piercing voice—yet brimming with unshakable resolve.
Every eye in the training grounds turned toward its owner.
"I'll make you abandon the idea that being a woman makes me incapable!"
Ellen's emerald eyes blazed like sparks.
Logan suspected everyone present felt the intensity of her emotions.
It gave him the confidence to add one more line.
"If the Lady falls behind in training, I won't insist further."
Patrick's stony face remained conflicted.
After a long deliberation, the stubborn knight finally relented with a reluctant nod.
"...Fine. Her participation is 'temporarily' permitted."
"Temporary, my foot."
Gritting her teeth, Ellen reaffirmed her determination.
But half a day later—
Ellen lay sprawled on the ground, her body trembling uncontrollably.
"These bastards are all insane."
She had braced herself when the training began with a grueling 30-kilometer run around MacLaine Town's outskirts.
But when they started mountain runs—carrying their horses—she thought it was a joke.
And when they scaled cliffs with boulders three times their body weight strapped to their backs, she was convinced they were all mad.
"What kind of knight order trains like this?!"
The MacLaine Knights' regimen was leagues beyond anything she had imagined.
Having idolized knights, she had some understanding of standard training.
But the MacLaine Knights operated on a level that shattered her expectations.
She had prepared herself thoroughly—yet only by scraping the bottom of her Force reserves did she narrowly avoid collapsing.
If these men weren't insane for enduring this—
"Then I must have underestimated the world."
Bitterly, she forced her head up to survey her surroundings.
Knights sprawled around her in similar states—clearly exhausted, but none as utterly spent as she was.
What truly infuriated her was that many of them had weaker Force than her.
It struck at her oldest wound.
"Because they're men..."
And I'm weaker because I'm a woman?
"No! It's just that I haven't trained enough!"
It wasn't about gender. She would prove it.
Suppressing her frustration, a surge of defiance filled her chest.
Then, her body—which she had thought had reached its limit—stubbornly moved again.
"Grrk..."
With trembling hands, she steadied herself and slowly stretched her muscles.
Had she passed out, the aftermath would have taken hours to recover from.
For tomorrow's sake, she needed to loosen her cramped muscles.
Then, a familiar voice reached her ears.
"Seems you're handling it better than expected."
"Of course—Lord Logan!"
Ellen reflexively replied before realizing who had spoken.
"Glad to see you'll keep your promise."
"Naturally."
"No regrets?"
"...Yes."
"Hm?"
"Regret that I haven't trained properly until now."
The red-eyed man, momentarily startled, laughed again.
"Then may I expect more from you?"
"...As much as you like."
This time, it wasn't just defiance.
Though she didn't know why he looked at her that way, Logan's crimson eyes held immense expectation.
"A woman becoming a knight? Ridiculous!"
Her dream had always been met with scorn and obstruction.
But now, someone was cheering her on.
That alone was reason enough to push forward.
A week later.
Logan watched from afar as the knights, having finished endurance training, moved on to practicing the Iron Blood Sword technique.
Specifically, his lips curled at the sight of one noticeably smaller knight struggling through the basic forms.
"She's adapting well."
Despite her clear physical shortcomings, she had stubbornly kept up for a week without falling behind once.
Subtly probing the knights, he sensed they acknowledged her tenacity, if not her skill.
At least they weren't praising her grudgingly just because she was his fiancée.
If she maintained this, Ellen would eventually be accepted.
And that would mark a new possibility for the MacLaine he was building.
"Of course, she'll have to seize this opportunity for that possibility to bloom."
Now was the time to prepare for that chance.
[Soldier Training Report - Kaisolon]
[Food & Armament Report (Crossbows) - Rugel Hais]
[Accounting Report (Philip's Guild) - Dwain Pilsner]
Emerging from his nightly meditation, Logan picked up the reports he had reviewed until late.
"On paper, no issues. Just need to verify in person."
In his absence, his father and retainers had performed admirably.
Now, he only needed to inspect, fill gaps, and wait.
Running through his mental checklist, Logan left his room.
Dawn was breaking—the crisp air refreshing his mind—
When his brisk steps slowed and changed direction.
A familiar presence tugged at his senses.
Arriving at the training grounds behind the estate—
Whoosh!
The blunt training sword tore through the air with a sharp sound.
The wielder, expression rigid, seemed oblivious to the rising sun as he swung relentlessly.
A face too young to be a man's, yet too mature to be a boy's.
A red-haired, red-eyed youth drenched in sweat—
"Ronian?"
His soaked uniform suggested he hadn't just started.
"Training before dawn?"
This wasn't part of the schedule Logan had set.
"And it's already rigorous enough."
Excess is worse than deficiency—especially in martial training.
Pushing beyond limits only damages the body.
"He should know that."
Logan approached with a frown.
But the closer he got, the more Ronian's gritted teeth evoked an odd sense of déjà vu.
Had he seen this before?
His brother, who always smiled around him, had never worn such an expression.
At least, not in this life—
"Ah!"
A memory surfaced—the last time he had seen Ronian in his past life.
Blocking the western gate of Grandia's capital, the Aura User Ronian MacLaine cutting down foes like a madman.
The desperate face of a warrior, radiant in his final moments before collapsing.
That image overlapped with Ronian now.
"Why is he like this?"
Logan hadn't even mentioned the impending war, let alone future crises.
All Ronian needed was to grow diligently and become an Aura User like before.
He had no intention of burdening him further.
Which made Ronian's intensity all the more puzzling.
Tap.
"Ah! Brother!"
The sound of Logan's step snapped Ronian from his trance.
His face brightened instantly—as if the earlier severity had been a lie.
"How long have you been training? It's too early."
"Haha. Couldn't sleep."
"Overexertion is poison. You know that, right?"
"Yes. I know, Brother."
"Then why—"
Logan's gaze dropped to Ronian's hand.
Blood dripped from his grip on the sword hilt.
"—are you swinging until your palm splits?"
"Huh?!"
Startled, Ronian glanced at his hand—then hastily hid it behind his back.
Like a bird thinking danger vanishes if it can't see it.
His palm was torn and bleeding, yet he seemed oblivious to the pain.
"This is serious."
Logan's expression twisted.
"S-Sorry, Brother."
"Don't apologize to me— Sigh. No, never mind. Is there a reason you're pushing yourself this hard? Something bothering you?"
"...No. Nothing in particular."
The way he averted his eyes screamed lie.
For someone nearly seventeen, he was painfully transparent.
As Logan stared in frustration, Ronian spoke again, head bowed.
"I feel like I'm not contributing to the family."
"Hm?"
"I want to be someone useful—needed—even if not as much as you. But..."
"You feel like you're falling short?"
"Yes. Victor at least has his basic knight duties, but as the lord's son, I have no real responsibilities."
"That's..."
"So I'm doing all I can with what I have."
"..."
Logan had nothing special to say.
Only the usual advice.
"Alright. But take care of yourself. Again—excess is worse than deficiency. Especially in training."
"Yes. I'll remember, Brother."
For some reason, Logan couldn't shake his unease.
But he said no more.
"Good. I trust you."
He patted Ronian's shoulder and turned to leave.
There was no need to pry.
In his past life, Ronian had shouldered their ruined family alone, holding out against the Empire until the very end.
Physically and mentally, he had always been far more gifted than Logan.
Even if he was struggling silently, Logan believed he would overcome it.
But—
Just as he was out of earshot, Ronian's mutterings pierced his ears, freezing him mid-step.
"Brother has gone so far ahead, and Victor is breathing down my neck. All I can do is run like mad to keep up."
The sound of a sword cutting air followed—his torn palm still gripping the hilt.
"Damn it..."
Pairing Ronian with Victor was meant to spur mutual growth.
But the effect had been too potent, driving Ronian to extremes.
The brother he had thought docile possessed far more competitive fire than he'd realized.
Yet as Logan turned to intervene, another thought stopped him.
"That face..."
It resembled the Ronian who had reached Aura User status in his past life.
Transcendents—those said to surpass human limits.
Could their efforts be judged by ordinary standards?
In that ruined past, without a master, Ronian had become an Aura User.
Had he done so through conventional means?
Somehow, Logan doubted it.
"...He can afford to stumble. I can help him back up when needed."
For now, he would watch over his brother's efforts.
Logan forced himself to walk away, resisting the urge to look back.