Reasons Why the King of the North Fell #1

If Lancel Gaudie hadn't been there, his head probably would've rolled right off his shoulders.

Right after, Lawrence said,

"Sorry. The Duke said he prefers this kind of tone—"

Lancel Gaudie stopped listening there and completely revised his image of the boy. At first, he'd thought Lawrence was someone who'd gained power in a very bad way—like Damien, whose head he'd personally lopped off. Then, after talking with him, he'd shifted to seeing him as a mysterious child of the Montemer family. Now, he added top-tier information gathering to that assessment.

He's already got me all figured out. And honestly, it doesn't even feel bad...

No matter how famous the Duke was publicly, the North was a fairly closed-off place. And he hadn't even left the annex? When the hell had he gathered intel, and how was he using it so perfectly?

The Duke stared at the little kid named Lawrence, his interest growing even more. The two were heading to the training grounds to meet someone who was always there. Even with the subjugation war prep in full swing, a quick moment should be fine.

"You really think moving your body will heal him?"

"Yes. To activate the artifact, intense physical labor is ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠required."

"Hm. Sparring with you sounds boring for me. Instead, I'll introduce you to my daughter. Unlike your sister, she loves getting physical."

"Understood."

He remembered. Another reason the Duke's family had walked the path to ruin. Gaudie's firstborn—and only—daughter.

The undead slayer who would later abandon the Gaudie name and be dragged into a slave army. A battle maniac who screamed for her brother's revenge on the battlefield before dying a lonely death—a woman who might have become the Empire's first female master.

If it was the person Lawrence was thinking of—

"Hey, hurry up, you slugs!"

"Milady, can't you see we're busting our asses here?!"

"Effort's not the point. It's whether I like it or not. You got breath to talk? Guess your load's too light!"

"Argh! Coming, we're coming! Feels like you only learned the bad stuff from the Duke!"

"Hahaha! Move it, move it! That's how you avoid kicking the bucket!"

The Duke let out a small sigh at the booming voice. Then he cautioned Lawrence.

"As you heard, she's a wild one, so forgive any rudeness in her speech or manners."

"No problem. She takes after you so much, it's actually refreshing to watch."

"I'll take that as a compliment. How'd I end up creating this atmosphere..."

Isn't it because you're so laid-back yourself, Duke?

Lawrence chuckled softly as he eyed the girl standing in the training grounds. Whatever she was eating, she was a head taller than him—tall and striking. After seeing the petite Loria, she really gave off that big-sister vibe.

Leila spotted the Duke entering the grounds ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠and strode right over. Then she unleashed a torrent of nagging.

"Father! You blew up the gates again? How many times now? I've told you not to so many—huh, who's this?"

"It was urgent that time, my dear. Say hello. It's young Lord Lawrence of the Montemer family."

"Montemer...? Oh, that bunch of scrawny weaklings?!"

"......"

Her daughter perfectly demonstrated why Lawrence could spout crap like that and still survive.

#2

"Oho, you want to spar with that kid...? But is that okay? He's a mage."

"It's fine. Just beat him moderately."

"What? Got it. But eleven years old? Wow... He'll look perfect with a shield and axe."

"Mind your manners a bit. He's still our honored guest."

I can hear you, loud and clear.

Lawrence let out an incredulous smile as he listened to the father-daughter duo. Leila slung a training sword over her shoulder and strode over.

Anyway, the goal is to build up negative energy capacity, so time to work hard.

He knew it. Beating her right now was a pipe dream. Lawrence was a mage to begin with, not a knight.

Still, it was a good opportunity. Facing a knight head-on and reading their movements was definitely productive. Repetitive training builds familiarity. And familiarity meant higher survival odds.

Lawrence picked up a plain longsword and awkwardly assumed a stance.

"First time holding a sword, huh?"

"Yeah. But please go easy on me."

"Sigh... Fine. Let's loosen up first."

Whoosh—

As she kicked off the ground and charged, it felt like a car barreling straight at him. Leila swung her sword down lightly.

Clang!

Lawrence calmly raised his blade to block.

"Huh?"

"Teach me well."

"Heh, nice eyes you've got."

Her eyes gleamed. Her speed picked up, but surprisingly, Lawrence blocked her attacks well. The secret was his eyes.

She's unconsciously channeling mana. Almost cheat-level.

Knight used mana to reinforce their bodies, even unconsciously during bare-handed spars once skilled. Mana was something you felt, not saw.

But Lawrence could see it clearly.

"Blocking great!"

"Huff! Huff!"

"Been bored with my brother sick in bed— this is perfect!"

But he quickly realized seeing mana and keeping up physically were two different things. Once his movements got tangled, he started taking hits nonstop. The spar ended with him dropping his sword.

"You've fully inherited the Duke's martial prowess. Whew... Impressive."

"That was fun for me too. You've got talent, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠kid."

"Haha, I'm a mage."

More precisely, an artifact creator.

Lawrence wiped the pouring sweat from his brow and checked the negative energy capacity displayed on his retina.

Almost 30% soon. Two birds with one stone.

Lawrence also confirmed the capacity needed for ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠curse absorption.

Sigh... Gonna have to roll around a lot more.

As long as he didn't die, he'd grow fast. What rewards would 30% bring? Getting stronger like this was addictively fun in many ways.

He trudged back, picked up the sword again.

"One more round?"

"Ha! You really a mage?"

"Yes."

No.

Leila grinned ear-to-ear, thrilled for a proper romp after so long.

But as she turned back, her steps hesitated for a split second. New info popped up for Lawrence.

Huh?

What? So that maniac didn't die because of battle...?

Lawrence pieced together future events. News had come that the skilled Leila had suddenly died. So that was...

Guess I'll watch for now.

Their spar continued. Leila rampaged without mana, laughing joyfully nonstop. Lawrence learned her combat techniques, how knights fought.

The Dragon Eye was truly mystical.

Now I can see the patterns in her movements.

Clang!

Joint motions, power distribution, stance, stride, where she put force and pulled back... How they measured distance, struck and retreated, handled number fights.

Everything was visible, everything counterable.

Before long, the Duke went from intrigued to shocked watching Lawrence. He'd clearly never held a sword before, yet now he fought like a skilled swordsman—one mimicking his own daughter's style exactly!

"Hah, unbelievable. Why does Montemer have a kid like that...?"

A sword genius born in a mage family? At the same time, pity welled up. Lawrence had no mana road, he'd heard. No matter the skill, without manifesting an aura blade, he'd just be an ordinary knight.

But understanding swordsmanship itself was key. At least he wouldn't die pointlessly to a blind swing on the battlefield.

The Duke watched their spar with fascination. It dragged into evening, drawing a crowd of onlookers.

"He's a mage, they say."

"Really? Then why's he fighting so well?"

"Whoa... Total monster."

"When's the last time Leila looked this hyped?"

Northern soldiers gathered to watch. Among them were Loria and the Freyja mage unit captain.

"Why's he swinging a sword instead of studying magic!?"

"Indeed. Quite mysterious."

Loria was the only one not praising Lawrence—she was obsessed with magic studies.

#3

"Whew... Finally over."

"Not using mana and just moving the body is killer. But why train like that? You're a mage."

"To heal your brother. I asked the Duke for a spar since it's necessary, and he introduced you."

"Ah... To heal my brother? What!?"

She bellowed so loud Lawrence stepped back to save his eardrums before repeating.

"Lake, right? I made a rude request since I wanted to start today."

"...You serious?"

"Why lie when the Duke would take my head for it?"

Lawrence joked with a grin. Capacity was secured now—time to work.

As Lawrence left the grounds, Leila scampered to the Duke.

"Father. That kid—no, young lord—says he'll heal Lake...?"

"Yeah. Decided to trust him."

"But if he has other motives..."

"Then it's not just his skull—Montemer pays too."

The Duke resolved to watch Lawrence objectively. Results would prove his worth. So far, trustworthy.

"Keep an eye. If you two hit it off, even better."

"Not into younger guys..."

"Sigh..."

"Father!"

Ignoring the Duke's heartfelt sigh, they followed Lawrence. Time to treat his son.

Meanwhile, Lawrence checked the retinal message.

Right, that exists.

Perfect timing. He had it among the stuff he'd packed.

Lawrence headed to his lodgings. At the door, he told the Duke,

"Wait here. I'll make it quick and bring it out."

"That thing?"

"Yes. Ideally, no one enters the room."

"I'll handle it. Work freely."

Lawrence nodded with a smile. The Duke guarded the door with an intrigued look.

Inside, Lawrence rummaged through his luggage for materials.

"Phew... Gonna be an all-nighter."

Drawing with a pen was his greatest joy. Two artifacts this time.

One more—gather materials for it. No harm owing Leila a debt.

He picked up the pen and began engraving the magic circle.

Scratch, scratch—

The creator's day was just beginning.