The Golden Training Hall
The hand gripping the sword trembled faintly.
Laios had lived his whole life believing that unwavering composure was the most fundamental virtue of a knight, and his years were far too many to count otherwise.
But lately, God Luce seemed determined to put him to the test.
He had never wavered this often before.
Perhaps I should visit the cathedral more regularly.
The thought had even crossed his mind, though he knew it wouldn't change a thing.
He gazed at the vast indoor training hall spread before him.
It was far too extravagant to have been built for a single person's private practice.
It was larger than three or four ordinary halls combined, its floor paved seamlessly with volcanic stone. Great windows adorned the walls, and the candelabras scattered throughout were already blazing brightly. If not for the wooden training swords and various weapons hanging in rows from the rack along one side, one might have mistaken it for a luxurious ballroom.
This training hall belonged to the Crown Prince's palace, a practice ground reserved solely for Cantares.
Yet until recently, it had sat almost entirely neglected. Ever since Cantares had moved his residence back to the main palace for work, his visits had naturally dwindled to nothing.
And so, why was Laios standing here all of a sudden, wondering if he ought to go pray to God Luce?
The blame for all of it lay squarely with Arendt von Eckhart.
And that damned apprentice knight was, at this very moment, bickering with the second most powerful person in the Empire.
"You've been letting a place like this sit idle all this time? What a waste of money."
"I couldn't help it. Ever since I became Crown Prince, I haven't had time to eat, let alone train."
When had those two gotten so chummy with each other? No—come to think of it, Laios didn't even have the energy to point it out anymore.
Late at night, just as Laios had finished his duties and was preparing to retire, it had been Arendt who called him out. All the boy had said was follow me, and Laios had accompanied him without asking a single question. This was the result.
He'd realized something was seriously wrong the moment he stepped into the unlit Crown Prince's palace, but by then it was too late.
"Arendt."
"Yes?"
Arendt turned around.
That shamelessly innocent face alone was enough to make Laios's blood boil. He barely managed to compose himself before speaking in a stern voice.
"For a knight to demand compensation from his lord for carrying out an order—this is unheard of..."
"Oh, come on. Why are you so hopelessly uptight?"
Before he could even finish, Arendt cut in, screwing up his face in exasperation.
"Commander, you draw an activity budget, don't you?"
"Sorry?"
Caught off guard by the unexpected question, Laios let out a dumbfounded sound.
That was his mistake.
"You draw a salary, don't you? I hear Commanders receive about three times what ordinary knights make. And the other two Commanders got territories and titles on top of that. You turned down a territory in exchange for a mansion here in the Imperial Capital instead."
"...That's right."
It was all true, so Laios could only nod vaguely along.
Arendt sulkily added, "Isn't that also compensation for performing your duties?"
"..."
"Exactly. You can't exactly ask for extra pay on top of your salary just because you're handling a special mission. That's why they pay you so well in the first place. But me? I'm different."
"Different how?"
The moment the question left his mouth, Laios regretted it before even three seconds had passed.
But it was too late.
Arendt's mouth had already opened.
"Do you know how much an apprentice knight's salary is? Not even a third of the Commander's. I actually get paid less than the other seniors. And yet I'm the one rolling around alone like a dog."
"..."
"Work for what you're paid. That's the law of the world. Is there any reason it should be different just because we're knights? If it bothers you so much, then you go ahead and cough up every coin you've ever earned and personally start living up to the code of chivalry."
There was not a shred of shame in his assertion—only brazen confidence.
Laios simply pressed a hand to his forehead and chose silence.
A faint mutter drifted over from Cantares.
"Should've just kept my mouth shut."
The man who would one day bear the burden of this Empire was clearly built of different stuff. To have figured out how to handle that damn brat this quickly...
Arendt waved his hand as if he couldn't be bothered to say more.
"Anyway, if we're pulling an all-nighter, let's get started. Commander, did you bring the ring?"
"...I did. For now."
Suppressing the flood of retorts rising in his throat, Laios forced himself to answer calmly.
He didn't need to think twice about which ring Arendt meant.
The Shadow of the Strong.
He'd rarely had occasion to use it, but he kept it on his person almost without fail. Once he'd learned that only by wearing it could he conceal the mana it constantly leaked, it had never left him.
"Try it out here."
"What?"
Arendt spat out the words like an order, jerking his chin toward the open expanse of the training hall.
"Try it. Keeping it in your pocket isn't doing anyone any good."
Only then did Laios grasp what was actually going on.
Cantares, evidently briefed in advance, simply stood with his arms crossed, watching the two of them.
"Don't tell me... the training hall was for this?"
"What else would it be for? Not for your sake, of course."
With a shrug, Arendt began striding lazily toward the center of the hall.
Shing.
With a cold ring of steel, the sword slid smoothly from its sheath.
"I'd prefer it if you were my opponent, Commander."
Turning on his heel to face the two men again, Arendt curled the corner of his mouth into a smirk.
"Since I've got it anyway, I'd like to put it to proper use. That'd be too much to ask of Senior Arthur, but if it's you, Commander, I can swing at you with everything I've got and not hold back."
"..."
Those words alone revealed a great deal.
Laios's eyes settled into calm stillness.
"The scars left on those assassins' bodies... this is connected to that, isn't it."
Shing.
Laios drew his own sword with equal precision.
Seeing Arendt grin and adjust his grip as Laios closed the distance with long, purposeful strides, the Commander spoke.
"I hardly need to explain how artifacts work, do I?"
"Of course not."
Words were pointless; they'd both learn faster by experiencing it firsthand.
Laios turned to Cantares with a warning.
"Your Highness, you should step back."
Cantares obediently put distance between himself and the two knights. It wasn't that he lacked the ability to protect himself—but neither of them knew what was about to happen, and neither did he.
The moment the Crown Prince's safety was secured, they wasted no more time.
It was Arendt who struck first.
The instant Laios saw Arendt's blade flash bone-white with frost, he too activated his artifact.
A deeper blue than usual rippled along the sharp edge of his sword, wreathing it in blade aura.
CLANG!
The two blades met with a deafening crash.
Arendt had put his full weight into the downward strike, but Laios held firm without so much as a tremor.
"Frost, is it? You're right... this might indeed be too much for Arthur to face."
Feeling the biting chill seep into him, Laios offered a brief assessment.
It wasn't a question of swordsmanship. The issue was whether one could block the artifact's mana or not.
Arendt's brow furrowed as he held his blade locked against Laios's.
Normally, this was the point where Laios's sword would have slowly begun to freeze over.
But the blade that had seemed about to succumb to the cold for a moment now gleamed with an even sharper aura, as if nothing had happened at all.
The power of the Frost-Tinged Touch had been blocked by Laios's mana.
"Tch."
Clicking his tongue, Arendt subtly retreated a step.
Laios seized the opening and pressed forward.
CLANG!
Arendt parried the blade driving toward his flank, gasping at the shock coursing through his entire body. Still locked in the defensive posture, he shook Laios off, spun on his heel, and immediately launched a counterattack.
But the strike hurtling toward Laios's neck was casually deflected.
Laios brushed the blow aside with ease and swung his sword in a wide arc at Arendt's now-exposed chest.
Ducking at the last possible instant, Arendt felt the aura-laden blade whoosh mere inches over his head.
Staying low, he drove his foot into the ground and brought his sword down toward Laios's back.
Laios whirled around on reflex.
At that moment, a white blizzard swallowed his vision.
What—?
In the split second his eyes flew wide open, a blade shrouded in white sword aura came tearing through the snowstorm.
He couldn't block that with an ordinary defense.
Laios trusted his instincts, adjusting his grip on the sword.
CLANG!
Another violent clash of steel tore through the training hall's air.
He had caught Arendt's overhead strike head-on.
Huh?
This is way too strong.
At the very instant their blades collided, the same thought struck both Arendt and Laios simultaneously.
Their bewildered eyes met in midair.
And the next moment, Arendt went flying clean off his feet.
BANG, CRASH!
Slammed into the floor, Arendt let out a strangled yelp.
Cantares let out a low whistle of admiration.
"Impressive."
The sight of Arendt arcing through the air in a graceful parabola was quite something to behold.
Even Laios, who hadn't expected things to escalate this far, could only stare at Arendt in a daze.
"You all right?"
"Do you not know the concept of holding back? I nearly died."
Arendt scrambled to his feet.
He wasn't visibly injured, but he was drenched in sweat—apparently his stamina had given out after only a few exchanges.
Sheathing his sword, Laios addressed him.
"Your sword. Any damage?"
"Hah... no, not that I can see."
Catching his breath, Arendt inspected his blade.
Despite the brutal collisions, his sword was spotless.
If not for the Frost-Tinged Touch, his blade would undoubtedly have snapped in half during that final clash.
And Arendt would have been cut in two along with it.
The mere thought sent a shiver down his spine.
Laios flexed his ringed hand open and closed several times.
"You were right. To use it properly, I'll need to get used to it."
"See? Told you."
Exhausted, Arendt hauled himself upright, still wobbling.
Even through all this, Laios did not forget to offer his junior advice.
"Running the artifact continuously is out of the question. The mana drain is far too heavy. You'd be better off learning to activate it in short, rapid bursts."
"I'll take that advice to heart. But what about you, Commander? With an opponent like me, I doubt you even got to do anything properly."
"Hmm..."
Laios's brow creased.
"More than raising my physical abilities... it's like condensing my mana into a single point and detonating it. Focusing power into a single strike that way inevitably slows me down, but—"
"Does the artifact compensate for that?"
"Yes, it does."
When Cantares cut in abruptly, Laios nodded in confirmation.
Cantares's gaze swung to Arendt.
"So, what exactly are these monstrous things? They're far beyond ordinary artifacts. Where did they come from?"
"I pried them off those bastards. This one was buried in a corner of the East Vault, and the Commander's came from the guy who ambushed Senior Arthur."
Brushing off his clothes as he stood, Arendt answered easily.
At the mention of the East Vault, Cantares's expression darkened slightly.
"Don't tell me..."
"The bastards who hit the vault—this was probably what they were really after. I asked Guildmaster Neumann to collect them for me separately. He handed them over quite readily, actually."
"..."
Strong disbelief filled the eyes of both Cantares and Laios.
He just gave them to you?
"You didn't threaten him, did you? Or run some extortion scheme?"
"Guildmaster Neumann did seem rather excessively cooperative, I'll admit. But surely..."
"Oh, come on! Do I look like someone who goes around blackmailing people at every turn?"
When Arendt flared up in irritation, the two men sheepishly looked away.
Just then, Cantares noticed something and let out a short gasp.
"Wow... this is actually incredible."
"What?"
At the sudden remark, Arendt and Laios both turned to look at Cantares.
Rather than elaborate, Cantares simply said one word.
"The floor."
Laios and Arendt looked down.
"Oh..."
Every single step of their fierce exchange had left a trail of thin ice in its wake. And where Laios had delivered his final blow, the ground itself was caved in, molded into the shape of his firmly planted foot.
"Don't use these outside unless you absolutely have to. The traces are far too conspicuous."
At Cantares's grave advice, the two knights could only nod dumbly in agreement.