Sell Everything Except Wife and Children (5)
The orphanage had managed to keep running all this time for various reasons, but the main one was that his father had achieved his goal. Kids with knight potential. All he needed was one among them who showed Sword Master talent.
His father had wanted a talented child, and lo and behold, Ethan Sezar had shown up. But why did his father want a child with Sword Master potential? Just to justify keeping the orphanage open? No.
It's for raising Noir.
He didn't care what Ethan thought, but his father's purpose in training Ethan and the other orphans as squires was entirely to nurture Noir. For example.
"Ethan Sezar, defeated!"
"Hahaha!"
"Urk...!"
Like what was happening in the training grounds right now—using them as sparring partners for Noir.
"Too bad! Whew, damn. If it'd just gone a little deeper, I would've lost right there."
Sweat-soaked and covered in dirt, Noir extended a hand to Ethan.
"Get a little stronger, and I'll let you stab me next time, yeah?"
"......Just don't cry when I do, young master."
Ethan replied curtly. His swordless fists trembled, and something—sweat or tears?—glistened around his eyes.
"Hahaha! Like that means anything after losing!"
"A one-year gap will close as we grow."
"Even when you're all grown up, you won't beat me."
"I will win. No doubt about it."
It looked like they were bickering—but
"Oh yeah? If you wanna guard my little brother, you gotta beat me at least once out of a hundred spars."
"...Tch."
Ethan grabbed Noir's offered hand and stood, their relationship actually pretty solid—
Not great human-to-human, but they respect each other as knights.
Just decent, all things considered.
"Just watch, Young Master Noir. Three years from now."
Ethan saw Noir as a wall to surpass.
"Three years? Ha. You won't pass me even in thirty. No matter how hard you run, I'll always be ahead!"
Noir looked down on Ethan but saw him as a rival who could chase and potentially overtake him at any moment.
"As a Gibraltar knight, I'm always the strongest—no one tops me!"
The frontrunner, Noir.
"Ethan Sezar! If you wanna be my brother's guard knight, you gotta get way stronger than this! Haha!"
Ethan hot on his heels.
"And you lot too, you brats!"
Then the orphan squire candidates trailing behind.
"You started training before Ethan, so how can you let him lap you already?! Huh?!"
Noir started chewing out the candidates.
That's not good.
Putting someone down by comparison is a tactic you use when boosting the other side yields bigger gains.
That's just plain criticism and scorn.
Vitriol that hurts feelings without any upside. Sure, Noir could stroke his ego with it, but unfortunately, these kids couldn't just take the abuse.
What if they betray him later and stab him in the back?
He thought that sometimes. The knights who brought the woman who later assassinated Noir with syphilis. Did none of them suspect what she intended? They might not have known her exact plan, but did no one sense she harbored ill intent?
They knew but pretended not to. Or pretended to be ignorant.
A true loyal retainer would've stopped her from entering Noir's bedroom, no matter what.
No. Knowing might've made them let her in even more deliberately.
Future Noir overlapped with the current one somehow. Treating his subordinates like this would lead to betrayal—not quite betrayal, but close enough.
Is Father just going to watch?
Just like Grey was observing from the training grounds, his father watched silently too.
To see how Noir handles it?
His father wasn't the type to fill his ego by tearing others down. But even so—
"Ah."
"What is it, Grey."
"Are you watching to see what I do?"
"......."
Father didn't answer. He just nodded curtly, signaling Grey to go ahead.
"Well, then."
No helping it.
"I'll wield the whip, so you dangle the carrot, Father."
For efficient personnel management, Grey's approach was surer.
"Alright, then...."
From a spot overlooking the distant training grounds, he strolled leisurely toward the entrance.
Clap, clap, clap.
Entering slowly, applauding. Everyone in the grounds turned at the sound—
"B-Bro...?"
Noir, mid-chest-thumping speech, froze upon seeing him.
"Wh-what! Why're you suddenly here at the training grounds!"
Then, puffing up in front of the orphans, he shouted at Grey.
"Here to train too, bro? Yeah?"
"Good on you."
No sarcasm—sincere.
"For a bearer of Gibraltar blood to stoop to bullying the weak one-on-one."
"Wha...?"
"Feel the shame, Noir Gibraltar."
Noir stiffened.
"If I were you, I'd take on all thirteen of them at once—thirteen against one—and win."
"B-Bro, what're you...!"
"I'm not you."
People didn't know. Grey was far stronger than current Noir, already at novice knight level.
"If I were you, I'd be working to get even stronger right now."
"Urk...!"
So to outsiders, this exchange would sound like—
"Wh-why come to the training grounds just to say that crap!"
"Beats me. You should know."
Just an inferior older brother picking on his sword-superior little brother.
"What, gonna tattle to Father?"
Father was behind them but had slipped out of sight, masking his presence.
"Gonna whine that your good-for-nothing brother who can't even wield a sword properly showed up and spouted nonsense?"
"Ugh...!"
"Tattle if you want, but I'd appreciate it if you didn't badmouth the people who'll be my knights."
The orphans all made weird faces. If put into words—
'Who the hell does this guy think he is, calling us his knights?'
"Heh."
The reaction he wanted.
Now you'll realize you're Noir's people even more.
Between worst and second-worst, people gravitate to second-worst even if it's shabby. You pick worst only if it ultimately benefits you—or
"Why're you staring like that, Ethan Sezar."
"Uh, th-that's...."
Like Ethan Sezar.
"Wanna be my knight? You're not skilled enough yet."
Too perceptive, sniffing out the acting. When he realized the "worst" wasn't truly worst.
"......."
"That's it. Just keep that up."
Ethan fell silent and trailed behind Noir; Grey applauded him again.
"Noir Gibraltar."
Atmosphere sufficiently ripened, he turned back.
"They say Sir Cardian Gibraltar manifested aura at ten."
"......."
"You're ten now, right? Made aura yet?"
"...Can you make aura, bro?"
Of course he could. But not now.
"I'm not ten, and I asked you."
"Ha, guess not."
Even knowing it was acting, the prodding got under his skin for real.
"I never trained under Father, but you've had his sword since seven and still no aura?"
"Kuh...!"
"If I'd been born in your body, I'd be novice knight level by ten, aura included."
"......."
Noir clenched his fists, trembling. The orphans behind pitied him; Grey clasped hands behind back, snapping fingers lightly.
"What's going on."
Low voice from behind.
"Grey Gibraltar."
"Father."
"What business do you have at the training grounds?"
Father's voice was ice-cold.
"I gave you other tasks."
As if Grey didn't belong here, Father spoke stiffly.
"Just came to cheer my dear little brother hard at work with his sword."
"Cheer?"
"Yes. Only two months till ten, and no aura yet... heh."
Like past-life Noir, smirking crookedly.
"Oh dear, thought you had even greater talent than Sir Cardian. What a letdown."
"!!"
"Grey."
Father called to stop the needling.
"Yes, understood. I'll take my leave."
Their eyes met briefly. Father's face blank, but screaming Did you have to go that far?
You'll see.
Grey knew what kind of person Noir was.
Guy with a filthy strong ego.
Craved recognition in public, hated public humiliation.
And that ego turns into skill.
Even at ten, the roots remained.
I was just imitating someone from before regression, Father.
His words were just mimicry.
"...Noir."
"Yes, Father."
"Watch closely."
As Grey left the grounds, out of sight—
"This is aura."
"......!!"
Father demonstrated his aura before Noir and the squires.
"Whew."
Chills ran down his spine involuntarily.
Be grateful for the blessing.
How many times had he been beaten and slashed by that aura sword?
World's gotten nice. Back in my day, whew.
No scars on this body, but the memories triggered phantom pain everywhere.
No nicer brother in the world.
* * *
Back at the orphanage.
"The margrave himself showed Young Master Noir an aura sword?!"
Robert, fresh off leave, heard the story—
"Damn it!"
Uncharacteristically cursing, genuinely pissed.
"I should've been right behind you!"
"Why."
"The margrave's aura isn't for just anyone to see!"
Not about Grey, but Father.
"He never shows it publicly except solo dawn practice! Argh, just watching how he builds mana efficiently...!"
"Sir. Trying to steal Gibraltar secrets?"
"N-no way! I just wanted to see how the margrave...!"
"Kidding. If you're regretting it, have a Somnus cookie."
He handed Robert a cookie topped with Somnus petals.
"You too, Master."
"......."
Sir Mente stood silently, gripping her sword. A real one, not wooden.
"Young master, maybe I shouldn't say this now, but...."
"If chatter breaks your focus, you're not master material."
"No, young master! You can't just say that!"
"It's fine."
The path to master was long and harsh.
"Meant to help Noir, but it ended up benefiting Sir Mente more."
If Sir Mente became a master. Even if not now, if Father's display shattered her wall.
Infuse mana into the sword, maintain the form, build a perfect blade shape. That's mastery.
Not misty mana around the blade, but a solid, tangible sword edge.
Worth the teardown on Noir.
Valuable, even if it trashed Grey's public image with the orphans.
"If Noir can infuse mana into his sword and qualify as novice knight, Gibraltar will throw a festival."
"Festival yes, but are you okay, young master? Even you...."
"Sir. Don't forget I'm a moron who can't even infuse mana into a sword, let alone aura."
"Haaa...."
Robert sighed deeper than ever.
"Hiding your strength like that—what's the point."
"Dunno. Handy if someone's assassinated."
He mimed stabbing with his right fist at Robert.
"Who knows. Might sneak up on someone who sees me as a loser brother stealing the heir spot, and stab their heart."
"Even so, people seeing you as...."
"Don't care how they see me. If they think I'm a total idiot, all the better."
If so, the plan was succeeding.
"A sword you telegraph and stab with is less thrilling than one that comes without warning."
"...Why say it so seriously? Like you're really planning it."
"'Cause I am, hiding my power for that?"
Hide strength, strike the complacent foe.
"Kill just one that way, and if it works, mission accomplished."
* * *
Next day.
A small festival inside Gibraltar was decided.
Festival subtitle.
"Noir, Infusing Mana into the Sword at Age 10."
Reincarnation of the Cardian legend.
"Still took less than a day."
"From dinner to now, no sleep, one-on-one with the margrave till dawn?"
"Jealous, sir?"
"Uh, yeah... pretty jealous?"
Thanks to all-night one-on-one till dawn, the castle mobilized at morning.
"Shall we prepare something fun."
"Wh-what now...?"
"Light demo run—a festival tournament."
Thumbs up to Robert.
"Gibraltar Knights ranking match."
"Uh...."
"Winner gets... yeah, perfect."
Gold had no value.
"Prize matters, right?"
Armor or fine horses? Buy with your own money.
But.
"One hour one-on-one lesson from the continent's strongest Sword Master."
Experience money can't buy.
"Sparring chance: ten minutes unrestricted attacks on Father."
"Whoa...."
"And."
Irresistible to any knight.
"Tales of Gibraltar ancestors' master awakenings."
"Th-that's...!"
"Not current events, so fine."
The path to Sword Master.
"Who knows. Study Father's lecture and ancestors' insights, maybe another master in five, ten years."
Human resources and accumulated know-how—Gibraltar's strongest asset.
"Tell 'em the surefire Sword Master method, even the imperial crown prince would grovel."
Sell for top dollar.
"How Gibraltar produces Sword Masters generation after generation. Everyone wonders."
"C-can I join?"
"Sure. You're eligible."
But after the accident.
It's all mindset stuff anyway.
No refunds.
"Just do it, and it happens."