Home Tutoring (2)

Judging by the snoring that started up a few minutes later, the bastard had genuinely fallen asleep.

I ignored him and opened the book he'd handed over. The title was splashed across the very first page in enormous letters.

Crimson Blade.

Blade? This wasn't statecraft — it was a martial arts manual?

Not what I'd been hoping for, but if I wanted Father's recognition, learning the sword was non-negotiable. Even at this very moment, Father was off leading his knights against the monsters of the north, and countless nobles stood at his side. When those men weighed a successor, the virtue they prized above all was the strength to defend land and property by force of arms.

Chris's Awoken Ability was overwhelming, but Mabel had earned recognition through swordsmanship alone — which was precisely why the two of them stood locked in rivalry.

I turned the page. Not a word about martial arts followed. Instead, some man's groundless self-glorification began unspooling across the paper.

I flipped the book shut at its final page. A glance at the clock told me a startling stretch of time had slipped away.

Mountains of material still waited to be learned, and I'd just squandered two full hours on useless bragging. Was the point to impress upon me how remarkable a man he was? What was I supposed to do with tales of catching a dragon and having it made into a wine cup, or keeping a hydra as a house pet? They say delusions curdle into illness when left unchecked — at this level, his had to be well into the advanced stages.

"Finished the book."

The bastard didn't so much as twitch.

"I said I finished it. Up you get."

I flung the book toward the head of the sofa. Caroi pushed himself upright with a long, hearty stretch, his kaleidoscope eyes blinking a few times before they found me.

"What, you read the whole thing already?"

"Yep."

"Every last page of it?"

He pressed, suspicion dripping from every word.

"You told me to read it, so I read it. Now teach me something real. Real martial arts. Real statecraft."

"...Fine, fine. So you want me to show some sincerity, is that it."

The bastard dragged himself up off the sofa with visible reluctance.

"Follow me. I did make your father a promise, so I'll show you a thing or two."

He strode out the door, and when I followed him through it, I spotted a gaping hole punched clean through the building's outer wall — apparently the formation's destruction had claimed it as a bonus.

"Over here, pipsqueak."

The bastard crooked a finger from beyond the wall. He led me out to the garden — and then, within the garden, to a secluded corner well beyond the reach of watching eyes.

"I'll show you this exactly once."

He led with the intimidation before the lesson had even begun.

"The sword art is called Crimson Blade. Basic fare — I picked it up the moment I could walk — but you humans are a lesser breed, so it won't come easy to you."

He reached out to one of the garden trees and snapped off a branch. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Then he sank low and extended it before him like a spear leveled at an enemy.

Whoooooosh—

In an instant, a monstrous wave of qi slammed through the garden. He held his crouched stance, eyes half closed, utterly still — he didn't seem to be breathing, didn't even seem alive.

Flash.

The branch shot out like a thunderbolt and cleaved the empty air. In the same breath, a mountain peak far in the distance burst apart and slid down in a landslide.

I was a little — no, considerably — shocked. The only martial artist I knew personally was the Flower Thief, that self-proclaimed finest man under heaven, and this bastard stood leagues above even him. Honestly, I had never once imagined that a bare stick could ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠unleash power on this scale.

"Phew......"

The bastard let his breathing settle, then held out the branch.

"Your turn."

"If you watched the demonstration properly, you should manage to copy it without trouble."

That?

"And if you fall short of my expectations, then despite your father's earnest pleading, I will have no choice but to reconsider this farce — ahem, this master-disciple arrangement."

More intimidation, piled on. I turned the branch over in my hand and sank into thought.

He'd learned this monstrous art from the moment he took his first steps? I couldn't say whether that was even possible — but then, I'd need to actually know something about swordsmanship to judge. Daoist power, at least, I possessed in overflowing supply. Judged on raw force alone, I figured I could stage a similar scene with it.

And the motion itself was nothing difficult. He had simply cut forward once, very fast. The crux was the energy riding the blade — energy that flew without scattering and struck its mark with precision.

First, one deep breath.

I poured every last drop of Daoist power I had into the branch in my hand. It swelled at a frightening pace, bursting into dense leaves and offshoots, growing into a towering giant with a thick trunk and roots like coiled serpents.

"...Oops."

Had I been a touch too generous with the wood qi? This was, in other words... a disaster foretold. The Five Elements arts were never about shoveling qi into something and hoping for the best.

"What in the blazes are you?"

"Hm?"

"I said swordsmanship. Why are you growing trees?"

"Never mind that. I'll go again — I've got the feel for it now."

I snapped a fresh branch off the fallen giant. This time I'd ease off the wood qi, reinforce the metal qi in its place, raise a wind, and send it flying. Whether the result could honestly be called swordsmanship, I couldn't say — but what choice did I have? One more stunt ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠like that and he'd dissolve the whole arrangement.

The branch launched from my hand. It split everything before me clean in two — every tree and wall the garden possessed — before vanishing somewhere out over the plains.

"Well?"

I asked him, eyes shining. What the moment demanded was shamelessness. Who cared how crooked the road was, so long as you reached the destination?

Arms crossed, the bastard stared me down for a long while.

"You......"

He let the word trail on and on.

"I don't think you understood a single thing I said. That is not swordsmanship."

The verdict was merciless.

"First things first — this is confiscated."

He snatched the branch out of my hand.

"What happened to teaching me?"

"A brat with no fundamentals, what the... You haven't even earned the right to hold a branch."

He grumbled under his breath, then reached out and closed his fist on empty air. Space warped like the surface of water, and a book dropped into his palm.

"Here."

The bastard flung it at me.

"A primer. Should suit your level perfectly."

Compared to the book he'd confiscated, this one was thoroughly ordinary. Plain paper, and it gave off no particular aura whatsoever.

"Where are you going?"

I asked the back of his head.

"None of your business."

"You're my tutor."

"Self-study!"

The book Caroi had left behind really was a primer. A third of its length went to explaining the concept of swordsmanship, another third to chatter that was neither here nor there, and the remainder to basic physical conditioning.

The final page bore the certification mark of a publisher based in the township of Esterzy — in other words, something he'd paid good money for at a bookstore.

I devoured it in three days and tossed it onto the sofa.

Caroi, meanwhile, never showed so much as the tip of his nose. My patience ran out, and I went to Thalia to ask about the man.

"That man is not human. He is a demon."

Thalia ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠replied, discomfort bleeding into her voice.

"A demon? Don't tell me you mean the ones fighting Father?"

"The very same. And he is no ordinary demon, either. He is the sole bloodkin of the previous Demon King."

The Demon King — the creature from the final chapter of my monster encyclopedia. The monster among monsters, standing shoulder to shoulder with dragons.

Suddenly his absurd strength made perfect sense. In effect, I had gone toe to toe with a spirit beast that could talk.

"Then why is the Demon King's son wandering our territory as he pleases?"

Thalia exhaled.

"I honestly couldn't say. I heard the previous Demon King died in an internal schism and left the boy with nowhere to go — but that is their affair, not ours. To speak frankly, Your Highness, I believe you should drive him out. Or kill him."

"That's a problem. He's my tutor, for one thing."

"If it is martial arts you need, I could teach you myself. I am Your Highness's own guard knight, after all—"

Thalia cut off mid-sentence. Caroi was leaning against the doorframe in a slouch to match his tone.

"What sort of scheming is this with my 'disciple'?"

His voice was as crooked as his posture.

"Who are you calling disciple, you demon whelp?"

I jumped. The usual composure in Thalia's voice was gone without a trace — in its place, killing intent sharp enough to flay a man alive.

"Ha. A human knight, talking tough."

"And what would you call it, coming from you?"

"Enough!"

I thrust a hand up between them. One more exchange and there would be real bloodshed.

"My apologies."

Thalia bowed her head without another word.

"Stay out until the lesson's over."

She offered no excuse and simply walked. Caroi, for his part, sauntered in as if nothing at all had happened and settled onto the sofa.

"I've been thinking it over," the bastard said.

"I've decided to teach you after all."

"Why? It can't be because you want me to do well."

He snickered, plainly entertained.

"Right you are. I can't stand to watch your kind prosper, eyes open or shut. It's just — I've decided you might make a decent match for that bastard."

"That bastard?"

"Oh, come now — the one among your siblings who turns the stomach just to look at him. The one hiding revolting ambitions beneath that thick hide of his. Left to his own devices, he'll be Duke before long, and that is a boring ending for humans and demons alike. His name was definitely......"

Chris.

"...Mabel, was it?"