The Second Examination
Raon regarded Roen's faint smile and felt a flicker of anticipation. So it's finally here.
Three months had passed since the first examination—the team battle against the Iron Blood Sword Squad—without a single word. It seemed the second test had at last been decided.
They sure took their time.
Under ordinary circumstances the next examination should have been set within a month. The wait had dragged on, though—likely because of the Black Tower's designs on them, and because Rimer still had not emerged from seclusion.
"It was dull—and yet This King was happy."
Wrath grinned as he patted his plump, well-fed cheeks. Yua and Helen's cooking was so delicious that he had managed to put on weight even in his spiritual form.
"Do you happen to know what the examination will be?"
"I am afraid I do not."
Roen shook his head with the same unreadable expression as always. Whether that was the truth or a lie was impossible to say. True to his past as an assassin, he was the hardest man in the entire house to read.
"Are the children keeping up?"
Roen stood at the cliff's edge and looked down.
"They learn quickly, thanks to your teaching."
Raon nodded and flicked the throwing knife in his hand. The blade shot out like a bolt of light, aimed at Marta's shoulder as she climbed from the right.
"Damn it!"
Marta scowled and shoved off the cliff with both arms and legs at once. She meant to spring away like a beast and dodge the knife—but he had already anticipated the move.
The knife's path curved with liquid ease and smashed into her waist just as she reached to grab the rock again.
"Ghhk!"
Even so, Marta did not let go of the hand she had driven into the cliff. That was real endurance. She's learned to take a hit. As befit a squad leader, she had forged the stamina and will not to fall to a single throwing knife. It was admirable—and just a little unsettling.
"Your throwing technique has grown quite polished."
Roen stepped up beside him, smiling.
"I've been practicing."
"May I offer a piece of advice?"
"I'm listening."
Roen was the assassin who had once been called the King of Slaughter. If anyone had insight into the art of the throwing knife, it was him. Raon pricked up his ears.
"You are throwing primarily with the arm, Vice-leader. From the shoulder down to the fingertips. If you used the entire body, the knife would fly harder and faster."
Roen demonstrated the motion himself.
"From the shoulder to the fingertips…"
Raon replayed Roen's gesture in his mind and murmured the mantra of the Flawless Flight.
He loaded the blade with the same measure of aura as before and used Roen's advice as a foothold, then loosed the knife.
It dropped without a whisper of sound and streaked toward Marta.
She never even had time to react. The knife slammed into her right arm, and she began to plummet toward the ground.
"You can't just jack up the difficulty out of nowhere! You son of a biiiiitch!"
As always, she blessed him on her way down.
"Ah, sorry."
Raon waved at Marta and turned back to Roen.
"That really is a difference. Thank you."
"I merely reminded you of a fundamental you had set aside for a moment."
"That's exactly what matters. I think I understand now why those children have grown so fast."
He smiled as he looked down at Yua and Julius, still far below.
"Yua's talent aside, she enjoys everything she does. That temperament itself is her finest gift."
No matter how brutal the training, Yua finished it with a smile—and somehow made everyone around her smile too. She had a natural sense of rhythm and a sharp eye for her opponent, which made her perfectly suited to learning the Sensory Sword.
"Ahem! She is This King's pineapple girl for a reason!"
Raon had no idea why this cotton ball was preening when he hadn't done a thing.
"Julius, for all his stiff manner, hates losing more than anything. He'll finish work he shouldn't even be capable of, just because he's made Yua his rival."
In raw talent Yua sat a little higher—but Julius's horror of defeat kept him glued to her heels no matter what. It was a gift well matched to a rigid, systematic orthodox sword.
"They're both interesting kids."
"Hahaha."
Roen stroked his beard and let out a kindly laugh.
"You have been watching them properly. I am glad I sent them when you arrived, Vice-leader—and not Lord Rimer."
"I brought them here. Of course I have to take responsibility."
Not only Yua and Julius. He intended to answer for every one of those children who had been raised as assassins.
"If you would instruct them whenever you have a spare moment, I would be grateful."
"Of course."
Roen smiled as he looked at Yua and Julius.
"Then I shall take my leave—hm?"
He turned, then froze, eyes going wide at the sight of Mark Goetten, who had climbed nearest the summit. Am I imagining it? No. He's changed. Mark Goetten had been stuck at the very bottom of Low-rank Master—and yet his realm had risen, if only by a fraction.
"…He has grown."
"You noticed after all."
Raon nodded with quiet confidence.
"It's only a little, but he's climbed. He'll go higher still."
"Remarkable."
Genuine admiration rose in Roen—for Mark Goetten, whose engine had finally turned over so late, and for the young man who had made it happen. A man who changes people… The words Adis Sefia and Glenn had spoken finally settled into place.
Raon Zieghart was someone who could leave a vast and genuinely positive mark on another person's life.
The boy Roen had first pitied, and later merely found admirable, suddenly looked enormous. It was as if the true scale of his vessel had come into view. If a child like this became the head of this house…
After asking Roen to help with the Light Wind Squad's training, Raon entered the Lord's Palace.
He cut through the chill that filled the Audience Chamber, walked to the center, and dropped to one knee.
"I greet the Family Head."
"Spare me the unnecessary greetings. Stand."
Glenn waved him up as if shooing a fly.
"Thank you."
Raon bowed his head and rose.
"I see you're still at that insane training of yours."
Pedrick, the Saint of Rags, was leaning against a pillar to the right. He lifted a hand in greeting.
"It isn't insane. Just a little demanding."
Raon shook his head with a faint smile.
"Light Wind Vice-leader."
Glenn's heavy voice cut across their exchange.
"I summoned you because the Light Wind Squad Leader has yet to emerge from seclusion."
"Yes."
Raon lowered his gaze. It's taking longer than I thought. After the bout with the Iron Blood Sword Squad, Rimer had abruptly declared he would enter closed-door training, walked into the cave behind the Main House, and had not come out since. Everyone had expected him back within three days. Three months later, he was still inside, and the entire house was stunned.
"Ordinarily we would wait until the Light Wind Squad Leader emerged. But we cannot postpone the second examination indefinitely."
Glenn's eyes hardened, and he lifted his chin.
"You will sit the second examination with the Light Wind Squad as it stands."
"Understood."
He had expected as much from the moment he was called here. He nodded without a flicker of surprise.
"Then may I ask what the examination is?"
"I will assign you one of the house's actual missions and observe how you handle it."
Just as I thought. Raon's fingers tightened. It was exactly the method Dokoe had described to him once before.
"Do you know of House Arian?"
"Only that they are one of Zieghart's vassal families."
"Arian has stood with Zieghart from the beginning. To this day they hold the line at a place called the Swamp of Death."
"The Swamp of Death…"
The name jogged his memory. House Arian occupied the westernmost edge of Zieghart territory, charged with guarding a marsh that spawned low-grade undead.
"The Swamp of Death?"
Wrath climbed up onto the bracelet and smacked his lips.
"A rather grandiose name. This King likes it."
It'll be a letdown when you actually see it. For all the eerie name, the only monsters that came out of the place were zombies, skeletons, and other low-grade fare. House Arian itself was hardly famous for martial might.
"How dull!"
Wrath deflated and sank back into the bracelet.
"House Arian has contacted us."
"About what…"
"They report that the undead population is rising and the swamp's water level has climbed. They have requested swordsmen to determine the cause."
Hearing that much, Raon could already predict what Glenn would say next.
"Your second examination is this: go to the Swamp of Death, determine why the undead have multiplied, and resolve the matter."
Glenn rested his fist against his chin and lowered his brows.
"If you believe you cannot do it, say so now."
Is this consideration? Rimer was absent, and they had performed well against the Iron Blood Sword Squad. It felt as though Glenn had deliberately chosen something relatively easy for the second test.
"I will do it."
Raon nodded. There was no real choice in any case. If he meant to climb higher, this was a road he had to walk.
"This mission must be completed by the Light Wind Squad alone, without support from the house."
Glenn's gaze sank, sharp as a blade.
"If the Light Wind Squad's strength proves insufficient to protect House Arian and you request reinforcements, the mission ends at that instant."
"Understood."
That was only natural. He answered evenly.
"When do we depart?"
"That, too, is yours to decide."
"Pardon?"
"A squad has more freedom in its missions than a division. Leave whenever you like, so long as the work is done."
"Ah…"
Freedom was not an unmixed blessing. It meant that if anything went wrong, the responsibility would be that much heavier. I'll have to be careful. He would need far more thought and planning than before.
"Understood."
Raon bowed his head and looked at Glenn. He had expected to be dismissed. Glenn did not move, his eyes narrowed.
"Raon Zieghart."
"Yes."
"…Do you happen to enjoy drinking?"
"Pardon? Ah…"
The question was so unexpected coming from Glenn that Raon's mind went briefly blank. What is that supposed to mean? He could not understand why the man was asking whether he liked alcohol. Drinking…
In his previous life he had never been allowed to, and in this one he had never particularly sought it out. He had drunk twice—once as a wager with Dokoe, and the only time that truly counted had been with Rimer.
"I can drink, I suppose…"
"Hm."
Raon had not even finished speaking, yet the Audience Chamber's chill seemed to thaw, as if a warm breeze had slipped through.
"But I don't particularly enjoy it."
He nodded, thinking that a martial artist who kept his distance from liquor was the correct answer.
The instant the words left his mouth, the atmosphere that had just softened plunged several times colder than before. What? Something had clearly gone wrong, and he had no idea why.
"……"
"……"
He locked eyes with Glenn in silence, and the meaning only grew more opaque.
"Then Ri—"
"Yes?"
"Never mind."
Glenn shook his head, his gaze gone dry.
"You may go."
"Yes…"
Still bewildered, Raon bowed and left the Audience Chamber. Wine, all of a sudden. What was he thinking? He scratched his chin and turned it over. Does the Family Head like to drink?
"You fool! That is not it!"
Wrath popped up over the bracelet and snorted.
"If that ice-cold old man suddenly asks about liquor, the meaning is obvious!"
Obvious?
"Indeed! He wants you to buy delicious wine and side dishes from that region and bring them back!"
Wrath wagged a finger as if amazed Raon had not figured it out.
"This King shall determine the finest accompaniments. First we visit the famous restaurants of the area, and then—"
Go away.
Glenn stared down at the center of the Audience Chamber where Raon had stood and bit his lip. He doesn't like wine?
The session with Dokoe had been a wager, so that did not count. Rimer was his master, so that could be set aside. Glenn had wanted the next drinking table to be one they shared—and he had never imagined the boy would say he did not enjoy it.
If this was how it would turn out, he never should have clinked glasses with Rimer…
The thought that his precious grandson had been led astray by that elf made his hands clench of their own accord. He wanted to walk into that cave right now and rip Rimer's ears off.
He could not control his strength. The throne's armrest crumpled, and red sparks began to snap in the empty air.
"Huu…"
"Honestly."
As Glenn forced his breathing steady, Pedrick climbed the dais.
"If you want to drink with him that badly, just say so."
Pedrick clicked his tongue at Glenn's scowl.
"You do nothing but browbeat the boy. How is Raon supposed to catch a hint like that?"
If Glenn had treated him kindly from the start, Raon might have understood the question as an invitation. Instead, the man who crushed him with sheer presence every time they met had asked whether he liked wine. Of course he had not known what it meant.
"Ahem!"
Glenn cleared his throat and shook his head.
"Th-that is not it. Liquor is something one ought to learn from a proper adult. I was merely a little concerned that he has been drinking with that boozehound Dokoe and that good-for-nothing Rimer. I have no particular interest!"
He waved both hands quickly, as if it were nothing.
"Well, you're not wrong about that. Neither of those two is the sort of adult you'd want teaching a boy to drink."
Pedrick stroked his beard, conceding the point.
"Shall I arrange a drinking session with Raon, then?"
"T-truly?"
For a man who had just claimed no interest, Glenn's neck stretched out like a giraffe's.
"I will."
"Before he departs?"
"He'll be busy preparing for the mission. That won't work. I'll set it up as soon as he returns."
"Ahem. Y-yes. Of course."
Glenn nodded awkwardly, stepped down from the dais, and headed for the room where he had once drunk with Adis.
"Hmmm…"
A low hum escaped him as he began to inspect the bottles, turning them this way and that.
"For a first drink, this one. No—this is a little smoother. Wait. We should go with the finest…"
A faint flush had risen in the face of the man searching for a wine to share with Raon.
"Really now…"
Pedrick watched him and chuckled.
"I've never seen such a hopelessly doting grandfather."
Raon did not set out for House Arian at once. Instead he took the Light Wind Squad to the indoor training hall with the swimming pool and taught them how to walk a swamp.
There was no telling what they would find when they reached the Swamp of Death. Going in with some preparation was the only sensible course.
"The trick to walking a swamp is similar to walking on water. You match the aura leaving your feet to the flow of the water and keep your body's balance."
"Th-that is not as easy as you make it sound…"
Burren scowled, already in the water.
"Walking on water at Expert rank is something only you can do!"
Marta's fists trembled with indignation.
"Water feels nice…"
Runaan was not stepping on the surface at all. She was doing a backstroke, and she had already dozed off.
"Hehe!"
"Hey! That's rude!"
Yua had given up entirely and was swimming for fun, while Julius was too busy trying to stop her.
"Listen up."
Raon clapped, drawing every eye in the Light Wind Squad.
"You're right that walking on water is a Master's feat. But a swamp is a mix of water and sand. At your level, you can walk it."
A swamp swallowed you more slowly than open water. At the Light Wind Squad's current strength, it was well within reach.
"Everyone, from the top."
He issued the order and stepped back. Their skill had risen across the board; they lasted a little longer than before, reading the water's energy, before they went under. Three days of this and they'll hold in a real swamp. A little more practice and walking the marsh would be no problem. Sir Mark could already do it. As a Master, Mark Goetten could walk on water as a matter of course. A swamp would be no different from solid ground to him. We can leave next week.
Raon nodded in satisfaction and was about to call the next drill when Dokoe walked into the training hall.
"These came for you and the pouch."
He set down two wooden boxes.
"Thank you."
Raon smiled at the pair of gray hammers carved into the lids. They've finally arrived. Gifts from Borgos, master craftsman of the Gray Hammer Guild, and his chief apprentice.
"Dorian!"
Raon beckoned to Dorian—who was currently planted upside down in the water—and opened the first box.
Inside lay a single heavy-built sword, forged exactly to Dorian's order.
"You called for me?"
Dorian hurried over, panting.
"This is your sword."
Raon handed him the blade from the box.
"Oh! Ooooh!"
Dorian drew it at once. A sword flowing with blue light, like the water in the pool, breathed out a fierce killing edge.
"It's heavy, and it fits my hand perfectly! But the blade feels a little cold…"
"Your instincts are right. The drake we hunted carried frost in its body, remember?"
When you forged a weapon from a monster with an elemental nature, that nature sank into the steel. A fairly strong cold was running through Dorian's new sword.
"Th-thank you!"
"Don't thank me. Thank the Gray Hammer Guild."
"I only received this sword because of you, Vice-leader!"
Dorian bowed again, still thanking him.
"I told you it's fine. Just send them a message later and—hm?"
Raon stopped as he opened the second box. His eyes blew wide. This is…
Inside were throwing knives completely different from anything he had expected.