To Remington County (3)
The horse wore out and forced a rest before I could even declare I was giving up.
Which was why my brother was staring at me with pure horror on his face.
"Are you even human, Edwin?"
"That's what a divine blessing is for."
As a Guardian built entirely around defense, it was more than possible.
"That's not what I mean."
"Then what do you mean?"
The barrier had torn at some point along the way, so I had taken a few scrapes. But the blessing also carried a natural recovery effect for anything short of a fatal wound. Wipe off the dust and the body patched itself up on its own.
I was more worried about the durability of my gear than my flesh, which was apparently enough to make my brother's temples throb. He pressed his fingers hard against them.
"I'm saying that deranged training method cannot possibly be a revelation from the War God Cretus!!!"
He brought up the story of Cretus the Immortal that I had told our father—clearly convinced I had received a true revelation and therefore knew secrets ordinary people did not.
It's a perfectly plausible theory.
In the lore, mages who received related blessings were invited into a secret library filled with nothing but grimoires. There they could absorb as much knowledge as their blessing and Intelligence stat allowed. So of course he assumed I had acquired something similar.
He just couldn't wrap his head around the idea that Cretus would hand down the knowledge of getting dragged behind a horse.
"Obviously it wasn't a revelation."
I had never once claimed it was.
"…Then what in the hells was that insanity?"
My brother looked back along the road we had come with a complicated expression. The long drag marks of my body were still carved into the dirt. We must have passed a caravan of merchants while I was being hauled along; the embarrassment had clearly hit him hard.
"Efficient training."
"Who the hell trains like that?!"
"Edwin Revan, second son of Viscount Revan, trains like that, hyung-nim."
"You lunatic."
Looking utterly speechless, he swung the bundle of preserved rations in his hand as if to smack me over the head. I had the Guardian's blessing and a barrier, so it wouldn't have hurt, but the attack didn't look like it would raise my pain tolerance either. I dodged.
He sighed and tossed the rations into the pot of boiling water instead.
"Hand over the family seal, Edwin."
"…You're really doing this?"
"Enough nonsense. Give it here, you damn reprobate."
He confiscated the dagger engraved with the family crest and examined it with another heavy sigh.
"You killed a Crimson Bear the moment you received your blessing. I don't believe that was luck. Especially not after I took one down myself."
His gaze flicked to the sword at his hip, clearly replaying the day I had slain the beast alone.
"So even if I question your methods, I had no intention of interfering. But I will not stand by while you drag the honor of House Revan through the mud. This is the most leniency I can offer, Edwin."
Fair enough.
The reason we were riding warhorses so hard toward the Remington County was simple: I had chosen the Guardian's blessing. Amazingly, that alone had been enough for a letter thick with insults and threats of dishonor to arrive at our door. In this world, deliberately selecting the Guardian class was beyond common sense. And now, on top of that, I was performing stunts any sane person would call deranged.
My brother—soon to be head of the family—acting to protect the house's name was only natural. I would have done the same in his place.
He stared at the seal dagger with a conflicted look, fully aware his decision was rational yet still wondering if he was casting his own blood aside.
"Does it really have to go this far?"
It wasn't too late. A blessing could still be exchanged before level 10. The unspoken offer hung between us: admit it had all been a mistake and switch classes.
"Three months. Just three months."
"Hm?"
"That's how long it'll take me to catch up to your three years."
"Ha. Go ahead and try."
He stirred the pot with a dismissive snort. But when I simply kept staring down into the stew without another word, his shoulders twitched and he looked up.
"…You're serious?"
He had taken it as a light joke. I nodded, ladled the contents into a bowl, blew on it, and started eating.
It's more than doable.
Raising the Shield of Faith to Level 2 had brought a major change: the passive Cretus Martial Arts. In the game it simply replaced a character's basic combat animations—the same way a greatsword user's motions differed from a dual-wielder's. With the passive, you could perfectly replicate the movements Cretus himself had mastered in life.
Even then the damage output is still lacking, but—
Once the Shield of Faith hit Level 3, real damage-tank firepower arrived. You learned a skill that let you concentrate the barrier—normally thirty percent of your total HP coating the entire body—into a single point. You took the barrier that already scaled off your HP and equipment defense and slammed it into one focused strike. While other melee classes fretted over offense-defense balance or evasion, the Guardian became the only class that could simply tank the hits and still win the trade.
Of course the road there was brutal, and the infamous wall at level 15 would demand grinding every last inch. But with the Slash-and-Burn Farming method I already had planned, even that would go quickly.
"Edwin."
"Yeah?"
"…What was that training earlier for?"
"Ah, the Hector Training? Pure pain-tolerance grind. Surprisingly effective."
At first it had hurt so badly I made noises that shouldn't come out of a human throat. Spike-studded armor that stabbed even when blunt, bare skin scraping over ground while tied to a warhorse, the occasional rock adding its own contribution—describing the pain was almost impossible. Now it had settled into a manageable "ghhh…"
"…You think it would work for me too?"
He asked while carefully looking away. Three months. Had the claim that I would close a three-year gap in only three months ignited his competitive streak? Or was it something more…
…that sort of extremely masculine reasoning?
I didn't know. But there was only one thing I needed to say.
"Don't. It's only possible because I'm a Guardian."
Pain-tolerance passives existed for every class. Getting hit a lot toughened anyone up; that was basic biology even without a blessing. But no one could compare to a Guardian, who received an S-rank correction to defense. Better to raise it naturally through as many real fights as possible than to force it.
— Don't Try This At Home.
Yeah. That phrase fit the situation perfectly.
"Hmmm…"
My brother had grown a beard for my sister-in-law, who preferred wilder men thanks to some past experience. The way he was gently stroking that beard with one finger was his tell—he was thinking something useless again. Once he became lord of House Revan, Hector Training would probably become standard practice before long.
No need to rush, hyung-nim.
Once I recruited a mage, I planned to spread the optimized builds created by collective intelligence throughout House Revan. Mages entered the Great Library of Ashcraft through meditation—the spiritual library forged by the Great Mage Ashcraft himself. There they encountered vast knowledge according to their ability; I would use that as the perfect cover to feed information back to the family. Until then, I preferred he stop having dumb ideas.
He'll handle it fine on his own.
I had no choice but to trust that much.
The Remington County castle belonged to an entirely different class of wealth from Viscount Revan's holdings.
It's huge…
What I had heard in reports and the reality before me were worlds apart. Even a frontier count was still a count, I supposed.
And this is the house we've managed to piss off.
"Do not cause trouble. That bizarre training of yours is banned for the time being. Understood?"
I gave the clean clothes I had prepared another once-over. No issues.
"Yes, hyung-nim."
"Then follow me."
With the family seal confiscated, I had to stick close. Not that it mattered. Warhorses announced themselves from a distance; the gate guards came out already bowing low.
"Pardon the interruption! Might we trouble you for a moment of your time?"
My brother presented the seal dagger and the letter sent from Remington County to the tense-looking guards.
"Verified! Thank you!"
With the guard captain acting as guide, we headed toward the lord's castle while I carefully surveyed the surroundings of Remington County.
So this is what it's like here…
Even with my knowledge of Path of Guardians, the Remington family felt unfamiliar. Our kingdom only appeared in the game as a field labeled "Fallen Nation," after all.
"Edwin."
My brother issued a quiet warning: stop gawking like a country bumpkin and act like a proper noble. I checked his expression, then carefully met the eyes of the guard captain who had glanced our way.
"My apologies. The city is far more beautiful and full of life than the rumors suggested. I was momentarily lost in it."
The captain puffed his chest out with obvious pride, a small snort of satisfaction escaping him.
"If the opportunity arises, I recommend a visit in autumn. The endless golden wheat fields are a truly magnificent sight."
The Remington bloodline carried the blood of fairies who could command spirits. Wherever a spirit user resided, agriculture flourished for generations. The vista he boasted of would be every bit as stunning as he claimed.
"I look forward to it."
I meant it. If we survived the nightmare five years from now, I wanted to come back and see that pride for myself.
So—
I need to work even harder.
Not wanting to pile more pressure onto my brother, I quietly urged my horse forward toward the lord's castle. We explained our purpose to the knight in charge of security. Before long a steward appeared; we handed over our warhorses and followed him into the waiting chamber.
We've shown every courtesy we possibly can.
Rather than answering the letter with another letter, the acting lord of House Revan had come in person, bringing the offender with him. That was the highest form of respect possible in response to Remington's missive. At least they hadn't turned us away at the gate, so the absolute worst outcome was already off the table.
Still, my mouth felt dry from the tension.
"Edwin."
"Yes, hyung-nim."
"We are here as representatives of our house."
"I know."
"You did nothing wrong that forced us here. We came to clear up a minor misunderstanding."
"I know that too."
"Then lift your chest. Is the great warrior of the Immortal Cretus going to hang his head over something this small? The same man who laughed while being dragged behind a horse?"
A challenging smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Hearing it put that way, he was right. I squared my shoulders and stuck out my chest.
"Hup!"
I struck a pose.
"What are you doing?"
"Look—don't my pecs look like they're walking on their own?"
"You lunatic."
He snorted a laugh and smacked me on the head. Ah, if something this minor was enough to make me fold, I never would have chosen Guardian in the first place.
………
……
…
"Ahem…"
"Is the man who intends to become head of the great House Revan going to hang his head over something this small, hyung-nim?"
"Read the room!"
Four hours had passed since the steward showed us into the waiting chamber. The Remington family still had not deigned to respond.
So that's how you want to play it…
In short, we were being snubbed.