WeTried Translations
Translator/Editor: Order
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◈ I Became the Dark Knight in the Game World ◈
Chapter 37: The Wizard's Melancholy (2)
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As Orisin watched Armede and Kriel eat, a thought crossed their mind.
‘This guy...’
He knows more about etiquette than I expected?
Since he claimed he wasn't a proper knight, Orisin had assumed he was more like a seasoned mercenary who had spent plenty of time with a blade. But that was not the case either.
The way he handled his cutlery was far from ordinary. His severe features made him difficult to mistake for a conventional noble, but if someone said he was the head of a military family, it would have been believable enough.
Orisin spoke to Tuon. It was a private conversation sent through a thought wave so as not to interrupt Armede and Kriel's meal.
[He keeps saying he's not a real knight... Could he actually be the illegitimate son of some knightly family? Maybe his standard for what counted as a “knight” is too high. His etiquette is perfect even now, isn't it?]
Perhaps satisfied by the praise for its master, Tuon replied to Orisin without its usual complaints.
[Of course it is.]
[Huh.]
[My master's dining etiquette follows my guidance. Teaching him has been rewarding.]
So that little blade brat had been giving remote lessons in table manners.
This was driving Orisin crazy.
Orisin felt as though they had a headache in a head that had been severed long ago.
Tuon's words carried a peculiar pride, which made it even more absurd. What exactly was that thing?
Could Gratuon's Sword Spirit possess knowledge like dining etiquette? Considering how many corpses Gratuon had devoured, Orisin could not say it was impossible. Gratuon had likely cut down hundreds of nobles on the battlefield.
Still, Orisin doubted whether the Sword Spirit called Tuon had truly originated from Gratuon at all. Rather than Gratuon itself, it felt more like something else born with Gratuon as its material.
A Dark Knight who sought to stay away from the Abyss, a decapitated Spirit, or something that had once been one, and a Sword Spirit whose true nature was unknown.
They were a truly strange group.
* * *
Following Tuon's chattering instructions in his head, Kriel adjusted his grip on his utensils. He had some basic knowledge from his days on Earth about the order in which utensils were used at formal meals, but it could not compare to the guidance of a professional instructor.
Armede, who had also grown up in Count Kett's household, watched with bright eyes.
“You used to eat like a slob when you were a mercenary. Did you get properly knighted somewhere?”
She asked casually, but beneath it lay a prayer that he had not been knighted anywhere.
Even if she had been cast aside, her marriage would inevitably affect the balance of power within House Kett.
If Kriel was still a Wandering Knight, that was enough. The other two heirs would dismiss him as some lowly companion their eccentric sister had brought home.
But if Kriel commanded a knightly order belonging to another noble family in the Empire, that family's influence could be projected onto House Kett through Armede. Even if Armede insisted she had no interest in such vulgar power games, they would do everything they could to ruin it.
Kriel answered as calmly as ever.
“What? Do you have a hobby of watching people eat?”
“Hmph. Don't make me sound like some vulgar voyeur. Eating is essential to maintaining combat strength. Throughout my time as a mercenary, I watched not only you, but the meals of every soldier under our mercenary company's command.”
Armede's fluent answer spilled out, though it seemed strangely fast. Her reply reminded Kriel of the military back on Earth.
Maintaining combat strength. Phrases about meal discipline and how skipping meals had a fatal effect on combat readiness were all too familiar. It seemed Tirnanog and Earth shared the same belief that one had to eat well to fight well.
“I see. I'm still a Wandering Knight. I got caught up with the Western Army by accident, but I plan to be discharged soon.”
“The Western Army?”
Armede frowned. Well, he did not belong to any particular family, and he said he would be leaving soon. That was fortunate.
She had no idea how he had ended up being dragged all the way to such a remote place, where the Western Army faced the Three Calamities. Perhaps he had stepped forward with his sword to save someone, then somehow drifted into the Western Army.
“Well, then that's fine.”
What a subtle answer. Orisin wanted something to chew on.
Sharing a table was a great symbol of trust.
There was a reason the word for family carried the meaning of eating together. Armede had shown that she trusted Kriel enough to share the same food, then indirectly asked about his employment. In other words, she was asking whether he had any intention of placing himself under her protection.
[And here this guy is living out a knightly romance when I'm nothing but a severed head...]
While Orisin muttered to themself, a commotion sounded outside the room. The footsteps were not so much lively as frivolous. Things bumped and rattled.
The door flew open.
“Oh! Lady Armede Kett! I heard you had arranged a luncheon for me! Though I may be late-”
He was a blond young man who looked as if the words “young nobleman” and “greenhorn” had been combined and divided in half. Armede's face twisted at the sight of the uninvited guest.
“Ah, shit.”
“W-What?!”
“I don't recall sending you an invitation. Didn't they tell you at the reception desk that this wasn't a seat meant for you?”
The blond young man called Mazhar looked around in considerable confusion. His gaze fell on Kriel, who was silently chewing on greens.
The asparagus served as a garnish for the lamb steak had an excellent flavor. Mazhar's brow twitched when he saw Kriel continue eating without paying him the slightest attention.
“Who is that man, Lady Kett? A new patron for your society? But no matter who comes, none could surpass Mazhar Gabi-”
Armede snapped her fingers.
An unnatural gust swept over Mazhar. An undignified cry of “Wha?!” rang out as the wind dragged him from the guest room.
Then the door locked. Click after click sounded as the latch was secured perfectly. The entire sequence was a flawless harmony of delicate magic.
“Oh. You've improved already.”
Kriel was impressed by her skill. The last time he had seen Armede in the County of Kett, her magic had not been at this level.
Her fighting style had been to unleash overwhelming firepower without restraint. It had been far removed from such precise control.
She would either move her allies to safety before attacking or seize the initiative with an explosion, like an opening shot that announced the beginning of battle.
It seemed Armede's abilities had improved by leaps and bounds during the time Kriel had not seen her.
Armede had been about to explain Mazhar, but Kriel's admiration left her feeling oddly deflated. Was it not obvious there were unusual circumstances behind that exchange?
Yet all he had to say was that her magical skill had improved.
Praise was always nice to hear, but did timing and place not matter?
“Yes. It has. Abyss Eradication research isn't something you can do with brute force alone.”
There were several truths she did not say aloud. For example, the helplessness she had felt upon seeing Kriel lying collapsed after his battle with the Wraith King.
“Truly impressive.”
Kriel could have added more, but after saying only that, he picked up his knife again.
Armede was beginning to find him ridiculous, so she spoke first.
“Hey. Aren't you going to ask anything? Like who that Mazhar guy is, or what our relationship is?”
“What would I gain by prying into something another person doesn't wish to discuss?”
It was hard to tell whether that was consideration or indifference. Just as Armede was about to feel strangely lonely, Kriel continued.
“He's the result of your family's interference, isn't he? You declared that you would step away from the succession dispute, but whether your family believes that is another matter. Are they trying to cut you off from the family completely under the pretext of marriage?”
“What?”
It was a remarkably accurate analysis. Kriel placed marmalade over a piece of tender lamb and swallowed it.
“It probably wasn't easy to find a betrothal candidate suited to your caliber... He likely appeared as a patron of the Abyss Eradication Society, arranged funds for you, then suddenly cut off the money and said something like, ‘Marry me, and let's make the society prosper.’”
Armede's expression shifted between admiration and bewilderment in real time. Kriel felt a strange sense of satisfaction at her clear reaction.
“How did you know? Did you come after hearing about this...?”
How should he dress this up? Kriel decided to use the universal excuse.
“A knight's duty is not only to fight on the front lines. A knight must also see clearly the situation their lord faces and offer counsel so the lord can make the right choice. This level of political awareness is a basic qualification.”
To tell the truth, most of it came from dramas.
He had watched quite a few dramas back on Earth.
Author's Note
I'm back after taking a day off!
Footnotes:
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