WeTried Translations

Translator: Coughing Baby

Editor: Coughing Baby

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◈ Reformation of the Deadbeat Noble

Chapter 125

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Super Rookies (1)

The Starting Ground.

Of the three arenas in the Proof Land, it drew the most swordsmen by far.

But finding real talent there was another matter entirely.

That was inevitable.

Unlike the two arenas that only accepted carefully screened duelists, this place was, in the truest sense, a testing ground that checked nothing more than whether you had the bare right to stand on stage.

Reckless kids who'd run away from home chasing some romantic notion of swordsmanship, old men who wanted to go out with a flourish. Anyone could knock on this door, no restrictions at all.

And yet the Starting Ground stayed remarkably popular.

Some spectators actually preferred it to the other two.

There was a charm in the uncertainty.

The strange thrill of knowing a grizzled veteran might end up sharing the stage with a hopeless amateur, mixed with the small hope that today might be the day some undiscovered talent finally got noticed.

Add a little gambling on top of that, and it could feel far more thrilling than the higher tiers, where the outcome was usually easy enough to guess.

"Fight hard today too, you greenhorns!"

"Not a greenhorn, huh? Then hurry up and climb the ranks already! Quit loitering around down here!"

"Hey, look over there! Isn't that old man on his third try this time?"

"Hahaha, gramps! Don't get hurt! Here's hoping you finally make it to Pawn-level this time!"

Hearing the voice, the aging swordsman turned toward the stands and raised his sword.

His calm expression was every bit the veteran's, but his body told a different story, thin and worn out.

Of course, even that was part of the Starting Ground's charm, in its own way.

But that was purely the ordinary spectator's point of view.

Andre, a reporter for Weekly Valhalla who'd come here as a professional, kept a far more serious attitude as he swept his eyes over every corner of the arena.

He wasn't the only one.

People stood scattered across the Starting Ground, magic cameras in hand, waiting.

Every one of them was a professional reporter covering the sword-fighting weeklies, and all of them watched the entering prospective duelists with sharp eyes.

They looked like they were waiting for someone in particular, and it wasn't long before a wave of gasps rippled through the gathered reporters.

The person they'd been waiting for had finally shown up.

Brett Lloyd!

Eldest son of House Lloyd, a powerful family in Gerbera Kingdom, and reportedly the best among the rumor-heavy Krono Fencing Hall's 27th Cohort of official trainees.

Sure, he wasn't even twenty yet, but there was no way anyone should lump him in with the usual crop of promising young talents.

'This cohort? Not bad. But still nowhere near enough. There are a few worth using, sure... but plenty of rough edges left to smooth out.'

That was what Hall Master Ian had said when someone once asked him to evaluate the 27th Cohort.

Hardly a ringing endorsement, but the whole continent knew it by now.

How brutally strict a bar Ian set for his own students.

Which meant, obviously, that Brett Lloyd was the best among the "few worth using" the Hall Master himself had mentioned.

Even setting aside that he wasn't from the western kingdoms, that alone was more than enough material for a story.

'Good thing I came today. If I'd waited a few more days thinking about wait times, I would've missed this.'

'Guess being a high noble comes with connections even at the Proof Land. Getting tested right away like this...'

Testing the very next day after arriving in Aienmarc.

Some might call it cutting the line, but not a single reporter there gave it a second thought.

All their attention was fixed on one thing: just how impressive Krono's pride and joy, Brett Lloyd, would prove to be.

While they were still turning that over in their minds, another rookie appeared.

Judith, the genius commoner swordswoman often mentioned in the same breath as Brett Lloyd.

Her red hair, tied back tight in contrast to Brett's, only sharpened the reporters' anticipation.

Andre of Weekly Valhalla, too, watched with eyes bright with excitement, hoping the test would start soon.

That was when a thoroughly irritating figure entered his field of view.

"Hints. Figures he'd show up too..."

Hints, senior reporter of Weekly Arena, Weekly Valhalla's fiercest rival.

Andre scowled at the sight of him, then nodded, as if he'd half expected it anyway.

Given the man's track record, it would've been stranger if he hadn't shown.

There was no way someone as sharp as him, sharper than any other reporter in this place, could have missed the scent of a story like this.

"Well... looks like it's going to come down to who writes the better piece."

"Sorry? Didn't quite catch that."

"Nothing. Ah! Look, they're starting both tests at the same time. You take Judith's side."

Andre sent the dazed junior reporter off toward Judith and turned his full attention to Brett Lloyd's match.

The Starting Ground was already bursting at the seams as it was, and thanks to the recent boom, tests were now running several at once.

Missing the chance to watch both prospects' matches at the same time, he grumbled a bit before locking his focus onto Brett.

But once he got a look at the opponent, disappointment flooded Andre's face.

Standing across from Brett was the perpetually failing old man who'd been strutting around with all that swagger before the test even started.

Clang!

"Match over! Prospective duelist Brett Lloyd wins!"

"Ah, so close! I really had a good feeling about this one!"

'Good feeling my ass!'

We didn't even get to see the rookie's real skill because your pitiful excuse for swordsmanship couldn't push him at all!

He wanted to shout it, but of course he couldn't.

This was just how the Starting Ground worked.

Up to three matches per test, and something interesting might show up by the last one, sure, but the odds leaned heavily toward "probably not."

'If only some hidden talent happened to show up as the opponent... but that's probably too much to ask, huh?'

Just as reporter Andre was clicking his tongue in disappointment.

Clang!

A sound rang out, sharper than all the other clashing metal around it, followed immediately by a huge roar from the crowd.

His head turned toward the noise on its own.

A rather handsome young man with a mild, gentle look about him caught his eye.

It seemed the match had ended in a single strike, judging by the disappointment written across the opponent's face.

Of course, that kind of thing happened all the time at the Starting Ground.

With swordsmen of every level pouring in, one-sided victories were far more common than fierce, evenly matched duels.

"Still, that opponent's build was pretty solid... surprising, that."

Andre muttered it briefly, then let his gaze move on.

His body was too busy to spend time on some random young man like that.

Brett Lloyd and Judith mattered most, sure, but there were plenty of other swordsmen he'd had his eye on too.

'Still need to catch Karis, and Garett, and if I've got time, I'd like to see Tristan too...'

While he was thinking that over, the junior reporter he'd sent to watch Judith came dashing back, out of breath.

Andre asked.

"How'd it go?"

"Judith finished it in one hit. The opponent was pretty unremarkable, so nothing much to report."

"Figured as much... can't be helped. Ah! Tristan's match is starting over there. Let's go!"

"Yes, sir!"

Andre and the junior reporter kept scrambling around after that, chasing down test after test among the prospective duelists.

Even during the gaps between the matches they'd planned to watch, there was no time to rest.

Writing articles fast meant drafting bits and pieces along the way.

At least it was a relief that Brett Lloyd and Judith's tests no longer overlapped.

Clang!

"Match over! Prospective duelist Brett Lloyd wins!"

"Hmm... impressive skill."

"Thank you. You fought well too."

Brett Lloyd finished all three of his matches.

He came down from the stage with clean, proper manners.

He gave the cheering crowd a polite wave, then followed the usher's lead into the building.

Testing was over for him, but since level rankings were only announced once every match across the board had finished, he couldn't leave just yet.

Watching his composed retreating back, the junior reporter spoke up.

"He really has that noble young master air about him, doesn't he."

"Mm, he does."

"Guess getting an interview out of him won't be easy?"

"Looks that way."

Even just now, that had been clear enough. He'd responded to the crowd's cheers well enough, but he hadn't so much as glanced at any of the reporters.

He'd probably been burned by them a few times before.

Andre grumbled.

"Honestly, it's those garbage reporters who ruin it for everyone. If they'd just approach him properly, mannered and friendly, chat him up nicely, that'd be enough. But no, they go shoving their way in, and now he treats every reporter like ice."

"Mm... I suppose."

"What? Why'd you trail off like that?"

"Ah! Judith's match is starting now!"

Just as Andre was about to frown, the junior reporter shouted quickly.

Andre's eyes swung naturally toward Judith.

Unlike Brett's third opponent, the swordsman standing across from her actually looked like they had some real skill.

"All right. Maybe I'll get something out of this one... huh?"

The problem was, at the exact same time, another swordsman he'd had his eye on was fighting in a different match.

Karis, the veteran mercenary.

Before word got out about Brett Lloyd and Judith showing up, he'd been the one soaking up all the reporters' attention, known for having some real ability.

But there was nothing to be done about it in a situation like this.

Andre frowned and said.

"Go watch Karis's match instead."

"Yep. Got it."

The junior reporter nodded quickly and dashed off.

His expression back under control, Andre focused his eyes, ready to give Judith's match his full attention.

How long would her opponent hold out?

Ideally, a good long while.

Or if not that, then it'd be great if Judith just went ahead and showed off her full strength in style.

While turning those thoughts over, waiting for the last test to begin.

A thought suddenly cut through reporter Andre's mind.

'Hints, why hasn't that sneaky bastard shown his face at all?'

It was strange.

No matter how you looked at it, today's stars were Brett Lloyd and Judith.

If some knight from a western noble house or a swordsman from another famous fencing hall had shown up, that'd be one thing, but with nobody like that around, it only made sense that everyone's attention would be locked on those two.

Every reporter whose face he recognized was, in fact, glued to their matches.

And yet...

'Where's Hints?'

Andre's brow furrowed.

If the man hadn't shown up at all, he'd have understood.

But for him to appear before the tests even started and then show zero interest in either of their matches was extremely, deeply strange.

'Or is he maybe hiding up in a tree somewhere, watching from a distance?'

That seemed plausible enough.

Unlike his own sorry excuse for a body, that guy was a naturally nimble elf.

On top of that, he was good looking and plenty capable too.

Thinking about it that way suddenly made his blood boil.

His face plastered with irritation, he was just barely managing to hold his temper in check when the junior reporter came running back with a dazed look, and Andre couldn't hold back any longer, barking at them.

"You little punk, why are you back already! I told you to keep watching Karis's match!"

"Uh, uh..."

"What do you mean, 'uh'! Get back there and watch, now!"

Andre raised a threatening fist.

Bald, potbellied, sure, but to his junior reporters, he was every bit as terrifying as a demonoid.

The junior reporter couldn't help but tremble.

But they didn't go back.

Thoroughly cowed, they spoke in a voice that kept trailing off into nothing.

"I, it's just... the match already ended."

"What?"

"It's decided. Karis lost. In an instant."

"Hmph. I see. Karis won... wait, lost?"

What was that supposed to mean?

Just as he was about to ask, the sound of clashing swords rang out.

Andre and the junior reporter's eyes both snapped toward Judith.

The red haired swordswoman had already finished her match in a flash and was coming down from the stage.

Having missed something important yet again, Andre nearly flew into another rage, but managed to swallow it down and ask instead.

"So, he lost? Karis did?"

"Yes, yes! Lost in an instant. Honestly, I didn't even see it properly. It was over while I was still running there."

"Who in the world was the opponent?"

"That, well, over there..."

The junior reporter pointed at someone.

Andre's head snapped toward where he was pointing.

And there, catching his eye, was the mild featured blond young man he'd glanced past earlier without a second thought.

"........."

And beside him, scribbling something down with great enthusiasm, stood the elf reporter Hints.

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