WeTried Translations

Translator: Coughing Baby

Editor: Coughing Baby

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◈ Reformation of the Deadbeat Noble

Chapter 184

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Bewildered (1)

Phalanke and Lavath were both kingdoms of some renown in the central continent.

Neither matched the sheer national power of Gerbera Kingdom, but compared to a city state like Calven, they counted as strong powers in their own right.

Each also boasted an outstanding figure to its name.

'Sevion Brooks, Phalanke's Sword Master, and Perry Martinez of Lavath.'

That was it.

Those two were exactly why Amira Shelton had been working so hard to secure elite manpower.

Sevion Brooks needed no explanation. A Sword Master, plain and simple.

Ten years now since he'd reached that height every swordsman dreamed of, and no one alive could afford to dismiss him.

As for whether Perry Martinez of Lavath was any easier to handle by comparison, the answer was no there either.

If anything, when it came to dungeon exploration, a high-ranking mage could outshine even a Sword Master.

'Purely in terms of combat strength, he's said to rival the three heads of Runtel, the kingdom of magic itself...'

Which meant that despite being a mage, he possessed one of the rare few sets of skills capable of standing against a Master.

He hadn't earned the title of the central continent's greatest mage for nothing.

Having thought this far, Amira Shelton let out a long sigh.

Still, it was a relief. Unlike the old days when Calven's forces amounted to barely a handful, the city now had strength that wouldn't embarrass anyone.

Young swordsmen, none of them even in their mid twenties, and yet two of them were Sword Masters.

The moment Phalanke, Lavath, even Abilius laid eyes on their skill, they'd likely react with shock.

But that aside, one concern still nagged at her.

'Illia Lindsay... she's here for the dungeon expedition because of Ignet Crescentia, isn't she?'

The bad blood between House Lindsay and Ignet Crescentia was well known.

No one had really done anything wrong, exactly, but the way things had ended between them had been ugly enough.

It was also an open secret that Illia Lindsay carried a fierce fixation on Ignet.

Of course, Illia had made a point of declaring that she wouldn't let personal feelings interfere with the job, that she was here as a mere mercenary and not as a representative of House Lindsay... but Amira still couldn't just sit back and do nothing.

'Ha, don't wind yourself up so tight. Leave matters like this to an old man and give the dungeon expedition your full attention. I'll handle whatever complaints come in from Phalanke and Lavath myself.'

At least it helped that Gregory Griffin, commander of the First Knight Order, had told her he'd take full charge of the complicated business.

His age and his body, already close to retirement, kept him from joining the field himself, but in matters of politics and diplomacy, he far outstripped her.

If he'd said not to worry, then nothing serious would come of it.

Muttering that to herself, Amira Shelton sighed once more, then picked up needle and cloth.

She threw herself into cross stitching with real dedication.

'Nothing clears a cluttered head quite like this.'

She'd loved cross stitch since she was a child.

Building the result one stitch at a time, watching it come together, gave her a satisfaction entirely different from the thrill of swinging a sword.

Naturally, this was a secret from her subordinates.

The vice commander, meant to be dignified and tough, fidgeting with her rough hands over a needle? That image simply wasn't something she could let anyone see. Not that there was much risk of being caught. She always locked the door tight.

But there was no locking out a magical cat that could pop up out of thin air.

Ppyororong!

"Amira, whatcha doing?"

"..."

"Oh, I know that one! Cross stitch? That's cross stitch, right?"

I want to do that too, but my paws can't hold a needle...

Lulu muttered, staring down at her own front paws.

Watching her, Amira Shelton spoke in a drained voice.

"Lulu, I told you not to just barge in whenever you want."

"Huh? Why not?"

"I'm a person with a private life, you know. Out there I have to keep up a dignified, elegant image as vice commander, but in private I want to enjoy hobbies I don't want anyone else seeing, wear comfortable clothes... that's only natural, isn't it?"

"But I'm a cat, so isn't that different?"

Lulu said this with total innocence.

Hesitation flickered across Amira Shelton's face.

Setting aside whether that logic actually held water, the truth was, she liked cats.

She'd simply never had the nerve to keep a pet, given how busy her work kept her.

That was part of the reason she was still unmarried in her mid thirties, too.

'But if it's a cat that can talk and uses a litter box properly, and just comes to visit like this...'

Would that really be so bad?

In fact, Amira had already spent no small amount of time with Lulu, thinking exactly that.

This magical cat, for whatever reason, seemed to like her.

"Amira, can I stay? You kind of look like a friend I really like, so I'm into you. That's why I want to hang around."

"...Do I look that much like them?"

"Not that much, just a little? Mostly when you're mad."

"Is this friend a swordsman too? How old are they?"

"Yep, a swordsman. And younger than you. Just turned twenty, maybe? Or not yet? But they fight amazingly well!"

"Oh..."

Watching Lulu boast as though it were her own achievement, Amira Shelton crossed her arms.

A mysterious magical cat vouching for a young prodigy like that was hard not to covet. She said,

"Could you introduce me to this person sometime?"

"Hm? Why?"

"Well, if they're a swordsman, I could teach them a thing or two, and since you say they look like me, I'm curious. Might be nice to get to know each other."

"Sure. I'll introduce you later!"

"Really?"

"Yeah. But they're gonna be stronger than you."

"..."

"What?"

"Nothing."

Amira Shelton lowered her head.

Lulu watched her, tail swishing, as she threw herself back into her cross stitch.

* * *

Ten days after joining Calven's dungeon expedition.

Airen Farreira's group moved on to Lavath along with Amira Shelton and the rest of the party.

Nothing particularly troublesome came up.

They'd been told there would be a formal introduction later, and until then, they were free to spend their time as they pleased.

Of course, "free to spend their time as they pleased" didn't mean any of them planned to just sit around doing nothing.

Illia had her own way of preparing, and Lulu had hers.

Airen prepared in his own way too, readying himself to meet Ignet Crescentia.

He settled into a corner of the training grounds, beneath a tree, and sank into meditation.

"Haah..."

Slow, steady breaths. A cross-legged posture with hands and feet turned toward the sky.

It was the ideal position for drawing in the spirit energy scattered across the world, but right now Airen wasn't running the Five Elements Divine Technique.

He simply wanted a moment, before meeting Ignet, to look carefully into his own heart.

On the long road from the continent's northwest to its center, he'd wrestled with plenty of questions.

Why was he going to meet Ignet in the first place?

Because of the proposal she'd made him?

Because of the fighting spirit she'd stirred in him?

Neither answer was wrong.

Back then, Ignet had dealt him a tremendous shock, and left him burning with frustration.

The way she'd driven straight into his own immaturity and laziness had been unbearably irritating, and yet he'd envied her for it too.

Maybe that was exactly why the feeling of not wanting to lose to her had grown so large in him.

But if someone asked whether that feeling sat at the very center of everything driving him, Airen could only shake his head.

What had brought him to where he stood now.

What had let him break free of the man in the dream's youthful rage and finally raise a sword of his own wasn't a competitive drive. It was goodwill toward the world.

'Think it through. What my Past Life finally understood, at the very end.'

'The unfulfilled will he left behind in his final moments, full of regret and things left undone.'

'Let me take that in, not in the man's way, but in my own, and carry it forward.'

'With Karakum's advice, with Tarakhan's teaching, let me sharpen it and build my own conviction.'

Fwoosh!

A flame rose up inside his heart.

The fierce heat wrapped around the steel his Past Life had left behind, sharpening it further, heating it further.

Airen clenched his jaw.

This wasn't like before, when he'd been too busy getting dragged along by the man's will to ever wield it properly, when he couldn't answer Ignet's scolding with any confidence.

Now, he stood with a sword entirely his own.

Only then did he understand.

The reason he wanted to stand before her wasn't to beat her.

It was to finally, completely graduate from the person he used to be.

'Ignet too, in a way, could be called one of my teachers.'

Airen nodded slowly.

Once his thoughts settled, peace finally came to him.

Along with it, his breathing, briefly unsteady, evened out again. He quietly opened his closed eyes.

There, sitting in the exact same posture as him, was a man in his fifties.

Airen asked.

"How long were you planning to keep watching?"

"You noticed?"

"..."

"And here I thought I'd hidden my presence pretty well."

"..."

"How long have you known?"

The man's voice carried no rise or fall, flat and dry, and his expression showed just as little movement.

Still, Airen could tell the middle aged man's surprise was genuine.

The problem was, Airen didn't want his meditation interrupted right now.

'How should I put this.'

If he told the truth outright, the man's interest would probably only grow stronger.

After a moment's thought, Airen decided to lie.

"About twenty minutes."

"Sharp senses. I figured you wouldn't notice until you opened your eyes."

"..."

Should he have pretended not to notice at all?

The thought crossed his mind briefly, but he decided there was no need to make things needlessly difficult.

He had a rough idea who this man was.

Between what he'd heard from Amira Shelton and the unusual weight of the man's presence, it wasn't hard to guess.

Which meant this man's rank and influence were probably considerable too.

But before any of that mattered, the man in front of him was a swordsman. Same as Airen.

'A swordsman watching another swordsman train, interrupting like this, he has to know that's rude...'

Just as Airen finished his thought and opened his mouth to speak, careful to keep his tone polite and even,

the middle aged man, who had been sitting in the same posture across from him, rose to his feet.

His expression stayed just as blunt as before.

But the corner of his mouth had lifted, ever so slightly.

He said,

"Sorry for interrupting. Whenever I see a young talent like you, my heart just can't help but race a little."

"...Thank you."

"Don't mind an old man. Keep doing what you were doing. I'll be off then."

With that, the middle aged man quietly walked away.

Airen watched his retreating back, let out a small breath, and closed his eyes again.

But he couldn't hold his focus.

The middle aged swordsman, who had seemed about to leave for good, was coming back. Airen could feel it.

"..."

This time the man didn't sit facing him like before. He stood off at a distance, observing.

He probably assumed Airen hadn't noticed. Another sigh slipped from Airen's lips.

Still, it was fine.

Not nearly as uncomfortable as having someone stare at him from right up close.

He'd actually considered retreating to his room to continue, but decided that breaking his focus mid-move would be worse, so Airen chose to hold his ground.

That resolve, though, went flying off somewhere within a minute.

Wooooom!

Another uninvited guest.

Unlike the middle aged swordsman, this presence radiated a fierce intensity.

Very different in feel from a swordsman's aura, but clearly someone formidable in their own right.

Who could it possibly be?

He didn't even need to wonder.

Two middle aged voices drifted into Airen's ears.

"Perry. Quit bothering the poor kid and get lost."

"What are you talking about? I'm just watching. If anything, you're the one interrupting by talking to me."

"This young man's senses are sharp enough to notice me sneaking up on him even while hiding my presence. Someone like you, reeking of mage all over, is obviously going to break his focus."

"Ah, is that so? My apologies, then. Wasn't my intention."

"...It's fine."

Airen nodded, somewhat reluctantly. His eyes stayed closed the whole time.

Of course, saying it was fine didn't mean he was inviting them to keep chattering away.

But this new arrival, the mage Perry Martinez, wasn't nearly as solemn a man as the Sword Master Sevion Brooks.

"He really does seem like an exceptional young man. Kept his composure and stayed in meditation even after hearing my name. Tempting, isn't he?"

"Don't talk nonsense. Since when does a mage covet a swordsman?"

"Why not? Unlike those types who just hole up in some back room fiddling with magic tools, a battle mage benefits from having both mind and body well developed. Someone with a build like his, and that kind of focus, of course I'd be tempted. Don't tell me you're thinking of taking him on as a disciple?"

"..."

"Ha, hit the nail right on the head, didn't I. Not gonna happen, though. Your teaching style is way too abstract and vague, doesn't sit well with kids these days."

"That's none of your concern. It's a matter between me and this young man, nobody else. And with his talent, he'd have no trouble understanding what I teach. He might even reach Master rank faster than I did."

"Wait, did you just say 'between the two of us'? When did you two get so close?"

"My apologies, but my training is finished for today. I should head back in."

"..."

"..."

Airen Farreira had already risen to his feet at some point, offering a polite bow in farewell.

He walked off in the opposite direction, neither fast nor slow, and the middle aged Sword Master and the high ranking mage stood there watching him go, dumbfounded.

They didn't stay frozen forever, of course. Perry Martinez, the more talkative of the two, spoke up first.

"He ran off because you made him uncomfortable."

"...He left because of your noise, not mine."

"Fine, let's say that's true. Anyway, I'm curious. Doesn't seem like he's from our kingdom..."

"Not from mine either."

"Then he must be with Calven... I'll have to look into it."

'I'll do this in my room from tomorrow on.'

The training grounds were for practicing swordsmanship, nothing else.

Listening to the two middle aged men's voices carrying behind him, Airen Farreira made that resolution.

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