WeTried Translations

Translator: Coughing Baby

Editor: Coughing Baby

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◈ Reformation of the Deadbeat Noble

Chapter 19

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Meeting with the Winners (1)

Krono Fencing Hall wasn't a knight academy. At its core, it was simply a place that taught swordsmanship.

But no one on the continent treated a Krono graduate as an ordinary swordsman.

That wasn't about skill.

It was about character. Krono graduates were praised as more knightly than knights themselves, people who valued honor and duty, so called "chivalry," as much as any knight who'd sworn an oath, and who carried themselves with the same integrity.

That's exactly what Krono's swordsmen were known for.

"Competition is interesting, isn't it. It turns the lonely, painful hours of training into something you can actually enjoy. It's also precious, in its own way. It can carry you to heights you'd never reach alone."

"Chasing after someone ahead of you, or struggling not to be caught by someone behind you, that kind of striving can lead to achievements that surprise even yourself."

"But."

Get too consumed by that, and you might lose sight of what's around you. You might walk right past something important without ever noticing it.

Ian looked over the entire group of successful candidates as he spoke. The trainees flinched without meaning to.

The Hall Master smiled and kept going.

"Trainee Airen Farreira, however, was different."

"In a moment where things could easily have gone badly for him, he sacrificed his own chances, and because of that, he was able to save a fellow trainee who'd fallen into the water."

"Everyone here will have their own opinion on that. But every instructor here, myself included, agreed that what he did had real value."

"That is why this trainee is standing on this podium today."

He stopped talking.

The crowd stayed silent. Each of them watched the Hall Master, the instructors, and Airen Farreira with a different expression on their face.

The Hall Master, who'd deliberately let the silence stretch, spoke again.

His voice carried weight.

"This fencing hall exists to help all of you develop your talent fully, to help you wield a sword better. But I think you all know we don't teach only that."

"....."

"Before you think about how to become a better swordsman, I'd like you to think, at least once, about why you're training with a sword in the first place, and what you intend to do with the strength you gain from it."

With that, the lecture ended. What followed was the standard award ceremony procedure. The recipients weren't limited to five. There were six, Airen Farreira included.

Clap, clap, clap, clap, clap.

Every trainee gave the customary applause.

But their thoughts weren't so uniform.

Lance Patterson, one of the Brett crowd, felt ashamed of himself for having badmouthed Airen.

A few of the others still hadn't changed their minds.

They decided the lazy lord had just been putting on an act of virtue to get in the Hall Master's good graces.

Some trainees, who'd never once given the matter any thought, found themselves wondering for the first time why they'd picked up a sword at all. Others found themselves looking back on the character education lessons from etiquette class that they'd always tuned out.

And every single one of them started paying a lot more attention to Airen Farreira.

Far more than before.

***

After the award ceremony held in the auditorium wrapped up, the trainees were given a week of free time.

It was the first real free time the preliminary trainees had ever been given.

They'd technically been allowed some freedom right before the Mid-Term Evaluation too, but resting right before a test was basically unthinkable in practice.

The kids let loose for the first time in a long while, finally allowing themselves to relax.

Of course, that didn't apply to Airen Farreira.

He hadn't changed, and so his daily routine hadn't changed either. He kept up the same training he'd repeated so many times it had gone past exhausting into something closer to tedious.

Nothing had changed.

Except for one thing: his relationship with Illia Lindsay, who'd looked out for him so steadily all this time, had soured. Aside from that, nothing was different at all.

He was mulling that over while running laps on the track when it happened.

Tap, tap.

"Hey."

"Hm?"

"Sorry about before. And thanks."

"......?"

Judith had appeared out of nowhere, tapped his shoulder, and thrown out words that made no sense to him.

Airen stood there blankly for a second before letting out an "Ah."

He'd finally realized she was talking about him saving her during the Mid-Term Evaluation.

I didn't think Judith had it in her to say thanks.

It was unexpected, but not incomprehensible. Airen nodded with a faint smile.

Still, one question remained.

"But what's the sorry part for...?"

"Forget it. Anyway, I owed you a sorry and a thanks. Two things. But it seems like my help had a lot to do with you getting that award at the ceremony, so."

"Huh?"

What in the world was she talking about?

Was she seriously saying that because he'd saved her, and that was why he got the award, some of the credit belonged to her too?

While he was working through that thought, Judith opened her mouth again.

"So that's one paid back, one still owed. I'll think it over slowly and figure out how to pay off the rest."

"......"

"Anyway, that's how it's gonna be, so take care of me going forward."

"......"

"Why aren't you answering?"

"Huh? Uh, uh..."

"Alright, I won't bother you anymore. Work hard."

Having dumped out exactly what she wanted to say and nothing else, in a rush that made no sense to him, the red haired girl vanished.

Airen watched her go and let out a short, dry laugh.

It wasn't an unpleasant feeling.

Whatever the content had actually meant, the mood Judith gave off the whole time she was talking hadn't been bad at all.

It was the first goodwill he'd gotten from a fellow trainee since Illia.

Just delivered in an extremely unique, refreshing sort of way.

My head's spinning.

Airen was still struggling to make sense of what had just happened when a familiar face approached him. An assistant instructor.

"Preliminary trainee number 311, Airen Farreira."

"Yes!"

"The Hall Master wants to see you. Go wash up and get ready."

"...Yes, sir."

No one told him why, and no one asked.

There was no need to.

The lazy lord finished getting ready quickly and headed toward the Hall Master's room, swallowing hard against a dry throat.

***

"I see. I understand completely now. I think I've been far too narrow minded up to this point."

"No need to run yourself down like that. Admitting your own shortcomings right away isn't something a narrow minded person can do. Don't beat yourself up too much over an old man's words."

"Not at all, sir. Old man, you say. How could I ever take the Fencing Hall Master's words lightly."

"Heh heh."

"What you said was exactly right. I came here to learn more, in a wider world... and instead I arrogantly clung to my own methods. As you advised, from now on, I'll learn from anyone, wherever there's something to learn."

Even if it comes from someone who looks far beneath me.

Brett quietly resolved to himself. He kept that last thought to himself, though.

The Hall Master watched him and nodded with a pleased smile.

A kid worth teaching.

He wasn't a genius who could learn ten things from one lesson, but he had enough understanding to pick up two or three.

Nothing to fault in him, mentally or in character.

He carried the stubbornness and pride typical of high nobility, sure, but weighed against a sense of responsibility even bigger than that, it barely counted as a flaw. Something easily corrected, too.

This year's crop of trainees really is a strong one.

Thinking that to himself, the Fencing Hall Master spoke.

"Glad you understood. So, did you like your award?"

"Of course I did... words that precious, that can't even be traded for gold, I'll carry them in my heart for the rest of my life!"

"That's a bit much for me to carry, but I won't say it feels bad."

"Then, I'll take my leave."

Ian nodded, and Brett bowed respectfully and withdrew.

A noble, powerful air, hard to believe from a thirteen year old boy.

In any other class, he'd have been the clear top student without question.

But.

Unfortunately, this class has too many strong contenders.

That much was true.

There were three, no, four trainees who, under normal circumstances, absolutely should have taken the top spot.

And one of them was, right now, putting on such an overwhelming performance that it made the others feel a real sense of relative deprivation.

And now, that very person walked into the room.

Her silver hair shimmering as if it had drunk in moonlight, Illia Lindsay spoke.

"As my award, I'd like to boldly request a training match with you, Hall Master."

"...Quite the bold ask."

"Is it a request you can't grant?"

"I could grant it. But it feels a bit cheeky, don't you think. Coming from a girl who has no intention of ever officially enrolling in our fencing hall."

"......"

Illia kept a silence that was, itself, an admission.

Ian clicked his tongue and shook his head.

"Let me give you one piece of advice. Stop letting other people pull you around and live your own life. Don't waste your time here chained to some pointless obsession. Go home to your house and learn your family's sword style. That'll serve you far better."

"......"

"Understood?"

"I'd like a training match with you, Hall Master."

"...Stubborn as an old ox tendon."

The Hall Master let out a long breath and looked at the silver haired girl with something like pity in his eyes.

Others couldn't sense it. But he could.

Just as a still surface of water could reflect a person's face, his own water like energy let him glimpse the hatred burning deep in Illia's heart.

But he had no way to put that flame out.

In the end, the Hall Master nodded.

He rose from his seat, took the wooden practice sword hanging on the wall, and tossed it to Illia.

Then he pulled a wooden staff from his own waist and said,

"The room's spacious enough, no problem doing it here, is there?"

"Thank you."

Illia bowed her head. As she straightened back up, there was fire flickering in the girl's eyes.

Twenty minutes passed.

After the training match, and after receiving plenty of advice about swordsmanship on top of it, she withdrew with a satisfied look on her face.

"Thank you for a kindness I don't deserve. I won't forget it."

Click.

"......"

By contrast, Ian's expression wasn't good at all.

A child more talented than anyone else, a treasure the entire continent should be proud of, and she was walking a hard, painful road.

And there wasn't even anything worthwhile waiting for her at the end of it.

Based on the old man's own experience, all that girl would find waiting for her in the end was regret and emptiness.

Not that there's anything I can do about it, either.

You could lead an ox to water, but you couldn't force it to drink.

No one could change another person's heart by force.

So she'd have to realize it for herself. She'd have to claw her own way out of that empty obsession on her own.

The Hall Master genuinely worried for the girl, and prayed her road ahead would turn out bright.

A little while later, a boy walked into the room.

"May I come in?"

"Of course. Come in, come in."

Ian quickly shook off his thoughts about Illia.

He couldn't keep dragging that worry around. It wouldn't be fair to the other trainees.

Smiling, he looked at the final award recipient, Airen Farreira, and spoke.

"So, you know why I called you here, don't you?"

"Yes, I do."

"As you probably guessed, it's to give you your award. Is there something particular you'd like to receive? It doesn't have to be something material."

He wasn't just saying that.

Krono's Fencing Hall Master genuinely meant it.

He hadn't asked this question of the previous five trainees.

He'd already worked out each of their inclinations and decided on a fitting award for each of them. Though he hadn't been able to give Illia Lindsay what she actually wanted.

But Airen's case was different.

Even with the discernment he'd built up over a long life.

Even with his own water like energy, which could reflect what lay in someone's heart, he couldn't pin down exactly what kind of person the boy in front of him was.

I'll need to stay here and keep watching him for whatever time is left.

Ian had already made up his mind to stick around here.

He looked at the trainee, who'd kept his mouth shut, and spoke again.

"Speak freely. This old man's got some pull, believe it or not. I can grant most things, and even if it's something hard to grant, I won't get upset about it. So, what do you want?"

Maybe it was those words that gave him the courage.

Airen Farreira, who'd been sitting with his gaze lowered slightly, lifted his eyes and met the Hall Master's.

Then, letting out a short breath, he finally spoke the words he'd been holding inside.

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