WeTried Translations

Translator: Coughing Baby

Editor: Coughing Baby

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

◈ Reformation of the Deadbeat Noble

Chapter 29

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The Calm Before the Storm (1)

Two days after Ian's Sword Dance, the instructors overseeing each class changed their teaching policy all at once.

"From now on, we're increasing the emphasis on self-directed training."

Until then, the standard lessons had gone like this: an instructor would demonstrate the form of Krono's basic swordsmanship, and the trainees would follow along.

Different guidance had been given depending on each trainee's individual traits, but the method itself was fundamentally rigid, lacking much flexibility.

That was no longer the case.

Trainees could now focus their efforts on whichever areas they wanted to dig into.

Rather than forcing a fixed curriculum, the instructors focused on fielding questions or offering advice when it seemed useful.

In other words, they'd shifted from leading the lessons to supporting them.

"Instructor, to put more power into this motion..."

"How do I keep my balance while flowing through this combination..."

The trainees welcomed the change wholeheartedly.

For children brimming with talent, five months was a long time. They'd already mastered every form of Krono's basic swordsmanship.

Some had begun carving out paths of their own, and even the relatively slower growers had found a thread of progress through the Hall Master's sword.

That was the truth of it.

The Hall Master's absurd Sword Dance had changed everything.

'If it's this, I might have a shot too!'

'If I can just refine what I felt yesterday enough to use it for real...'

'Sure, I'm in C-Class right now, but I can do this! If I make this realization mine!'

Passion that had already been burning hot climbed higher still.

Trainees, wound up to the point of nearly bursting, swung their swords late into the night without tiring, and that mood held steady even ten days later.

But amid all that cheerful energy, there was one person whose mood had soured considerably.

"Slimy little bastard, smooth as a buttered anemone."

"?"

Brett Lloyd's face went blank at Judith's sudden burst of cursing.

He already knew the impertinent girl had a foul mouth, but getting cursed out before they'd even exchanged a word was rare, even for her.

He asked.

"What's that about?"

"What."

"There's gotta be a reason you're cursing."

"Nope."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I curse for no reason all the time."

"Fine. Go on, then."

Brett answered without much interest.

Whatever it was, it wasn't about him. No need to bother with it.

He went back to swinging his sword. Lance Patterson and the other two members of his loyal little entourage did the same.

"..."

Judith glared at them, left hanging in midair.

Her sulky expression twisted further, and she started muttering to herself. The Brett family ignored her again.

But it got harder to ignore once her voice kept rising.

Because it was packed with the strangest, most grotesque curses anyone had ever heard in their life.

"Hah."

His concentration broken, Brett let out a sigh.

Wearing an annoyed expression, he walked over to Judith.

"Use words. If you've got something to say."

"I've been saying it this whole time."

"Those filthy words aren't language. That's animal noise."

"Want me to show you what real animal noise sounds like?"

"Forget it, just spit it out already. Something's bothering you, or you wouldn't be doing this. Is it about Airen Farreira?"

"Why's he suddenly coming up?"

Brett had asked point blank, and Judith jumped like she'd been accused of something, insisting she had no idea what he meant.

But she couldn't keep up the act to the end.

Looking away, the girl said in a voice gone slightly small, tossing the words out like she didn't care.

"You think he'll be okay?"

"Airen Farreira?"

"...Yeah."

A lot had been left unsaid, but Brett understood immediately.

Judith was asking whether Airen Farreira would survive the Final Evaluation.

The reason behind the question was easy enough to guess.

"He doesn't exactly look like he's in great shape, that's true."

Brett wasn't wrong.

Unlike most of the children who'd found some kind of breakthrough through the Hall Master's Sword Dance, the lazy lord seemed to have come away with nothing much at all.

Not a trace of delight, joy, or excitement showed on Airen's face.

If anything, it was the opposite.

Watching him grow quieter by the day, watching the boy spend longer and longer stretches meditating instead of picking up his sword, Judith felt no small amount of unease.

His behavior, so different from everyone else's, looked exactly like someone sinking into despair.

'...He might fail.'

It was a first.

Caring this much about someone else's business. Judith found it absurd about herself. She didn't like it one bit.

But she couldn't force the worry away either, and that only made Brett's agreement sting worse, a flash of irritation rising in her.

Yet the words that followed completely changed the look on her face.

"Of course, separate from all that, Airen Farreira's passing. No question."

"Huh? What'd you say?"

"That guy's passing, guaranteed. The Final Evaluation."

His voice was calm, low, but brimming with certainty.

She couldn't help asking again.

"How can you be that sure?"

"Hm. Isn't it obvious?"

"No, what the hell is obvious about it."

Judith wasn't the only one curious.

Brett's entourage, and even the trainees practicing hard nearby, all turned their attention to the conversation.

It couldn't be helped. Someone predicting the Final Evaluation with that much confidence wasn't something you could just walk past.

Brett paid them no mind.

But he didn't hide his thinking either.

Shaking his head once, he spoke to Judith.

"What's the evaluation standard for the Final Evaluation?"

"Huh? That's obviously... potential."

"Right, potential. This test measures 'future potential,' not 'current skill.' One more question. What kind of person has potential?"

"Uh? Uh, well, that's..."

Judith hesitated.

Honestly, she'd never thought about it deeply.

The Hall Master had said something about it, but she hadn't really followed, and 'just show you're stronger than the other guys!' had pretty much been the extent of her thinking.

That was why her answer came out weak.

"Um, so, like, people who try harder than others, and, uh, talented enough that teaching one thing means they get ten, and, um... so they get strong faster than everyone else..."

"Right. Effort and talent. A growth rate that outpaces everyone else's, born from those two things. That's potential."

Brett nodded, satisfied with that, and Judith let out an inward breath of relief.

Separately from that, though, a nagging irritation crept up in her, a wish that he'd just cut the rambling and get to the point.

Fortunately, the girl's wish was granted right away.

"Last question. In your opinion, who's grown the most out of anyone at the fencing hall over these nine months?"

"..."

Judith didn't answer.

Brett didn't say the answer right away either.

But it didn't matter. Everyone listening to the exchange had thought of the same name.

'Airen Farreira!'

Everyone knew how Airen Farreira had started out.

The physical ability test at the very beginning of his enrollment. The ugly rumors that followed after.

The pathetic body that had backed up every one of those rumors.

The memory of him, so wrecked he barely qualified as an ordinary person, let alone a swordsman hopeful, was still vivid.

No one had thought the lazy lord would pass the Mid-Term Evaluation.

But those expectations had crumbled.

Airen Farreira had grown without pause.

He'd built up his stamina and developed his body faster than anyone else.

He'd chased down Illia Lindsay, someone no one thought could ever be caught, closing the gap until he was right behind her, and he'd earned the Hall Master's reward, something only a select few ever received.

And that wasn't all. In the test held after the Mid-Term Evaluation, he'd once again shown a pitiful performance, earning an unprecedented F-Class ranking.

The trainees had thought, this time, it really was over for him.

But five months had passed since then, and now Airen stood proudly in B-Class, proof that he was above the fencing hall's average.

That was a fact no one could argue against.

"If he took the evaluation right this second, Airen Farreira would pass. Why? Because every instructor here knows how he started out. Compare his sword now to his sword back then, and there's no way you couldn't see just how absurd that bastard's potential really is."

"...Yeah, guess so."

Judith nodded.

She was contrary by nature and had a rotten temper, but even she couldn't argue against that.

Just like Brett said, no one had shown a growth curve to match Airen's, and no one ever would.

That fact filled the red haired girl with something like joy.

But she felt something else alongside it.

'I don't want to lose!'

It was a fierce fighting spirit.

Judith didn't want to lose.

And she didn't just mean right now. However amazing Airen might be, she was still far stronger than him at present.

Probably still the case three months from now, at the Final Evaluation too. But that alone wouldn't satisfy her.

'I don't want to lose to whatever he becomes, either!'

A year from now.

Five years from now.

Ten years from now.

No, even further into the future than that, Judith hated imagining herself losing to Airen. She wouldn't allow it.

That had nothing to do with whatever fondness she felt for him.

'Potential, whatever. I'm winning, no matter what!'

She had confidence too.

Through the Hall Master's Sword Dance, Judith had come to see clearly what she was reaching for. And it had made her tremble.

If she just kept following the shining signpost gleaming ahead of her, she wouldn't lose to anyone.

Something close to faith had taken root in the red haired girl.

"So, I guess now you can just relax and show what you've got, and take first place."

Judith saying that, worry lifted from her shoulders, wasn't unreasonable.

Of course, Brett Lloyd didn't agree.

"Not gonna happen."

"This guy picks a fight with everything I say. Why? Because of Airen? Or wait, is it me?"

"No. Sure, I'm way better than you too, but that's not it."

"Ha, fine. Let's hear it. What's the reason?"

"Illia Lindsay, obviously."

"You said the evaluation standard is potential, right? How can you be so sure about..."

"Because of the Lindsay bloodline."

Brett cut in sharply, then kept going.

"Coming from one of the finest warrior houses on the continent means the future's already guaranteed. Talent carried in the blood, training methods and mindset refined over generations, and top-tier swordsmen in the family to learn from just by watching. It'd be strange to say she doesn't have potential. And on top of that..."

"On top of that?"

"The swordsmanship that put House Lindsay among the great houses. Just knowing it puts her in a class of her own... Illia Lindsay's basically guaranteed first place in the Final Evaluation."

"How does that make any sense?"

"It makes sense."

Brett nodded, his face calm.

"That's the strength of one of the continent's great houses."

"...Fuck."

Judith couldn't hide the frustration on her face.

She knew it too. Just how great and famous House Lindsay's Sky Sword was.

Just how bright a future came with simply knowing that legendary technique.

Everything else Brett had said was true too. She knew all of it well enough.

But still.

'Then what the hell's the point of taking the test if it's already decided.'

She was furious.

Furious at Illia Lindsay, born with everything a person could want and yet still crawling into Krono Fencing Hall anyway. Furious at herself too, pathetic and empty-handed.

But what irritated her even more were Brett and the others gathered around them.

'They're not even talentless idiots, they've actually got skill, so why are they losing before it even starts?'

She wanted to kick Brett's blank, expressionless face right in the crotch.

Wanted to smack the heads of the others nodding along without so much as a flicker of anger.

Wanted to scream at all of them not to give up so easily, to at least struggle, to at least try.

Of course, she couldn't do any of that. Any fight that broke free of the assistant instructors' control was grounds for expulsion.

'Not like beating some sense into them would even work.'

Ptooey. Her mood twisted sour, Judith spat.

That alone didn't settle the churn in her gut.

The girl ran through every thought she could to calm herself down, and eventually landed on something that could put a dent in House Lindsay's reputation.

There was no reason to hesitate.

She scoffed and let the words spill out.

"Hmph, what's so great about that house anyway. That brother of hers who everyone used to go on about, calling him the greatest genius on the continent, he's getting his ass kicked by some orphan commoner these days and can't even show his face in front of people any..."

A chill.

Judith never finished the sentence.

A shiver crawled up her spine. A bloodlust so sharp it felt like a blade pressed to her throat.

A dread she'd never felt even in the worst back alleys of the slums, and her eyes snapped toward its source.

Far off, a silver haired girl was walking toward her, sword hanging loose at her side.

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