WeTried Translations

Translator: Coughing Baby

Editor: Coughing Baby

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◈ Reformation of the Deadbeat Noble

Chapter 3

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The Lazy Lord Takes Up the Sword (2)

"What? The young master, at this hour?"

"What's going on?"

"Ahem, hmm!"

At the senior servant's cough, the maids of the manor hurriedly bowed their heads. "You're awake, young master," came the murmurs from all sides.

A brief silence. But that silence couldn't last.

The lazy young lord, notorious throughout the estate, Airen Farreira, was stepping outside the building.

"What? Where in the world is he going?"

"I figured the baron called for him and that's where he was headed..."

"Outside? A stroll, maybe?"

A stroll. For anyone else, nothing to be surprised about. It was still chilly in the mornings and evenings this March, but now it was midday.

Anyone could feel like wandering through a garden in full bloom.

But when the person in question was Airen, the story changed. The maids kept the conversation blooming long after he'd disappeared.

"At your service!"

"Good. What's the training grounds looking like right now?"

"Sir? What do you..."

"The soldiers and knights training, or rather, I mean, is there space where the young lord could practice swordsmanship?"

"...The morning's regular training session just ended, so there's plenty of space, yes."

The training ground supervisor answering swallowed hard and looked past the servant's shoulder.

Pale, smooth skin, a decently tall frame paired with an almost frail build.

That was the eldest young lord he knew, all right.

But the supervisor found himself blinking again and again.

His face looked like he'd seen someone who had no business being there.

'Wait, what's going on? Could it be?'

Could it be that young lord Airen actually wanted to use the training grounds?

Even as the thought crossed his mind, he dismissed it as absurd.

But the servant's next words confirmed it.

"Yes, I already know, that's why I came. I just asked to be sure. Ahem. Now then, right this way, young master."

Airen nodded silently and followed the servant's lead into the training grounds.

The supervisor watched, bewildered, and before long his colleagues began gathering around him one by one.

"What is this?"

"Am I dreaming right now? Are we actually seeing this?"

"Let me pinch my cheek to check... ow! Not my cheek, pinch your own!"

"Doesn't seem like a dream. But seriously, what is this? How did the lazy... I mean, young lord Airen end up here?"

"Well, maybe he's just looking around?"

"Right. There's no way he's actually here to train with a sword."

The soldiers doing individual training each made their own guesses.

Not one of them thought Airen was actually there to train.

But astonishingly, the lazy young lord walked straight toward the weapons rack.

"Huh?"

"No way, seriously..."

Murmurs rippled through the crowd.

Gathering eyes.

Soldiers drawn in by the rumor, and manor staff who had a moment to spare, all crowded closer.

Airen paid none of it any mind.

More than that, something kept pulling at his heart, growing larger before his eyes the closer he got.

"Should I call over a soldier who knows swords well?"

"....."

"Not all wooden swords are the same, you understand. Shape, weight, length, they vary enormously. I'm sorry to say I'm no expert in swords myself, so I can't recommend one suited to you, young master. If you'll just wait a moment..."

"No, it's fine."

The servant froze at a voice far clearer than usual.

He quickly bowed his head and stepped back.

His instincts, sharpened almost to the level of the head steward, told him something.

Airen was different right now than usual. And when someone above you shows a change of heart, staying quiet is the only right answer.

Thanks to the servant's judgment, Airen was able to concentrate.

Eyes closed quietly, undisturbed by anyone.

As if chasing the trail of a dream, his gaze drifted through empty air before settling on one spot.

He slowly reached out and picked up a sword.

'Hmm...'

The servant's expression darkened.

It wasn't an unusual sword. About as standard a shape as they came.

Since it wasn't a real blade, there was no danger in it.

But it was large.

Large enough that it looked like a struggle for the frail eldest young lord to even hold.

"Oh, that one?"

"That'll be tough. Unless you're a full grown adult..."

The watching soldiers murmured among themselves.

Of course, the sword Airen had picked up wasn't anywhere near as monstrously huge as something a heavy swordsman would use.

But it was far from light enough for someone who was swinging, no, holding a sword for the very first time in his life to handle with any ease.

Sure enough, sweat had already beaded on Airen Farreira's forehead as he settled into a basic stance.

Whoosh!

The sound of the wooden sword cutting the air rang out across the training grounds.

"Hmph!"

"Ohh."

Stifled laughter followed, along with pitying groans.

There was no helping it.

He'd confidently picked up a large sword and, not satisfied with that, struck a pose that looked impressive enough.

But the swing that followed was so pitiful that disappointment, sighs, and mockery were the only possible reactions.

'Figures. There's no way the laziest man in the kingdom, who's never swung a sword in his life, would be any good.'

'His starting stance looked decent enough that I actually wondered for a second. Of course... I feel like an idiot for hoping.'

'Did he come here in a huff because young lord Gairon humiliated him the other day? Is that it?'

'If that's the reason, he's done for. He'll give up before long and crawl right back to bed.'

'I should just get back to what I was doing.'

Everyone's interest cooled fast.

Airen wasn't swinging the sword so much as being swung around by it, and it was disappointing enough to kill the crowd's curiosity outright.

All the more so because his initial stance, sword raised, had actually looked plausible.

The negative mood radiating from the crowd reached even the servant standing at Airen's side.

His eyes flashed with anger.

'These bastards!'

Of course, he knew it too.

That Airen Farreira was known across the estate as the "lazy young lord."

And that he'd spent so much time in idleness, undeniably so, that it left him unworthy of the respect due a noble.

But none of that excused a reaction like theirs.

The servant ground his teeth slightly. Then, as if nothing had happened, he turned to Airen with a bright smile.

"Young master, swordsmanship is a discipline that demands steady, sustained effort. There's a lot that's difficult to manage alone."

"....."

"Why don't we find you a fine swordsmanship instructor, and start proper training tomorrow?"

"Thanks. But that won't be necessary."

Airen lifted the sword again.

Now even before the swing, it looked like a struggle. His arm shook, trembling uncontrollably as he held the sword up.

Still in that state, he spoke.

"I'm not really doing this because I want to get good at swordsmanship."

"....."

The servant fell silent at the eldest young lord's words, unable to make sense of them.

He decided the young master was simply protecting his pride, and chose to hold his tongue.

But that wasn't the truth. Airen was speaking the plain truth.

Right now, he was only moving his body because the dream made it unbearable to stay still.

'And... I already have the memories of that man from the dream.'

He didn't think the man in the dream had been any kind of great swordsman.

His memory of it was incomplete, but even that much told him so.

The clothes the man wore were shabby, and the place he stood was just as humble.

But as he'd already said, none of that mattered.

Airen's goal was simply to get rid of the restlessness crawling through his body and mind.

Whoosh!

Whoosh!

Whoosh!

Once, ten times, twenty times.

He kept swinging the sword. His muscles screamed in response.

It was strange. It was his arms that moved, but parts of his body that weren't his arms ached just as much.

He'd never felt this exhausted in his life.

But.

'Strangely, my heart feels at ease.'

That was true.

Even without today, Airen was always in pain. It wasn't a pain on the surface of his body.

It was inside him, a heavy ache deep in his chest.

But chasing after the sword of the man in his dream, right now, he couldn't feel that heaviness at all.

So he swung.

He kept on swinging.

Whip!

Once.

Whip!

Ten times.

Whip!

Twenty more, then a hundred.

Lost in that trance, stumbling but still thrusting the wooden sword forward, that was when a loud voice cut through and reached Airen's ears.

"Young master! Young lord Airen!"

"...Huh?"

It was the very servant who had guided him to the training grounds.

He hurried over, worry written all over his face, and went on.

"Young master! I think you should stop now. No, you need to stop! You've done more than enough already!"

"What are you talking..."

Airen looked puzzled.

The man in front of him wasn't someone who normally spoke to him in such a firm tone.

He took a step forward, meaning to ask about it.

Or rather, he tried to. But he couldn't manage it, stumbling and collapsing to sit down instead.

After that, a fierce pain spread wide through him, like ripples spreading across a lake.

"Ugh!"

"You pushed yourself far too hard! Look up! It's already dark!"

"...It really is."

Airen muttered, dazed.

Sure enough, the sky really had gone dark. Not quite midnight, but close to purple, the color of a sunset long since faded.

Still not fully himself, he looked at the servant and said.

"If it's been that long, you should've gone off to handle your own business. Or called me earlier, at least."

"How could I possibly leave the young master's side to go elsewhere! Besides, I've been calling out to you for a long while now!"

"Really? Hmm, ugh..."

Airen Farreira, trying to push himself up with the help of the wooden sword, sank back down with another groan.

The pain was obvious from the way his face twisted up.

The servant fussed over him.

"Let me support you. I'll have the maids prepare warm water so you can wash up and rest properly. I'll have a healer standing by as well."

"No, a healer's not necessary..."

"Oh dear, if something goes wrong, it'll be a disaster for both you and me, young master!"

Hearing that, Airen reluctantly nodded.

It really was strange, honestly.

He wasn't some soldier who rolled around the training grounds every single day, and yet here he was, handling this kind of muscle pain with such composure.

It had to be the dream's influence.

Honestly speaking, what he'd done today was so trivial it was embarrassing to even compare it to what the man in the dream had gone through.

"Young master, you won't push yourself like this again tomorrow, will you?"

"Hmm."

"Promise me. It's a wonderful thing that you've picked up a sword, young master, but pushing yourself too hard from the very start is never good. Even a famous knight once said that rest is part of training too."

"Got it. I don't think I'll be doing much more of this going forward, anyway."

Airen said, setting the wooden sword back on the weapons rack while being supported.

The servant eyed him doubtfully, but this too was Airen's honest feeling. As he'd said before, he had no real interest in learning swordsmanship.

He'd simply moved because he couldn't stand staying still, because his body wouldn't let him rest.

'Starting tomorrow, it'll probably be back to lying around again.'

That thought only grew stronger after he finished bathing, finished his meal, and lay down to sleep that night.

Sharper pains than he'd felt while moving his body without thinking stabbed through him from every direction.

'That was insane. I got drunk on that dream and did something completely insane.'

Regret washed over him in waves. It felt like he wouldn't be able to sleep properly at all like this.

Of course, that turned out to be a misunderstanding.

Exhaustion greater than the pain pulled him into the world of sleep, and once again, he dreamed.

The dream of the man who had been tormenting him for days now.

"....."

And so, Airen Farreira had no choice but to head back to the training grounds once again.

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