WeTried Translations

Translator: Coughing Baby

Editor: Coughing Baby

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◈ Reformation of the Deadbeat Noble

Chapter 35

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The Continent's Four Geniuses (2)

The continent had no shortage of talented people. Children who stood out far earlier than their peers.

People called such children prodigies, gifted ones, geniuses.

Of course, not all geniuses were the same.

Someone celebrated in a rural village as a gift from heaven might get treated as ordinary the moment they moved to a city.

Even someone considered the finest talent in a city could fall to the level of just another kid once measured against the kingdom, or the whole continent, and lose all confidence in the process. It happened more often than anyone liked to admit.

But around twenty years ago.

A real genius, one in a different league entirely from those common sort, was born into House Lindsay.

"Carl Lindsay. My brother."

Illia stopped after introducing her brother.

It wasn't a long pause. But Airen could tell, faintly, that a fair amount had been churning in the girl's heart during that brief silence.

The story continued.

"I don't really know much myself. There's a big age gap between us. Nine years... but they say by the time I was old enough to run around, there wasn't a single person on the continent who didn't know his name."

It was just as Illia Lindsay said.

Her brother, Carl Lindsay, earned recognition from countless notable figures and quickly became known as the continent's greatest genius.

It was only natural. The tired old phrase, learn one thing and understand ten, might as well have been written for him.

The phrase a body sculpted by the gods might as well have been written for him too. The fact that a ten year old boy beat a knight in a sparring match wasn't even worth bragging about.

He'd done far more impressive things than that, many times over.

So Carl Lindsay grew, carrying the weight of countless expectations.

Then, when he turned sixteen.

A swordswoman visited House Lindsay.

"Someone named... Ignet."

Ignet.

A fairly famous figure.

A commoner who'd still managed to enroll at Krono Fencing Hall and take the top spot over the children of countless prestigious houses.

Someone who'd refused to become a formal student, walked out leading her own followers, and organized a mercenary company at the young age of fourteen.

Someone who went on to achieve countless things after that.

She'd thrown down a challenge to Carl Lindsay. Along with the arrogant remark that he was someone she'd wanted to cross swords with.

"My brother accepted without hesitating. Our house was never one to shy away from a sparring match to begin with, but... he was confident, too."

That was true. Carl Lindsay had been confident.

No matter how much like a shooting star his opponent had appeared, she was the same age as him.

He'd rarely fallen behind even against older knights, and it had never once crossed his mind that he might lose to someone his own age.

The match was arranged almost immediately. Carl Lindsay hated dragging things out, and so did his opponent.

Ignet arrived at the sparring grounds with her long black hair streaming behind her.

Trailed by her followers. Wearing a smile that sent a chill down the spine. Drawing a curved blade with a gentle arc...

The outcome was decided in an instant.

In three exchanges, Carl Lindsay lost.

"After she won, Ignet just left without saying a word."

Illia closed her eyes.

The sight of Ignet crushing her idol, her own brother, and simply turning away afterward, that was a wound that still hadn't faded for her.

The girl, only seven at the time, had cried even harder than her brother. Carl Lindsay had been the one to comfort her instead.

Drifting off to sleep, Illia had thought to herself. He'll overcome this. He's a genius, so he'll pull through in the end.

And then he'll fight that witch of a woman again and win.

... It had only ever been her own wishful thinking.

"He never got back on his feet."

... Not even now. Illia's subdued voice sank into Airen's ears.

It was, honestly, a common story.

A genius riding a winning streak, unable to get past a single defeat, and collapsing under it.

Everyone had heard some version of that story before, how someone who'd never known difficulty tended to break far harder the first time they hit a real wall.

A will too weak for the talent.

A heart too fragile for the talent.

The people who'd once sung Carl Lindsay's praises turned away from him almost overnight. The continent welcomed its second genius, and its first withered away quietly, forgotten.

And a young Illia Lindsay had watched that whole scene unfold.

Watched it, over and over.

"What locked my brother in his room was the way people looked at him."

These days, Carl Lindsay didn't pick up a sword.

He simply stayed shut in his room, letting time pass in silence.

The expectations people had heaped on him as a child, and later, the disappointment, mockery, and blame they'd heaped on him just as freely, all of it had become unbearable.

People who knew nothing about him presumed to judge him, size him up, rate him, and Carl Lindsay felt a pressure from that he couldn't put into words.

So his sister had no love for the way people looked at her. She couldn't help but flinch from what others said.

That was why, even when plenty of gossips across the continent liked to call her the continent's third genius, she'd never once felt glad to hear it.

It tasted sweet as honey now, but there was no telling when it might turn sharp as a blade.

So she ignored it. Brushed it off. Didn't care what anyone else said.

She'd move forward on her own path, without letting others sway her.

That was what she'd thought. What she'd sworn to herself.

"Turns out I was already swept up in it. Without even realizing."

It really had been true.

The reason Illia enrolled at Krono Fencing Hall at twelve was because Ignet had enrolled at thirteen and taken first place.

The reason Illia tried to earn formal knighthood at fourteen was because Ignet had received an honorary knighthood at fifteen.

The reason Illia meant to conquer the Land of Proof at eighteen was the same reason, and the reason she meant to become a Master before turning twenty was the same reason too.

She'd wanted to prove something to the people who went around saying Ignet was a better swordswoman than her brother, better than her, better than all of House Lindsay put together.

By breaking every youngest record Ignet had ever left behind in the world.

Without even realizing it, Illia had spent her days chasing what other people said, losing herself piece by piece.

"But not anymore. I don't think I'll do that anymore."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Thanks to you."

"... Me?"

"That's right."

Airen was flustered, and Illia laughed. It was the brightest smile the boy had ever seen from her. It threw him off even more.

But he could tell her feelings were sincere. She kept talking.

"Not getting swept up by what's around me. Not caring what anyone says. Just walking my own path, stubbornly... and completely changing what everyone thought of me because of it."

"..."

"Though I bet you're not even paying attention to any of that right now. Not one bit."

"That's..."

"Whoop."

Illia stood up from the bench. Then stretched her arms out wide.

Her expression was clear, like she'd shaken something off completely.

"I'm done with it now. Chasing after Ignet's shadow, letting what other people say push me around. None of that matters anymore. I'm just going to walk my own path."

"..."

"If I go where I want to go, look toward where I want to look, that should be more than enough to get me there. Prove myself my own way, act my own way. Do that long enough, and I'll reach the level of a Master eventually too... and I bet even Ignet, monster that she is, will have to start watching her back."

Having said all that, Illia Lindsay let out a small laugh.

She'd said she was walking her own path, but it seemed like she still couldn't quite stop thinking about someone named Ignet.

Not that there was anything strange about that. The girl standing here now wasn't being pushed by other people's words anymore, she was choosing, on her own will, to stand in front of Ignet.

And the sight of her like that looked, somehow, brilliant.

Just then, Illia suddenly threw out a question.

"What do you think?"

"Huh?"

"I said, what do you think. Of me, right now."

"Um? Uh..."

Too many things to be flustered about today, Airen thought to himself.

She'd just sworn not to care about other people's stares or words anymore, so why in the world was she asking him something like that now?

That thought crossed his mind, but he decided to just say what was already sitting in his chest, honestly, as it was.

The boy spoke his true feelings.

"You're incredible."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Getting through something that hard is incredible, thinking about a world bigger than the fencing hall is incredible, even thinking about going up against a Sword Master someday is..."

Airen Farreira had spent most of his life lying in bed.

But even he knew just how remarkable a Sword Master was.

Across the whole continent, there were fewer than a hundred people who stood at that summit of swordsmanship. That was what it meant to be a Master.

'Reaching that kind of incredible level by twenty... and Illia's trying to get there before she even turns twenty.'

It sounded absurd.

But somehow, she felt like someone who could actually pull off something that absurd.

She really did seem like someone from an entirely different world than his own. Her, and Ignet both.

That was part of why it wasn't easy to fully take the story in.

It felt less like something happening in reality, and more like reading a page out of a storybook.

"Hmm."

The character from that grand storybook crossed her arms.

Her expression was hard to read. Some vague mix of pleased and not quite pleased.

Had he said something wrong? Airen felt himself shrink back without meaning to.

Then Illia uncrossed her arms.

She gave the boy's chest a light tap and said,

"Don't give me a spaced out answer like that."

"Huh?"

"I mean, don't let your guard down."

"What do you..."

Airen stopped mid sentence, understanding a beat too late. He looked at Illia with a startled expression.

But she was already walking away.

Glancing back over her shoulder, she said one last thing.

"Work harder. Or else... I'll open up the gap between us in no time."

With a smile even brighter than before, she left the small training ground.

Airen stood there in silence for a long while.

"..."

It had been someone else's story.

A story that had nothing to do with him. That much was certain.

So Illia Lindsay's words had felt, this whole time, less like something happening in reality and more like something out of a fairy tale from some faraway land.

But her last words. Telling him to stay on guard, just like against Ignet, or she'd open up the gap between them in an instant.

The moment he heard those words, the boy realized that he'd become part of the storybook himself.

Thump.

His heart beat a little faster.

A small flame flickered up inside him.

Nothing dramatic, of course. Heat this small couldn't melt the mass sitting deep in the boy's heart.

In fact, Airen himself couldn't quite pin down what this feeling even was.

But one thing was certain. A flame had lit itself somewhere inside him.

"..."

Standing in that unfamiliar feeling, Airen Farreira remained in the dark for a long while.

* * *

A few days later, the final interviews began.

They didn't take long. Words of encouragement, some advice, and word of pass or fail. Most of the children simply accepted the results.

Some cried tears of gratitude, some said their goodbyes with a touch of regret.

Of course, there were a few unusual cases too.

"Thank you for everything."

"Guess things worked out the way you wanted, in the end. Feeling pretty satisfied with yourself now?"

"Yes, satisfied. Though not because I took first place."

Illia Lindsay said, calm as ever. The Hall Master, watching her eyes, let out a booming laugh.

"Sure looks that way. You seem a lot better off than you did at the Mid-Term Evaluation."

"That's thanks to your teaching, Hall Master."

"My teaching, nothing. You did it yourself. That's enough, go on, get out of here."

"Thank you for everything, these past months."

Neither Illia, nor the Hall Master, nor Instructor Ahmed sitting beside him said another word about the results.

That kind of thing didn't matter anymore to the silver haired girl. A smile settled over Ian's face.

But that only lasted a moment.

At the words of the next trainee to walk into the room, the Hall Master had no choice but to let out a sigh.

"You're sure about this?"

"Yes."

"Your grades are nothing to complain about. And I'm not just talking about test scores. What you showed here at the fencing hall was good enough to be a model for the other kids. You threw out your stubbornness, fixed your weaknesses, sharpened your strengths even further. Personally, I had high hopes for you."

"... I'm sorry. I don't have the confidence anymore."

There wasn't a trace of life in Brett Lloyd's voice.

Like a candle burned all the way down. His expression, his eyes, all of it.

Watching him, the Hall Master let out another sigh.

"... Do as you see fit, then."

At the Hall Master's words, Brett rose from his seat.

He gave a quick bow and left the room, and the Hall Master let out three sighs in a row watching him go.

'This kind of thing happens sometimes.'

Even someone with objectively remarkable talent could have their spirit broken by the emergence of a greater genius.

He'd seen it happen before, both inside the fencing hall and outside it. Carl Lindsay of House Lindsay was the textbook example.

There was nothing to be done about it.

You could lead an ox to water, but whether it drank was entirely up to the ox.

'I hope something comes along to turn that boy's heart around.'

Setting his regret aside, the Hall Master called in the next trainee.

A boy walked in, neat and composed, looking a shade more grown up than the other children.

"Trainee Airen Farreira."

"Yes."

"Your Final Evaluation was impressive. Honestly, in all my time as Hall Master, I don't think I've ever been more surprised."

"Thank you, sir."

"You remember what we talked about after the Mid-Term Evaluation, right?"

"Sir? Ah, yes."

The boy nodded.

The subject had shifted suddenly, but he did remember clearly. During that interview, Airen had asked for advice about Illia.

And separately from that, he'd been granted the right to ask for guidance whenever he wanted, without needing to wait.

That had gone both ways.

The Hall Master brought that up first.

"I've got one piece of advice for you."

"I'm listening."

"And before that, I have a question for you too."

"I'm listening to that as well."

One piece of advice. One question.

Nothing like a typical interview at all. Instructor Ahmed forced his expression to stay level, working to settle the excitement building inside him.

Airen tried to stay calm despite the situation unfolding so differently than he'd expected.

Then, at last, the question came from Ian's mouth.

"Trainee Airen Farreira. Tell me... why do you pick up a sword?"

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