WeTried Translations

Translator: Coughing Baby

Editor: Coughing Baby

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◈ Reformation of the Deadbeat Noble

Chapter 71

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Krono Fencing Hall (3)

"Wh, what was that?"

"Thunder? But it's not even raining."

The people gathered in the open lot behind the broker's office cried out in shock.

The quiet, peaceful evening had just been split by a sound like a thunderclap, and it caught them off guard.

Of course, it wasn't thunder.

The sound had come from a sword strike, swung by a young man.

Airen Farreira lowered his greatsword and checked the score on the square panel.

[10772]

Is that high?

He hadn't expected it to be low.

Airen was humble, but he wasn't so clueless that he didn't know his own level.

Even Hill Burnett, who had already reached the rank of Expert, had said as much.

That he already seemed to be at Expert level.

I don't know the exact standards, but I should at least clear Bronze Plate.

He looked away from the measurement device and turned to the Mercenary Broker.

"How was it?"

"Wh, what?"

"The score. I don't know the benchmarks, so I can't tell if it's high or low."

"Ah... just, just a moment."

The broker stammered, unable to hide his shock.

He had watched countless people get their impact force measured over the years.

He'd seen the swing of a man who'd just picked up a blade after fleeing some backwater village, the swing of a grizzled mercenary who'd survived every kind of hardship, even the swing of a rare talent that made veterans step back and take notice. He'd seen it all.

But no one he could remember had ever broken ten thousand points.

Not even the Gold Plate mercenary who had donated the magitech device itself.

Is it malfunctioning?

The broker's eyes flicked between the device and Airen Farreira.

That had to be it.

Not that he thought this young man was some green amateur.

Pulling a sword out of thin air, handling a weight that most people could barely swing properly, that sound just now. None of it fit an amateur.

He'd probably trained under some famous master.

Maybe he was even nobility from a prestigious house.

After running through the calculations quickly, the broker spoke.

"Excuse me... you said your name was?"

"Airen."

"Right, Airen-nim. Um, sorry, but one question... how exactly did you pull that sword out of nowhere?"

"It's basically like magic."

"Ah, I see. Forgive my ignorance... haha."

The broker's tone had grown far more polite than before Airen had picked up the blade. Noble or not, this was a young man with abilities you couldn't treat lightly.

He swallowed hard and continued.

"The score is excellent. You'll easily clear Bronze Plate, and honestly, you qualify for Silver Plate too... ah, I should clarify, so there's no misunderstanding. When you first register a mercenary credential, Silver Plate is the highest you can start at. Anything above that requires built-up trust and track record..."

"Then I'll take Silver Plate."

"Ah, that's... I'm sorry, but could I ask you to try the measurement one more time?"

"Excuse me?"

"The device sometimes malfunctions. Not that I'm implying Airen-nim's skill is lower than... no, I mean..."

"Understood. Let's do it again."

Airen nodded readily.

It was a little odd, given the broker had made it sound like there was only one chance, but it wasn't any real trouble, so he didn't mind.

He picked up the greatsword again and quietly focused his mind.

He steadied his breath, tracked even the smallest details of his body, brought them under control.

Finally, he recalled the sensation of the impact from before. He calculated in his head what needed adjusting.

Then the second strike swung down.

CRAAAAAAAACK!

"Whoa!"

"What now?!"

The people around flinched at the booming sound that rang out again.

Even those who'd been watching Airen's measurement jumped.

They'd braced for it, and it had still startled them with how loud it was.

Every eye turned to the square panel.

Crackle, crackle. A static noise that hadn't been there before buzzed out, but no one had room to worry about that.

A moment later, the score appeared.

[11002]

"..."

Higher than before.

The broker stood with his mouth open, unable to say a word.

He wasn't the only one.

The others who'd been watching the measurement, and the people who'd only just caught wind of the noise and come running, all stared blankly at the scoreboard.

Nobody said anything.

Well, one person did.

Airen Farreira looked at the broker and asked, "Should I go again?"

"...Ah! No! That's plenty. The result is... Silver Plate. Let's go register it right away! It won't take long!"

The broker hurried into motion.

His manner was practically overflowing with courtesy.

Airen followed behind him, his expression unchanged from the start.

"Like I said before, Silver Plate is the highest grade available on first registration. It's absolutely not meant to look down on you, Airen-nim..."

"I don't think that at all. It's fine."

The two of them talked as they walked into the building.

The mercenaries who'd stood watching, dumbfounded, finally spoke up.

"Was that real? What I just saw?"

"Yeah. I don't trust my own eyes either."

"Eleven thousand points? Is that even possible? Even a decent Expert wouldn't hit that easily."

"Is he a knight from one of the Five Kingdoms?"

The score, far beyond anything a mercenary should be able to produce, threw the crowd into confusion.

One of them drew his sword.

He couldn't quite believe what he'd seen, so he wanted to measure his own strength as well.

He set his stance, face serious, and swung.

CRAAACK!

Crackle, crackle...

[86122]

"Isn't this thing broken?"

"No way, eighty thousand? When did you awaken? When did you become a Sword Master?"

"Wait, so that guy just got Silver Plate by luck?"

"Hmm... but it's not like he has zero skill. You heard it yourself. That sound was completely different from his."

"That's true, but..."

An argument broke out among the mercenaries.

He's Expert level, no he's not, he looks too young for that, then what was that sound just now, fine, he's clearly skilled but that doesn't make him an Expert, I think he really is an Expert...

A few of them, tempers flaring, started shoving before it turned into a real scuffle. Watching it all, one person quietly thought something else.

Why would a magitech device known for its durability suddenly break down?

He mulled it over for a moment, then let out a hollow laugh and muttered.

"Ha. No way. That can't be it."

And with that, the little commotion at the Alkantrea broker's office came to an end.

* * *

"What? Silver Plate?"

"Yes. This should be more than enough, right?"

Back at the inn, Weapon's Cradle, Airen pulled the Silver Plate out from inside his coat.

Edgar froze stiff, unable to say a word.

He'd been certain this young man in front of him wouldn't get so much as Bronze Plate, let alone Silver.

The only reason he'd taken him to the broker's office in the first place was to gently let him down, a roundabout way of telling him to know his place and back out quietly.

That had been the most consideration he could offer.

But now, staring at the gleaming Silver Plate in front of him, he had no idea what to say.

"Thanks. I had a fun time because of you."

"Uh? Uh, yeah."

"Could you send dinner up to my room? Something simple, like a meat dish, bread, and maybe some smoked fish, if that's possible."

"Ah, of course. I'll bring it up."

Edgar nodded, dazed, and walked into the kitchen.

It was, in truth, a pointless gesture.

He was the innkeeper, whose real job was talking down troublesome guests, not cooking. The actual meals were made by the kitchen staff.

All he needed to do was pass along the order.

But right now he was too rattled to think that clearly.

Silver Plate? At that age? He barely looks twenty.

"It doesn't make sense..."

"Hey, quit eating what's meant for the guests!"

No matter how he turned it over, none of it added up.

He kept muttering to himself, snacking on the kitchen's side dishes without realizing it.

Of course, Airen had no idea what was going through Edgar's head. He didn't particularly care, either.

His mind was already full of tomorrow's visit to Krono Fencing Hall.

He paid for the meal he and Lulu would share and headed up to the second floor room.

A little while after the food arrived, Lulu popped into view with a flash.

"What took you so long?"

"I was playing with the cats around here for a bit. Ooh! There's some for me too."

Nothing much happened after that. They ate together, chatted about nothing in particular, washed up.

The private washroom in each room had surprised him at first, but given the price of the stay and the size of the city, it made sense.

They turned in a little early that night.

"Well, shall we get going?"

"Get going! Get going!"

The next morning, Lulu, who had woken up before him and dressed herself up sharp, set off with Airen from the Weapon's Cradle inn.

They headed straight for Krono Fencing Hall.

A great number of swordsmen were headed the same way, all bound for the fencing hall as well, and every one of them looked stunned at the sight of Lulu.

A few even tried talking to her.

Lulu gathered them all and spoke.

"Hi there! I'm Lulu, the cat Sorcerer. As you can see, I can talk like a person and fly too. I get that it's weird enough to make you want to ask questions, but I can't answer every single one. Let's just do a round of handshakes and call it even."

Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap.

Lulu went down the line, tapping each swordsman's hand with her tiny paw.

Calling it a handshake was a stretch, but surprisingly, everyone seemed satisfied.

A few of the roughest looking swordsmen broke into blissful smiles, which was, honestly, a little unsettling to watch.

Enjoying the sight as they walked along, they soon arrived at the front gate of Krono Fencing Hall.

A gatekeeper spoke up as if he'd been waiting for them.

"Ah, our guests! Please, come inside."

"Uh? Uh..."

The gatekeeper led the way, and the swordsmen trailed after him in a crowd.

Caught up among them, Airen was thrown off.

He wasn't a "guest" in the sense meant here. He was a real guest, the kind who'd already been formally accepted.

Which meant he had no need to take part in the Guest Reception event.

But the gatekeeper acted as though the possibility of a "real guest" never crossed his mind at all.

It wasn't exactly the moment to bring it up.

Of course, once everyone else had gone, he could always mention it separately to whichever gatekeeper remained at the front gate...

"Airen, where are all those people going?"

"Ah, it's called Guest Reception. Krono Fencing Hall members take turns sparring against them..."

"Oooh, sounds fun! Let's go too! Let's watch!"

Watching Lulu get worked up and swing her little sword around, he found himself reconsidering.

He thought it over for a moment, then nodded.

"Sure, let's do that."

It's not like I'm in a hurry. No harm in watching a bit.

Airen was curious about Krono's Guest Reception too, if he was honest with himself.

He wondered how strong the fencing hall's own members would turn out to be, and how the burly, imposing swordsmen walking alongside him now would fare.

More than anything, the whole atmosphere itself felt strange to him.

It's like some kind of festival.

Outside of Krono Fencing Hall and the Demonoid Subjugation Campaign, Airen had never been in a single place with this many swordsmen at once.

And in both of those other cases, the mood had been nothing like this light, easygoing feeling.

The first had been fierce and intense. The second, heavy.

And this time, he didn't even need to take part.

He could just relax and enjoy the show.

Thinking that over, he decided it had been a good call, listening to Lulu.

"Why're you petting me all of a sudden?"

"No reason."

"Scratch under my chin too."

"Sure."

Airen scooped Lulu up and scratched around her neck.

A few of the swordsmen who saw it wore looks of pure envy.

A little while later, they arrived at their destination: a wide training ground that wasn't luxurious, exactly, but had a clean, well kept feel to it.

The swordsmen's faces tightened with tension. This is it, they seemed to think.

Before long, a swordsman came walking over from the far end of the grounds.

A young man, carrying a sizable greatsword slung casually over one shoulder.

A few in the crowd grumbled.

"What, they're sending someone that young?"

"Are they underestimating us or something?"

"Us? Speak for yourself."

"The hell did you just say..."

"Knock it off. If you get kicked out for causing trouble, are you gonna take responsibility for that?"

A couple tried to keep the peace, but most kept grumbling anyway.

It wasn't hard to understand why.

Some of them had crossed several kingdoms just for the chance to cross blades with a real talent from Krono Fencing Hall, so having some young swordsman step out instead was bound to rub people the wrong way.

But Airen Farreira wasn't among the grumblers.

It wasn't because he was on the younger side himself, either.

It was the face. He recognized it.

He quietly murmured the young man's name.

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