WeTried Translations

Translator: Coughing Baby

Editor: Coughing Baby

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◈ Reformation of the Deadbeat Noble

Chapter 72

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Krono Fencing Hall (4)

"...Lance Patterson?"

"You know him?"

Lulu asked from his shoulder. He turned his head, and the feather on his hat brushed his cheek.

Quietly pulling off the hat, Airen Farreira nodded.

"Yeah. Fellow trainee from Krono Fencing Hall. He's gotten a lot bigger."

He hadn't been particularly close with his cohort, but he'd talked with Lance Patterson more than most.

Lance had been one of the three who always stuck close to Brett Lloyd.

His skills had been decent too. Excluding the unshakable top three, Illia Lindsay, Brett Lloyd, and Judith, he'd have ranked among the best of the rest.

Actually, he might make the cut even counting them in.

That seemed about right. Airen barely had any memory of winning against him in sparring.

One on one, Airen had lost more often than not against the top ranked members of his cohort.

If pure swordsmanship had been the subject of the Final Evaluation, I probably wouldn't have even cracked the top fifteen.

Just then, Lulu spoke.

"He looks strong."

"You think?"

"Yeah. Really strong, for his age."

It wasn't a comment born from any deep knowledge of swordsmanship.

Lulu was an exceptional Sorcerer, capable of seeing another person's will as clearly as a reflection in a mirror.

She'd probably drawn her conclusion from that.

Of course, Airen had sensed something similar himself, if only vaguely.

But nowhere near as clearly as Lulu.

Which was exactly why he wanted to watch this in person.

To see how much Lance had grown over the past five years.

While he was thinking that, Lance Patterson spoke to the crowd of "guests" standing before him.

"Hello, honored guests of Krono Fencing Hall. I'm Lance Patterson, an official trainee of the 27th cohort. It's an honor to face you all today."

"Wait, a trainee?"

"Not a graduate?"

"Hold on, didn't you hear the rumors? That's the 27th cohort, the ones they call the Golden Generation."

"Golden Generation or not, a trainee's a trainee. Isn't this basically false advertising?"

The moment he finished speaking, complaints broke out from every direction.

It made sense. By tradition, Guest Reception was handled by graduates who'd earned the Hall Master's recognition.

Plenty of swordsmen stayed on at the fencing hall even after being acknowledged as accomplished, which was what made the tradition possible in the first place, and for people who'd come expecting exactly that, this felt like a letdown.

But Lance Patterson stood his ground.

He slammed the greatsword off his shoulder down into the earth.

"...!"

"...!"

A heavy tremor rolled through the ground.

He'd released his energy through the blade. Faces shifted in an instant. The murmuring slowly died down.

Into that hush, Lance Patterson spoke, polite as ever.

"I know. Guest Reception has always been handled by our graduate seniors. But this time, I pushed pretty hard to get the spot myself. I wanted the experience of crossing blades with people from outside the fencing hall."

"..."

"I might fall short in a lot of ways. I might not live up to your expectations. But I'll do my best not to disappoint people who've traveled so far to be here. And if I do disappoint you... well, I'll go fetch a senior right away."

Lance Patterson bowed his head with a light joke.

It was a courteous gesture.

But it carried a provocative edge all the same.

His eyes gave it away. He had no intention of ever fetching a senior. His will to handle everything himself was written all over his face.

"So... shall we begin? Anyone's welcome. If you'd like a match, please step forward."

"Fine. I'll go first."

A hulking man pushed through the crowd and stepped forward.

The same man who'd questioned Airen back at the inn. He carried a sword so massive it was intimidating just to look at.

Lance Patterson spoke.

"You're using an even bigger blade than mine."

"What, scared?"

"Not really. You just remind me of someone."

"Skip the chatter, let's start already."

"Sure thing."

Lance Patterson pulled his greatsword from the ground and settled into a serious stance.

The big man charged at him with a thunderous shout.

And so, the Guest Reception of Krono Fencing Hall began.

* * *

CRASH!

Clang!

"Ugh..."

"Good match. Would you like to review the fight together?"

"...No, I'm fine."

The scar covered man retrieved his sword, which had gone flying far off, and stepped back.

Shoulders slumped, he looked deeply disappointed in himself.

But nobody spared him any sympathy.

Every eye in the crowd was locked on one person and one person only: Lance Patterson.

"Wow... he's really strong, isn't he? Right, big brother?"

"Mm..."

At his close companion's words, Gilbert let out a low groan.

Gilbert was a swordsman well known in his hometown, a man who'd never lost to even a seasoned mercenary.

Year after year, his confidence had built up, until he'd started wondering just how far his own abilities could really go, and that curiosity had eventually carried him on a long journey all the way to Krono Fencing Hall.

Damn it.

He muttered the words in his head.

Honestly, when he'd first stepped into the training grounds, Gilbert had assumed Krono Fencing Hall's reputation was overblown.

Most of the swordsmen traveling alongside him seemed average at best, and one of them looked like nothing more than a total rookie.

That mild faced kid, wandering around with some bizarre talking cat, looked like he was out on a picnic rather than heading into a fencing hall.

And the Krono trainee who'd come out for Guest Reception was barely twenty, if that. It hardly filled anyone with confidence.

But then.

CRASH!

The first man to step up got finished off in an instant.

CRASH!

The second, a nimble looking fighter, couldn't even block a single strike before he went down.

CRASH!

And when the third man fell just moments ago, Gilbert felt real fear settle into his chest.

Damn it... that's a trainee? How does that make any sense?

It wasn't like the swordsmen he'd faced were weak, either.

The third man in particular had shown real skill.

His swordsmanship had been sharp and powerful, precise enough that even Gilbert wasn't sure he could have won against it.

And yet the Krono trainee had never once lost his composure the entire fight.

That was when it hit him.

This kid was a wall. The kind an ordinary mercenary or wandering swordsman could never hope to climb over.

"He's way better than I expected..."

"So this is what they mean by the Golden 27th, huh? Even the trainees are on this level..."

"He's clearly something else. I figured all those wild rumors were just exaggeration, but it looks like this 27th cohort really is on a different level."

"Makes sense. Even the ones who washed out and never became official trainees are making names for themselves all over the place these days... guess that kid had good reason to be so confident."

"It's a whole different world over there."

"So what do we do, big brother? Are you going up?"

"Just be quiet for a second."

Amid all the praise being showered on Krono Fencing Hall's 27th cohort, his oblivious companion kept egging him on.

Gilbert swallowed his irritation and answered under his breath.

If he'd genuinely come here to learn swordsmanship, he'd have stepped up without a second thought. But that wasn't why he'd come.

He'd simply wanted to be admired by a lot of people.

Now that the chance for that was gone, his best move was to stay right where he was.

Don't stand out. Stay quiet. Keep playing the part of a spectator, same as he had been.

He was still thinking that through, head bowed, when his companion spoke up again.

"Big brother? That guy's coming this way."

"Huh?"

At his companion's whisper, Gilbert snapped his head up in shock.

It was true.

Lance Patterson, who hadn't moved from the center of the training grounds this whole time, was walking straight toward him with purposeful strides.

Something about the mood had changed too.

Unlike before, his expression had hardened, and there was real intensity in his eyes.

Damn it, what now!

Gilbert screamed inside his own head and clenched both fists.

He still couldn't make sense of the situation. He had no idea why this guy was walking toward him. It made him uneasy. If he was being honest with himself, it scared him.

But there was no way he'd let anyone see that. Not if he could help it.

He'd rather drop dead than show that kind of weakness in front of people!

Steeling himself, he was glaring straight ahead when it happened.

"Airen Farreira."

"...?"

The name came out of nowhere.

Gilbert's face went slack with confusion. He studied Lance Patterson's expression more closely.

That was when he realized Lance wasn't looking at him at all. His gaze was fixed a little further back.

Gilbert turned and looked at whoever stood behind him.

It was that kid.

The one traveling with a talking cat, the one whose face practically announced I'm a rookie to anyone who looked.

The kind of kid Gilbert wouldn't have even bothered glancing at twice, back in his own hometown.

But that wasn't what he saw now.

Contrary to what Gilbert expected, the blond young man showed no trace of nerves.

He met Lance Patterson's gaze head on, without flinching.

And that wasn't all.

Lowering the black cat off his shoulder, the young man spoke like he already knew the other man.

"Long time no see."

"Yeah, it really has been forever. Where the hell have you even been? I thought you'd be back way sooner!"

"Well, it's a long story..."

"Of course it's long, it's been five years! I was starting to think I'd wait forever!"

Lance Patterson's voice rang out loud.

His whole manner had shifted completely from before.

He was still tense with surprise and excitement, but underneath it all, real warmth showed on his face.

Seeing that, Airen let out a quiet sigh of relief inside.

It had been his biggest worry on the way here.

What if his fellow trainees had basically forgotten him?

A perfectly reasonable fear, given they'd spent only a year together against five years apart.

Especially since, outside of Illia Lindsay, Judith, and Brett Lloyd, he couldn't really claim to have been close with anyone else.

I worried over nothing.

Airen smiled.

A connection he was genuinely glad to see again after all this time.

A bond forged through a stretch of time that had felt both short and long, spent struggling side by side.

Being welcomed so warmly by one of them, by Lance Patterson, warmed something in his chest.

"So you're back for good? Did you finish whatever assignment the Hall Master gave you?"

"Mm... it's a little complicated."

"Yeah? Was it that tough?"

"Not tough, exactly. More like I wasn't enough for it."

"Same as ever. Say something like that and then come back stronger than ever, just like always."

"Ha ha..."

"Too bad, though. If you'd come back a little sooner, you could've seen Judith and Brett too."

"Brett? Brett Lloyd's at the fencing hall?"

"Huh, you didn't know? He came right back. Said he wanted to actually get serious about it this time."

Lance Patterson, unlike before, dropped the honorifics when talking about Brett Lloyd.

But what caught Airen's attention even more was the news about Brett Lloyd himself.

In the Otherworldly Realm, Brett had seemed fine, but the last time Airen had seen him in the real world, he'd looked broken down, unstable, on the edge of something.

Hearing Lance talk now, it sounded like Brett had made it through that crisis safely.

Thank goodness.

Airen's face brightened.

He felt good.

Every worry that had been sitting in the back of his mind kept dissolving with each new thing Lance said, and he couldn't help feeling lighter for it.

Smiling even wider than before, he opened his mouth.

He meant to ask about how Judith and Brett Lloyd were doing.

But Lance Patterson beat him to it.

He said it short and blunt.

"Airen."

"Yeah?"

"Let's spar."

"...?"

"We haven't seen each other in years. You're not gonna say no, right? A match?"

Airen was caught off guard.

They'd been chatting happily just a moment ago, and now, out of nowhere, a sparring match.

It felt far too sudden.

Especially since he'd only come here planning to watch.

A match... not a bad idea, but right now I'd rather hear more about Brett and Judith. And I still need to go see the Hall Master.

This didn't feel like the right time.

Thinking that, Airen started to shape a polite refusal.

But right then, Lance Patterson added one more line.

"Let's spar."

"..."

Airen Farreira looked at Lance Patterson.

Lance Patterson looked back at Airen Farreira.

The two stood there, quietly watching each other, and the people around them watched even more quietly still.

In that stillness, Airen found himself thinking back.

Strange.

The situation was different.

The words exchanged were even more different. Finding any real overlap between then and now would be hard.

So why did this remind him of the moment he'd asked Lulu to teach him Sorcery?

"...Alright."

He stopped thinking it over.

Airen Farreira nodded.

Seeing that, Lance Patterson broke into the brightest expression he'd worn all day and waved him forward.

"Let's go?"

"Sure."

The two young men walked toward the center of the training grounds.

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