WeTried Translations

Translator: Coughing Baby

Editor: Coughing Baby

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

◈ Reformation of the Deadbeat Noble

Chapter 90

──────

Vulcanus's Numbering Sword (4)

"...!"

Airen Farreira's eyes went wide at the cat Sorcerer's calm declaration.

Master.

The word could mean an expert of any field, but in this situation, there was only one thing it could mean.

That's right. Lulu had judged the ash-gray-haired man to be a Sword Master.

It was nothing short of astonishing.

Sword Masters weren't mythical beings like elves or dragons, of course.

But their numbers were genuinely tiny, and most of the few that existed were either high nobility of powerful nations, royalty, or the heads of famous fencing halls.

In other words, someone ordinary people might never see even once in their whole lives.

'I've never heard of a Sword Master like him existing...'

Airen wasn't the only one caught off guard.

If anything, Kubharu's shock ran deeper.

Having seen and heard a great deal, he knew most of the telltale signs of a Sword Master, especially among the mercenaries, adventurers, and wandering knights he was most likely to run into.

But none of them lined up with the man standing before them.

Which meant...

'Has a new Master been born onto this continent?'

That seemed the likelier explanation.

Of course, there was still a chance Lulu was wrong.

He himself, confident as he was in his own eye for these things, had pegged the man as an Expert. So had Airen.

But...

'I doubt a Sorcerer as capable as Lulu would get something like this wrong.'

While his mind churned with these thoughts, the ash-gray-haired swordsman, who'd been trading barbs with Anya, walked up to them.

Seen up close, he looked even less like a Master.

His body was well balanced and his gait light, but his mild, almost delicate features brought a scholar to mind more than a warrior.

Of course, none of them let it show.

The man introduced himself politely.

"Good to meet you. I'm Georgu, a companion of Anya's."

"Hello. I'm Airen Farreira."

"Goes by Kubharu. An orc, as you can see."

"I'm a cat! Name's Lulu."

"You're all as unique as Anya, it seems. Ah, I don't mean that badly. My apologies if it came across wrong."

"No, not at all."

Airen answered, waving a hand.

While he'd been bickering with Anya, Georgu had come off as easygoing, almost brash, but in person he was far more courteous than expected.

Wearing a genial smile, he continued.

"Glad to hear it. Talking with that ill-mannered runt tends to rub off on my own manners without me realizing..."

"Anya is not ill-mannered! All the merchant uncles said so too!"

"You don't seem to notice it about yourself, I think."

Georgu smiled faintly, and Airen's group answered with faintly awkward expressions.

Just as Anya looked ready to blow up at that, the ash-gray-haired swordsman spoke a beat faster.

"Airen Farreira, was it?"

"Yes?"

"I know it's terribly rude to ask this on our first meeting, but would you mind showing me your sword?"

"Uh..."

"Ah, I don't mean to make some unreasonable demand like Anya did. I understand well enough how precious a swordsman's own blade is to them. It's only..."

Georgu glanced at Anya and let out a sigh.

"That reckless girl kept insisting it's a truly remarkable sword, that I'd change my mind the moment I saw it, going on and on until my ears grew calluses... so, shameless as it is, I'm asking anyway."

"I would be grateful if you'd grant my request."

Georgu said it courteously. Airen thought it over briefly, then nodded.

It wasn't a difficult request to grant.

The blade wouldn't wear out just from being looked at, and he was a little curious what kind of verdict a Sword Master might pass on his sword.

He reached a hand into the empty air.

Whoom!

The rough, unadorned shape of his greatsword emerged. No, not his. The greatsword belonging to the man in the dream.

Airen kept a careless expression while quietly studying Georgu's eyes.

Georgu stared at the sword in silence for a long time.

"..."

What was somewhat strange was that the sword wasn't the only thing he studied.

The smile he'd worn until now vanished, replaced by a deeply serious expression as he looked over the blade.

Then he looked at Airen.

And as time passed, his gaze lingered longer and longer on the latter.

Long. Very long.

Airen felt goosebumps rise along his arms.

'What is this?'

Georgu's glassy eyes traced over his entire body.

The gaze climbed from his legs, up his torso, to his face, before finally fixing on his eyes and looking straight through them.

Airen was on the verge of stepping back from that gaze, one that seemed to peer not just at the surface but deep inside him, into the very core of him, when Georgu spoke.

"Ah, my apologies. I stared a bit too openly."

Wearing his smile again, Georgu apologized politely.

The strange atmosphere from moments ago had vanished without a trace.

Bowing his head repeatedly, he said,

"What a remarkable sword, truly. No wonder Anya coveted it so."

"Right? Boss is gonna love it, right?"

"That may be true, but that doesn't mean you can go around trying to take someone else's belongings."

"I wasn't taking it! I was gonna trade my whole year's savings for it!"

"A whole year, hm? Well... no, actually. It's certainly worth more than that."

The sword, and that young man both.

Georgu added something under his breath, but his voice was so quiet that not even Lulu could catch it.

"I've been terribly rude. I'll be sure to scold this one properly for it."

"Hmph! Lulu, and friends! See you later!"

"Whew... well then, we'll be on our way."

In the end, Anya and Georgu made their exit amid the same chaotic energy as ever.

Watching the two vanish into the crowd, Lulu looked wistful, while Airen fell into silence.

Kubharu's mind, though, was somewhere closer to Airen's.

He thought,

'Who could they really be?'

He wasn't thinking about Anya and Georgu themselves.

Of course, those two stirred up plenty of curiosity on their own, but what he truly wanted to know was the identity of the person they called boss.

One of them was a Sword Master.

The other was a young Sorcerer of a promise unlike anything he'd ever seen before.

If someone could command that level of deference from both of them, they were surely no ordinary figure.

It was deeply intriguing.

Kubharu, wearing a serious expression, began piecing together everything he'd seen and heard, one detail at a time.

That was when Airen Farreira, who'd stayed quiet until now, finally spoke.

"Seems right. A Master."

"You think so too?"

"Yes. Someone I couldn't handle. Hah, I suppose he'll be entering the tournament too?"

"Probably."

"Going to be a brutal competition, just as I figured."

Georgu hadn't been the only one observing.

Airen had also been able to hold his gaze on Georgu's eyes for a long while, and thanks to that, he'd caught a faint sense of just how strong the man was.

Of course, he wasn't worried. Nor was there any disappointment in him.

As he'd said before, he'd come here to feel and learn as much as he could.

Winning or losing.

Taking first place or not.

None of that mattered in the slightest.

"I should treat this like a chance to learn something and give it my all."

Airen Farreira said it earnestly.

Kubharu watched him with a fond, satisfied look, same as always.

He really had changed. Compared to the start of their journey, Airen was now far more eager, far more proactive, when it came to learning.

Still, there was something that left Kubharu wanting more.

After a moment's hesitation, Kubharu spoke up.

"Airen. Let me give you a piece of advice. Feel free to brush it off if it sounds like an old man lecturing."

"It won't. Go ahead and say it."

"Then I will. Don't go into this tournament with that easygoing mindset of yours. Go in determined to win."

At the somewhat forceful remark, Airen's expression stiffened.

Lulu's eyes went wide too as she looked at Kubharu.

But Kubharu kept going without pause.

"When Kun, back before he became a Sword Master, challenged Ian, do you think he picked up his sword hoping just to be taught something? No, I'd wager he genuinely meant to win. I want to win, I have to win, I will win this time no matter what... I believe it was that kind of fighting spirit, piled up again and again, that let him eventually stand as an equal."

"..."

"Ambition matters for a swordsman. Approaching everyone humbly, willing to learn from anyone, that's no small virtue. But..."

"Going in already accepting defeat before the fight even starts isn't exactly a good attitude to have."

That was where Kubharu's words ended.

His tone hadn't been harsh.

But he'd always spoken so gently until now that the shift in mood felt sharp all the same.

"..."

Airen said nothing for a long while after hearing that.

He stayed quiet as they walked the streets of Derinku, as they found lodging to stay in before the tournament, and all through the wait for their meal.

Even after the food arrived, he stayed like that for quite a while longer.

Had he spoken too harshly?

The awkward mood dragged on long enough that Kubharu began to wonder.

"Ah, my apologies. I've ruined the mood."

"Not at all. If anything, I'm the one who's sorry. Saying something so pointless..."

"It wasn't pointless at all. Not in the slightest. If anything, I'm grateful. I think you helped me notice something I'd been avoiding."

Airen said it with a serious expression.

Only then could Kubharu finally relax.

A nagging guilt had been creeping up on him, the fear that his own selfish wish had led him to give advice that didn't suit Airen at all.

But what Airen did next left him uneasy all over again.

"Sorry, but I'll get going ahead."

"Hm?"

"I think I need to sit with your advice a little longer. So..."

The blond young man climbed the stairs to his room with a slightly hurried step.

Watching his retreating back, Kubharu couldn't help the worried look that crossed his face.

* * *

Three days passed after Airen's group arrived in Derinku.

Over that time, Kubharu and Lulu explored the city inch by inch.

They watched blacksmiths whose skill couldn't be compared to anywhere else, examined the weapons and armor they crafted.

They enjoyed the local food and drink the city was famous for.

But Airen took no part in any of it.

The worry that had started with Kubharu's words had only stretched on longer.

"Hm, seems I said something I shouldn't have."

On the day of the tournament, Kubharu muttered under his breath, low, thinking of Airen shut away in his room all this time.

It seemed his own selfish wish had saddled the young man with needless torment.

Caught up in the sight of a young man growing so quickly, he'd offered advice that went too far.

The Airen Farreira he pictured was closer to a seeker of truth than anything else.

Someone who picked up a sword not to compete with others, but to cultivate himself.

Because of that, he lacked the kind of competitive drive, that fighting spirit, that most swordsmen carried as a matter of course, and Kubharu had always found that lack a little disappointing.

He'd always believed that nothing served as a better catalyst for a young person's growth than rivalry with others.

But...

'I got it wrong. I should have taken Airen's nature into account.'

Kubharu let out a sigh.

He'd already known it. That Airen was a man who stood far from the spirit of combat.

That his appeal came not from fierce battles against others, but from the tenacious wrestling he carried on within himself.

He'd overlooked that and pushed a coat that never fit him in the first place...

'If his results in this tournament turn out poorly... that'll be entirely on me.'

Kubharu's expression darkened further as he sank into thought.

Unlike him, Lulu, who'd been sprawled across the table without a worry in the world, turned her head toward the second floor.

Right at that moment, Airen Farreira was opening his door and stepping out.

"Airen!"

Kubharu shot up from his seat.

He'd meant to apologize.

Or, if not quite an apology, at least to tell Airen not to take his words to heart.

He'd thought that advice Airen couldn't digest would only leave his heart wandering, the same way medicine a body can't process only makes the illness worse.

He'd thought that above all, that outcome had to be avoided.

But the blond young man standing before him now looked far, far better than he'd expected.

"..."

"Kubharu? What's wrong?"

"Huh? Airen, something about you's changed."

"Has it?"

"Yeah. Can't quite put my finger on it, but you look better now."

"Thanks."

No, better wasn't a strong enough word.

Kubharu shut his eyes tight, then opened them again.

He studied Airen Farreira once more.

'That spark, it's grown even...'

"Kubharu? What's wrong?"

"Huh? Ah, it's nothing. Just felt like it'd been so long since I last saw you, glad to see you, that's all. Hah..."

"I guess I was cooped up in my room for a while. Thanks for worrying about me."

Airen looked at him with a smiling gaze.

Lulu, who'd flown over and landed on his shoulder at some point, looked at Kubharu too.

With an expression that seemed faintly exasperated.

She said,

"Worrying over nothing, as usual."

"Ha, hah. Well, this is..."

Kubharu scratched the back of his head. Lulu was right. It was embarrassing beyond words.

Airen smiled at him again, and then he said,

"Well then, shall we go?"

Join our discord at https://dsc.gg/wetried