Pattering down.
Belatedly, the wreckage of straw came falling.
Delam took it on the head and looked down at his spear.
"What is this thing."
However he looked at it, it was no legendary weapon.
Just a training spear of the sort lying around anywhere.
They must have used poor-quality wood; the shaft was even warped.
And with a low-grade spear like that he had blown away an iron helmet.
Without loading it with mana, at that!
'That's insane power, isn't it?'
But instead of being pleased, Delam narrowed his eyes.
For a man whose skill was merely so-so, there'd have been no problem.
A thrust like that suddenly comes out mid-fight?
Then even without understanding it, he ought to bow and give thanks.
For someone at master level, on the other hand, the story changed.
A fight is a contest of whose moves are superior.
Naturally, every attack comes out, goes in, and shifts according to a calculation.
And now some technique fires off at random in the middle of that?
The very board he has calculated collapses.
'You're screwed, is what happens.'
And so the same went for that thrust a moment ago.
It was a technique he didn't even know why it triggered.
However powerful, it was of no use whatsoever.
No — he'd be better off without it.
Click.
Delam flicked his thumb and opened the locket at his throat.
The leaf tucked behind his mother's portrait.
Its fragrance soaked deep into his lungs and his head cleared.
And what filled Delam's eyes was a deep interest.
Ever since he received the title [Weapon Master].
He had prided himself that even if he could not perfectly handle every weapon in existence, there was at least no part of them he did not know.
And now, at this late hour, an entirely new domain had appeared.
For Delam, it was a situation that could only set his blood boiling.
Before he was Supreme Commander he had been a knight who struggled without end.
"I don't know why it works?"
And so it's useless?
As if.
Then all he had to do was try until he could know.
The sun was at its height now.
There was still plenty of time to dig into an unknown technique.
That alone made the palm gripping the spear itch.
SHWEEEEK!
Delam's spear cleaved the air once more.
Dozens, hundreds, thousands of times.
***
"Thrust!"
"Hah!"
"Withdraw!"
"Hup!"
Five days had passed since spear training began.
In the motions of the trainees thrusting and recovering their spears on the drill ground, much of the initial awkwardness had disappeared.
That was the power of repetition.
However ignorant the lot of them, if you cut out every other movement and made them practice only that one thing to death, it did somehow come together.
In any case, there was nothing more for a conscript to do.
Stab the enemy in front of you, and that was the whole of it.
Of course, being a battlefield, sudden situations were inevitable.
But even so, what could they do about them?
With formations packed shoulder to shoulder, even if they learned something else there was a 100% chance they'd die without ever getting to use it.
They'd be better off memorizing a prayer.
Praying such situations never broke out.
And of course they weren't the only ones training hard.
Delam was as well.
Delam had been receiving private tuition from the senior instructor all along.
In the instructors' own drill yard, just the two of them.
"The nature of the sword lies in versatility. It is useful for cutting, useful for thrusting, useful for blocking."
Whish, snick, fa-fat!
"But that also means one must be able to unfold all of that variety accurately. Which is why the Imperial Sword, for all that it is a mere seven forms, is far harder than the twelve-form spear art......"
So began the second day's lesson.
Ten minutes of instruction, and the Imperial Sword, Seven Forms, mastered!
"Next I will teach you blunt arms. There are many kinds of blunt weapon, but three are chiefly used on the battlefield. The mace, the hammer, and the morning star. Today you will learn the morning star. The morning star has a chain attached, so—"
The third day's lesson.
Ten minutes of instruction, and the Imperial Blunt Arms, Five Forms, mastered!
"...Next I will teach you the bow. The bow has a mere three forms. Single shot, rapid shot, arcing shot. However, its course differs from that of cold weapons and it will be exceedingly finicky to master. Which is why a different sort of talent—"
The fourth day's lesson.
Ten minutes of instruction, and the Imperial Bow, Three Forms, mastered!
"If kn-knights and m-mages are the rulers of a battlefield, then tactics are the ground they stand upon. It is the sum of methodology for winning a single engagement — encirclement, ambush, luring, defense—"
The fifth day, morning.
Kingdom of Fior army tactics instruction, mastered!
"Haah... the difference between tactics and strategy is clear. If tactics are the method of winning a [battle], strategy is the method of winning a [war]. There is a saying that tactics without strategy are merely the noise before defeat—"
The fifth day, afternoon.
Kingdom of Fior army strategy instruction, mastered!
"......"
The senior instructor was finally at a loss for words.
What in the world was this madman.
The process of becoming an instructor was by no means easy.
First, veterans who had experienced the battlefield were selected.
Then they were taught the very subjects Delam had just been learning — spearmanship, swordsmanship, archery, blunt arms, strategy, tactics, and so on.
And if a man became able to unfold even one of them perfectly, in form at least, only then was he promoted to instructor.
The number of soldiers who washed out in this process was uncountable.
Out of a hundred, perhaps a third became instructors.
'It took me... ten years to master these things.'
The senior instructor was beyond that.
He had to be able to handle all six of them.
Officer grade, plainly and clearly.
Which was why, aside from the commandant, his post was the highest there was.
-An excellent resource has come in this time. If there is an instructor with time to spare, could he look after the boy's spearmanship, at least?
So even with a request from Obern, knight and conscription officer.
It was not a matter for the senior instructor himself to step in on.
He had simply volunteered, because he owed the man a personal debt.
And yet......
'Is this fellow truly a monster?'
However outstanding a person is, there are limits.
Regardless of talent, the mind needs time to memorize.
The body needs a period to adapt to a movement it is making for the first time.
But this fellow called Delam was different.
Starting with the spear, then the sword, blunt arms, the bow — he'd mastered them all in an instant.
Not a year, not a month, not a week.
A single day.
In fact, even that had some exaggeration mixed in.
Precisely speaking, it hadn't even been a day.
Demonstrate twice or so in front of him and he'd look it over — just so — and before you knew it he had completed it identically. No: better than the demonstrator.
Never mind if it had been only weapon arts.
Strategy and tactics were the same.
Teach him one and he knew ten.
Even the war game they'd just played was like that.
A simple war game laid out with pebbles on the ground.
The senior instructor had been defeated as good as toyed with.
"Weapon Master......"
"Yes, sir?"
At the instructor's murmur, Delam raised his head.
But he smiled awkwardly a moment later.
He'd realized he hadn't been called.
Clang, clang, clang—
Just then a bell rang out.
Time for dinner.
Meaning today's training had ended.
"Then I will see you tomorrow, sir."
"No. There is nothing further to teach you."
"Ah! That's a shame, it was fun. Then from tomorrow may I take instruction with the other trainees?"
"For now... do that."
But he found himself wondering whether that was really the right thing.
He kept forgetting it, but this trainee's age was a mere thirteen.
And even so, he didn't think any instructor could beat him in a fight.
Throw a talent like this onto a battlefield just like that?
Wasn't that a loss for the entire kingdom!
'I had better consult Sir Obern.'
The senior instructor's step quickened, his mind grown urgent.
It was because of information that had come in a short while ago.
That the situation at the front was looking ominous.
The odds were high that training would be terminated early.
And then that treasure named Delam would be dragged off to a battlefield as a common soldier.
He would surely be snuffed out without ever seeing the light.
He couldn't leave it at that.
But his hurrying steps gradually slowed.
At last, stopping near the entrance, the senior instructor turned his head.
Because whatever else, he badly wanted to ask this one thing.
"Trainee. Does the wind... still call you?"
"No, sir, it doesn't call anymore. But—"
Delam grinned and went on.
"I think I know how to become the wind myself."
***
The camp commandant's office, its walls plastered white.
The camp was hard and monotonous, but the commandant's office alone was the exception.
Isn't there a saying that luxury is a noble's virtue?
In that gaudily decorated room, three men were in discussion.
"He mastered the Imperial Spear form perfectly? In a mere five days?"
"The time allotted was indeed five days. But the time it actually took him to master it was a single day, Commandant."
"...Instructor, are you unwell by any chance? Low-grade spear art or not, its depth is not so shallow that it can be mastered in one day."
"Which is precisely why I reported that he is a genius."
The commandant didn't believe it, and the senior instructor was exasperated.
The one who stepped in then was the knight Obern.
The number of intermediate knights was not very large.
A small domain might have three or four at most?
And there were many domains without even that.
And Obern was precisely such an intermediate knight.
An exceptional level of skill for a man rotting away out on a frontier.
Which was why the camp commandant lent an ear to Obern's words.
"I think it a possible thing."
"On what grounds?"
"I heard that one of his ancestors was a knight. The house's martial arts and mana formula would have been lost, but he'd have been taught basic spearmanship at least. And as you know, is the Imperial Spear, Twelve Forms, not a compilation of basics?"
"You mean that if he learned a spear art that likewise emphasizes the basics, there would have been much overlap, and so mastering it quickly is possible?"
"Just so."
"If that is it, I can accept it to a degree."
Just then the senior instructor cut in and asked.
"Did he say by any chance that he had learned swordsmanship and other weapon arts as well?"
"What do you mean by that?"
"The trainee Delam mastered the spear, the sword, blunt arms, and the bow perfectly, all in a single day. Even strategy and tactics along with them."
"...He is not simply imitating them?"
"He is not. I had meant not to go so far as to say this, but... in every field I taught him, he seemed to be better than I am."
"That is absurd."
Hearing that, the faces of the camp commandant and Obern hardened.
The truth was that at first they'd thought the exaggeration rather heavy.
That the senior instructor, contrary to appearances, was prone to making a fuss.
But this changed the story.
He seemed better than himself?
What soldier would cut down his own skill in front of his superiors?
And to lift up a boy of a mere thirteen years, at that.
It meant he had been impressed from the bottom of his heart.
Obern summed up the situation.
"In that case the answer is simple."
"You mean to put him to a test?"
"Just so — have him spar against others. If he truly is as fine a talent as the instructor says, the difference in age will be laughable."
"But I am not sure this is a matter that warrants going so far. One misstep and we may be the ones who look ridiculous."
"How would it be if the test were conducted in my name?"
"Mm, if you go so far as to say that......"
For a Baron, it was a proposition with nothing to lose.
And so, somewhat abruptly, a sparring match was decided.