They were departing tomorrow. Naturally, there would be no time for training then, and it would be difficult to train properly while traveling.
“You are holding back too much. Let us try to be a little more aggressive.”
“Huff, huff….”
At Bilford’s words, Karl struggled to steady his breathing and reset his stance.
But even though Bilford said he was holding back, Karl had no idea how much more aggressively he was supposed to attack. As far as Karl was concerned, he was already being more than aggressive enough.
“It is good that your stance is solid, but if you hesitate because you are too concerned about maintaining it, then it becomes meaningless.”
Because Karl had been strangely suspicious of every compliment he received, Bilford had begun treating him more sternly than necessary. Despite this being only Karl’s second day holding a sword, Bilford drove him hard during their sparring session.
“There is no chance that I will injure you, Lord Karl. Do not worry. Be bold.”
Bilford could not yet wield Mana, but his swordsmanship had already reached a level that could not even be compared with that of noble swordsmen his own age.
No matter how desperately Karl struggled, he could not so much as graze a hair on Bilford’s body, and under no circumstances would Bilford lose control and accidentally injure him.
Even so, Karl refused to launch a proper offensive.
Bilford’s plan had been to spar lightly so that Karl could feel the overall flow of combat while Bilford pointed out the mistakes he made, but Karl’s behavior rendered the entire plan useless.
Karl hesitated at Bilford’s words, cautiously extended one foot, then shrank back slightly when Bilford’s stance intimidated him. At last, gritting his teeth, he stepped boldly forward just as he had been taught and brought his sword down.
CLACK!
Bilford blocked Karl’s attack with ease. He raised his hands and lightly received the blow on the ricasso, the section of the blade close to the crossguard.
Normally, from this position, Bilford could thrust forward or wind around the opponent’s blade and unleash a series of attacks, but he intended only to defend.
“…….”
Yet instead of doing what most beginners did—forgetting all about defense and recklessly pouring out attacks—Karl changed his stance the instant his strike was blocked, held his sword somewhere between a middle and high guard, and immediately sprang backward.
“Bilford, step aside.”
“What?”
Catherine, who had been watching, stepped forward and ordered Bilford back before taking his place in front of Karl with a wooden sword in hand.
Karl was somewhat surprised. Since she had entrusted his instruction to Bilford, he had assumed she would simply stand there and watch without interfering.
“Lord Karl. Watch closely and follow what I do.”
Then Catherine demonstrated one of the basic movements Karl had learned.
With her sword held at mid-level, she quickly closed the distance and delivered a downward cut along a sharp trajectory.
She performed it slowly enough for Karl to follow, yet even then, the movement was chilling enough to raise goosebumps across his skin.
Karl focused intently on Catherine’s movements. His narrowed eyes relentlessly tracked even the slightest motion.
Judging by the stance alone, it did not look much different from Bilford’s.
TAP!
But then Catherine sprang lightly toward her left flank, almost as though her body had rebounded off the ground. With both hands raised high, she twisted her wrists and rapidly cut across the middle line with the back edge of the sword.
“Try it once.”
Catherine took up her stance in front of Karl.
“…Against you?”
“Yes.”
At Catherine’s firm answer, Karl pressed his lips together, tucked in his chin, and stared at her.
For a long time, he could not move.
He had attacked Bilford despite his hesitation, but standing before Catherine, he found himself utterly unable to swing his sword.
“Lord Karl, this is sparring. I have no intention of killing you.”
“…….”
Only after hearing those words did Karl realize that he had been treating this not as sparring, but as an actual battle.
And he finally understood why he had hurriedly retreated after making a single attack.
He had never learned how to protect himself while continuing to attack once his initial strike was blocked, so he had chosen to retreat in order to defend himself.
Catherine had seen through that from Karl’s passive movements and shown him what came next.
Ordinarily, teaching combination movements to the sickly Karl before he had even mastered the fundamentals would have been considered taboo.
If he developed a bad habit, a single mistake could cost him his life.
Even so, Catherine readily decided to teach combination movements to Karl, who was only on his second day of holding a sword.
Karl clenched his teeth.
Catherine’s duel had left far too strong an impression on him. Even though he understood perfectly well that this was only sparring, attacking her did not come easily.
But standing there forever would accomplish nothing.
Karl summoned every scrap of courage he possessed and swung his sword.
CLACK!
The wooden swords collided.
Karl felt as though he had struck a boulder.
His strength and stamina were impressive compared with his skeletal build, but his body was still in no condition to be mistaken for that of an ordinary sixteen-year-old.
Even that single impact placed strain on his thin wrists, which had already been overworked.
But Karl, completely absorbed in the moment, did not even feel the pain.
The mere act of swinging a sword at Catherine placed him under such intense stress that sweat burst from his body and his heart pounded madly.
He was afraid.
Just as he had been when dying from fever.
Just as he had been when he first faced Madius.
And precisely because he was afraid, Karl was able to move even more fiercely.
Because fear existed, he could whip himself harder in order to protect himself.
With their wooden swords still pressed together, Catherine subtly aimed her sword point at Karl’s throat.
If she thrust now, she could take his neck.
With Catherine’s skill, even a wooden sword could kill Karl.
And unlike Bilford, Catherine thrust without the slightest hesitation.
Slowly enough for Karl to react, yet with the solidity of a rock and enough force to break his neck if he failed.
Unlike when he had sparred with Bilford, Karl did not retreat.
In truth, Karl already knew that blindly backing away was not a particularly good choice.
He had only retreated before because he had not known what else to do.
Remembering Catherine’s movement, he pushed her thrusting sword aside while simultaneously shifting his body to the left.
As if by magic, Catherine’s sword point caught against Karl’s crossguard and was stopped.
Karl twisted his wrists and rotated his body around its axis, and the back edge of his sword whipped around and struck Catherine’s side.
THUD!
Karl immediately retreated again, just as he had before.
Because he still did not know how to protect himself from the opponent’s next attack.
“Huff! Huff! Haaah!”
He had made only two attacks in that brief exchange, yet Karl was gasping as though he had sprinted at full speed.
Before he could even feel pleased that he had copied a movement after seeing it only once and managed to reproduce it, however clumsily, the thought that he might have died came first.
His throat felt as though Catherine’s wooden sword had actually pressed against it.
“The angle of your step was slightly wrong. You would have injured your ankle.”
“…Ah, mm….”
Karl took a hesitant step back at Catherine’s words, then flinched when he noticed a faint ache in his ankle.
“If your body is flexible enough, you can twist more boldly. Then you can lower your stance completely and enter beneath your opponent’s guard.”
TAP!
Catherine repeated the same movement as before, changing only the angle of her ankle.
Immediately, her body dropped low toward the ground.
She raised her sword high enough to protect her head completely while attacking the opponent’s lower body, then circled around to the opponent’s right and seized their flank at the same time.
Her footwork was light yet heavy.
Contradictory though it sounded, there was no better way to describe it.
Karl was completely captivated by the picture-perfect movement.
“Lord Karl, you have talent. You possess talent for martial arts, but more importantly, you have an instinct for life and death.”
“Instinct?”
Karl furrowed his brows at Catherine’s strange words.
In answer, Catherine took up a stance before him.
She raised her sword high above her head, but something about the position differed from the basic high guard Karl had learned.
“How would you respond?”
“…….”
Karl studied Catherine’s stance closely while shifting the sword he held at mid-level from side to side.
The point failed to settle with firm conviction and instead trembled slightly, unable to decide where it ought to go.
In the end, Karl stepped backward.
“Why did you retreat?”
Karl had clearly learned how to defend himself while counterattacking against a downward strike.
Yet rather than using what he had learned, he had chosen to retreat.
“I do not think I can block it.”
Karl answered honestly.
The moment he saw Catherine’s stance, he had become certain that he could not deal with that seemingly simple downward cut.
“Explain in more detail.”
Catherine pressed him for an answer.
Karl stared at her posture, feeling anxiety and tension as an ominous chill crawled up his spine.
He struggled to examine an instinctive sensation far too vague to put into words, then finally spoke without much confidence.
“I thought about blocking it, but if I do, somewhere else feels too exposed.”
“Do you mean your upper body?”
“If I raise my arms to block the upper attack, it feels as though my side will be exposed. If I keep my sword in the middle, my head feels exposed. And if I angle it diagonally to cover both the upper and middle lines, my lower body feels open.”
Catherine nodded at Karl’s answer.
Bilford’s eyes widened in surprise.
“Excellent.”
Catherine said only that much before unleashing a series of strikes from the stance.
SWISH!
The sword that had been raised high swept down along Catherine’s back, then, almost impossibly, emerged from beside her waist and sliced horizontally across the middle line.
Catherine raised the sword again and swung several more times.
She attacked not only the middle line but even twisted her entire center sharply enough to cut at the lower body.
Dozens of attack trajectories emerged from a single stance.
A dazzling variety of attacks impossible without tremendous flexibility and muscular strength.
“The distance between your hands on the grip. The angle of your arms. Whether you draw your shoulders back or push them forward. The direction of your waist. Your center of gravity. The angle of your knees. The length of your stride. The position of both feet. These are things you cannot know without learning them.”
That was why swordsmanship—why martial arts—was frightening.
If you did not know, you were struck.
And a single strike could cost you your life.
Yet Karl had instinctively judged something he had never learned to be dangerous and retreated.
It was not simply talent for martial arts.
He sensed danger instinctively, like a beast smelling blood.
It was only natural that Karl appeared terrified while sparring with Bilford and Catherine.
To him, it must feel as though he were standing before an enormous monster he could never defeat.
It was an exceedingly valuable talent.
“It would be best to increase the amount of time you spend sparring.”
Karl nodded at Catherine’s suggestion.
But he could not simply agree without reservation.
“Sir Catherine, we depart tomorrow. It will be difficult to find the time.”
There were far too many things Karl needed to learn besides swordsmanship.
The most urgent problem was that he needed to learn how to write properly.
At his current level, he could barely even sign his own name in public.
“……We will find time whenever we can.”
“Understood.”
Catherine knew as well as anyone that Karl needed instruction across an enormous range of subjects, so she could only compromise in that vague manner.
***
The day of departure arrived.
Karl rose with difficulty in the early morning with Cecile’s help.
After spending sixteen years barely moving his body at all, two consecutive days of horseback riding and swordsmanship had left every joint and muscle aching.
“Would it not be better to receive treatment from Milton?”
Cecile asked worriedly.
Karl shook his head.
“If I do that, my muscles will not grow. I have to endure it.”
Cecile felt as though she might go mad from worrying about Karl.
She could not accompany him to the Barony of Hilpin.
There were various complicated reasons for it, but in truth, Madius had simply chosen Cecile as the leash with which to control Karl.
Karl sat for a moment to catch his breath, then abruptly rose to his feet.
In truth, Karl did not need treatment from Milton.
Milton knew it.
Cecile knew it.
And Karl knew it better than anyone.
Karl’s body was recovering at a clearly impossible rate.
Combined with strength and stamina that should never have existed in such a body, he had been able to rise again after two days of harsh training when ordinarily he should not even have been capable of lifting a wooden sword.
Karl remembered the heat and cold that had once raged inside him, how they had seeped into his body instead of transforming into Mana, and how the power had restored his ruined flesh.
‘An unexpected stroke of luck.’
It was unfortunate that he could not freely pour out vast quantities of Mana, but he could obtain that someday.
Right now, having the physical strength to move his own body was far more valuable.
With Cecile’s help, Karl finished preparing himself.
He put on the armor and sword that had grown somewhat familiar after two days of training, then draped the cumbersome, flowing cloak over his shoulders.
Embroidered in gold thread across the red cloak was the crest of the Imperial House of Hardion.
An eagle sat upon a perfectly balanced scale, its wings spread as it gazed down below.
‘What a ridiculous crest.’
Karl smiled bitterly to himself.
He could already imagine how much everyone would laugh when they saw him.
His clothes had already grown slightly too small and felt constricting, while the cloak was so long that it nearly dragged across the floor.
He looked little different from a ridiculous clown.
Even so, Karl straightened his chest proudly and began to walk.
“Cecile, I will be back.”
“Lord Karl…. Please be careful. Please.”
Karl gently embraced Cecile as tears gathered in her eyes.
Cecile wrapped trembling arms around his back in return.
The sight looked nothing like an imperial prince and a nursemaid of low birth with not a drop of blood between them.
They looked like family.
Karl left Cecile behind and stepped out of the room.
Harmon followed after him, having been spared the need to attend directly to Karl because Cecile had taken over his duties, and Milton, the imperial physician dispatched to accompany them in order to ensure the survival of a member of the Imperial Family, followed as well.
It was still early, but Karl knew everything would already be prepared.
Since they had not even assigned an officer to command the thirty soldiers joining the subjugation mission, Catherine herself had somehow ended up serving as their commander.
If it was Catherine, Karl knew she would handle everything thoroughly without overlooking a single detail.
After all, a knight had to train not only in martial arts, but also in strategy, tactics, and the art of commanding troops.
For now, Karl would entrust everything to Catherine.
But eventually, he would have to learn many of those things from her himself, step by step.
“Lord Karl.”
True to Karl’s expectations, Catherine had finished all preparations in advance.
The moment Karl appeared, she formed the soldiers into ranks and briefly reported their numbers and condition, their supplies, the planned route of travel, and the other necessary details.
The report was flawless and impeccably concise.
Karl nodded, then slowly looked over the soldiers, who were doing their best to maintain expressionless faces.
‘Pathetic.’
An imperial prince was departing on a monster subjugation mission under the direct orders of the emperor, yet not a single person had come to see him off.
And the soldiers’ morale was practically nonexistent.
They probably would not desert or deliberately fight poorly, but neither would they fight with any enthusiasm.
Apart from Catherine and Bilford, who stood beside her glancing around with a face full of dissatisfaction, there was not a single person Karl could trust.
“Hahaha.”
Karl laughed, his narrow shoulders trembling beneath the cloak that seemed almost to swallow him whole.
His fallen blond hair obscured his face.
The others assumed he was laughing bitterly at his own miserable circumstances.
But when Karl finally raised his head and they saw a smile on his thin, seemingly fragile face, they could only stare in bewilderment.
Karl did not look as though he were lamenting his situation.
He seemed to be smiling with genuine, almost innocent delight.
He was laughing?
In this situation?
Had he truly gone mad?
Or did he think he was leaving on a picnic?
“Let us depart.”
“…Yes.”
Catherine hesitated for a moment at Karl’s innocent voice, then answered firmly.
Karl did not reject Harmon’s support this time.
He staggered toward the carriage and climbed aboard with difficulty, taking care not to step on the hem of his cloak.
The sight was enough to make anyone wonder whether he could even walk properly.
Karl entrusted everything to Catherine and even drew the curtains over the carriage windows.
“We depart.”
At Catherine’s command, the shabby subjugation force finally set out.
With no one there to bid him farewell, Karl left the Imperial Palace.
“…….”
And yet there was someone secretly seeing him off after all.
Watching Karl’s every movement from a distance, Aingir closed his eyes.
His reddish-gold eyes disappeared into darkness, and Aingir quietly turned away.
He had wanted to plant someone among Karl’s people.
But Madius had moved too suddenly and had attached only thirty ordinary soldiers to Karl, leaving Aingir without even an opportunity to try.
Was it coincidence?
Or had it been deliberate?
Aingir withdrew his previous assessment of Karl.
For now, Karl was an unknown threat.