A Lesson in True Manners

Leo kept his word.

“Next.”

Had it even been three bouts? The knight, struck in the side and sprawling across the floor, couldn’t quite pick himself up. This was already the seventh. In the beginning, Leo seemed to be going easy on them, entertaining about ten bouts per person, but from the third opponent onward, he began knocking them back without hesitation.

A faint smile was barely hanging onto Zeke Blodgett’s face, while the Candilhas knights looked as though they were vibrating with the urge to stand up and cheer. Occasionally, I caught snippets of, “All those days we spent getting beaten and rolling around were worth it!” I pretended not to hear.

To be honest, seeing him crush them so mercilessly was cathartic at first, but now I’m starting to feel self-conscious. If I were a knight myself, I could have just been purely happy about it. But as a guest at someone else’s place of work, this situation is making me feel like I’m sitting on a bed of needles.

At least I’m Leo’s brother; Elliot, who came along as his friend, must feel even more awkward.

“Is there a reason to drag it out like that? It looks like he could win with a single swing. Your brother is surprisingly soft-hearted.”

…Apparently not.

Elliot’s voice wasn’t exactly quiet, and the small crowd of Blodgett’s lackeys fixed their eyes on us.

Avoiding their gaze, I poked Elliot in the ribs. I didn’t see the point in provoking them. However, it wasn’t enough to stop Elliot, whose resolve to return a blow to the solar plexus for every slap to the cheek—to pay back in spades what he received in kind—was burning bright.

“It can’t be helped, since this place isn’t famous for swordsmanship. They’ve never produced a renowned knight, after all. Still, I expect their violin skills will be much more impressive. Shall we go to Dawn Tree Hall after this? I heard there’s a performance today.”

“Elliot….”

“Don’t be too disappointed. I’m sure the performance will be fine. There are even rumors that Rain Creek might appear.”

As he brought up a famous violinist who had retired years ago by snapping his own strings on stage—taking a jab at them under the guise of conversation—Blodgett finally rose from his seat, taking the bait.

“Let’s have a little chat, shall we?”

It felt like this ‘chat’ would be conducted with bodies rather than words.

Blodgett strode through the headquarters building as if he owned the place, heading toward a different training ground.

The opponent had the numbers, but they didn’t all come out; only four, including Blodgett, followed. Even so, they were all hulking fellows, and standing together, they made for a rather threatening picture. It was especially so considering their opponents were the lanky Elliot and me, who stood at the average height of a twelve-year-old.

“Listening to you talk, you seem to know a lot about swords.”

At Blodgett’s remark, Elliot replied with a bright smile. It was a smile so radiant that if Aiden had seen it, he would have recoiled in horror.

“Doesn’t the difference in skill seem obvious even to someone who knows nothing about swords?”

A laugh broke out between the two. It looked exactly like the exchange between Zeke Blodgett and Leo earlier.

“Ah, so you’re saying you’re a layman who’s just running his mouth.”

“It’s better than being so ignorant that you can’t even utter a word. Even someone like me, who knows nothing of the sword, knows what it means to become the Vice Commander of the Imperial Knights as soon as one reaches adulthood. Unfortunately, it seems you don’t.”

The brute to Blodgett’s left snorted loudly, looking ready to charge. Like a proper leader of a pack, Blodgett calmed him with a single gesture and stepped forward.

“I was going to request a duel, but at this rate, I’ll just look like a villain picking on fragile kids.”

Elliot, having become ‘Fragile Kid 1,’ kindly offered a suggestion.

“It’s true that I don’t know anything about swords, but he’s decent.”

All eyes shifted to me. I couldn’t hide my embarrassment and wiped my face with my hand because of Elliot, who was acting like an overbearing parent bragging about his gifted child. My face felt hot.

“Is that so? Well, if you were taught by your brother, I can look forward to it.”

I had never been taught by Leo—to be precise, he had tried and failed—but I didn’t bother mentioning that. Even thinking back on it now, it wasn’t a pleasant memory. I still couldn’t forget the look on Leo’s face after he watched me flailing my sword, causing him to demonstrate the moves over and over in shock.

Catching his breath, Blodgett tossed a guard over instead of a glove.

“I suppose I can learn a thing or two. I look forward to it.”

“Just one thing? You aren’t very ambitious.”

Please, stop. I slapped Elliot’s back and turned around. Of course, while I hadn’t encountered many types who displayed such blatant hostility as Blodgett, it wasn’t like I hadn’t met similar people before. I didn’t understand why Elliot, who usually ignored such types and refused to deal with them, was going this far.

“What are you thinking? Can’t you see the look in his eyes?”

“What can he do? No matter how much this is Blodgett territory, if he has a brain in his head, he won’t be able to wound you seriously.”

“What?”

When I stared at him in disbelief, the corners of Elliot’s mouth curled up. His face was smoldering with a competitive streak I had never seen before.

“Winning is good, of course. But it would be best to crush him so thoroughly that he can’t even harbor a doubt about the outcome.”

“…Do you actually trust me?”

“I trust the disciple chosen by Edward Spellman.”

Is he crazy? Where did the friend who prioritized rational judgment go? I began to wonder if Elliot had also been possessed by some soul from another world. Was what happened earlier really enough to wound his pride this much?

“Types like that need to have their spirits broken once.”

“Why not just do something you’re confident in?”

“Does Seth Blodgett look like the type to bow his head just because he lost a game of chess?”

Mm. Definitely not.

“Do you think your brother is displaying his might for no reason? It’s because doing things halfway only increases backlash. He’s making sure to set things straight from the start.”

“Brother is doing that because he’ll have to keep seeing their faces. What reason do we have to see Blodgett again after this?”

Elliot raised an eyebrow.

“Maybe not me, but you’ll have to keep seeing them. You need to hang around them.”

“Me?”

“You’ll only be able to move around freely if you’re sticking with Blodgett’s crowd.”

My heart skipped a beat at his nonchalant tone, which suggested he knew exactly what my goal was.

“What do you mean? Me, moving around where?”

Regression, reincarnation, possession. The words that first flashed through my mind made me look at Elliot with suspicion. However, he simply shrugged as if it were nothing.

“You aren’t the type of person to come all the way to the East for no reason. You must have an objective, and from the way you’ve been acting, it seems like there’s somewhere you need to go. Somewhere that’s hard to visit with a guardian’s help, yet somewhere you can’t go alone, and somewhere you find difficult to ask me to accompany you. There aren’t many such places. In that case, it’s best to get help from someone who knows this area well, and preferably someone of a similar age.”

I’d rather he said it was regression, reincarnation, or possession; this was almost creepier.

“Originally, I thought about getting an introduction from Lady Berinnon to join a salon, but Seth Blodgett just happened to provide a pretext first. It’s an opportunity too good to miss.”

I started to say something but stopped, my mouth hanging open. Sometimes, he scared me. To be honest, I’m truly glad he isn’t my enemy.

“Is the meeting over?”

Blodgett unbuckled his sword and jumped down into the training area. I wasn’t sure if this was a good idea, but for now, I intended to try fighting as Elliot suggested.

As long as the others didn’t interfere, it should be fine, right? Getting hit, rolling, dodging, and stabbing—I had done it so much that my body moved before my head could even think. When I glanced at the Brutes 1, 2, and 3 who followed Blodgett, the red-haired boy standing across from me spoke irritably.

“Don’t even think that unless you’re trying to insult me and my friends. No one here is brainless enough to interfere in a duel.”

Since he was so adamant about it, there was nothing more for me to say. I simply raised my sword and aimed at my opponent. The familiar weight helped steady my erratic heartbeat.

I wasn’t in a position to be overly confident; the matchup wasn’t exactly favorable. If anyone were to stand me and Blodgett side by side, they would predict Blodgett’s victory based on the size difference alone. Nevertheless, while I worried about things getting complicated, I wasn’t anxious about losing. I didn’t feel like I would lose. It was just a gut feeling, even though no one had told me so.

Blodgett charged first. His posture was close to textbook—fitting for someone preparing to be a knight. It was easy enough to dodge, but I felt I could parry it, so I met his blade and turned my hand. The force of his downward strike was redirected at a timing he hadn’t anticipated, causing his body to lurch, though he quickly regained his balance.

Without missing the opening, I struck his wrist with the hilt of my sword. It must have been quite painful, but his grit was impressive, as he didn’t drop the sword. When I first had this done to me, I spent a good while rolling around the training floor.

“Where the f*ck did you learn those shitty manners?”

His face, however, had turned bright red. I was slightly taken aback by Blodgett, whose nostrils were flaring as he exhaled ragged breaths. Edward Spellman taught me that the primary goal was to crush—no, defeat—the opponent by any means necessary. His policy was that while following etiquette was good, one could break the rules if necessary.

“Sorry. I didn’t know that wasn’t allowed. Do you want to go again? Or do you want to hit me back?”

Instead of answering, Blodgett took his stance again. It seemed to mean ‘shut up.’

Perhaps to make up for his previous mistake, he swung his sword horizontally with even more power. Should I dodge? I wondered as I watched the sword, which felt incredibly slow compared to Spellman’s, which was hard to even track with the eyes. But as Elliot said, if I just kept dodging and then won, a type like him likely wouldn’t accept the result.