Ch.12Dumb and Dumber

“…I clearly did say to have a match, but…”

Lord Ludwig shook his head while rubbing his forehead.

“I’m deeply sorry.”

Nigel, sitting up against the hospital bed, lowered her head apologetically.

The bandages wrapped around her limbs rustled.

She still has energy to move despite being injured like that?

Well, earlier she even tried to get out of bed in that condition to show respect.

Thankfully, the lord hurriedly stopped her.

“Left arm fractured, tendons in the right arm severed. Leg muscles torn, and some internal organs crushed. Ah, and a crack in the scapula too. Not to mention countless lacerations.”

Nigel hung her head.

After finishing, the lord looked at me, closed his eyes, and sighed.

My mummy-like appearance must look quite pitiful.

“And this one is just…”

The lord’s fingertips twitched.

Feeling frustrated and wanting a smoke? I understand that feeling.

I feel the same way right now.

But apparently deciding that lighting up in a hospital room was inappropriate, the lord soon gave up the idea.

After all, the smoke from Mana Herb heightens the senses, so smoking in front of patients would be nothing short of torture.

“Cracked jawbone and left arm, left shoulder half gouged out, and half an ear torn off. The leg that was pierced had its bone crushed and artery torn. If the military priest’s treatment had been delayed by even a few minutes, you would have lost your life. Did you know that?”

So I really did have life-threatening injuries.

In a non-fantasy world, I would have died instantly.

“But why on earth did you fight to this extent? Drawing real swords for a simple match. Is Knight Nigel your sworn enemy or something?”

The lord raised his voice.

I suppose it would be bewildering to see someone who was perfectly fine an hour ago now at death’s door.

You want to know why? Don’t ask me. I don’t know either.

Why did Nigel come at me so viciously while claiming it was just a match?

Aiming relentlessly for vital points—solar plexus, throat, thigh, and head.

I may have misspoken somewhat, but trying to kill me is going too far.

That’s something only those Ka’har barbarians would do.

I tried to answer that I didn’t know either, but the bandages wrapped tightly around my head prevented me from opening my mouth.

“I… I was the one who suggested using real swords to Lady Haschal, my lord.”

Seeing my condition, Nigel began explaining the details.

That’s right. This was your doing, so you should be the one to explain.

Please do tell us why you nearly butchered me.

“You, Knight Nigel? But why?”

“I had heard that for Ka’har warriors, fighting with one’s life on the line even in practice matches is a way of showing respect to one’s opponent.”

Lord Ludwig’s expression twisted strangely.

“Who spread such nonsense?”

“I read it in a book called ‘Understanding Foreign Tribes Outside the Empire’… Was the information incorrect?”

“No matter how violent the Ka’har may be, they don’t try to kill each other in practice matches.”

Nigel’s face turned pale.

Lord Ludwig lifted his head and let out a deep sigh.

“They say the most dangerous person is one who has read only a single book…”

Wait. What?

So this whole disaster happened because of some nonsense written in some random book?

You’re joking, right?

I unconsciously clenched my fist in overwhelming frustration.

My body, numbed by painkillers, ached pointlessly.

I felt beyond wronged—I was resentful.

“…I’m deeply ashamed. I sincerely apologize, Lady Haschal. This was entirely my fault.”

Nigel bowed deeply toward me in apology.

Blood seeped through her bandages from the strain of movement.

I struggled to suppress the hostility rising toward Nigel.

Calm down.

It’s not right to harbor ill feelings toward Nigel.

This happened due to ignorance and misunderstanding; it would be harsh to hold her responsible.

In a way, Nigel is also a victim.

I don’t know who wrote that inflammatory book, but anyway, it’s all that person’s fault.

If I ever meet them, I’ll return this pain in full.

Since I couldn’t speak, I just shook my head.

At least my neck still moves.

“However—”

“That’s enough, Knight Nigel. Your injuries are severe, so please try not to move.”

Lord Ludwig firmly cut off Nigel’s words and turned back to me.

“Originally, you bear significant responsibility as well. Even if Knight Nigel made an absurd claim and offered you a real sword, if you had corrected her, this could have ended without bloodshed.”

The lord reprimanded me.

That’s technically true, but how exactly was I supposed to correct her?

Nigel at least read a book, even if just one, but I’ve never even heard details about Ka’har culture.

“Remember this. If you’ve decided to live within the Empire’s boundaries, it would be wiser not to try to prove your reputation.”

I couldn’t tell if it was advice or a threat.

Probably both.

This is frustrating.

The lord wouldn’t believe that Orhan’s daughter doesn’t know Ka’har culture, so I can’t even explain myself.

Not that I can speak right now anyway.

I have no mouth. Therefore, I cannot explain!

“…Let’s leave it at that for now. Anyway, focus on recovery here for the time being. Maids will bring recovery potions daily, and you should recover enough to move around in about three days.”

Recovery potion? Is that what he means?

But those won’t have much effect on me, will they?

Nigel carefully spoke up.

“Um, my lord. Lady Haschal possesses the blessing of mana resistance. And it’s strong enough to even affect translation magic.”

“Mana resistance?”

The lord narrowed his eyes in concern.

Mana resistance is the power to reject all mana that affects body and mind.

The healing effects of recovery potions, being a type of magic, have almost no effect on people with mana resistance.

“So she does have it. But to think it would manifest already…”

The lord muttered, stroking his beard.

What? What do you mean “so she does”?

Did Orhan have mana resistance too? Since it’s an inherited trait.

“Then there’s no helping it. Instead of recovery potions, I’ll send a military priest daily. It shouldn’t make much difference.”

That should work fine for recovery.

The healing blessing that priests manifest is borrowing part of a deity’s power.

It’s classified as a miracle, not magic.

Therefore, priestly blessings are not affected by mana resistance.

The power to reject impure mana while accepting only holy miracles.

This is also why mana resistance is recognized as a type of blessing bestowed by the gods.

“…It’s nearly midnight. I’ll take my leave now. Knight Nigel, please get some rest.”

“I will follow your orders.”

“It wasn’t an order, but…”

Lord Ludwig left the room with a bitter smile.

—-

After the lord departed, the hospital room sank into a gloomy silence.

Nigel remained silent for a long time.

Well, there’s no point in talking to me since I can’t answer anyway.

“I apologize once more, Princess Haschal. I have no words to express my regret.”

Or maybe not.

I turned my head to look at her.

Perhaps because the lord had stopped her earlier, she didn’t bow in apology, but her brown eyes looking at me were wet with guilt.

It’s hard to stay angry when she’s so remorseful.

Come to think of it, she’s also seriously injured.

I let go of the hostility lingering in a corner of my heart.

Right. There’s no sin in actions done out of ignorance.

So I’m not guilty either.

– Do you really think so?

Don’t think about it. I did nothing wrong.

I shook my head again.

Nigel pressed her lips together as if she couldn’t understand, but she didn’t bring it up again.

She must have finally accepted that my mind wouldn’t change.

“…Thank you for your mercy.”

Nigel whispered in a trembling voice, leaning back on the bed and closing her eyes.

The room grew quiet again.

Perhaps because I had forgiven Nigel.

Unlike the gloomy silence from before, it was now a calm and peaceful silence like a snowy night sky.

—-

With nothing else to do but think, I recalled my battle with her in my mind.

It was a painful memory, but necessary.

In a world where strength is needed to live safely, I need the power to fight and win.

My memories before surrendering to instinct were clear, but those after were torn in places.

Recalling the flow of Nigel’s sword, I carefully considered how I would need to move my body to recreate that flow.

Imperial Swordsmanship, was it? Is that really the name of the style?

Such a simple, generic name.

Come to think of it, when I moved by instinct, I think I mimicked that swordsmanship once.

How was that possible? Did the original Haschal know Imperial Swordsmanship?

It’s a question without an answer, though.

I pushed the thought aside and continued reviewing my memories.

In this situation, move the arm like this, twist the wrist outward…

Place the leg here and shift the upper body this way…

I couldn’t remember well how I moved with the spear, and it was too strange to be helpful anyway.

Next, I recalled the movements my instincts had shown me.

A fighting style more bestial than human—passionate and violent.

A storm of sword strikes unleashed by pushing strength, speed, and reflexes to their limits.

Even the cunning to catch an opponent off guard and create decisive openings.

Though different in approach from Nigel’s swordsmanship, it could be considered a complete martial art.

I felt embarrassed and pathetic for having blindly swung my sword, relying only on Haschal’s physical abilities.

However, those battle cries were honestly ridiculous.

Kyaaaaat! Guaaaaa! Kaaaak!

Are those human battle cries? They’re more like the howls of wild beasts.

She even growled in the middle?

The original Haschal didn’t make such sounds.

Perhaps it’s a side effect of completely surrendering to instinct, unlike her.

Looking back now, it really was dangerous.

The deeper I sank into instinct, the more my reason clouded and my judgment faded.

Engulfed by the beast-like ferocity that grew stronger with each wound, I charged ahead without knowing when to stop, resulting in this mess.

That final impulse was especially dangerous.

To think I wanted to keep fighting even with crushed leg bones and a torn artery.

I turned my head to look at the silver gauntlet placed on the shelf beside the bed.

Yes. If I had given in to that impulse and continued fighting, I would have died soon after.

Even if I had equipped Frosting, it wouldn’t have healed the wounds I’d already sustained.

I stared blankly at the ceiling, endlessly replaying the battle in my mind.

My exhausted body protested, whispering that it was time to sleep.

My consciousness gradually sank into dreams.

But if I had put that on and continued fighting, who would have won in the end?

– Giggle.

I heard laughter.