Ch.71Past (1)

After Lord Camille de Alzar, their lord and future lord, had left his position.

“I look forward to your guidance, Instructor!”

“Yes, well… Pierre, was it?”

“That’s right!”

Regardless of their original status or social position, the two quickly established a hierarchical relationship as teacher (instructor) and student (trainee).

A common soldier instructor of the lord’s guard and the only attendant of the future young lord designate.

If one were to be particular, the attendant’s position would generally be considered higher, but the formation of an educator-student relationship took precedence over that.

In combat training, where unavoidable non-malicious violence and scolding were part of the educational process, things could become serious if the student outranked the instructor… and moreover, if the student didn’t respect the instructor.

The best method for combat skills training was, of course, learning by physically experiencing the techniques, but if the student outranked the instructor while lacking respect, such methods couldn’t be employed.

Of course, Pierre, not fully understanding these complex principles, was simply more accustomed to his former status as a common freeman and thus used honorifics, but that was all for the better anyway.

Leon, who had been watching with satisfaction as Pierre showed humility as a student, soon read the complex emotions revealed in Pierre’s expression and decided to address them directly.

“You seem to have many questions.”

“W-what?”

“No, I’m not trying to reprimand you or anything. You just looked curious, so I meant you should ask.”

“…Oh.”

A misunderstanding caused by the uniquely intimidating atmosphere that came from Leon’s long experience training soldiers as an instructor.

Having cleared up the misunderstanding amicably, Pierre tried to ease his mind and spoke.

“Instructor… are you the master who taught Lord Alzar his swordsmanship?”

Pierre had asked this question to create a pleasant atmosphere and build rapport, and also because he was genuinely curious about the details, but…

“…Well.”

“Instructor?”

How should he put it? Instructor Leon, having heard those words directly, opened his mouth without even trying to hide his complicated feelings.

“Have you… ever seen Lord Alzar fight?”

“Yes. I’ve seen him a few times.”

“…Then, even as a novice, you must have felt something when watching his swordsmanship?”

“…That’s right.”

Pierre noticed Leon’s visibly complex emotions, but how could he dare lie to the person who was to become his martial arts instructor when asked so directly?

“Lord Alzar’s sword… had no formal style.”

“…Oh? Tell me more.”

“There was no fixed form to his swordsmanship; rather, he wielded his sword in whatever manner was appropriate for each situation… I apologize. With my limited understanding, that’s all I can say.”

“…A sword solely for cutting, wasn’t it?”

“Y-yes! Every movement seemed designed only to cut down the enemy. Though lacking dazzling flourishes, before you knew it, his sword had already cut through his opponent.”

As Pierre carefully shared his impressions of the combat, Leon delivered a shocking statement.

“When I first crossed swords with him, he displayed skills not much different from what you described. This was when he was just eight years old, the first time he ever held a sword.”

“What? Then that means…”

“…Yes. Of course, his technique became more proficient over time, but it hasn’t changed much fundamentally. In other words… he was already at some extraordinary level from the very moment he first picked up a sword.”

Pierre, despite being an amateur, had handled weapons enough to be utterly shocked by these words.

“At eight years old… and that was the first time he ever wielded a weapon?”

“That’s right. Shamefully, I was defeated by him on the spot. I can’t say I was caught off guard… but a defeat is a defeat.”

Of course, the shock of being defeated by an 8-year-old child who had just picked up a sword for the first time was no small matter.

“Then… why did he send me to you…?”

“Ah, that. It’s actually for a very simple reason. Lord Alzar cannot teach his swordsmanship to anyone who is not of his kind.”

“…Ah.”

Only then did Pierre feel as if all the pieces of the puzzle were falling into place. Yes, of course. How could such a once-in-a-generation genius possibly teach someone else?

“Given that he specifically mentioned your aptitude, you certainly have talent.”

“R-really…?”

“Considering Lord Alzar’s eye for people, there’s no doubt. But… Lord Alzar is someone who cannot be followed, and should not be followed. Someone who has never learned anything cannot teach it.”

“…That’s certainly true.”

A genius can never understand the mind of an ordinary person, and furthermore, the possibility of them becoming a good teacher is extremely low.

Though it was obvious, this insight was surprisingly difficult to grasp. After expressing this, Leon looked at Pierre with a mischievous expression and…

“Well then, if you understand, follow me. We need to prepare.”

“…Yes!”

He took Pierre to the training ground, intending to provide him with the basic education as Lord Alzar had requested.

※ ※ ※

At the same time, in the lord’s office at the baron’s castle.

“Father, I’ve returned.”

“…Yes, it’s been a while. My beloved son.”

As father and son, meeting for the first time in just over a month and a week, awkwardly greeted each other, I, the son in this father-son relationship, couldn’t hide that peculiar feeling of awkwardness.

Neither my father’s personality nor mine was particularly sociable or affectionate, and with our respective positions added to the mix, the result was this awkward standoff.

My father, quite inept at the father-son relationship, was visibly uncomfortable not knowing what to say to me, while I was too intimidated by his position and authority to express myself properly.

As a result, a rather complex flow of human relations continued between us, until finally, perhaps unable to bear the atmosphere any longer, my father spoke to me first.

“So far, you’ve been playing lord at that pioneer village for about a month. How does it feel?”

“It’s a bit difficult, but rewarding nonetheless. It’s actually quite interesting to see how the village develops as a result of my actions.”

“…I see. I’m glad you find it enjoyable.”

Perhaps he had been quite concerned about sending me, a 15-year-old child, alone to the frontier. Upon hearing my answer, my father finally raised the corners of his mouth slightly and looked at me directly.

“Being a lord is hard, isn’t it?”

“…Yes. Things don’t go as planned, and problems keep arising…”

The anguish and internal conflict that comes with being directly responsible for managing something.

Honestly, I might be happier if I had no thoughts at all, but having them only seems to make things more complicated.

And facing my father, who was showing a hint of playfulness, I was finally able to express the question I had been holding back.

“Father, there’s something I’d like to ask.”

“…What is it?”

“My mother, my birth mother—what kind of person was she?”

I asked this question that I absolutely needed to know, now that my mother had been revealed to be Baa… the demon lord of “Gluttony.”

While I could understand the general circumstances through her own words, it was extremely important to observe this through the perspectives of various people to grasp the definite situation.

So, regardless of the outcome, I asked this important question that might potentially cause problems, simply because I wanted to know something.

“…Ah.”

Perhaps my question caught even my father by surprise. For the first time in my life, I witnessed my father’s flustered appearance, though he quickly regained his composure… or did he?

“I suppose… now that you’re fifteen, it’s about time I told you.”

My father, who had previously maintained an expressionless face, now wore a look that seemed to drip with lingering attachments and thoughts—quite different from before.

He sighed deeply, and then opened his mouth…

“…It’s a long story.”

And he began to briefly explain to me the past—how my father and mother had met.