Jean's sword resonated in its scabbard.
—Here I come! Whoever the enemy is, I'll eliminate them all.
As befitted the fierce sound, its owner's spirit also sharpened.
Jean took a deep breath and then snapped her eyes open.
—I won't reject your kindness!
A new version of Jean flew toward me. Both her posture and her toes were perfectly neat and precise. Therefore, it was even easier to avoid her. Jean wielded her sword with such power that the words "mock duel" were rendered ridiculous. Her attacks were so sharp that I could feel the heat of the air the blade cut through as it grazed me.
In such a case, I had no choice but to strike my opponent's hand or sword to drive her away.
—Ugh!
She was so serious while speaking that she seemed to have no emotions. But if she's hit even once, she stares at her opponent as if she wants to kill them. And it wasn't anger toward the enemy who had attacked her, but rather anger toward herself for not being able to avoid my attack in time.
She is terribly demanding of herself.
Jean, who had been forced to retreat several times, this time did not rush with as much energy, but instead slowly adjusted her posture.
—Wow!
It was always good to regain strength by catching one's breath instead of sinking into despair. Besides, Jean knew how to take advantage of the opening. Every time she stopped to catch her breath, she observed me with a piercing gaze and made sure to try to catch my movements.
Jean's appearance made me smile a little. You really love fencing. But I couldn't help it. She was the disciple of the sword saint. I've seen the Duke's fencing in action hundreds of times. I was even by his side when he reached the level of sword master.
Jean had learned, mastered, and refined that style of sword handling, so I couldn't help but predict the path of her sword.
—How disgusting.
Jean stumbled back after a series of vain attacks. Of course, if I wielded my sword even once, it would help boost Jean's morale. But I didn't want to. It was the Duke's sword and, somehow, it felt strange. However, I couldn't avoid her forever.
It was a good tactic to tire the opponent, but I was reluctant to continue because it was a waste of time. So, only one other option remained. Make her fall so hard she can't get up.
I carefully grabbed the scabbard I carried on my right. Jean, who noticed my movement, leaned to her side, probably thinking I was going to draw my sword.
—I'm sorry.
I didn't draw my sword, but instead pushed the scabbard I held in my right hand toward the front of me. The end of the hilt struck Jean's abdomen.
—Ugh.
I didn't miss the moment she stepped back and swung the still-sheathed sword with my left hand to strike the top of Jean's head. Very hard.
—Agh!
Oops. What a scream! Jean, who closed her eyes tightly, couldn't bear the pain and fell to the ground.
—Next are your ankles. If both are hit, you won't be able to walk without crutches for a while, okay?
Jean looked at me with tears threatening to run down her face. I kindly explained what the next wound I planned to cause her was if she didn't back down. —After the ankles come the wrists. You won't be able to hold even a fountain pen for a month.
Jean must have already realized the difference in skill between her and me, but she was someone who lived and died by the sword. Would she persist and risk her wrist even knowing the difference in our skill levels? The precious wrist that allowed her to hold a sword?
Jean, attempting to control her racing breath, closed her eyes with a miserable expression.
—…I lost.
It was a very rational declaration of defeat for a swordsman. Initially I was going to leave her some words of advice about the sword she wielded, but I kept quiet. She was a swordswoman who had that person as a master, who was I to give her advice?
Jean, who retrieved the Duke's sword, sighed as she asked: —Can I ask you a question?
—You can ask me two.
—How can you reach that level at that age?
Age, eh? The Viscount was twenty years old this year? I shook my head decisively. —I can't.
I didn't learn that much at twenty. It was a fake age. Besides, I had never learned to use the sword properly. That was one of the reasons the term "lord" embarrassed me. Because those were the rudimentary survival skills I had acquired by twisting, hurting myself, and surviving on the battlefield for ten years.
—But the Viscount… —I learned to use the sword incorrectly. I got results much earlier than others, but now I'm also paying the price.
I added a little seasoning, but I didn't lie. I became strong on the battlefield and, in return, I also died on the battlefield, right? Luckily, somehow I got out of my grave, but I was still living a life with a time limit of six years. It was a price in its full definition.
—What price?
—That's a secret.
Jean, who lowered her head as if wishing to say something, spoke again with hesitation. —Can I say one last thing?
—You can.
Then she looked at me with determined eyes. —Viscount Weatherwoods. Please, accept me as your disciple.
Eh. I once heard someone say that some swordsmen were not crazy about their swords. They were simply crazy from the start. It seemed the old saying was correct.
—Didn't you understand what I said? I'm pretty sure I mentioned that I learned to use the sword the wrong way. Or are you saying you wish to become stronger even if it means doing that?
—Yes.
—It's a terrible thing, not an ideal! The sword should be wielded by you, not the other way around! Have you already forgotten? The Duke must emphasize this virtue as well!
—For me it's also a terrible method, but I would be willing to let myself be wielded by a sword if it means reaching my goal. Being strong is more important to me. Being faster than anyone else, if possible. So, please, accept me as a disciple.
Even when she declared she would go against her master's teachings, her eyes didn't flicker at all. It's not a whim. She has a lot of willpower. That's why I refused more firmly.
—I don't want to.
—I'll do whatever you want me to do.
—What are you going to do for me with that demonic sword, Miss Jean?
—Then, please, let me clean and wash the laundry.
—What? Why are you trying to take someone else's job now…?
—Otherwise, I have nowhere to go.
—Are you whining now after accepting the duel with such enthusiasm?
—I'm an orphan. I have no parents or siblings. I have no friends. If you don't accept me, the only thing I'll be able to do is starve day after day, after having been thrown out onto the street.
Why was she so shameless? She had no parents and nowhere to go. Wouldn't it be as cruel to reject her as telling her "if you're sick, you can go die"?
At that moment, a magnificent mechanical sound filled the space and the Black Ragel shook. The airship then began to descend slowly.
—First come, first served? Ah, that's right. There was another event planned for tonight.
The airship seemed to have reached its new destination, the Oriental Lake, Iregiel. Jean bit her lips, stared at me and said: —I will inform everyone that I was defeated in the mock duel. Don't worry, as I promised, I will leave the Berkley Gratten family. After leaving the castle, I will go visit you, Viscount. Well, then…
Jean descended the deck with a look of regret.
—Tsk, tsk. You can try to come looking for me as much as you want, but it's not like Viscount Weatherwoods is what awaits you. We probably won't see each other again until we die.
Anyway, this will prevent the assassin butler from abandoning me. As annoying as it was, I went and fought a mock duel, so now the assassin butler was enslaved to me until he found all of Dian Cecht's relics... well, no, we would have to work together as friends.
Before stepping off the deck, I observed for a moment the dark surface of the water below us. This was the eastern lake, Iregiel. If someone had said it was an ocean, I would have believed them. Furthermore, the shadow of the North Deus mountains, which could barely be seen beyond the lake, was as pronounced as rumored.
The Black Ragel was supposed to stay here in Iregiel until tomorrow and depart early the next day. Iregiel was the destination where the noble council meetings were held. The members of the noble council would stay with the regular passengers in their respective residences tomorrow, but they would strengthen their bonds through conversations at the meeting.
I returned to my private cabin. —Rue, are you there?
There was no answer, so I opened the door. However, my feet remained stuck on the spot as the view beyond was revealed. The scene in front of me was so different from what I had gotten used to on the Black Ragel that, for a moment, I thought I had returned to the Weatherwoods mansion.
—Yes.
Rue was looking at me, having returned to his original body. That in itself was not the problem. However, if a well-dressed lady lay unconscious at his feet, it was definitely a big problem. Rue, you…! You finally caused an incident!
I closed the door carefully and stealthily, in case someone saw what was happening inside. Then I approached the fallen woman and put a finger under her nose. Fortunately, she was breathing. I looked at Rue with very, very complex feelings. Standing expressionless in the middle of the cabin, he smiled when his eyes met mine. It was an eerie smile, containing not an ounce of the beauty that Morian Serenier had.
—Why? Are you disappointed that she's alive when you assumed she was dead?