Chapter 16: The Sword Mage

The atmosphere in the training ground was a bit awkward. On the surface, it was no different from yesterday, with the usual fervor rising from all corners, but everyone's attention was subtly directed to one place.

It was the young masters of the family they served.

"The body must be properly warmed up. Otherwise, the risk of injury is high."

"Ugh. Like this?"

The physical training of the young masters fell to Deo. He was the only one still playing around, using injuries as an excuse, and most importantly, he was a capable individual, regardless of his temperament, which was why Derga trusted him with the task. His duties included monitoring Ian and, if necessary, taking immediate action.

"Brother, stretch your arms further back."

"Ah, I can't. It hurts too much."

But Ian appeared to be very diligent in helping Chel. With Deo around, every action would likely reach Derga's ears. It would be foolish to invite misunderstandings, and it was wise to appear relaxed.

"We'll start with basic physical training, and you can't quit halfway. After running for about an hour, I'll check your sword stance."

Chel, whose nose was damp with sweat, pouted his lips in a miserable expression. The sun was bound to get hotter as time passed. Deo checked his watch and observed the expressions of the two boys.

'If I treat them roughly, they'll only do this for a few days.'

It was not just annoying, but in the long term, they should not even set foot in the training ground. Ian was sold to the Tianli clan, but especially Chel. As time went on, he would likely follow in the footsteps of the Bratz Count, taking more and more tasks into his own hands. If he ever gained command of the private army, it would be the same as losing his livelihood.

"By the way, where are the knights?"

Ian, who was slowly warming up, asked. He had thought about it yesterday, but most of the people training gave off a rough and rugged vibe. There was no one with the refined air of a knight.

'Of course, Deo isn't a knight either.'

Deo seemed to lack a title, as all the household servants called him by different names. Among the many titles, he had never heard "knight," and he had never seen him wear the family's coat of arms.

"Those noble bodies train in their own private grounds. This side is just a bunch of guys who picked up swords after holding picks. Why? Do you want to be trained by a knight?"

Deo tapped the ground with a stick and laughed. His teeth seemed especially black today. His tone was casual, as if he was just waiting to be picked on.

"Alright. Everyone has a teacher suited to them, don't they?"

Deo, you're just the right level for beginners. But he didn't seem to understand that, and he just scratched his ear and turned away.

"Alright. Let's start running."

No fief is without knights. In any fief, the knights are the elite of the elite. The same was true for the Bratz fief. They were surely performing secret guard duties and carrying out orders.

Clap!

'If we're talking about the border, there should be about ten at most.'

The number of knights a noble could retain was limited by the royal palace's control over the regions. A knight, commonly recognized, is someone whose skills and experience are acknowledged. They have fought in various battles against monsters and wars with other countries. They are a far cry from the ragtag group of peasant swordsmen.

'He must be quite skilled.'

They were on the border, facing the Tianli clan. Moreover, in nearly two weeks of staying here, he had never once sensed their presence. They were thoroughly Derga's shadows.

"Keep running!"

"Huff... Huff..."

Chel dragged his feet, drooling. It had only been two laps. Ian, breathing lightly, took the lead.

Deo, who was walking slowly, glanced at Ian.

'He even knows how to control his breathing.'

While his stamina wasn't great, he was clever in how he moved his body. Unlike Chel, who was gradually falling behind, Ian steadily followed Deo.

On the other side, two boys were practicing with swords.

"Yaaah!"

"Berick, you crazy, no!"

Clap! Clap!

The boy swinging his sword like a storm was Berick. His opponent was stepping back, but it wasn't because of the overwhelming strength; it was just a reaction to the relentless attack.

Berick's expression was not pleasant.

"Damn!"

It was strange. Last night, his body felt as light as if it could fly. Now, it felt like the effects of a drug he hadn't taken had worn off. Berick desperately tried to hold onto the strange sensation that was fading away.

"Hey! Cut it out!"

Clap!

His partner, unable to bear the frustration, shouted. At the same time, the swords clashed and flew in a circle. Berick finally stopped, catching his breath, while his partner spat, calling it bad luck.

"I told you I didn't want to do this!"

"You lost the bet this morning. Merial."

No one wanted to practice with Berick. He never held back, and a few trainees had been injured by his realistic fighting style.

The others snickered and teased Merial, who muttered curses and entered the break room. Berick, left alone, picked up the fallen wooden sword.

"Berick."

A familiar voice. He looked at Ian with red eyes. Ian, drenched in sweat, smiled brightly.

"What is it?"

"You're not telling me to go away anymore."

"...When did I ever say that?"

"Clearly, the taste is gone. You don't even know what I said."

In fact, he had just found out. The other day, the one who poured water on him was the illegitimate son, Ian. The main family's symbols were all over the training ground, and he had inadvertently overheard it.

Ian patted his shoulder with a grin.

"Well, it's fine. Everyone gets dizzy in the scorching sun."

Berick had no intention of responding. It was as if he was saying, "If you want to scold me, go ahead." After all, what could a young illegitimate son do? He slowly moved to the shade with his sword, and Ian followed.

Berick frowned and turned around.

"Chel will take some time to get here. I plan to walk slowly and rest."

Behind them, Deo was roughly dragging Chel. He kept falling and being pulled up, and it was a chaotic scene.

"Want something to eat?"

Ian took out some well-dried jerky from his pocket. The servants had given it to him to ensure the trainees didn't go hungry. People's favor comes from such basic things. Satisfying their desires is the start, and the more basic it is, the better the effect.

But.

"No, thanks."

"Why not?"

"There's no reason to eat."

Berick refused without hesitation.

It was unexpected. No matter how much Derga focused on expanding his private army, an orphan soldier wouldn't have a comfortable life. He might be a bit better off than when he was outside, but not much.

"Move aside. Please."

"Your words are strange. If you're going to be formal, do it properly."

"..."

Still, the boy was resolute. Even knowing Ian was an illegitimate son, he showed no change in his behavior. He thoroughly rejected kindness and goodwill.

Thinking he was difficult, Ian soon realized this was actually a good thing.

'Right. I need limbs, not confidants.'

If he wasn't interested in personal matters, he likely had his own beliefs. If he could satisfy those, they could make a clean and simple contract.

Of course, the proper way is to build a master-servant relationship based on trust and belief.

Creak.

Berick wrapped his right hand and wooden sword with bandages. Without hesitation, he opened the break room door and called out to his partner, Merial, who he had just been practicing with.

"Merial. Come out."

"Did you eat the heat? Where did you get the nerve to call me by my name..."

"The match wasn't decided."

Is he really crazy? As Merial's expression darkened, a giant man on the opposite side stood up. He looked twice Berick's size.

"...You've been acting up since yesterday. Huh?"

"Get lost. I have nothing to do with you."

"Merial doesn't have anything to do with you either!"

Bang!

The man grabbed Berick's head and slammed it into the wall. It happened in an instant. Berick, used to it, didn't flinch and lunged forward, swinging his wooden sword.

"Get lost!"

Smack! Smack!

Ian watched, munching on the jerky.

Berick's personality was definitely not normal. He acted as if he had no fear of violence. Moreover, he was obsessed with strength and competition.

Smack! Smack!

Unfortunately, reality was harsh. No matter how much Berick struggled, he couldn't beat a man twice his size.

"Crazy! Kid! Stop it!"

Smack! Smack!

The man kicked Berick's stomach like a ball.

Ouch. That must hurt. As Ian worried, Berick fell to the ground. The man shook his hand, laughing.

"If you keep acting up, you won't live long. I'd be grateful if you died early. Hahaha!"

"Gasp..."

Berick lay flat, gasping for breath. Ian crouched down next to him. Berick's golden hair fell