Fear coursed through Climb’s entire body. The kingdom’s strongest warrior had finally shown himself.
“I actually have one potion. If you end up with a broken bone or something, we can fix it up, so don’t worry.”
“…Thank you.”
Hearing Gazef basically announce, I’m gonna break one of your bones, that’s all, made Climb’s heart pound. He was accustomed to injuries, but that didn’t mean he liked them.
Gazef charged—twice as fast as Climb’s previous approach.
The bastard sword traced an extremely low arc aimed at Climb’s feet, its tip practically scraping the ground. Flustered by the speed and centrifugal force, Climb protected his feet by gripping his broadsword blade-down, as if to stick it into the floor.
The two crashed together. That’s what Climb thought, but suddenly, Gazef’s bastard sword rose back up, slicing along the edge of the broadsword.
“Kgh!” Climb turned his entire body and face away from the bastard sword, which missed him by a tiny margin. The draft blew a few of his hairs away.
Climb was terrified by how quickly Gazef had been able to corner him. He followed the bastard sword with only his eyes but saw it suddenly stop sharp and come back around.
Faster than he could think.
His survival instinct seemed to drive him to thrust his shield forward when the bastard sword crashed into it with a shrill clang.
And then—
“Gah!”
With a sharp pain, Climb’s body sailed sideways. When he fell to the floor, the shock knocked the weapon out of his hands.
The bastard sword had rebounded off the shield to the side, delivering a heavy impact to Climb’s wide-open flank.
“Flow. Don’t think, First attack, then defend—you have to move in a way that connects you to your next stroke. Defending is but another part of the attack.” As Climb retrieved his fallen sword and made to get up while holding to his side, Gazef gently spoke to him, saying, “I held back so nothing would break. You’re still good, right? …What do you want to do?”
In contrast to Gazef, who didn’t seem the least bit out of breath, Climb was panting from the pain and stress.
If he couldn’t last for more than a few exchanges like this, he was wasting Gazef’s time. But he still wanted to improve, even if only slightly.
He nodded at Gazef and held up his sword.
“Okay, then let’s keep going.”
“Yes, sir!” With a hoarse shout, Climb raced forward.
After being struck, launched away, and occasionally kicked or punched, Climb collapsed on the floor, out of breath. The cold stones leeched the heat out of him through his mail and clothing, which felt good.
Panting, he didn’t even move to wipe the sweat off his face. Rather, he didn’t have the energy to.
Enduring the pain welling up in various locations, Climb was overwhelmed by the fatigue coursing through his entire body, and he lightly closed his eyes.
“Good work. I tried to swing so you wouldn’t get any breaks or fractures, but how are you feeling?”
“…” Still lying on the floor, Climb moved his arms, examining the painful spots before opening his eyes. “There doesn’t seem to be anything wrong. I’m hurting, but it should only be bruises.”
The throbbing aches he felt were far from serious. They wouldn’t prevent him from guarding the princess.
“Okay… Then you don’t need the potion, huh?”
“No. Because if I overuse them, I won’t get any of the benefits of strength training.”
“Letting your muscles heal naturally makes them stronger, but if you use magic to restore them to their original state, then that doesn’t happen. I getcha. Are you off to be bodyguard for the princess now?”
“Yes.”
“Then I’ll give it to you. Use it if you have any problems.”
He placed the potion next to Climb with a clink.
“Thank you.” Climb sat up and regarded the man his sword had been unable to approach even once.
The unscathed warrior asked in puzzlement, “What?”
“Nah, I was thinking that you’re amazing…”
Gazef had barely any sweat on his forehead. He wasn’t out of breath. Sighing, Climb acknowledged the gap between the strongest man in the kingdom and himself, a boy splayed out on the floor.
In response, Gazef grinned awkwardly. “…Oh. I see.”
“How—?”
“I can’t really answer the question of how I got this strong. I just had some inborn talent, that’s all. By the way, I learned to fight during my mercenary days. The nobles are always screaming about how vulgar my kicks are, but I learned those back then, too.”
There were no tricks to getting stronger. Gazef had declared it so. He denied with ease the small hope Climb had clung to, the belief that he might be able to grow more powerful if he continued his current training.
“In that sense, it’s a good style for you, Climb—punching, kicking, a style where you use your arms and legs like that.”
“You…think so?”
“Yeah, not being trained as a swordsman or soldier will work in your favor. People tend to focus on bladework once they have a sword in their hands…but I don’t think that’s very smart. In a real fight, a doctrine that fully utilizes the hands and feet with the sword as simply another offensive option should prove more useful. Well, it’s kinda fighting dirty…but it works for adventurers.”
Climb dropped his usual expressionless manner and smiled. He never thought the strongest man in the kingdom would hold such a high opinion of his sword skills or his inconsistent, unorthodox movements. Climb knew the nobles scoffed at his style from the shadows, so praise like this was a big deal for him.
“All right, I’m going to head out. I need to be ready for breakfast with the king. Are you okay on time?”
“Yes. The princess will have a visitor today.”
“A visitor? One of the nobles?”
Gazef wondered who the princess would be entertaining, and Climb answered, “From the Aindra family.”
“Aindra? …Ohh, then which one? Blue, right? I can’t imagine it’d be the red one.”
“Yes, from the Blue Roses.”
Gazef was visibly relieved. “Aha…I see, so her friend is coming…”
Gazef seemed to guess that Renner didn’t want Climb at breakfast with her friend, but Climb had actually declined an invitation. Even if he had the kind of relationship with her that allowed it, refusing an offer from one of the royal family would definitely have made Gazef frown, so Climb said nothing and left the details up to the older man’s imagination.
As for Aindra herself, she was also acquainted with Climb through Renner and was friendly with him. She wouldn’t react badly, like the other nobles, if he came to breakfast. But Renner had few female friends, and he figured she could get more of that rare girl talk without a guy around.
“Thank you for today, Captain Gazef.”
“Nah, don’t worry about it. I had fun, too.”
“…If you don’t mind, could you train me again sometime?”
Gazef wasn’t sure what to say, but faster than Climb could notice and apologize, the captain responded. “Sure, as long as we can find a time and place where no one else is around.”
Climb knew what the conflict had been, so he didn’t say anything awkward. He flexed his creaking muscles and stood up. He did, however, express his honest thoughts. “Thank you.”
Gazef gave a benevolent wave and got moving. “Okay, let’s clean up. There’ll be trouble if I don’t make it to breakfast on time. Oh, and that swing from overhead is pretty good. You just need to think about how to follow up—in case your opponent dodges or blocks it.”
“Yes, sir!”
4
3 Late Fire Moon (September) 6:22 AM
After leaving Gazef and wiping himself down with a damp towel, Climb went to a place very different from the large practice hall.
This ro
om was as spacious as the training area he’d come from. Many people sat on benches, chatting. An appetizing scent suffused the warm atmosphere.
It was the mess hall.
Cutting across the room, weaving through the noise, Climb joined the line behind a few others.
Following the people in front of him, Climb took dishes from the arranged stacks. On his tray, he placed a wooden plate and a wooden stew bowl. Then a wooden cup.
Everyone received their food in order.
A large steamed potato, brown bread, a white stew with a decent helping of fixings, pickled cabbage, a sausage—from Climb’s perspective it was a luxurious meal.
The array of all those things on his tray gave off inviting smells. Suddenly feeling hungry, Climb looked out across the mess hall.
The soldiers ate with no small commotion, making idle chat with their neighbors about what they would do on their next day off, the food, their families, mundane stories about their work, and so on.
Climb spotted an empty seat and made his way through the busy room.
He straddled the bench and sat down. There were soldiers on either side of him, having nice chats with their friends. As Climb sat down, the ones nearest him spared him just a glance before looking away in apparent disinterest.
It was like there was a lull that surrounded only Climb.
From the outside, it seemed odd.
Lively conversations went on all around Climb, but not a single person called out to him. Certainly not many people would randomly talk to a stranger. But considering they were soldiers serving at the same place, entrusting their lives to one another when on duty, this treatment was a bit strange.
It was like he didn’t exist.
Climb didn’t make an effort to talk to anyone, either—he knew where he stood.
The guardians of Ro-Lente Castle were not ordinary military.
The kingdom’s “soldiers” included levies outfitted by landed nobility, soldiers who were like a private army whose wages were paid by city officials, and the guards who mainly patrolled the city. They all shared one thing—their commoner backgrounds.
But there were various problems with entrusting peasants of unknown origin with the castle’s protection and bringing them so close to the royal family and all the kingdom’s sensitive intelligence. Accordingly, the soldiers who guarded Ro-Lente Castle needed a recommendation from a noble. If a soldier caused any issues, the vouching noble would be held responsible, so the candidates were necessarily of clearly established identity with no evidence of problems with their thoughts or behavior.
But something had developed as a result of this system.
Factions.
The nobles who supplied castle guard nominees all belonged to one or another of them. Naturally, the soldiers aligned themselves with the affiliations of their patrons. Those who would defy their noble would never be elected in the first place, so it wasn’t an exaggeration to say there were virtually no soldiers who eschewed factionalism.
At first glance, this setup appeared to be wholly detrimental, but if there was an advantage to speak of, it was that because conflict between factions could potentially spark a war, the soldiers were expected to apply themselves diligently. Even if they still couldn’t match up to the empire’s knights, the soldiers who guarded the castle were fairly skilled.
Of course, Climb was a few notches above them, and that was another reason the nobles resented him—he was stronger than the soldiers they backed.
It was possible to conceive of a sponsoring noble who didn’t belong to a faction. But in the current power struggle between the king’s faction and the nobles’, there was only a single noble who was skilled enough to strategically flit back and forth like a bat between them.
And among the soldiers, there was only one who had not joined up with either faction besides the troops endorsed by that exceptional noble.
That was Climb.
Climb’s position was a very difficult one.
Normally someone of Climb’s background wouldn’t be able to serve as Renner’s personal attendant. The role of protecting a member of the royal family would normally never be an option for a lowborn citizen. It was generally accepted that the only ones fit to protect the royal family were of noble rank.
But there was the exception of Gazef Stronoff, the strongest soldier in the kingdom, and his elite men. That, and more importantly, there weren’t many who could openly oppose Princess Renner if she strongly desired something. Maybe a relative could speak frankly with her, but if the king approved, no one could dissent.
The reason Climb had a private room was due to this difficult position.
If he were an ordinary soldier, he would have shared a big common room instead.
Although Renner’s authoritative pronouncement was part of the reason he had his own room, the other part was to isolate him. They didn’t know where to place him because he didn’t belong to a faction. He was a problem.
Considering Climb’s own circumstances and his position, he would naturally belong to the king’s faction. But the king’s faction was comprised mainly of nobles who swore loyalty to the king. Climb was a nobody whose existence the nobles would undoubtedly frown upon.
So the group wouldn’t know how to treat him if they took him in, and he would naturally cooperate with them if they left him alone. Whereas for the nobles, it would be quite a prize to win Climb over, but it would also be dangerous.
Still, each faction contained countless nobles. It wasn’t as if their thoughts and opinions were monolithic. In the end, a faction was no more than a gathering of similarly minded people who desired the advantage of banding together. So of course, there were some in the king’s faction who detested Climb—the beautiful Golden Princess’s closest aide despite his uncertain peasant background—and some in the opposing nobles’ faction who wanted to befriend him.
In any case, no one thus far had been so imprudent as to cause schisms in their faction over one guy.
The result was that although everyone wanted to avoid his going to the other side, they didn’t want to go so far as to have him on theirs.
That’s why no one talked to him, why he dined alone.
He ate his meal without chatting with anyone and looked to neither side. He finished his breakfast in less than ten minutes.
“Okay, guess I should get going.” Satisfied, he talked to himself under his breath—a growing habit from being alone so much—as he stood up, and a soldier who happened to be passing by bumped into him.
The man’s elbow jabbed a spot he’d hurt training with Gazef that morning, and although his face remained expressionless, he stopped short from the pain.
The soldier who’d bumped into him kept walking without saying a thing. Naturally, none of the surrounding soldiers spoke up, either. Some of the ones who had witnessed what happened furrowed their brows a tiny bit, but still, no one moved to say something.
Climb exhaled slowly and walked off with his empty dishes.
This degree of harassment was all too common. He was just glad it hadn’t happened when there was hot stew in his bowl.
Someone would stick a leg out and trip him. Someone would bump into him, pretending it was an accident. These things happened all the time.
Still—
What about it?
Climb walked on, unconcerned. They couldn’t do anything more than that, either, especially in a place like the mess hall where there were so many people watching.
Climb kept his chest out. He kept his eyes facing forward and his head high.
If he did anything shameful, it would cause trouble for his master, Renner. The reputation of the woman he devoted his whole self to was on the line.
Chapter 2 | The Blue Roses
1
3 Late Fire Moon (September) 8:02 AM
Perfectly outfitted in his white full plate armor with his sword strapped to his hip, Climb stepped into Valencia Palace.
The palace was made up of three m
ain structures, and he entered the largest one, where the royal family resided. Unlike the mess hall he had just come from, the palace was designed to allow in so much light that the interior itself brightly shone.
He walked down a long corridor so clean that it seemed unlikely one would find even a speck of dust, never mind garbage. His gear made hardly a sound because it had been forged from a mix of mythril and orichalcum, as well as enchanted.
Along the broad and spotless hallway stood the elite soldiers who guarded the palace, clad in full armor, standing rigidly—the kingdom’s knights.
In the empire, knight meant an ordinary person who was transformed into a professional soldier, but in the kingdom, the word referred to those who had life peerage. Third or fourth sons of nobles, men who wouldn’t inherit their houses, often aimed to join the knighthood. That said, the royal household paid consummate wages, so only those skilled enough were chosen. Not even a noble could get by on connections alone.
The most straightforward way to describe the kingdom’s knights was perhaps “the king’s bodyguards.”
Incidentally, Gazef’s title of warrior captain was something the king fabricated because a great many objected to knighting a commoner. Correspondingly, the elite soldiers he hand-selected to serve under him became known as the Royal Select.
Climb bobbed his head toward the knights. They, at least, usually returned his greetings. There were a few who did so unwillingly, but some actually meant it, too. These men were nobles, but at the same time, they were loyal to the king and had the hearts of warriors. Naturally, they had plenty of respect for an outstanding soldier who would never lapse in his devotion to the king.
At the same time, there were others Climb passed in the corridors who directed outright hostility at him—the maids. Most made unpleasant expressions whenever they saw him.
Unlike the average servant, most maids who worked in the palace were the daughters of noble households, hoping to raise their prestige through service. In a way, these maids were higher in status than Climb. Quite a few were from elite noble families, particularly the maids who closely attended the royal family. Their discontent at having to pay obeisance to a lowborn man was clear in their angry faces.
The Men of the Kingdom Part I Page 5
