Swordmaster of the Great Wall

After the preliminaries of the Iceborn.

The number of participants, once so many, had dwindled to only 64. In fact, more people had passed the preliminary round, but all those who suffered excessive injuries had to be excluded.

Once the tournament bracket for the 64 participants was posted, Finn quickly left his seat after checking the notice board.

The young master's match-up with Knight Milon would be in the semifinals—that is, after making it to the final four.

Of course, the overall picture of the match-ups had already been set before the preliminaries, so the fact that Milon and Young Master Erich would face each other was already a foregone conclusion.

However, having them face off specifically in the semifinals seemed like a move driven by a particular intent.

Finn felt uneasy and muttered to himself inwardly.

'... This is ominous.'

The grand duchess did not wish for Young Master Erich to gain fame. However, just by making it to the semifinals in this Iceborn, which attracted prominent nobles from both the South and even the Central regions, his master would gain renown.

Therefore, if this bracket was indeed the work of the grand duchess, then she would be making a foolish mistake.

However... to Finn's knowledge, the grand duchess was a singularly ruthless villain, smarter than anyone else he had ever known.

"Steward?"

"Yes, yes."

Finn casually acknowledged the greetings of passing servants and walked briskly toward his destination.

― Clang! Clang!

Soon, as he turned into a secluded corner of the mansion...

The piercing clang of steel colliding several times stabbed sharply at his ears. As Finn hurried toward the training grounds, the source of the noise was finally revealed.

"Hup!"

Erich was fiercely attacking Milon without a moment for him to catch his breath.

Meanwhile, Milon blocked Erich's assaults like an immovable mountain, pressing down on him.

― Clang!

The two were so engrossed in the spar that they were drenched in sweat.

As a result, they hadn't even noticed that Finn, the steward, had come right up beside them.

Then, at some point—

― Clang!

With a forceful parry from Milon, Erich was pushed back as dust flew up from the ground. Yet, with a suspicious expression, Milon spoke up.

"Strange."

"What is?"

"Are you sure you're using your full strength?"

"Why do you ask that all of a sudden?"

― Clang!

As Milon rested his sword on his shoulder guard, the metallic clang rang out. He rolled his eyes as if reconstructing the prior exchange, then replied again.

"Honestly, there's nothing to fault in your swordsmanship. Your ability to attack and defend simultaneously is not only difficult to deal with but downright bewildering."

"Really? Then what's the problem?"

"Well, perhaps you're focusing too much on simultaneous offense and defense. When it comes time to press the attack, it feels as if you stop instead. Am I wrong?"

At Milon's words, Erich offered a faint smile.

"So what should I do?"

"If it were me, I'd push through with more attacks when my opponent shows any opening. You could've landed a few more clean hits just now if you had. However..."

"However?"

"I doubt you're unaware of that."

At those words, Erich's smile widened, as if things were becoming even more interesting.

"Anyway, today's lesson ends here. Not that there's much to teach... and practice time is over as well. Do you have anything to say to me?"

"Aren't you my swordsmanship teacher? Why would a student speak out of turn?"

"Well, teacher, you say... Let's not be too sure. Still, earlier, you seemed to be analyzing my movements quite closely, didn't you?"

"Hm..."

Erich put on a deliberately enigmatic expression. Milon did not realize it, but Finn knew exactly what that special look meant.

That was the face Erich always made whenever he found something to his liking.

"It seems like a chronic flaw among knights. Their upper body always moves ahead of the lower body. Probably because they rely half on their armor for defense. But if you keep doing that, your footwork will get twisted sooner or later."

"Is that an issue? Armor is another form of defense for a knight. Using it well is a skill, too."

"It is an issue. At least when facing a swordsman who can cut through it with you still inside."

Milon's lips twitched for a moment. He seemed to want to argue, then thought better of it. Erich was right; if facing a swordsman who could cut through plate armor, that defensive habit became useless. But a swordsman who could cleave through plate...

In other words, a swordsman who could use aura—a Swordmaster.

However, in his lifetime, it was highly unlikely Milon would ever cross swords with someone who could actually draw forth aura.

That's why Milon responded with a wry smile.

"If I ever fight a Swordmaster, I'll keep that advice in mind."

"Or maybe you've already fought one?"

"......?"

Naturally, Milon didn't understand Erich's words. Erich chuckled inwardly.

What would Milon do if he knew that the man he crossed blades with every morning was, in fact, a real Swordmaster?

"Well, anyway, I'll be off. That Steward over there looks about ready to eat me alive."

"Finn's always like that. You should be used to it by now."

As Milon passed Finn and left the training ground, Finn was the first to speak.

"Does that man please you, young master?"

"Hmm..."

Erich wiped his sweat off with the towel Finn handed him and continued speaking.

"Father is truly lucky with people. It's hard to find loyal subordinates like that. He can count on him."

"On the contrary, young master. That's what I think."

"What do you mean?"

Finn, as if to double-check that Milon was really gone, glanced to either side before replying.

"Milon Roland. Didn't you ask me to investigate his background?"

"I did. And?"

"A long time ago, the previous head of House Roland was beheaded by order of the grand duke."

"Beheaded? Then how is his house still one of Father's retainers..."

Erich trailed off, a certain person coming to mind.

"... The grand duchess, right? She must've prevented the fall of the entire family."

"That's correct. Since then, Milon seems to have worked as the grand duchess's loyal hunting dog. He always obliges even her unreasonable demands."

"Why was his father executed?"

"... That, I don't know. Rumor has it only the grand duke and the former lord of House Roland know the full story. Milon himself probably doesn't know the details."

Erich nodded quietly. Finn added further explanation.

"So, please be careful. I've seen the match bracket. Something feels off about it."

"Off in what way?"

"If the bracket proceeds as laid out, you and Knight Milon are certain to face each other in the semifinals."

"The semifinals, huh..."

Then, just as Finn tried to elaborate—

"So, that's when they'll try to kill me?"

At Erich's casual remark, Finn's eyes widened. That was exactly what he had been about to say.

"Th-that's correct. Did you already know?"

"Well, if they just wanted to keep me as the family's idiot, they'd have had me eliminated in the preliminaries, or had Milon face me right away. Why would they let me be until the semifinals?"

"Then... shouldn't we prepare for something?"

"Really? And how would we prepare?"

"At the very least, don't we need to know what they're planning? The grand duchess won't just sit back and trust only Milon. She'll surely try something else..."

"Hm. And what would you do if you knew?"

"Well..."

Finn clasped his lips shut. As Erich implied, as a powerless, illegitimate son with no backing, there was nothing he could do against the grand duchess, both the lady of the house and an imperial by blood.

At best, he could try to run away under cover of night? In fact, Erich, who once actually tried that, simply smiled.

"Don't worry. I've thought all this through."

"... Honestly, if I hadn't seen your performance in the preliminaries, I'd be wanting to scold you far more."

"Really? Then my ears won't have to bleed today. Anyway, Finn, there's something I want you to do."

"... Yes, sir."

"I want you to make me a sword."

"A sword?"

Silent, Finn's gaze fell to the sword on Erich's belt.

Though it was a sword given to an illegitimate son, outside the mansion even that would be considered a 'famous sword'—a fine weapon.

"No, not a sword like this. I want it in a specific way."

"I'll ask the blacksmith in the territory. What do you have in mind?"

"A blade about 90cm long, a grip about 20cm, weight doesn't matter much. But preferably no more than 2kg."

"... That's basically a longsword, commonly used by the North's watchmen, isn't it?"

"That's right. You know your weapons."

"If I may ask, have you ever handled such a sword before, young master...?"

Skepticism clouded Finn's face. After all, a longsword was rare enough. Especially in the South, where knights were the norm—finding anyone who used a longsword was almost impossible.

However, Erich replied with a smile.

"Never mind that, just tell me if you can make it or not."

"To think you'd request a weapon you've never even touched before... In any case, understood. I'm sure you have your reasons."

Finn answered with resignation. In the past, he would've pressed for answers no matter the outcome.

But the Erich of today was no longer the clumsy young master he used to know. Now, Finn assumed there must be a reason whenever given an order.

Remembering that Finn would not back down so easily, Erich gave a final warning.

"Finn, one last thing—don't do anything unnecessary. If you get hurt, there'll be no one left on my side in this house."

"Don't worry. I won't come to harm."

Finn gave a faint smile. Erich wondered whether that would actually keep Finn still, but he had done all he could.

At any rate, with that, Erich turned to head back toward the mansion.

"Y-young master, where are you going, all of a sudden? You should have your meal."

"Hmm... There's something I need to do."

"Excuse me? What is it?"

"I feel like negotiating."

"Negotiating? Surely not with Her Highness, the grand duchess?"

"No, someone else."

"Then... who are you talking about?"

"Father."

At that moment, Finn went rigid. At the same time, his ashen face betrayed his shock.

But before he could say anything, Erich was already walking toward the mansion.

***

― Knock, knock.

It was just slightly past morning, when a sudden knock rang at the grand duke's office. The grand duke said to the man standing by his side, without a word.

"... I don't recall having any appointments. Steward."

"Indeed, sir. If it's someone barging in without an appointment..."

"There are a few who'd dare. Let's see who it is. Let them in."

"Yes, understood."

The steward of the House of Steinburg opened the door to the office. However, at the next moment, he froze for a split second upon seeing who it was.

"I've come to see my father, steward."

"... I'll announce you right away."

The steward was clearly startled but quickly erased all expression and ushered the man in with careful steps. As he began to introduce Erich,

"Your Grace, it is the third son of House Krupp, eri—"

"That's enough, just let him in."

The grand duke cut off the steward and made a small gesture.

With that, Erich leisurely walked up to the grand duke. Without looking up, the grand duke continued to read his documents, only moving his lips.

"You seem to have something to say."

"Yes. There is something I'd like to ask."

The grand duke's quill still moved busily. Though Erich was his son, he seemed to have no interest in him whatsoever, despite him standing right before his eyes.

"A favor always comes at a price, you know. Even if you haven't learned much, surely you understand that."

"I'll shortly deliver the price. I'm sure Your Grace will be satisfied."

"And what would that be?"

"Victory at the Iceborn."

The grand duke's quill stopped.

For the first time, he lifted his gaze and looked Erich in the face.

"So you're making promises with things you haven't yet won."

"I know I'm putting the cart before the horse. But, unless I ask now, it seems I might lose my life before I even have a chance at victory."

"From whom?"

"Don't you know? What Her Highness the grand duchess is plotting right now."

At Erich's words, the grand duke's eyes narrowed. The first to speak at his boldness was the steward.

"Young master! How could you say such an outrageous thing? Just voicing such—!"

"Steinburg Steward. In the Krupp territory, everyone knows Her Highness the grand duchess detests me. If you're going to feign ignorance, do it when I'm not around."

Finn's blunt and direct words left the steward speechless. The well-behaved illegitimate had never spoken so boldly before.

But words that shocked the steward even more soon came from the grand duke's mouth.

"Let's say you're right. What reason do I have to save you?"

No matter that Erich was only an illegitimate son—seeing the grand duke coldly weigh even his own son's life was alarming, even for the steward, who had served him for many years.

Erich simply maintained a faint smile and closed his eyes for a moment. A strange tremor flickered across his closed eyelids.

― Wuuuuum.

Before he even opened his eyes again, a peculiar radiance sprang from beneath his lids.

When he opened his eyes again, a vivid, brilliant crimson glow shimmered from his gaze.

"It is reason enough."

Both the grand duke and the steward were left speechless, eyes wide.

In that moment, the grand duke's face showed a mysterious, unfamiliar joy.

The vivid, crimson brilliance shining from Erich's eyes.

It was the 'eye'—the mark and proof of a Swordmaster.