The Sword Master’s Son-in-Law

– The Suspicious Old Man’s Proposal (3)

The Messiah Marquisate.

In its gardens stood a woman.

Hair of silver so bright it could be mistaken for pure white.

Coupled with skin just as pale and lips that were a striking red in contrast.

Eyes like jewels, gleaming a vibrant blue.

A beautiful woman straight out of a fairytale.

She seemed an ethereal being.

From the lips of this woman, a trembling voice escaped.

“Grandfather….”

Her name was Asia.

Asia Messiah, granddaughter of the Sword Saint.

Asia continued to only sigh.

Then, gradually, her brow furrowed, and she grew angry.

“That rotten prince, the b*stard!”

Unlike Asia’s beautiful face, rough words tumbled from her mouth.

The reason Asia was cursing the First Prince.

It was all because of what he had done.

“That son of a b*tch, stooping to such underhanded tricks?”

Nute Detiosk, First Prince of the Detiosk Kingdom.

Asia had learned of what he’d done through a maid.

Rumors were spreading throughout the kingdom that she and the First Prince were engaged.

But it was no truth, just a baseless fabrication.

And the culprit could only be the First Prince.

“Does he think spreading such rumors will make me agree to an engagement? Never!”

Nute Detiosk, the First Prince.

The mastermind behind it all was undoubtedly him.

The reason being….

“To resort to this just because I rejected his marriage proposal. He’s truly a despicable man.”

A marriage proposal had come from the First Prince, and Asia had rejected it.

This was retaliation for the rejection, or perhaps an attempt to gain public approval and force a hazy engagement.

To make it a fait accompli, so to speak.

“Son of a b*tch! Scum! Brute!”

Asia, who had been cursing the First Prince with all her might, paused for a moment.

Then, a wistful expression suddenly crossed her face.

“Grandfather…”

The root of it all lay with the First Prince.

But the Sword Saint’s absence was also to blame for the First Prince’s machinations.

“Where in the world could you have gone…?”

Had the Sword Saint been here, the First Prince wouldn’t dare such underhanded dealings.

The sole Sword Saint of the Detiosque Kingdom, who would dare harm his family?

Not even royalty, that’s who.

But the Sword Saint was now missing.

His disappearance was not yet public knowledge.

However, the higher echelons of nobility, the royal family included, knew it.

Therefore, the Royal House undoubtedly planned to devour the Sword Saint’s family in this window of opportunity.

“When do you intend to return?”

A disappearance spanning a full decade.

News of the Sword Saint’s disappearance had reached the royal family a year ago.

They likely assumed he was dead.

“Or, is it possible…”

That you have already passed…?

Asia abruptly shook her head.

She refused to believe the Sword Saint would simply perish somewhere.

Therefore, she believed he would return soon.

Please, just be alive…

“I miss you.”

Asia’s reasons for seeking her grandfather were not solely due to the First Prince’s marriage proposal, of course.

She genuinely missed her grandfather, whom she loved dearly.

*

A misaligned, iron sword.

Cheaply made.

In the end, he’d bought a sword made by a blacksmith other than Rednil.

“Hmm… if I use it carefully, I suppose?”

If he paid close attention and used it with care, it should last at least a week.

Determined, he began his ascent of the mountain.

“That old coot… still sleeping, probably?”

His heart pounded.

He’d gleaned some interesting information in the village.

News that the Sword Saint’s granddaughter was betrothed.

He wondered how the old coot would react.

Fueled by anticipation, he climbed the mountain until he finally arrived home.

“Old Coot!”

The term ‘Old Coot’ seemed a little brash, but he’d been using it for five years, so it had stuck.

And Gramps Hans didn’t particularly seem to mind.

But from the shack, no answer returned.

I sighed.

“Figures… must be sleeping.”

Entering the shack, the old man was indeed asleep.

Snoring – *Hhrrr*. – Snoring – *Hhrrr*.

Even snoring loud enough to rattle the windows.

I remembered, back in the village, that tomorrow marked the precise ten-year anniversary of meeting Old Man Hans.

An anniversary, of sorts? Tonight, then, we’d feast on something special.

“Special, eh? Then it has to be *that*.”

The Golden Boar – the so-called finest ingredient.

As the name implied, a boar of pure gold.

Not just rare, but incredibly strong.

Which was precisely why the Golden Boar held such a revered place in culinary circles.

“How fortunate.”

I’d recently stumbled upon Golden Boar tracks.

Too lazy to bother at the time, I’d simply marked them.

With the tracks marked, a swift hunt was all but guaranteed.

“Old man, I’m off to do some hunting!”

Leaving the still-prone figure of the old man behind, I set out in pursuit of the Golden Boar.

*

“Hmm… and I was trying to be careful….”

A cheap sword, barely a day old.

And already, the blade was beginning to chip and fray.

I knew the reason, of course.

“Unique Mana isn’t all sunshine and roses, turns out.”

A sword breaker, perhaps?

My Mana itself, a natural sword breaker.

A constantly churning, turbulent force, ever present.

And that, therein, lay the problem.

“It damages my own blade, not just my opponent’s.”

That was the true issue.

During my training with the old man, I’d splintered countless wooden swords.

Which had led to him thrusting nothing but branches into my hands.

“Still, what’s done is done….”

Even with the blade somewhat compromised, the hunt was a success.

Five times my size, at least.

A boar with fur the color of pure gold.

A Golden Boar, without a doubt.

Frankly, we couldn’t eat the entirety of it, even if I hauled it all back.

So, I’d butcher enough for us, and return the rest to nature.

“Well, you just can’t beat pork belly.”

Having butchered the pork belly cut, I headed toward the old codger’s shack.

“You’re back.”

For once, the old codger was up and about.

What’s more, he was swinging a sword.

“Haven’t seen you wielding a blade in a while, have we?”

“It’s not enough to just do mind training. Sometimes you need to actually swing the thing.”

“Oh… is that so?”

You’d think he’d been earnestly focused on mental cultivation, just hearing him talk.

After snoring his head off, that is.

“Ah, right. Take a look at this.”

I proudly showed off the Golden Boar’s pork belly.

“…Not bad.”

A commendation delivered with complete nonchalance.

But I definitely saw the old codger’s pupils dilate.

And his Adam’s apple was bobbing, too.

He was swallowing hard.

Which meant, in other words:

‘He’s practically bursting with anticipation.’

“Right then, let’s get right down to cooking!”

With that, I began to prepare the Golden Boar pork belly.

To turn it into directly wood-fired grilled pork belly, naturally.

*

Eating the fully cooked meat one piece at a time, I chatted with the old codger.

“Oh, that’s right! Did you hear?”

“Hear what?”

He said, nonchalantly stuffing meat into his mouth.

“The old codger’s granddaughter is getting engaged to the First Prince, they say.”

In an instant, without even realizing it, my hand went to my waist.

Instinctively, I was ready to draw the sword that should have been there.

The reason for that came directly from the old codger.

An intensely palpable killing intent.

It was radiating from the old codger.

“Good heavens! You startled me. Why the sudden surge of killing intent!”

“That thing you just said…is it true?”

“Huh? I don’t know for sure, but that’s the rumor going around town, isn’t it?”

Snap.

The fork the old codger was holding broke.

‘Oof… he’s really lost himself in delusion.’

He was seething with a terrifying rage.

As if it were his own affair.

“…First Prince, Nute Detiosk.”

“Eh, you’ll get arrested for calling the First Prince by name so carelessly.”

He repeated exactly what the villagers below had said.

“Arrested? Even royalty can’t throw a Sword Saint in jail. More importantly, that good-for-nothing is after my granddaughter…!”

The old man’s eyes blazed with fire.

Ignoring the old man, I quietly picked up another piece of meat, then another.

To eat more than the old man.

“Arthas!”

Uh oh, did he catch me eating more meat?

“Yes!”

“What do you think should be done?”

Thankfully, the old man was just asking for my advice.

Not scolding me for eating so much meat.

I pondered for a moment, then spoke.

“Couldn’t you just return to your clan?”

If he were a true Sword Saint, he could simply return to his clan and settle things.

A truly simple solution.

If the old man really was a Sword Saint, that is.

“I cannot… not yet. Five years remain.”

“Five years?”

“Yes, only five short years until the promised day.”

Five years, huh.

Come to think of it, I seem to recall him saying something nine years ago.

Definitely…

‘There is a promise. Therefore, I intend to remain here for the next fourteen years.’

Or something along those lines.

Why is he so obsessed with that promise?

“What promise is it, exactly?”

“I cannot divulge the details, even to you. Suffice it to say, it is for a swordsman to strive for greater heights.”

“Hmm… like secluded training?”

“Let’s just say that.”

Then he cannot leave this place.

And yet, I wish to prevent the betrothal.

‘Well, isn’t there only one way?’

“Send a proxy.”

“A proxy?”

“Give them something to prove your identity and send them on an errand. Like, ‘We object to this engagement!’ Oh! Since the other party has standing, perhaps even arrange a false betrothal, or something similar.”

I’d seen things like that a few times in my previous life.

Dating contracts, sham marriages, and the like.

The memories of enjoying it are so fresh.

“That’s it!!!”

The old geezer suddenly shouted and stood up.

Then, he fixed me with an intense gaze.

“Arthas, go and get engaged to my granddaughter.”

That old geezer…!

Now he was forcing even me to participate in his delusions of being the Sword Saint.