SML Ch 19

Chapter 19

“A wooden sword? Ah, they’re in that box over there. They’re a bit old, but… Geez, you guys are really heavy. Can’t you get up and move on your own?”

While Volant was pushing the sprawled-out youths into a corner, Reynald examined the wooden swords in the box. As Volant had said, they were quite worn, but since they were made of quality wood, they still looked usable. Once Volant cleared the space, Reynald picked out the two best-preserved swords.

Though he had casually suggested moving their bodies around, Reynald actually intended to give the youths some sword training. He wanted to swing a sword again after a long time, and the youths looked bored, so it seemed like a decent activity for both parties. Moreover, Reynald had an ulterior motive.

‘If I get them used to training like this, it’ll help them at least a little.’

The moment you stepped outside the castle, the area was crawling with monsters. And because so few people lived here, even the royal subjugation squads wouldn’t bother coming. In such a desolate domain, survival meant getting stronger, no matter what.

Training just twenty or so youths wouldn’t miraculously change the state of the land, but it might at least prevent them from getting taken out by random, mindless monster attacks.

From observing them over the past few days, Reynald had concluded that if these young men learned proper swordsmanship, their chances of survival would greatly improve. Due to frequent combat with monsters, they had strong physiques and decent instincts, but their movements were a bit rough from lack of formal training. Just adjusting a few techniques could make a world of difference in helping them avoid fatal injuries and stay alive.

Reynald handed one of the wooden swords to Volant, who took the handle and made a casual remark.

“By the way, my lord, you enjoy this kind of thing too? You know, sparring games?”

“Hmm?”

“Alex likes stuff like this too—he’d sometimes mess around with it. It’s definitely a fun way to move around… Didn’t think you’d be into it too, my lord.”

Hold on. Sparring… games? Reynald instinctively turned to glance at Alex. Thanks to Volant’s rather rough shoving, Alex was already awake. Meeting Reynald’s eyes, he gave an awkward little cough.

“Have you had formal sword training?”

“When I was young, I learned a bit from someone who looked after me.”

“Hmmm.”

Alex responded with a slightly hoarse voice and avoided Reynald’s gaze. That kid must’ve come from a noble family. Reynald didn’t voice the thought but simply nodded.

If he’d learned from his parents or relatives, he wouldn’t have used vague phrasing like “someone who looked after me.” And if he’d trained enough to spar rather than just swing a sword, his teacher was almost certainly a knight—sparring and dueling were part of knightly culture, after all.

Being cared for by a knight practically confirmed that Alex had once belonged to a noble house with knights in service. Reynald had suspected there was a story behind him… and now he was even more curious about Alex’s background. Still, he didn’t press. He had no interest in digging up someone’s past if they didn’t want to talk about it.

That aside, did the other youths think this was some kind of game? Reynald gripped the hilt of the wooden sword with mild reluctance. Volant stood in a loose stance, looking completely relaxed.

“Well, in any case. If you know the rules, the rest should be easy.”

“I know the basic rules. My lord, are you good at sparring?”

“Reasonably so. Well then, let’s see how it goes.”

Reynald adjusted his stance and sized up Volant’s. It wasn’t textbook perfect, but thanks to his extensive real combat experience, Volant didn’t leave many openings. Now that he thought about it, it had been quite a while since Reynald had sparred with someone this young.

When he first became captain of the royal knights, he had often sparred to assert dominance over his subordinates. But once he grew closer to them and got caught up in subjugation campaigns, he’d had little time or energy to devote to sparring.

He was a bit rusty due to the long break, but since Volant wasn’t treating this as a serious duel either, it probably wouldn’t be a problem. Reynald felt this would be a rather enjoyable match.

“Ugh…!”

“Be more careful, my friend. You’ve got this bad habit of always turning in the same direction. If I thrust in like this, you’re completely defenseless.”

“Ow, ow! Still, isn’t that kind of thrust too harsh?!”

“Do the Ratmen or Lycanthropes go easy on you when they attack? Think of it as a learning experience. And with your center of gravity skewed like that, your back’s going to give out when you’re old. Better be careful while you’re still young.”

“Is that from personal experience? …Gah! Okay, I’m sorry!”

Volant had to pay the price for running his mouth—he got thoroughly thrashed by Reynald’s relentless attacks. Despite only sparring for about thirty minutes, Volant was drenched in sweat as if caught in a downpour.

In contrast, Reynald looked as refreshed as if he’d taken a brisk stroll. Not a single drop of sweat beaded on his brow. He kept moving and lecturing without even the slightest change in breath.

“Haah, haah…”

“Your instincts and movement aren’t bad, but you waste too much energy. Sometimes you’ve got to dodge or redirect—just clashing head-on all the time will wear you out quickly.”

“Easier said than done! Ow, ow!”

“Don’t lose your breath while you’re talking. Especially when you’re not dodging properly.”

“You’re the one who keeps talking nonstop, my lord!”

Most of the youths who had been lying on the ground were now sitting up to watch the duel. They looked like they were enjoying the spectacle, but a few, including Alex, wore serious expressions. Reynald pretended not to notice their gazes and continued swinging. Volant’s stamina was nearly spent—it was time to wrap it up.

“Whoa!”

“That’s enough. Any more and you’ll be aching all over tomorrow.”

Trying to dodge Reynald’s strike, Volant flopped to the ground in a clumsy heap, panting heavily. He seemed to have nearly exhausted his stamina.

Still, by Reynald’s standards, Volant had put up a decent fight. His large build gave him impressive power and speed, and being in his prime, his stamina wasn’t bad either. His main issue was his inability to control his strength, failing to distinguish between when to press in and when to pull back.

“This is ridiculous! How are you this strong, old man?!”

“Not ‘old man’—you mean ‘my lord,’ you foul-mouthed brat. Besides, I’ve lived twice as long as you—do you really think I’d lose to a guppy like you?”

“Ow! That hurts!”

“Well, who told you to keep running your mouth?”

Reynald gave Volant a light kick, rolling him over to a corner. Volant groaned and collapsed, while Lyndon handed him a water bottle. Reynald finally turned to address the other youths.

“Anyone else want to spar?”

The onlookers glanced awkwardly at one another. It did look fun, but they probably feared making fools of themselves if they jumped in too hastily. Things might’ve gotten a bit awkward if no one had stepped forward, but fortunately, one youth raised his hand.

“Gerald? Would you like to give it a try?”

“Yes, my lord. I look forward to it.”

He wasn’t as burly as Volant, but still had a solid frame. Reynald hadn’t spoken much with him, perhaps because of the young man’s reserved nature or shyness, but Gerald gave off a rather favorable impression.

Reynald found it curious that Alex, who had been watching so intently, hadn’t stepped up. But Alex himself merely continued to watch him in silence, his eyes calm and subdued. Whether he was silently gauging Reynald’s skills or simply being cautious, Reynald decided not to concern himself either way.

When Reynald handed him the wooden sword Volant had been using, Gerald took up a stance right away. From the looks of it, he had decent skills, so the sparring should be worthwhile.

Volant had lasted quite a while. Gerald held his own fairly well but collapsed after about twenty minutes. Several other youths, encouraged by the excitement, boldly challenged Reynald, but most lasted only ten to fifteen minutes at best.

Even that was only possible because Reynald had gone easy on them. Pushing them too hard would’ve defeated the purpose of the training.

“My lord, your stamina is incredible. You’ve been at it for over two hours now.”

“Not interested, Lyndon?”

“Hmm, I’m still not fully recovered from yesterday.”

Reynald didn’t press. Forcing someone who hadn’t recovered wouldn’t help, and besides, Lyndon had already fulfilled his role by tending to the collapsed youths. He occasionally played pranks—pouring water on their faces or teasing them—but fundamentally, he acted as a responsible caretaker.

“Well then, is there really no one else left?”

Reynald wiped the sweat now beginning to trickle down his forehead and looked around at the youths. About ten still hadn’t sparred, but it was unlikely they’d volunteer at this point. Most who had stayed out so far were either still recovering from yesterday like Lyndon or content just watching.

Still, Reynald had a reason for asking. He glanced over at Alex. That young man had been eyeing him intently for a while now but hadn’t stepped up. It wasn’t due to lack of skill—Reynald was almost certain Alex would challenge him eventually… so he decided to prod him, feigning ignorance.

“If no one else wants to go, I suppose we’ll stop here. It’s been quite an enjoyable time—”

“My lord, may I have a turn?”

Before Reynald could even finish, Alex stepped in.