Redemption II

Brando lowered his head. The pupils in his dark-brown eyes contracted in rings, calm as water, yet flickering with uncertain light within. One hand was tucked beneath his cloak, while his exposed left hand hung naturally at his side. The pale hand was long and slender as a sword, its knuckles white as bone. It was lean, yet filled with strength, and slightly curled.

This was the hand of an outstanding swordsman.

He stared intently at Princess Griffine, who stood not far away, his expression extremely complicated.

"...T-teacher?" Haruze raised his pale face and weakly reached out, seemingly wanting to grab Brando's sword-wielding hand, but instead caught him by the left wrist. He knew—he knew Brando's hand was beneath his cloak, perhaps already gripping the plain, cross-shaped hilt. The dark blade of the Sword of Earth lay dormant in its dwarven-patterned scabbard, controlled by a steady force.

He raised his head. His weak pupils widened, and his forehead was covered in fine beads of sweat as he looked at his teacher in alarm. He shook his head hard, almost pleading as he said, "No, don't. That's..."

He had once personally seen Brando kill people. They had been a group of Cultists they encountered on their journey. The Earl he knew—his teacher—had shed his usual gentleness and courtesy, becoming just like he was now, as cold as a drawn sword.

When his teacher fought, he seemed like an executioner who had cast aside all human emotions. Every sword stroke took a life, as easily as cutting through a straw dummy in a training yard. In the Little Prince's memories, only one person fought in a similar manner: Nemesis. But the female knight was nowhere near as skilled as his teacher at controlling his blade, allowing it to slice effortlessly through people's