Two hours later.
"Watch your footing!"
"Keep your breathing steady!"
"The key to the Iron Body stance is in your feet. The instant you're attacked, adjust the distance between your legs and release the force!"
"If you don't want to die, raise your shield toward the enemy!"
Jinnie's clear voice rang out, followed by a merciless slash!
Tales clenched his teeth. He swung the sword in his right hand, using it to turn his body, while the veins on his left arm bulged as he desperately lifted the absurdly heavy wooden shield with the strength of his shoulder. His right leg bent slightly, ready to slide away according to the force of the blow and cushion the impact.
"Bang!"
Gilbert, who had been watching from the side, gently closed his eyes.
After Jinnie's sword struck the underside of the shield, Tales lost his balance for the twenty-fifth time and fell into the sand once again. This time, he was completely exhausted and could no longer lift the shield in his hands.
Damn it.
The boy gasped for breath, struggling to raise his head and chest, but the heavy shield pinned his left chest to the ground, preventing him from getting back up.
This auntie, his father's lover, had been swinging her sword continuously for two hours. Why—why didn't she show the slightest sign of fatigue?
"Northern Military Swordsmanship originated more than three thousand years ago during the era of the distant Shaven Ancient Kingdom and took shape during the Era of Kings, before the Ancient Empire." As though he had seen through Tales's thoughts, Gilbert's voice rang across the open ground. "According to the records, the Ancient Elves and Dragon Horde were then locked in fierce warfare, while the Northlander kings encountered an invasion by the Ancient Orcs in the north."
"This swordsmanship was created to fight terrifying opponents such as the Ancient Orcs and even dragons—foes whose strength and size far exceeded those of humans." Gilbert looked seriously at Tales on the ground and spoke softly. "It is the oldest martial swordsmanship in human history. Under such overwhelming disadvantages, amid battles that were nearly hopeless, through defenses that were almost certain death and charges that were almost suicide, the first knights awakened Transcendent Power—the force now known as Ending Power—and became the earliest Transcendent Rank practitioners in human history."
A sharp glint flashed in Gilbert's eyes. "Lady Jinnie is one of the finest among the Transcendent Rank. Setting aside the special Ending Power she possesses, her observation, explosive strength, sense of balance, and practically every aspect of her physical ability are beyond comparison with yours. The gap between you and her is like that between the powerful and ferocious Ancient Orcs and the weak humans of old."
Tales looked at Jinnie in surprise and embarrassment—to be honest, he still had no idea how to get along with this "lover" of his father's. The other party was merely moving her wrist with an utterly relaxed expression, seemingly unconcerned by Gilbert's praise.
"As one continues to use and accumulate Transcendent Power, that force grows stronger and stronger. Knights began learning to harness these vast and profound powers, controlling forces beyond measurement until they reached a state where they could use them freely. Compared with the Transcendent Rank, these knights who advanced another step possessed power that was almost unfathomable, while their techniques had become incomparably refined. They began to understand the essence of power and battle, changing according to their will without restraint. They could resolve a battle with maximum efficiency and minimal expenditure." Gilbert took a step forward and discreetly nodded toward somewhere in the void.
"This is the Extreme Realm—the strongest beings who have surpassed the limits of power."
Tales stared blankly at the sky, recalling Ashida's effortless control over the air and Yordel's ghostlike, traceless movements.
"Mortal Tier, Transcendent Rank, Extreme Realm. After humanity grew powerful, this system of classifying strength spread widely among the various races and regions." Gilbert glanced at the sky and nodded toward Jinnie. "The Ancient Orcs, the Ancient Elves, and even Psions and... began using this classification."
"And all of it originated from Ancient Northern Military Swordsmanship, from that sliver of courage born from the struggle to survive against the Orcs and Dragon Horde." Gilbert's words left Tales staring blankly.
"Today, the threat of the Ancient Orcs is gone, and the Dragon Horde has vanished from the world. Northern Military Swordsmanship is no longer passed down. Even in the army of the Ekster Kingdom, which takes pride in its Northern bloodline and occupies the former lands of the ancient Northern Land, this swordsmanship was abandoned long ago. Now, the only places that still possess the complete inheritance of Northern Military Swordsmanship are the Starfall Kingdom and Terminus Tower."
"Miss Jinnie is one of the few people proficient in this art. Young Mr. Tales, please treat this swordsmanship that once saved our ancestors with respect and practice it diligently."
A swordsmanship created to fight Orcs and dragons?
No wonder. After coming back to his senses, Tales thought gloomily, I was wondering why swinging a sword felt like I was being treated like a grandson.
Recalling how he had raised his shield and swung his sword like an idiot—the sword had actually dragged his arm along—moved his feet—the shield's inertia had pulled him around—and sparred with Jinnie—with Jinnie training him—Tales, who felt as though he had been beaten like a grandson for two hours, silently let out a breath. His face full of regret, he fell backward.
"The wounds you suffered earlier are already showing signs of reopening. That's enough for this morning." Jinnie glanced at the sun and tossed down her sword and shield, speaking as calmly as ever.
"These three defensive stances of Northern Military Swordsmanship will be your assignment for the week. As for horseback riding..." Jinnie looked at the foal frolicking leisurely around the butterflies beside the hitching post, then at Tales, who was struggling to free his left arm from the wooden shield. She sighed again, shook her head, and said, "Go take a bath. Have lunch. At one o'clock this afternoon, Gilbert has prepared indoor lessons for you."
Lessons this afternoon?
Good heavens, do I have evening self-study too?
Having grown accustomed to the irregular life of a monk who drank and smoked, Tales let out another breath. Feeling the soreness throughout his body, he resigned himself to fate and closed his eyes.
The most esteemed bastard in the Starfall Kingdom helplessly and laboriously removed his equipment—pulling his left arm out of the shield—and limped into Mindis Hall.
He had only one hour to bathe and eat.
"I have to say, his comprehension and insight are truly impressive. In only two hours, he has already grasped the basic spirit of this swordsmanship." Gilbert watched Tales leave, then broke the silence and nodded softly. "When I was his age, I relied on my body to practice swordsmanship. That child is using his mind to learn it."
"Forget that—don't tell me your observation is so poor that you failed to notice something strange about him!" Once Tales's back had disappeared, Jinnie's expression suddenly turned solemn. As she spoke to Gilbert, she suspiciously examined the air around them. "I still remember that even dust a hundred meters away was visible with perfect clarity to that cursed mask."
"Stop looking. Yordel isn't nearby." Watching Jinnie's nervous movements, Gilbert clasped his hands behind his back and spoke steadily. "Ever since Tales was unexpectedly abducted by the Blood Race once, he has stayed with him every moment, never leaving his side."
"And yes, we all noticed it." Gilbert slightly furrowed his brow. "The child is only about seven years old. He suffered a serious injury two days ago, yet after only two days, he has nearly recovered... He even practiced swordsmanship under the sun for two hours without any trouble... No wonder the Bloodline Lamp, which detects blood, had no reaction for seven whole years..."
"This constitution can no longer be described as merely 'different from ordinary people.' It's practically..." He sighed and did his best not to consider the other possibility. "The Crescent Star Family truly is the imperial bloodline with the oldest inheritance in the world."
Jinnie also fell silent for a while, tacitly saying nothing more.
The court Female Official bent down and brushed the dust from her boots. "Speaking of Vampires, why did you reveal Tales's identity to them and even invite them to stay in Mindis Hall? Do you truly believe the agreement between Tales and that fallen Archduchess? He's only seven... And you know very well that Vampires have killed our people. We have no way to trust them... As for the Vampires, we appeared out of nowhere to them. They can't possibly trust us either."
"You've already given the answer." A sharp glint appeared in Gilbert's eyes as he recalled the Blood Race elder whose face was dead and lifeless yet filled with wisdom. "Precisely because neither side trusts the other, because we are wary of and even threatening one another."
"That's why we must bind each other with our respective secrets and our shared interests. That is diplomatic understanding and strategy. It's completely different from conducting a clear and straightforward investigation."
"Hmph. Pretending to be mysterious and acting all secretive." Jinnie seemed to have been reminded of something unpleasant. As she left the Training Ground and entered the hall, she said unhappily, "Another Morat."
"Thank you for your praise, esteemed Lady Jinnie." Gilbert raised the top of his top hat and smiled with perfect grace. "To be ranked alongside the head of the Kingdom Secret Bureau is an honor beyond words."
And besides... Gilbert paid no attention to Jinnie's completely discourteous dismissal and silently thought, although that child is only seven, when it comes to scheming, he is in no way inferior to that several-hundred-year-old Archduchess.
............
In fact, half an hour later, when Gilbert and Jinnie arrived at Tales's study at the same time, Tales had just taken a hurried bath and was eating. He was frowning bitterly at the expressionless Red-Eyed Little Girl before him.
Her followers, Istrone and Rolana, were glaring hostilely at the Terminus Swordsman guards who had surrounded Tales so thoroughly that not even air could pass between them.
"Step back, Vampire." A sword-wielding guard who looked like a leader glared from behind his helmet and spoke harshly. "You are not welcome here."
"Don't misunderstand. I don't particularly like you either, Short-Lived Species." Istrone's indifference made the guards even more irritated. "Remember? Yesterday, I took down eight fellows like you." He spoke sarcastically and provocatively.
Frowning, Tales bit off a piece of carefully seasoned beef short rib from the fork in his hand. Moved by the deliciousness of a flavor he had not tasted since crossing over, he praised it inwardly while cautiously avoiding the obviously strange gaze of the chubby little girl across from him.
Unfortunately, this flavor probably still couldn't compare with the dog meat he had once eaten together with Yala.
Tales surveyed the situation before him and sighed. What a headache.
"You won't get another chance like that, you despicable rat hiding in a flower vase." The swordmaster's voice dropped to freezing point. The specially equipped silver sword at his waist slid a foot from its sheath. "Try taking one step forward. I'll be delighted to avenge my comrades—or I could simply draw the curtains and let you bask in the sunlight."
Thus, the handsome blond man looked displeased and prepared to take a step forward.
"Don't be nervous, boys." Rolana promptly pulled her furious cousin back a step. Though she wore a smile, her words were stern and serious. "Servants, stand down. Your master has an agreement with our master."
Looking at the Terminus Swordsmen before her, who all wished they could kill them, Rolana's smiling face grew even brighter. "This is what your master said—we are allies now. Shouldn't we forget our past grudges? It was only eight lives..."
The Terminus Swordsmen grew increasingly unstable. A few even ground their teeth audibly behind their helmets.
She really is my cousin. Istrone thought this while watching the guards seethe with anger yet force themselves to hold back. This is truly satisfying.
Jinnie, who was outside the room, furrowed her brow and was about to enter when Gilbert grabbed her arm. The gray-haired former diplomat shook his head mysteriously and pointed behind the guards, toward the little master sitting in the chair.
Jinnie wore a puzzled expression.
Only after she saw Tales swallow his last bite, set down his knife and fork, burp contentedly, and slide down from his chair did she understand.
What should I do? Tales pondered the question as he watched the significant gazes of the three members of the Blood Race across from him.
However, he soon had an answer.
"Thank you for defending me, Jola. With you here, I feel completely safe." Tales spoke with a smile as he casually tugged at the hem of the swordmaster's armor.
Jola, who had laughed when Tales had poked him in the stomach on his first morning there to test whether "the guards were actually stone men," was the leader of these guards. He had also arranged for the guards to kill the invading Mercenaries one by one.
He knew that these loyal guards could not be dismissed with an authoritative, domineering wave like the protagonists of most wish-fulfillment novels. More importantly, the guards had just sacrificed eight of their most reliable brothers and comrades to protect him. In the face of their most direct enemies, the fact that they had not immediately drawn their swords and attacked was already an astonishing display of restraint. Although they were allies by agreement now, pretending that nothing had happened and waving away his own people in front of outsiders might feel satisfying, but it would only chill the guards' hearts.
Tales's expression turned serious. "I need your help with something."
"We await your orders."
Although his expression could not be seen, the respectful tone of the guard captain Jola said everything. The swordsmen stationed here were the Crescent Star Family's most trusted and elite private soldiers. Though they had not been informed, based on the missions they had received and their interactions over the past few days, the guards had long since formed a fairly accurate guess about the identity of the boy personally brought here by Gilbert and Yordel.
"Because of what happened before, I don't trust this handsome Mr. Istrone Corleon, nor his beautiful but equally dangerous cousin, Ms. Rolana Corleone."
"They have left me with considerable humiliation. Their presence has troubled me, making me anxious and afraid." Tales knitted his brows tightly and spoke through clenched teeth.
It was as though they truly had a life-and-death grudge.
Istrone and Rolana were both startled. They looked simultaneously at the Archduchess behind them, but she remained impassive.
"Just give the word, young master." The gaze behind Jola's helmet grew even sharper, and the sword at his waist slid another inch from its sheath. "Our swords will be drawn for you."
The surrounding Terminus Swordsmen also placed their hands on their sword hilts. United against a common enemy, their gazes grew increasingly hostile.
"Good. I want their heads more than anything..." Tales's face was cold as he stared fixedly at Istrone.
The swordsmen all took a step forward, faintly surrounding the members of the Blood Race.
Istrone's heart lurched when he saw the boy's expression.
Rolana revealed a vicious look and stretched out her hands.
No way... Istrone felt an inexplicable sense of dread. He unconsciously took a step back, until the Archduchess's telepathic whisper quietly sounded beside his ear.
"Hold steady, Isa." The childish voice could be heard only by members of the Blood Race, yet it calmed Istrone's heart. "He isn't turning against us."
"...But because of the sacred Covenant, I cannot harm them in my own house..."
"So, Jola, drive the other two—apart from this... young lady—into the hallway." Tales pouted, folded his arms, and spoke coldly.
"If they dare disturb my private conversation with Ms. Serena Corleone..."
A cold glint flashed in Tales's eyes, making the already-shadowed Istrone uneasy. The boy turned his head and continued ruthlessly to Jola, "Jola, and all of you... then you will have every legitimate reason to avenge yourselves and wipe away your shame."
"Especially the blond one."
Istrone's heart tightened.
"If our swords are drawn, we will not disappoint you." Jola nodded resolutely, extending an arm toward the study door.
"Vampires, you heard him."
"Get out. The hallway is the proper place for you."
Istrone, his expression angry, wanted to say something else, but his cousin stopped him first.
Rolana concealed her astonishment perfectly. She smiled mysteriously, bowed respectfully to the little Serena, and dragged Istrone out of the study.
Outside the room, Gilbert smiled and, together with the surprised Jinnie, cleared a path for the guards and members of the Blood Race. The two groups glared at each other warily as they left the study and continued their standoff farther away in the hallway.
"Good day, Mr. Corleone and Ms. Corleone." Gilbert bowed neatly, the corners of his elegant mustache curling slightly upward. "I know members of the Blood Race possess extraordinary hearing, so it must have been exceedingly easy to hear what was happening in the study. I wonder, does secretly eavesdropping count as 'disturbing' the private conversation between Mr. Tales and Ms. Corleone?"
The guard Jola and the other swordsmen immediately advanced with grim expressions. "You were eavesdropping?"
Rolana's smile abruptly vanished, while Istrone's face turned livid.
Watching the members of the Blood Race retreat beyond the stairs under the furious pressure of the swordsmen, Jinnie fell into thoughtful silence.
So... Jinnie lowered her head silently. What Gilbert said was true. He really is a clever and steady boy.
Only, he is a little too clever and steady.
Tales let out a breath. Under the slightly strange gaze of the Red-Eyed Little Girl, he pushed the heavy study door shut and considerately drew the curtains to block the sunlight.
The study on the third floor had perfect soundproofing. Gilbert had assured him that even the hearing of the Blood Race could not penetrate it.
"All right. We were pressed for time yesterday, but now..." Tales exhaled and spoke seriously. "Let's discuss the terms of the alliance agreement in detail."
"Especially the parts concerning my blood and your service to me."
"Very good." Because her body had shrunk, Ms. Serena Corleone's words came out with a slight whistle. The little girl nodded solemnly. "We may as well add the matter of your identity to the terms requiring discussion."
Tales looked puzzled, but his expression changed dramatically at the Red-Eyed Little Girl's next words.
The true heir of the Corleone Family, the lawful and rightful ruler of the Hill of Suffering, the Archduchess, Her Highness Serena L. A. Corleone, who wore the appearance of a little girl, spoke faintly through her leaking teeth.
"That is, the problem of your succession rights as a Prince not being acknowledged for so long."
What they did not know was that, just as Tales cleverly prevented an irreconcilable feud between the guards and the members of the Blood Race and began negotiations with Serena, Chris Corleone was hiding behind the shadow of the chimney above the third-floor study. Avoiding the sunlight, he maintained an awkward posture with an expressionless face.
"All right." The pale-faced Chris Corleone twitched his ear and turned his head. "Our people haven't started fighting. I imagine Her Highness and that little friend have already begun their conversation."
"We're both at the Extreme Realm, after all. Do we really need to keep holding this awkward position?"
Opposite the Blood Race elder, the masked and silent oddity, Yordel Gato, finally returned the short sword he had been holding upside down to its sheath inside his clothing. His figure gradually faded away.