Ars City

Asura Kingdom Territory, Ars City.

This was the oldest, largest, most populous, and most prosperous city in human history, standing unfallen through hundreds and thousands of years.

Everyone who came here for the first time was shaken by the vast, sweeping view that could not be taken in all at once.

The enormous silver palace towered atop a hill, surrounded by rows of mansions clustered around the castle, all enclosed within fortress-like walls. Beyond the city gates, broad streets stretched outward; from a high vantage point, one could see the massive coliseum, the luxurious knights' training grounds, the beautiful temple of the Saint Millis Order, and the countless overpasses spread throughout the city, spanning the motherlike Altier River, boundless and vast...

The main house of the Water God Style.

The dojo where the current Water God personally presided was located here as well.

"Clack—"

Bang!

Inside the dojo came the dull sound of wooden swords striking each other.

With the clatter of armor, a freckled boy grunted and collapsed to the floor, the wooden sword he had been gripping flying from his hand. Frustration surfaced on his face, and just as he reached out to pick up his wooden sword, the sword held in another hand came to rest against the center of his brow.

The boy's body instantly went stiff.

"The match is decided."

The middle-aged man presiding over the duel calmly announced the result. "Izolte Cruel wins."

The girl slowly lowered the sword in her hand and bowed to her opponent with the courtesy of a swordsman. "Thank you for the match."

"Ahaha, Izolte really is as strong as ever. That's ridiculous..."

The freckled boy scratched his head and returned the courtesy in kind.

After announcing the result, the middle-aged man's gaze fell on the girl before him, who had not shed even a single drop of sweat, and open admiration showed in his eyes. "Becoming an advanced swordsman at only nine years old... I suppose I should say, as expected of the granddaughter of the Water God. Izolte."

"I still have many shortcomings."

There was no particular change in Izolte's expression. She had heard praise like this far too many times already.

Of course she knew there was no doubt about her talent in swordsmanship. Or rather, until now, she had yet to see anyone her age surpass her in that regard. But precisely because of that, she reminded herself to reflect on herself at all times. After all, people who always lived amid praise were prone to pride and complacency.

She was a swordsman who aspired to inherit the name of the Water God.

Getting carried away over this level of praise was something only people without talent would do.

The middle-aged man nodded slightly, very satisfied with Izolte's current attitude.

It was only normal for talented people to become proud and complacent, but if they grew lax because of that pride and complacency, then they would only be reduced to mediocrity.

That was always a pity.

"All right, it's getting late. We'll stop here for today."

The middle-aged man rose, and at his command, the many students gathered in the dojo bowed in salute, then dispersed.

Izolte went to the changing room and changed out of her sweat-soaked clothes.

Just as she was about to leave, a figure suddenly called out to her.

"Miss Izolte, if you have the time, may I invite you to share dinner with me?"

"Hm?"

Izolte turned her head and saw the freckled boy who had just sparred with her speaking to her.

He wore a slight smile on his face and extended the invitation with standard noble etiquette.

"I'm very sorry, Lord Grot. I've been training all day today and am already quite tired. Right now, I only wish to return home and rest."

"I see. Then please go back and rest."

The freckled boy tugged at the corner of his mouth and replied in a tone that was still fairly proper.

"My deepest apologies."

Izolte bowed once more, then left the dojo without looking back.

Because she was the granddaughter of the current Water God, situations like this happened often.

All the more so because this was the royal capital.

Here, if you tossed a brick, you could kill three viscounts with it. Anyone you met on the street might be the child of some noble family.

The Water God Style had always been deeply favored by the nobility.

Its elegant bearing and its principle of focusing on defense and counterattacks were both reasons the nobles preferred it.

Therefore, although this was the main house of the Water God Style, the dojo was not filled entirely with talented people. Someone like Lord Grot from just now would have a hard time becoming an advanced swordsman no matter how hard he worked. He had simply come here to polish his credentials because his family required it, and the dojo had only accepted him out of consideration for his birth as the son of a count's family.

Izolte had no interest in such people.

Or rather, until she possessed the strength to inherit the name of the Water God, she had no intention of considering matters between men and women.

The sun gradually sank westward.

"Be careful on your way back. The royal capital hasn't been very peaceful lately."

"Yes. Goodbye, Teacher."

Izolte obediently said her goodbyes, turned, and left the dojo.

The dojo sat between the outermost district and the residential area. It was not too far from her home, and after passing through the gate in the inner city wall, she could already see the villa clearly.

Right. Before going home, she might as well buy some bread.

Her brother would probably like it.

Izolte took a slight detour, passed through an alley, and came out onto another street. There was a confectionery shop there that she often visited. Though the shop was not especially large, it had a good reputation, fair prices, and was favored by a small group of regulars.

The setting sun dyed the stone-paved road pale gold, and the evening wind carried a trace of chill.

She was just about to push open the door when she caught sight of someone standing in front of the display window.

It was a girl, one who looked even younger than her, probably only seven or eight years old.

Her long golden hair was a little disheveled, tied behind her head with a simple strip of cloth. She wore a travel coat washed nearly white, carried a small pack on her back, and had a sword hanging at her waist.

She was staring blankly at the freshly baked bread in the display window.

Izolte's steps paused.

She was hungry, most likely. Maybe she had no money on her.

Izolte did not hesitate for long. She pushed open the door and entered the shop, and the warm aroma of wheat washed over her.

She bought three loaves of bread, had two wrapped together in paper, and asked the clerk to wrap the other one separately.

When she walked out of the shop, the girl was still standing where she had been.

"Here." Izolte held one out to her.

The girl seemed startled and lifted her head.

She had a pair of very clear, water-blue eyes, so clear they seemed as if they could reflect Izolte's image. Those eyes were slightly widened now, making her look a little stunned.

"...Have you mistaken me for someone else?"

"I bought too much bread. I can't finish it if I take it home."

Izolte spoke briefly and forced the bread into her hands.

"Eat it while it's hot."

The girl stared blankly at the bread in her hands.

Then she suddenly came back to herself and reached into her pocket. "I have money. I'll pay you..."

"No need."

Izolte waved her hand.

"I told you, I just accidentally bought too much."

"..."

The girl was silent for a moment, then finally decided to accept it.

It was not that she could not afford bread.

She had only just arrived in Ars City and was shocked by the prices here.

Owing someone a favor over a single loaf of bread was not worth it at all.

But compared to that, letting down a young girl's kindness seemed even crueler.

"Hilde Greyrat."

"What?"

"That's my name. And thank you for the bread."

"Izolte Cruel. You're welcome. See you again if we get the chance."

Izolte smiled.

She was just about to leave when Hilde suddenly called out to her.

"Please wait a moment, Miss Izolte. Do you know where the Water God Style dojo is?"

Izolte was a little surprised. Her gaze fell on the sword at Hilde's waist. "You're going to the dojo?"

"Yes. I came from my hometown and want to enter the dojo to take a master and train."

"I see."

Izolte nodded.

Then she pointed in the direction she had come from.

"Keep going down this road. When you see a building with a wooden structure and white-painted walls, that's it. But—"

Izolte looked up at the sky.

When she had left the dojo earlier, the sun had only just begun to set.

Now half of it was already below the horizon.

"The dojo closes when it gets dark. If you're going, you'll have to hurry."

"...Thank you very much!"

She gave Isolte a firm nod, then turned and hurried off in the direction she had indicated.

Her footsteps rang crisp and urgent against the stone-paved road, her golden hair swaying behind her shoulders, and she soon vanished around a street corner.

Isolte stood where she was, watching that figure disappear.

Greyrat...

She didn't really carry herself like a noble. She was probably just from some branch family with a bit of noble blood.

There didn't seem to be anyone else with her, either.

Could she have come to the royal capital from her hometown all by herself?

At such a young age?

No, no matter how she thought about it, that was impossible.

Isolte shook her head, stopped dwelling on it, and set off toward home with the bread in her arms.