Lady Glaster smiled.
She had heard birdsong before.
She had heard it in courtyards, in woods, by rivers, and even on... battlefields!
Yes!
Battlefields!
During the Seven-Year War that changed the world, she had heard the birdsong unique to South County on the battlefield more than once.
Those extraordinarily gifted swordsmen had relied on a simplified version of [Swiftbird Swordsmanship] to deliver one glorious swan song after another on the battlefield.
Their swords flashed like lightning, their blades trembling with birdsong.
Each time, they shone with unparalleled brilliance.
Each time, they won unprecedented honor for themselves.
Even at the cost of their lives!
None of those South County swordsmen had retreated.
She had heard such birdsong more than once, sometimes as an ally, sometimes as an enemy, but whichever side she stood on, she could not help voicing her admiration.
She admired those swordsmen who fought for honor.
Because-
She was the same.
She, too, fought for honor.
At least, in her eyes, she had an honor of her own.
So the instant Arthur "exposed" her honor, the killing intent that surged in her heart swiftly merged into her North Wind Swordsmanship.
Whoosh!
The north wind blew, and snowflakes drifted.
With her at its center, the weather abruptly changed within a radius of a dozen or so meters.
Glaster watched Arthur. When she saw that the young Medium's expression remained unchanged, she could not help voicing her admiration once again-
"Arthur, you really do live up to your reputation!
Even now, you remain composed.
You know some swordsmanship, but only a little. After all, Ferran himself is half-mad. How could he possibly have taught you properly?
You figured out your first sword techniques from the marks on the doorframe, didn't you?"
As she spoke, she looked toward the doorframe of