They rode into a large town with the lord and his escort. The sudden arrival turned the streets into an uproar.
From their point of view, the lord was the direct ruler, and if he were angered, it would not end well. A public flogging would be the least of it—finding any pretext to raise taxes was also within the realm of possibility.
Whether that “possibility” actually came to pass did not matter. Because a man who could do such things had come, a great commotion was only to be expected.
“My lord, we are honored by your presence. We have prepared a welcome for you—please, come in.”
The town magistrate was waiting at the main gate, wringing his hands as he greeted the lord.
The lord, however, replied curtly. “You can dispense with the formalities. I am a busy man. I will stay the night but shall depart tomorrow.”
“B-But, my lord...please tarry longer...” the magistrate began, but his words sounded more like platitudes than a true effort to keep him; privately, the townsfolk wished the lord would leave immediately.
“No, I do not intend to stay long. Still, as a light inspection, I will look about the town.”
“Y-Yes! Of course, sir—please do!”
Normally, the thought of an impromptu inspection would have chilled everyone to the bone. But it was already midday, and with only the hours until sunset to spare, there was little more the lord could do than make a hasty tour.
Hidden double books or unreported hoards of wealth were unlikely to be discovered in such a brief sweep. Even if something were noticed, proving illegality on the spot would be difficult. Regardless, if the lord had intended to root out such things, he would not have limited himself to a single overnight stay.
The flustered town magistrate let out a sigh of relief. Having calmed himself, his awareness finally expanded to take in the rest of the lord’s entourage. Among them were five men whose equipment made them stand out.
“Oh, my lord... Those rugged-looking warriors over there—could they be the rumored new combat instructors?”
“Yes, indeed. They are the young elite personally introduced by the head of Sepaeda himself. Even the Young Blademaster has vouched for their skill—they are truly formidable,” the lord said proudly.
Apparently, he took great pride in them; his expression, previously sullen, shifted to one of faint amusement. Seeing the lord smile, the magistrate’s relief grew even stronger.
“I-Is that so... The famous Sansui Shirokuro himself... Ah?!”
The magistrate yelped in front of the lord before he could stop himself. Too concerned about hidden misdeeds being exposed, he had forgotten that this situation—publicly acknowledged—was already a known secret.
So...he has come to this town!
By the time he realized the danger, it was too late to act. Resigned, the magistrate had no choice but to guide them through the town.
At present, Sansui Shirokuro was all the rage in the Sepaeda territory.
Any inn he had visited, any teahouse he favored—everything was instantly trendy. Simply attaching the name “Sansui Shirokuro” guaranteed sales and popularity. That was how widely celebrated he had become.
But that was the mildest part. Far worse were the sword schools.
Until recently they had taught completely different styles, used completely different weapons—and yet, with shameless audacity, they now hung signs touting “Sansui Shirokuro.”
Worse still, the instruction they offered was nothing like Sansui’s or Suiboku’s: it was just the same sloppy lessons they’d always given, repackaged with a famous name.
Such a malignant trend had spread even through this town.
“Hmm... This town’s plastered with Sansui Shirokuro banners,” the lord observed, surveying the shops and pennants along the main street. “I never knew the Grand Instructor of Warfare had visited this place.”
He meant it as a sarcastic remark, but the students walking behind him were not amused. They had every reason to be outraged—their master’s reputation was being used as a trademark.
The magistrate, for his part, floundered for a response and chose self-preservation instead.
“Merchants can be bold... If it boosts sales, they’ll boast anything,” he stammered.
“Indeed,” the lord agreed. “Few will take such advertising at face value. However...”
He fixed his gaze on one particular sign.
“This, I cannot overlook.”
What he had spotted was the town’s largest, newest sword school—its frontage declaring it the “Sansui Shirokuro School.”
This was beyond mere tolerated practice. The place was large and prominent enough that someone had to be backing it at the municipal level.
Seeing it, the five swordsmen could barely contain their anger any longer. They looked like men ready to storm the school at any moment.
“Master Sansui is the Grand Instructor of Warfare. There’s a world of difference between claiming he once tasted a certain sweet as an advertisement, and a sword school master claiming to have trained under him to teach others—the latter is far more malicious.”
One of the instigators of this fraudulent town scheme was the magistrate himself. The lord fixed him with a severe gaze.
“Y-Yes, my lord, you are quite correct!” the magistrate stammered.
“Nonetheless, it’s possible that some truly have been taught by Master Sansui. We should confirm this. Summon the masters who claim to have received instruction from him to the town square. Immediately.”
“Yes, sir!”
There was no room for refusal. The magistrate dashed into the school in a panic.
Evening was approaching. Normally people would be returning home at this hour, but the town still buzzed as if it were midday.
The representative masters of the town’s sword schools—two assistant instructors and one senior—were assembled in the central square, summoned by the lord who governed this town and its surrounding region.
“It’s nearly sundown. Long introductions are unnecessary,” said the lord, seated on a simple chair outside, flanked by many soldiers and the five combat instructors. He addressed the three assembled masters directly.
The townspeople whispered among themselves. Some who had engaged in wrongdoing turned pale, but most had nothing to fear.
The three masters before the lord weren’t sure if they were about to be judged as frauds or not. They watched with half disbelief, half dread.
“I will determine whether you truly are students of Master Sansui...by combat. You will face one of these five who carry official credentials, and your skill will reveal the truth.”
The five swordsmen, grim-faced and heavily armed, exuded an unmistakable aura of menace.
The townspeople, knowing that these men were “students of the Young Blademaster recognized by the lord,” could hardly contain their excitement.
The three self-proclaimed students were equally stirred by the anticipation.
I never imagined the lord himself would come to this tiny town...
I was worried they’d demand credentials, but if it’s a display of skill, that’s not so bad.
All we have to do is hold a decent match against one of those five youngsters...
They saw this as an opportunity. If they could bring the fight to a draw, they’d earn the lord’s personal approval. The three masters suppressed smug grins behind polite facades.
“No complaints, I hope?”
“Of course, we have no objections whatsoever.”
“Yes, we humbly accept. Please, behold my blade.”
“To wield the sword before the lord himself is the utmost honor.”
Of course, these three were not actually students of Sansui. They had never even met him, and some doubted his very existence. All were former soldiers, competent but ordinary men, now posing as qualified combat instructors. Age made them appear authoritative, but in essence, they were simply opportunistic rogues. Their ambitions were fueled solely by practical gain and dreams of prestige.