“Hetty! See to Lord Beldarus’s belongings!”
“Er, I... That is, I’m no longer a noble...”
Oh, no! Don’t say my name out loud! she moaned inwardly. There’s no-one who can help me if this guy remembers who I am! Hetty willed herself forward on shaking legs. Lord Beldarus removed the sword hanging at his side and bent over to hand it down to her.
“You may find it a tad heavy. Do be careful with it.”
“Y-Yessir!” Hetty stammered a reply and reached out with both hands to take the blade being offered to her. The scabbard pressed down into her hands under the considerable weight of the sword.
Whether it was because of her frayed nerves, or because the sword was much heavier than she’d expected...
...Hetty did an impressive job in almost immediately fumbling the sword to the ground.
I’m sorry, Mom... Today’s the day your daughter dies. This remarkably cogent thought flashed through her mind as the sword hit the cobblestones with a great crash!
The blood drained from her face as she stared fixedly at her own feet. She could see the ornamental detailing on the sword, now cracked and shattered. There was no mistaking that the sudden impact from the fall was to blame for the damage.
You’ve really done it now. Way to go, Hetty. Not only did you drop a warrior’s sword, the symbol of his skill and pride—and a really expensive sword, too—but you broke it. You smashed it right up.
And not just any warrior’s sword, no! The sword of Gaius the Cannibal, the Ally-Killer.
Hetty released the breath she’d been holding and closed her eyes.
“Well, well, well... Did the blade get broken? Let’s test it out on your neck and see.” And with those words—fwoosh—her head came clean off. ...Or so Hetty saw in her mind’s eye.
That’s just the kind of thing Beldarus the Bloody-Bladed would do... As Hetty lamented the untimely end of her all-too-short life, with tears welling up in her eyes, she opened them to find Lord Beldarus stooped over, picking up the shards one by one.
“M-M-My deepest apologies for this dreadful offense, Lord Beldarus!” The guard dropped to his knees and pressed his head against the cobblestones in fervent apology.
Gaius waved a hand in front of his face dismissively. “It was my fault. The sword is far too heavy. Are you hurt?” This last question was directed at Hetty, in a gentle voice.
“Ah-Ah-I-I-I’m fine, Sir...! I-I’m terribly sorreeeeeeee...” Hetty was shaking so fiercely that she barely managed to get the words out.
“Is that so? Good.” Lord Beldaus casually collected the last of the fragments and tossed them into a nearby wastebasket.
“The sword was nothing but a decoration, to be worn only when attending the castle. I’m not going to be needing it any longer. Don’t let it bother you.”
“B-But—” Gaius held up a hand to cut the guard’s protests short and stood up.
He took the clipboard from Paul, whose brain seemed to have ceased functioning entirely. He patiently filled in his signature and his reason for coming to the castle and handed it back.
“You look like a student at the Knight Academy.” It took Hetty a moment to realize that this had been directed at her, but eventually she replied with “Yessir.”
“How old are you?”
“S-Seventeen, Sir!”
“Hmm...” Lord Beldarus removed a pouch from his belt and rummaged through it. He eventually produced something wrapped in paper and casually held it in front of Hetty’s face.
“I, uh...”
Seeing she was at a loss for words, Gaius simply said “For you,” and gestured for her to hold out her hand.
Hetty timidly reached out to accept it, after which Gaius gave another package to Paul.
“If you’ll excuse me.” With that, he turned toward the castle’s interior and walked away.
＊
“The man’s fit only to swing a sword about!” Back at the guardhouse, as Hetty and Paul were on break, a student two years their senior was going on and on, smirking and laughing.
The second son of a viscount, he took every possible opportunity to look down his nose at the common folk. Because of this, Hetty and the others inwardly ignored him as best they could. The fact that he didn’t even realize the others were scorning him was truly unbecoming of a young noble.
“Oh? But Lord Beldarus was so frightening, and he looked so powerful.”
“He’s not Lord Beldarus anymore, or even the captain of the Knights of the Chain. He’s just another plebeian now.”
Hetty replied with another half-hearted “Oh?” and took a sip of her sugar-laden tea. The potent sweetness worked to soothe her fear-induced aches and pains.
“And that nickname of his, the ‘Slayer of Fifty’ or whatever? It has to be a sham.”
“Is that so?” Paul chimed in this time.
“Of course! It’s all just a load of leftover rumor from the war, together with his own braggart’s lies. I mean, the stories are simply unbelievable. One man cutting down fifty men? One man, making an entire enemy force run for cover?”
“Well, I suppose,” Hetty replied. Honestly, having seen him in person, I can believe it, she thought to herself.
“And for whatever reason, the last king, and the king before him, both bought into this farce. But now we have a proper king and prime minister who know how to deal with charlatans like him. Just because the man knows his way around a sword doesn’t mean he should be given rank and prestige that he doesn’t deserve. Now that he’s been exposed, he’s dropped all his titles and practically fled the capital...and good riddance, too!”
Hetty recalled Lord Beldarus’s words as she brought the teacup back to her lips. So that’s why he said he wasn’t nobility anymore...
“What a nut the previous king was. Giving the Beldarus name and a title to an illegitimate son. House Bargylus even ousted him because he was such a dimwit. Did you know that? Huh? The Academy teachers called a meeting and asked him all sorts of questions about tactics, and he couldn’t give even a halfway decent answer! And somehow this idiot was made captain of the guard?! What a laugh!” Paul glanced at the senior student out of the corner of his eye and nodded noncommittally.
“So, then, does that mean Lord...I mean, Mister Beldarus’s nickname ‘The Ally-Killer’ is another exaggerated rumor?” The young man stopped laughing when Hetty asked.
“No, that bit’s true.”
“Huh?”
“A young aristocrat told him off for the way he ran pell-mell across the battlefield, and the sword-for-brains cut him down right there and then where one and all could see it. They say some old sorcerer filled his head with all sorts of funny superstitions, too. Went and kidnapped a maiden and ate her right up, flesh and blood and all. That savage was hardly knight material at all, let alone an aristocrat.”
Hetty’s cheek twitched.