“Lord Raoul, are you ready?”
“Whenever you are.”
“This way, please.”
Raoul’s retainers led him to the training grounds. Usually, the domain’s soldiers sparred here, but today was different. A massive cage stood at the center of the arena, surrounded by knights with tense, solemn faces. There were no monsters inside the cage, but people. Death row inmates, in fact. Each of them looked terrified, like they had no clue why they’d been brought here.
When the cage door opened, Raoul walked inside without hesitation. The knights tossed swords, axes, and whatever they had on hand onto the ground near the inmates.
“Each of you, choose a weapon. You’re going to fight that man,” a knight announced. “If you win, your sentence will be reduced. You’ll be spared from execution.”
At that, the prisoners instantly perked up. “What?! Are you serious?!”
“It’s true.”
“You mean we’re allowed to kill him?!”
“You are.”
“Hell yeah!”
“This is our lucky day!”
They rejoiced as if they’d already won. And who could blame them? The boy they were about to fight looked barely in his mid-teens. These convicts were former mercenaries and adventurers who’d seen real combat. They knew how to fight.
“We’re really blessed, huh?”
“Ha! What the hell did that kid even do to end up here?”
“Who cares? Let’s just finish this quick and cash in on our freedom!”
They all smirked and grabbed their weapons, closing in on Raoul.
The first man rushed in without delay. “Die, you little shi— Huh?!”
Before he knew it, his severed arm was sailing overhead, still clutching its sword. It landed with a dull thud.
“Arrghhhh!”
“Shut up,” Raoul said, thrusting his blade into the man’s throat.
“Nggh!” he gurgled before crumpling to the ground.
The rest of them had been all smiles a few moments ago, but now they looked deathly pale.
“H-He’s...”
“What’d he just do?!”
“I couldn’t even see i—”
Raoul drove his sword straight into the man’s heart before he could even finish his sentence. No one had even seen him move.
“Two down already. Tch, what a letdown. These guys are chumps.”
“All together now! Attack at once!”
“Yeaaaah!”
The inmates realized they couldn’t take him one-on-one, so they banded together—but Raoul dodged their blows with casual ease, emerging without a scratch. One by one, they fell to his blade until only a single prisoner remained. He was the only one who’d managed to block even a few attacks.
“Wh-Who the hell are you?! I’ve got the Gift of Sword Proficiency, damn it! So why can’t I even touch you?! D-Don’t tell me...”
“Pathetic. Die, scum.”
“Gaaaah!”
The last man fell, and the knights around the cage whooped. “Lord Raoul has crushed them all!”
“He’s only had his Gift for six months, and he’s already this strong?!”
“That’s the power of Sword Mastery!”
As the knights gawked, one man approached Raoul, who dropped to one knee.
“Father,” the boy said, looking up at Marquess Arvale.
“Well done, Raoul. You’ve passed. You will join me in my next battle,” Arvale said. He wasn’t just praising his son; he was acknowledging him as his fellow warrior.
“I’m honored. I shall deliver results worthy of your name,” Raoul vowed, and the knights burst into cheers once more.
As Raoul left the training grounds after his victory, one of his vassals hurried up to him.
“Lord Raoul, I have a report!”
“What is it?”
“It’s about that village rumored to have been built in the northern wastelands. The local governor confirmed, after a formal investigation, that no such village exists.”
“Ha. Of course it doesn’t. As if anyone could build a settlement out in that desert,” Raoul snorted. “Pfft. I don’t know where that idiot dropped dead, but it’s a shame I didn’t get to see it happen. Could’ve been fun to drag him around as my errand boy until he croaked.”
Either way, it was clear he wasn’t coming back. Raoul had only looked into the rumors because they’d nagged at him a little, but now he could wash his hands of it.
“And regarding Lady Seren... The Bazlata family says there’s still no sign of her.”
“Tch. Don’t tell me they’re deliberately hiding her just to keep her from marrying me.”
“I-I seriously doubt that’s the case...”
It left a bad taste in Raoul’s mouth, but he wouldn’t dwell on it. “Once winter’s over, the real war begins. It’s the most critical campaign Father’s ever fought.” A smirk curled Raoul’s lips.
“And if we win, my father will gain control of even territory. He’ll hand off the March of Arvale to me, which means this entire vast domain will become mine to rule! Ha ha ha ha!”
Raoul’s triumphant laughter echoed throughout the winter sky. He was already counting down the days until spring, unaware that in the northern wastelands, the greatest threat against him had already quietly taken root.