LGT Chapter 14

The academy’s training grounds were located near the main building. By the time Mikhail, Adrian, Catherine, and Hans arrived, the area was already packed with students, buzzing with excitement. Since the duel had started during the second-year students’ swordsmanship class, the majority of the crowd was composed of upperclassmen. Some of them greeted Catherine and Hans as they entered, making room for them.

Adrian and Mikhail followed them inside and turned their eyes toward the duel.

“Why the sudden duel?” Catherine nudged her friend with her elbow and asked. The male student, who had been intently watching the duel, laughed and said, “Wow, Catherine’s here too! News sure travels fast.” He then filled her in on the situation.

It had all started during the second-year swordsmanship class that morning. Declaire, the Headmaster, who had a lunch appointment with Professor Idros, the swordsmanship instructor, showed up at the training grounds, which led to the spontaneous duel. What began on a whim had continued through the lunch hour and was still going strong as the afternoon break came to an end. This meant they had been clashing swords for hours.

Catherine stuck out her tongue in amazement as she looked at the two people in the center of the training grounds. Their endurance was incredible. Although Professor Idros was clearly exhausted, Headmaster Declaire showed no signs of fatigue—at least not visibly.

Declaire Fauster was widely considered the strongest living knight.

Mikhail, having grown up observing knights’ duels, knew well that the strongest knight in the Kingdom of Rustabaran was considered the strongest on the entire continent.

Headmaster Declaire, dressed in simple casual clothes, stood there with a large sword almost as tall as she was, effortlessly held in one hand. This was Temaria, the very sword Jonathan had mistakenly called Teyria. Declaire’s appearance now was a stark contrast to the formal dress she had worn at the entrance ceremony. Her faded, wavy gray hair hinted at her age, but that was the only sign of it. Her body, honed from years of rigorous training, swelled and contracted under her casual attire, her strength obvious even from a distance.

The duel had been going on for some time, and her opponent’s clothes were torn in several places. It was no longer a sparring session with blunted practice swords—they were using real blades.

“It reminds me of that time…”

Panting heavily, a knight stood on the opposite side of Declaire. He was larger than her and looked thoroughly exhausted after the long duel.

“…That time? When you completely ignored my advice on the battlefield?” 

“Haha! Still holding onto that, are you?” Declaire laughed as she casually swung her large sword from side to side, clearly enjoying herself.

“If only you held onto your sword techniques as well as you hold grudges. Wouldn’t that be something?” Declaire taunted him, making the duel even more entertaining for herself. She knew a well-placed jab could liven things up.

At her provocation, Professor Idros, who had been catching his breath, straightened up and gritted his teeth. The tall knight, filled with determination, charged toward Declaire. His sword came sweeping through the air in a broad arc aimed at her, but she easily dodged by twisting her body. In that instant, Declaire’s sword, Temaria, gleamed as it sliced through the air toward him, like a predator closing in on its prey.

Sensing the incoming attack, Idros shifted his grip, awkwardly switching hands mid-air to change the direction of his sword. The strain of the maneuver caused his muscles to ripple, but there was no other way to counter Declaire’s strike.

Clang!

A harsh metallic sound reverberated throughout the training grounds. The swords trembled violently as they struggled for dominance, each blade vibrating with the clash of their opposing forces. Declaire Fauster, watching Idros grit his teeth, couldn’t help but laugh softly. It had been a long time since she had enjoyed a duel this much. If it had been any ordinary knight, the fight would have ended with that last strike. But her longtime subordinate had learned to instinctively respond to her patterns over the years, somehow managing to block her blow.

As their swords continued to clash in a contest of strength, Declaire grasped the flat side of her own blade with her free hand and twisted it, causing the two swords to screech as they separated. Professor Idros barely managed to pivot his sword upward and lean back, putting some distance between himself and Declaire. Even after all these years, her monstrous skill remained unchanged. The arm holding Idros’s sword trembled violently—his muscles were protesting the unnatural strain he’d put on them in that last desperate maneuver.

‘If someone like her hasn’t become a Swordmaster, then who could possibly earn that title?’ Idros thought as he heaved his shoulders up and down, trying to catch his breath. But Declaire gave him no time to rest.

“Oh, come now.”

With a cold gaze fixed on her former subordinate, Declaire calmly ran her hand over Temaria’s blade, soothing the lingering vibrations from the recent clash. The tremors gradually subsided.

“Do you really have time to be lost in thought?”

With a few swift strides, Declaire lunged toward Idros, who had crouched at the edge of the training grounds, trying to steady his breath. Gritting his teeth, Idros planted his hands on the ground and rolled away to dodge her attack.

But it was too late.

Just as Idros completed his roll and planted his feet to rise, swish—Temaria was already hovering over him, ready to strike, poised at his throat. Idros, sensing his defeat, let the tension seep out of his body and looked up at Declaire’s face.

“…It’s over.”

“Yes, it is. Let’s have a late lunch.”

“If you had gone easier on me, we could’ve had lunch on time.”

“Well, it’s been a while. I couldn’t exactly hold back now, could I?”

Idros gave Declaire a weary look, then gave his sword a shake before sheathing it. This signaled the end of their long duel.

The students surrounding the training grounds erupted into cheers. Some of the knight faculty students stomped their feet enthusiastically, offering their admiration for the incredible duel. Watching the strongest knight in action could sometimes be more rewarding than participating in drills, offering inspiration and insight beyond ordinary training.

Mikhail, still engrossed in the duel he had just witnessed, was unable to pull himself away from the spectacle. His eyes burned with excitement, as if he were ready to jump into the ring himself. He stood tall, fists clenching slowly, his gaze fixed on the training grounds.

At last, he felt like he had taken a step closer to his goal.

Since he had first declared his dream of mastering the sword, the young prince had faced endless opposition. His ambition was considered reckless and dangerous for the youngest prince of the kingdom. But Mikhail had persisted, steadily working toward his dream despite the obstacles.

Catherine was the first to snap out of the daze.

“Ah! Should we go get that homework now?”

Hans, who had grumbled about coming in the first place, was now thoroughly absorbed in the duel. He excitedly discussed various sword techniques from the duel with his friends, going over every detail.

“Wow… that was incredible.”

“I told you it’d be fun.”

“Yeah, but that’s only because it was Headmaster Declaire’s duel. If it had been younger students sparring, I’d feel like my eyes were rotting.”

Catherine and Hans turned to Adrian and Mikhail, who had been standing beside them. Adrian, catching the look, smiled slightly and said, “Let’s go.”

Their afternoon classes were about to begin, so Adrian and Mikhail reluctantly left the training grounds.

***

After the duel, Professor Idros, who was sitting on the ground catching his breath, glanced around the training grounds and spotted Mikhail. He turned to Declaire and said, “Oh? The prince is here too.”

“Mikhail?”

Both Declaire and Idros had worked as knights for the kingdom and had watched the prince grow up during their time at the royal palace. It made sense for them to feel a sense of nostalgia.

“He’s already enrolled in the academy. Time really flies.”

“Aren’t you going to greet him?”

“What for? Me greeting him won’t change anything. He’ll do fine on his own.”

Declaire sheathed her sword with a metallic swoosh, the sound resonating throughout the training grounds. She scanned the group of students and then extended her arm to help Idros, who was still lying on the ground, to his feet. He grabbed her arm with a chuckle and pulled himself up.

“I didn’t know he was such a sociable kid. He’s already made friends?” Declaire said, looking at Adrian standing next to Mikhail.

…We’re not friends, though.

Adrian, with his keen dragon-like hearing, overheard their conversation from afar but kept silent, simply flashing a quiet smile in Declaire’s direction. To the other students, who couldn’t hear the conversation, it looked like nothing more than a casual exchange between the Headmaster and the knight.

Declaire, her eyes showing the wisdom of many years, studied Adrian, standing tall beside the prince. His posture was striking, with a well-built, disciplined physique.

Is he an aspiring knight student too? she mused, thinking to herself that he seemed like a fitting friend for Prince Mikhail. With that thought, Declaire and Idros left the training grounds together.