Interlude: The Mud-Covered Boy
──About eight years ago.
In the remote frontier territory of Baron Dragals, the Imperial Knight Order had arrived.
The vice–knight commander, Frau, let out a long, weary sigh.
“Haaah… Dragals again? I really hate this place. It’s so far from the imperial capital. And on top of that, there’s absolutely nothing here!”
Answering her complaint was the knight commander, Rosen.
“We come precisely because there’s nothing here. We spend money, stimulate the territory, and bring life to the land. That is why His Majesty sends us here every year.”
“I know, I know, but still— I wish it were some other backwater territory, at least. I’m already bored of this place. The monsters are the same, the scenery is the same. Everything’s the same.”
“Endure it. And watch your words. It’s rude to the baronial family that hosts us.”
“Eeeeh, but—”
The Imperial Knight Order had come for its annual expeditionary training.
Almost as soon as they arrived in town, Baron Dragals himself came out to greet them.
“It has been a year, Knight Commander.”
“We appreciate your hospitality again this year, Baron Dragals.”
“The pleasure is ours. Your presence is a great help to us every year.”
And just as in years past, training began at an unhurried pace. Subjugating monsters. Joint drills with the baron’s soldiers. To be honest, it was hardly an exaggeration to say that this was training primarily for nurturing new recruits. For the officers, it was practically a half-vacation.
In that sense as well, this expedition had become indispensable.
That day too, under clear skies, the Imperial Knight Order was conducting sword drills in a peaceful clearing bordering the forest.
“Recruits. Until you get permission from a senior, do not break form from the beginner stances. Some of you try to look cool and jump straight to intermediate forms. On the battlefield, those are always the first ones to die. Grow the hard, ugly way. That is what it means to live as a knight.”
“““““Yes, sir!”””””
At that moment, Baron Dragals approached.
──With his son in tow.
“Knight Commander. I apologize for troubling you while you’re busy.”
“Not at all. And this child is…?”
“My second son, Al. He turned ten this year.”
“If you’re here to observe, there’s a bench over there. Standing for long will tire him.”
“No… well, actually…”
From what he explained, the boy named Al had not come merely to observe—he had come to train. Looking closer, the boy was holding a wooden sword in one hand.
To be honest, his appearance was that of a textbook spoiled noble. A child who had never known hardship, who should have been giggling at tea parties with girls his age—someone utterly detached from battle.
Moreover, Imperial-style swordsmanship was a school designed for double-edged blades. Bringing a single-edged sword would teach him nothing.
(…Is this just a lark?)
The knight commander almost refused on the spot.
But Al stared at him, silently, unwaveringly.
“………………”
“…Very well. I’ll be your opponent. Come here.”
(He’ll give up soon enough, crying and sniffling all the way back home.)
“Good for you, Al. Looks like the finest swordsman in the Empire is going to train you.”
“Yeah.”
“I’m returning to work. Be home by evening.”
“Okay.”
He was a strange boy—quiet, impudent, and impossible to read. There was something unsettling about him.
“Thank you for training me.”
“Come. Strike however you like.”
Al swung his wooden sword with reckless determination.
For a ten-year-old beginner, his skill was exactly what one would expect.
“Good. You’re not bad. You’re properly striking my blade with the edge.”
Even so, Al’s wooden sword was quickly knocked from his hands.
“Eh—?”
“But listen, boy. I don’t have much time. I’m sorry, but let’s end it here for today.”
“Understood.”
Al picked up his wooden sword. It seemed he would leave—yet instead, he went and sat on the bench, watching the training intently.
“…He’s not going home?”
“The commander’s kind, isn’t he? To indulge in that kind of pretend swordplay.”
“Everyone starts somewhere. Don’t mock him.”
“Yes, yes. More importantly, there are plenty of knights over there waiting to spar with you, Commander. Please come quickly.”
In the end, Al watched the training all the way until evening.
──The next day.
“…You again? What is it today?”
“I want to spar again.”
At that moment, Vice Commander Frau stepped in.
“Hey, hey~. You came yesterday too, but you know, the commander isn’t actually free enough to babysit beginners, okay? If you really want to participate, you should at least ask some recruits during their break. Honestly…”
The way she spoke all but added, this is what you get with ignorant noble brats at the end.
She wasn’t wrong.
And yet—
“It’s fine, Frau. I’ll take responsibility for this boy. But only once per day. Is that acceptable?”
Al nodded vigorously.
“Haa… Please come back quickly, okay~.”
That day, there was a very small but noticeable improvement.
“Your swing speed is slightly better. That’s all for today.”
Naturally, Al stayed to observe until the end.
The day after that as well.
“You’ve learned how to follow through with a counter.”
And the day after that.
“Hm. You’ve picked up thrusting techniques.”
And the day after that.
“That’s right, boy. Defense is just as important as offense.”
Rain or shine, wind or storm, Al appeared at training every day.
──And before anyone realized it, he was formally allowed to participate in training as part of the new recruit group.
“Is this really okay, Knight Commander? Mixing a ten-year-old child who hasn’t even passed the exams into training?”
“It’s fine. That boy already has the ability to spar with recruits. He’s still rough around the edges, but his talent is extraordinary. He has earned the right to participate.”
“Well, don’t blame me if the higher-ups scold you.”
Of course, criticism rose even from within the knightly order itself.
Why accept the son of a noble house who didn’t even know the first thing about battle?
…And yet, those voices vanished almost as quickly as they appeared.
“Hey, hey… this is the complete opposite of the nobles I know.”
“Honestly, he’s tougher than our new recruits, isn’t he?”
“Oof—he’s been knocked down so many times his knees are soaked in blood. His hands are shaking, too.”
“But watch. He’ll stand up again. On those legs.”
“You’re right… ah, looks like the medical unit finally stepped in.”
“At least he should take a day off or something.”
No matter how deeply he was smeared with mud, no matter how thoroughly he was drenched in blood, Al would always—somehow—pick up the wooden sword and stand again. He swung it wildly, sweat-slick hair clinging to his face as he moved.
No one understood it.
On a battlefield, perhaps it would make sense. But this was merely training. And yet, why did he push himself to such reckless extremes? No one could comprehend it.
“The captain really loves that kind of gritty determination, you know~”
“How rude. I simply believe that is how a knight ought to be.”
One day, while seated at the counter of a tavern, the knight commander happened to find himself beside a servant from a baronial household. On a whim, he decided to ask about the matter.
“Oh? So young Al-sama is currently participating in training with the Imperial Knights?”
“You didn’t know?”
“No, sir. Sebas might know, but I doubt the other servants do. I myself thought he was simply out enjoying himself, as usual.”
“What…?”
But that wasn’t what mattered most.
“So then—what is it that drives that boy?”
“There’s only one thing that comes to mind. It happened about half a year ago…”
According to the servant, half a year earlier, Al’s younger sister, Miledia, had gone missing. That night, Al had gone alone into the forest after dark—and returned with her safely in his arms.
(Extraordinary courage and nerve. I almost want our recruits to hear this story.)
“From that day onward, Al-sama began collecting grimoires and going out alone. It was as though he had become a completely different person—far more active than before.”
“Hm… magic and swordsmanship alike. Does he seek strength?”
“More than that, I think he wants to be able to protect.”
“Protect?”
“Yes. To be honest, Al-sama has little interest in anyone outside his family.”
“How peculiar.”
“Haha. I agree.”
Most children want to show off their strength to others. If they are nobles, that desire is even stronger. But that boy seemed utterly uninterested in such things.
Then, one day—
“Al, my boy. Do you wish to become strong?”
“Not particularly.”
“Then do you wish to be able to protect others?”
“Well… I suppose it’d be nice if I could.”
Just as the servant had said.
“But unless you become strong, you cannot protect anything. The pursuit of strength itself leads to protection.”
“…That’s true.”
Al’s eyes widened, as though something had struck him.
“Then… should I just become the strongest in the world?”
“In the extreme, yes—that’s what it means.”
The captain gave a wry smile.
No one in this world would take such childish words seriously—spoken by a ten-year-old boy who had only just begun learning the sword.
And yet, the captain loved fools like that.
“Al, from today onward, whenever you have free time, I’ll be the one to train you.”
“Is that really okay?”
“Of course. No one will complain anymore.”
No matter how many times he was knocked aside, no matter how thoroughly he was beaten down, Al always rose again. Like a golem programmed with a single purpose, he did nothing but swing his sword, again and again.
—With strength no greater than a fresh recruit’s, at only ten years old, with that small, fragile body… just what did he intend to accomplish?
The baronial family maintained its own knightly force, and being stationed on the frontier, they were rarely summoned to war. In other words, the risk of being swept up in some great calamity was vanishingly small.
And yet, from the boy before him radiated a crushing, ill-fitting resolve—
If I don’t do it, if I don’t protect them…
A self-centered determination far beyond what his stature should bear.
Brash. Unsettling. Arrogant. Reckless. Overly self-aware.
A born, hopeless fool.
There would surely be many who whispered behind his back.
—But no matter how many times it must be said, Knight Commander Rosen adored such fools above all else.
(Al… you’re impressive. People like you are the ones who someday truly stand at the summit.)
The captain’s interest in this mud-smeared boy only deepened.
“People seem to think you’re just out playing around. Does that not bother you?”
“I don’t really mind.”
“Your wounds are always completely healed by the next day.”
“I sleep a lot.”
“Have you given up on Imperial-style swordsmanship?”
“I figured I’d get stronger if I made my own style.”
“Your legs are wobbling like a newborn fawn’s. Take a break.”
“No.”
From then on, Al was fully accepted into the Imperial Knights.
The next year as well—
“So you came again, Al.”
“Yes. Please train me again.”
The year after that—
“You’ve grown quite a bit taller in just a year.”
“Well, I sleep a lot.”
The year after that—
“I heard from your father—you restored ancient magic, didn’t you?”
“If it spreads, it’ll be a pain. Please keep it absolutely secret.”
And the year after that—
“Imperial Academy next year, huh? You could just join the Imperial Knights at this point.”
“No way.”
Before anyone realized it, Al had grown strong enough to spar evenly with the commander of the Imperial Knights himself.
“So, about a fifty-percent win rate?”
“Don’t exaggerate. I’m at seventy, you’re at thirty. You’re getting cocky.”
“Tch.”
“Hahaha. Watching my beloved disciple grow is a joy.”
“I’m not your disciple.”
“Don’t be shy.”
—And at last, the final day of training arrived.
“Our expedition routes will change next year. You’ll be entering the academy as well… I suppose the timing is right.”
“Then this is goodbye, Commander. Thank you for everything.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m usually in the capital. Come visit the knights anytime—you’ll be welcome.”
“I’ll pass.”
“Hahaha!”
Suddenly, Knight Commander Rosen raised his voice.
“AL!!!”
“Whoa—don’t shout out of nowhere! You scared me…”
“I shall bestow upon you a very special ‘charm.’”
“That’s something a beautiful witch would say… not a scary old man.”
“Just listen. It’s a phrase meant to put at ease the family and friends you wish to protect above all else.”
The commander spoke solemnly, with great care.
“—‘I am stronger than anyone in this world.’ Just that. A short phrase. Consider it my parting gift.”
“What is that cringey, embarrassing line…? Can’t you come up with something better?”
“No! Hahaha!”
“I’ll never use it.”
“You must!”
“No.”
“Use it!”
“Impossible.”
Thus was the so-called master–disciple relationship between Al and the commander of the Imperial Knights.
◇◇◇
—Time passes to the present.
While Al was fighting Crow—
The Imperial Castle shook with a deep, rumbling roar.
One of the military officers rushed to the commander.
“Rosen-sama! The epicenter appears to be the Duchy of Levian! Shall we dispatch reinforcements!?”
“No reinforcements are needed.”
“But—!!”
“The ones sent on this mission were Estella-sama and Al, were they not?”
“Y-yes, sir.”
(The boy…?)
“Then there’s no problem. If he’s there, everything will be fine.”
“Eh…? Deputy Commander, what do you think?”
“If Al’s going, I think it’ll be fine.”
“E-even the deputy commander…?”
The knight commander recalled the past—Al, covered in mud, sweat, and blood, gasping for breath as he stood again and again to face his opponent.
He gazed out the window and murmured softly.
“Those who carry something on their shoulders never fall. That boy taught me that. And now he goes to protect the nation itself. There’s no way he’ll lose. I’d wager my life on it.”
(We’re counting on you, Al.)