Chapter 8: The Noble Lord? Who? (3)

The imposing Zeden Mountains stretched from east to west in the northern lands of the Eustil Kingdom. This treacherous territory teemed with monsters, and it marked the border between human civilization and the chaotic lands of the monsters to the north.

Creatures from these mountains frequently invaded the human realms. Thus, the Devantor Viscounty, along with the Zestrad Barony, stood as the northern vanguard against these threats—at least, until some 20 years ago.

Since the Zestrad family’s decline, only the Devantor family had continued to shoulder the burden of defending the northern frontier. At the northern fortress of Devantor, a group of knights was diligently training, as they did every day.

"Hah!" With loud shouts, the burly knights exchanged blows, sweat pouring down their faces as they struck with swords and braced with shields, dust rising from the ground in thick clouds.

"Hup!"

"Yah!"

Observing them, a middle-aged knight called out, "Never neglect your training! We are the true guardians of this land!"

This was Sir Bright, the commander of the fortress.

"We can’t rely on the worthless scum of Zestrad for anything!"

The Zestrad Barony—it enraged him just to think of them. They’d failed to uphold their duties yet somehow stumbled upon the good fortune of a copper mine. And now, on top of betraying the Devantor family, they sought only to satisfy their own greed?

"Well, soon enough, that matter will be dealt with."

After gauging the knights’ condition, Sir Bright announced a break.

"That’s it for now! Take a short rest, then we’ll resume!"

The knights caught their breath while panting heavily. One of them, a massive figure who appeared not even remotely winded, caught Sir Bright’s attention. Approaching him, Bright spoke.

"Is the preparation for the trial by combat coming along well, Sir Randolph?"

"I haven’t exactly been neglecting my training..." Randolph replied with a scoff, running a hand through his brown hair. "But really, what’s there to prepare? I’m facing nothing more than a sheltered noble."

"Well, that’s true," Bright chuckled, giving Randolph a hearty pat on the shoulder. "Still, there’s no harm in being careful. After all, it’s incomprehensible, isn’t it? He must have some kind of plan..."

There was only one possible conclusion to the duel by combat that Zestrad’s new lord, Karnak, had suggested.

"Even the most foolish wouldn’t throw their life away so easily, right?"

"I don’t intend to underestimate him, but..." Randolph said, shrugging. "But from what I’ve heard, this new lord of Zestrad wasn’t even the legitimate heir. Perhaps he simply has no idea what a real knight is capable of?"

Perhaps he thought a knight was merely a slightly stronger version of an ordinary soldier.

"It’s not uncommon for some inexperienced young noble to be blind to the realities of the world. It’s not unheard of for them to pull a foolish stunt like this."

Bright smirked. "It happens more often than we’d think."

In his experience, there were many who seemed too foolish to believe, prompting suspicions that they must have some hidden trick. But usually, it turned out they really were just that foolish. Randolph raised his sword once more.

"Of course, training should never be neglected."

Now that the break was over, it was time to return to intense practice.

"Not just for the trial by combat, but to protect this land and its people!"

One by one, the other knights resumed their stances, filling the training grounds with the sound of spirited shouts.

"Ha!"

"Hah!"

Bright watched Randolph with pride as he trained, delivering forceful strikes with his sword. Each blow, blocked or endured, pushed back his opponent, eventually forcing them to surrender. Randolph's brutal swordsmanship was unique. It allowed him to overwhelm his foes until they could no longer resist.

Strong, indeed,

thought Bright. With this rate of progress, Randolph might one day master battle aura, the ultimate goal of many knights. He had the potential to become an elite knight, something most only dreamed of.

The only thing I’m concerned about is his rough nature and tendency to underestimate his opponents...

Even so, there was no chance he’d lose to a mere 20-year-old who had barely begun his training.

Still, what on earth was that brat thinking? He’s neither a knight nor a wizard.

Suddenly, Bright noticed something. He turned his gaze beyond the training grounds.

Hm?

He felt as if someone was watching them. Looking closely, he saw a merchant beyond the inner yard fence, selling wares to a group of women.

It wasn’t unusual. Peddlers often passed through the small northern fortress, where the front yard served as a training ground, laundry area, and a marketplace for vendors. It was common to see knights training on one side, while women laid out blankets and examined goods nearby. But this particular young peddler kept casting glances toward the knights, a bit too frequently for Bright’s comfort.

What is he doing?

For a moment, he considered that the man might be a spy sent by Zestrad to gather information on their forces. But he quickly dismissed the idea.

That’s absurd.

After all, this was just physical training. There was nothing secret or sensitive about it. Their unique techniques or strategies were practiced in private, even in this modest fortress. Although, it wasn’t impossible for an expert to read another’s combat capability simply by observing subtle movements or habits...

But only a master who’s spent decades immersed in battle could pull that off.

And what reason would such a skilled warrior have to play the part of a peddler and spy on them? If they were that powerful, they’d just step forward as the opposing champion in the trial. Besides, it was nothing strange for commoners to gaze admiringly at knights in training.

Pushing aside his suspicions, Bright turned his attention back to the knights. Their vigorous shouts echoed across the field as they trained, glistening with sweat.

"Keep moving! The sweat you shed today will nourish the soil you protect!"

***

Various goods were spread out over a mat on the ground, and a group of women crowded around, eagerly examining each item. They were the families of the knights and soldiers stationed at the northern fortress. One middle-aged woman fondly stroked a handkerchief, her face lighting up in delight.

"Oh, how soft! What fabric is this?"

"How much is it?"

"Only thirty celyns per set!"

"My, that’s so affordable! Then I’ll take one too..."

As he continued haggling with the women, Varos, posing as a peddler, couldn’t help but chuckle to himself.

Business is good. Not that it’s surprising.

He had specifically brought these items from the kingdom’s central regions for this day. Such quality goods were rarely seen in a fortress as barren as this one. And he was selling them at cost, leaving no profit margin.

It’s only natural that they’d want to snatch them up immediately, heh heh.

The resulting crowd gave him the perfect cover to observe the knights’ training, especially Randolph’s fighting style.

I’ve seen enough.

Even though it was just a physical training exercise with basic moves, certain habits always came through. And Varos’s assessment, as the former second-in-command of Necropia and once the world’s strongest warrior, was anything but ordinary. With just a brief observation, Varos had already analyzed Randolph’s entire skill set—his temperament, fighting style, timing, and speed.

With this level of skill, I probably wouldn’t have needed even half a year to prepare,

he thought.

Randolph was the archetype of a heavy-sword knight. His style could be described as powerful, efficient, and straightforward—or, more bluntly, as overly simplistic. Predicting his movements would be easy. A few months of training should be enough to hold a reasonable chance against him.

Of course, if I fought him right now, he’d probably behead me within seconds.

For now, it was best to stick to Karnak’s plan. As Varos continued observing Randolph, one of the women gathered around him struck up a conversation.

"Do you know my brother by any chance?"

"Oh! So, you’re related to Sir Randolph!"

Varos quickly managed his expression, speaking with a calm and respectful tone.

"Who wouldn’t know of Sir Randolph, the strongest knight in the north? As someone from the countryside, I couldn’t help but stare in awe."

In reality, Randolph was simply the strongest in Devantor, but Varos subtly elevated his title.

"Apologies for my rudeness. As an apology, I’d like to give you an extra undershirt, free of charge. It’s all I can offer."

The woman laughed, gratefully accepting the extra gift.

"Oh my, thank you so much. Hohoho."

Having avoided the distraction, Varos returned his attention to Randolph, a sly smile creeping onto his face.

That should cover everything the young master asked me to do. Now, I have a good idea of how he’s going to deal with him. Heh heh heh.

***

In a secluded part of the Zestrad estate stood a private training ground. Such spaces were common among noble families, as the exposure of a family’s unique martial techniques could be a severe disadvantage. As Karnak entered, he glanced around, mildly puzzled.

"Honestly, our family’s swordsmanship isn’t anything impressive—certainly not something that needs to be kept secret. Why did we go to the trouble of building this facility?"

Varos waved a hand. "Well, for fights among weaker individuals, it could still be a huge disadvantage. So, naturally, it’s essential."

The Zestrad family’s sword techniques weren’t worthless by ordinary standards, but Karnak and Varos had come from a world where standards were far higher. Their sense of what was

basic

or

high-level

was skewed accordingly. Locking the door behind him, Karnak chuckled.

"Well, it works out for us, doesn’t it?"

When Varos returned, Karnak declared that he’d begin special training for the duel and forbade anyone but Varos from approaching the training grounds. No one doubted him, given that the entire fate of the estate was on the line. As Karnak’s trusted aide, Varos’s involvement was also taken for granted.

"This way, Varos, even if you suddenly get stronger, no one will question it."

In the current timeline, Varos was simply a servant, so if he suddenly turned into a skilled knight, it would raise suspicions. Thus, Karnak needed a plausible scenario: Varos would

unlock

his hidden talent through diligent practice while assisting Karnak.

"For now, let’s focus on the task at hand," Varos murmured as he laid a suit of plate armor at Karnak’s feet. "Put this on."

Karnak picked up the breastplate and tilted his head, perplexed.

"How...exactly do I wear this?"

He had never worn armor in his life. As a necromancer, armor had only been a hindrance, and later, as Astra Shunaph, his body had been far tougher than any armor.

"Here, let me help."

With practiced hands, Varos slipped the gauntlets onto Karnak, tightened the straps, and fastened the buckles. Stepping back to survey his work, he nodded.

"Truly a sight to behold, sir."

"...You’re making fun of me, aren’t you?"

"Of course. Did you really think I was serious?"

The armor-clad Karnak, with his slender frame, looked more like an armored scarecrow than a fearsome warrior. The gaps in the armor left so much room that every move he made was accompanied by a clanking noise. Karnak shot a glare at Varos.

"I knew I should’ve just turned you into a zombie or a ghoul."

"Go ahead and try. Who would you banter with if I weren’t here?"

"Tsk."

With that, Karnak started walking back and forth in his armor. He raised his arms, lifted his legs, and unsheathed the sword at his hip, giving it a light swing.

"Huh? It’s not as heavy as I thought."

The knights he’d encountered had all been rather proud of their agility despite wearing heavy armor.

"Were they just exaggerating?"

Varos scoffed in agreement.

"For now, sure."

While steel armor was indeed heavy, it wasn’t so cumbersome that it immobilized the wearer entirely—it was designed for humans to wear, after all.

"Why don’t you try running for five minutes? I’m sure you’ll change your mind."

Karnak’s face went pale.

"Five minutes? I can’t even run that long without armor!"

Varos’s expression turned incredulous.

"Excuse me? It’s just five minutes! You’re a healthy twenty-year-old—how can you not run five minutes without stopping?"

The difference in perspective between someone who’d spent over a hundred years using their body and someone who’d spent over a hundred years using only their mind was more significant than expected.

"Odd, I seem to remember you running just fine back when we were fleeing for our lives."

"Back then, I had necromantic power to boost me."

"Seriously? You relied on necromancy just to run through a mountain path?"

"Well, it wasn’t quite necromancy—just a little boost to my body with dark energy."

Varos slapped his forehead in exasperation.

"Good grief, we’ve got a long way to go..."

But at this point, there were no other options. They would have to push through.

"All right, let’s start your knight training!"

Karnak corrected him, speaking in a serious tone, "Let’s call it for what it actually is: training to act like a knight."