**Chapter-7**
—
Hollan’s eyes narrowed.
*“He’s agreeing this easily?”*
He had expected Arthur, who’d been pretending to be mute, to continue stammering to the end.
But contrary to expectations, Arthur accepted the situation far too readily.
It caught Hollan off guard, but he didn’t let the shift in emotion show.
The seasoned old knight kept a composed expression and posed a question.
“Then I suppose it’s time for an explanation. Why are you pretending to be mute?”
“Mm… I have my reasons, but must I really tell you?”
“Reasons? You mean there’s a reason you’re pretending to be mute?”
“Yes. So I’d appreciate it if you could pretend not to know.”
At Arthur’s reply, Hollan let out a dry laugh.
“Then let’s hear it. As I said earlier, I’m your godfather, so I’m more than qualified to know.”
“…If you’re truly my godfather, then maybe I should. But are you really?”
“What do you mean by that?”
Arthur tilted his head.
“If the meaning of ‘godfather’ I know is correct, then it means you’re like another father to me. But today is the first time I’ve met you, Sir Hollan.”
Hollan fell silent at the sharp observation.
He had kept his emotions in check even when Arthur had stopped stammering earlier, but this time, he couldn’t hide the slight disturbance within.
“…So you’re saying you’re upset?”
“No. But I still can’t tell you why I’m pretending to be mute.”
Hollan’s gaze sank low.
He tapped his fingers lightly, then soon organized his thoughts and opened his mouth.
“I see. From your perspective, it must seem like some old man suddenly showed up claiming to be your godfather and started throwing his authority around. Then how about this?”
A sly smile spread across Hollan’s lips.
“Your Excellency, the Duke of Bayern and I have been like brother and sister for a long time. With that in mind, I was thinking of telling her about this situation to ease the worries of a dear younger sister. What do you think?”
Arthur scratched his head.
“As I said… that would be a problem…”
“If you don’t want that, then give me an explanation.”
“That too is a bit difficult. Um…”
Arthur trailed off in thought.
*‘What do I do?’*
It was bad enough that his cover had been blown, but worse yet, the person who found out was none other than Hollan Leverkusen—a Sword Master.
*‘And on top of that, he’s supposed to be my godfather? How do I shut him up?’*
The best way to ensure a secret didn’t spread was to silence the person permanently—but that option was off the table this time, considering his opponent was a Sword Master.
As Arthur agonized, scratching his head, Hollan suddenly muttered in surprise.
“…You have mana?”
“Pardon?”
“How… do you have mana in your body?”
Arthur gasped at his words.
*‘Wow, he picked up on that?’*
Ever since his condition improved, he had been gathering mana to form a circle.
But no one had noticed so far, because he hadn’t actually formed one yet.
Unshaped mana was nothing more than a faint mystical presence.
*‘But he sensed it anyway… Is it because he’s a Sword Master?’*
As Arthur stood in thought, Hollan continued in a low voice.
“Don’t tell me… you gathered mana on your own?”
After a moment’s hesitation, Arthur answered.
“Yes.”
“You learned it by yourself?”
“Yes.”
“The sword?”
“I can use that, too.”
“You mean to say you’ve done all this without a teacher?”
Arthur said nothing more.
That silence made Hollan’s eyes narrow.
“….”
Hollan discreetly glanced at Arthur’s hands.
They were soft, uncalloused hands, far from those of a seasoned swordsman.
*‘Am I supposed to believe this…?’*
Up until his visit here, the boy had been known as the mute young master. And now he’d supposedly taught himself martial arts and swordsmanship?
It defied all common sense.
*‘…Now I have to hear the full story.’*
But Arthur clearly had no intention of telling it.
So Hollan cast out a bait.
“Then could I at least see your skills?”
“My skills?”
“Yes. You said you know how to use a sword, so let’s have a spar. Your opponent will be my granddaughter. She’s out at the moment, but she’s quite talented.”
Arthur’s eyes sparkled.
“If I win the match, will you keep my secret?”
“Indeed. And I’ll grant you a wish as well.”
“…A wish?”
“If you defeat my granddaughter in a fair duel without using mana, I’ll grant you any wish within reason.”
At Hollan’s proposal, Arthur exclaimed.
“That’s too good to pass up!”
At Arthur’s confident reply, Hollan offered a warning.
“You should always hear a man out to the end. If you lose, you’ll have to explain everything that’s happened up to now. Do you accept those terms?”
Arthur smiled even more brightly than before.
“Sounds great. I accept, godfather.”
—
—
**The Bayern Duchy’s Hunting Party.**
Nobles from all over had gathered to take part in the long-standing tradition of the duchy that had stood since the founding of the Empire.
Though some called the duchy a fading power, it remained the only one of its kind in the Empire.
Just attending this event was enough to elevate a noble family’s prestige.
So when the Bayern estate became lively with all these guests for the first time in a while—
“From this moment on, the great Duke of Bayern—Her Grace Yonel Bayern—shall fire the first shot!”
Thus began the festival with a grand declaration.
As tradition dictated, Yonel stepped forward to fire the ceremonial shot.
After taking a light breath, she aimed a pistol at a restrained wild boar prepared beforehand.
Bang—!
With the loud gunshot, a fountain of blood sprayed from the boar’s body.
The shot was so precise that it drew admiring glances from the gathered nobles.
Even Marquis Hollan Leverkusen, Commander-in-Chief of the North, was impressed.
“Oh ho… When did she get so good?”
“What was that, Grandpa?”
“As far as I know, Her Grace only picked up a gun about a week ago. Seems she’s more talented than I thought.”
At Hollan’s remark, his granddaughter—Elin Leverkusen—asked bluntly,
“Grandpa, what’s with this sparring match? You’re not seriously asking me to fight with a sword here at the party, are you?”
“Why? Embarrassed?”
“Of course I am! People already whisper that I’m a barbarian just because I’m from the northern snowy fields. If I start swinging a sword here, what will everyone think of me?”
At her firm retort, Hollan burst out laughing.
Elin Leverkusen, now thirteen, was a precious granddaughter whom he cherished deeply.
With crimson hair that symbolized the Leverkusen line and beautiful features inherited from her mother, she was already well known in the capital.
And true to her lineage, her talent in swordsmanship bordered on prodigious.
*‘If she keeps growing like this… she might not reach Sword Mastery, but she’ll at least touch the realm below.’*
In that sense, Arthur Bayern’s duel with his granddaughter was almost unfair.
Arthur had no visible signs of formal training, and the chances of him defeating Elin were practically nonexistent.
But Hollan had proposed the match anyway—because he was curious.
*‘What changed him? Just five years ago, that boy couldn’t even meet my eyes…’*
A boy once hailed as a prodigy, who had become mute after his father’s death and was now scorned as a fool.
Hollan, who had shared a close friendship with Arthur’s father, hadn’t stood idly by.
He’d sent expert physicians and rare medicines to the duchy every year, and until eight years ago, had personally checked Arthur’s health whenever he had time.
That was how he’d discovered the poison in Arthur’s body.
*A vile poison. First it causes stammering, then it gradually destroys the mind until the victim becomes a fool.*
That made it difficult to find an antidote.
But the bigger problem was who had given Arthur such poison—and how.
*‘Such symptoms only arise with long-term dosing. Which means… there’s a traitor within House Bayern.’*
Thus, while searching for a cure, he also launched a covert investigation.
He hadn’t told Yonel Bayern—the current head of house.
*‘Yonel wouldn’t be able to handle the truth. She’d act rashly. And if that happens, the ones behind it will scatter and disappear. Next time, they might not target Arthur… but Yonel herself.’*
So the investigation had proceeded in secret. And just as he began to close in on the truth—he noticed Arthur’s change.
One year later, the vile poison in Arthur’s body had vanished without a trace.
That alone was shocking. But then, Arthur not only spoke without stammering—he suddenly wielded a blade with unexpected skill.
*‘Is that even possible in a year?’*
It left Hollan deeply intrigued.
The son of his dearest friend.
The child’s transformation was something he had to understand.
*‘Normally, I’d press him for answers—even force them. But if I do that, I’ll no longer be worthy of being called his godfather.’*
He had already used Arthur as bait, having decided to protect Yonel at all costs.
He didn’t deserve the title of godfather anymore—but even so, a sliver of conscience prevented him from crossing that final line.
Having sorted through his thoughts, Hollan looked up.
He saw Arthur Bayern, already waiting for him.
“Hellooo!”
“…Hellooo?”
“Yes! Hellooo!”
Hollan let out a bewildered chuckle.
Was he supposed to match this absurd tone?
After a moment of thought, he decided to play along.
“Well then, my mute young master. Are you ready?”
“Yes! All set!”
“Good. Let me introduce your sparring partner. My granddaughter, Elin Leverkusen.”
Hollan stepped aside as a flustered Elin walked forward.
Arthur greeted her with a bright smile.
“Hellooo!”
“…Hello. Nice to meet you. But… are you really my opponent, young master?”
“Yeeees!”
At that, Elin turned sharply to her grandfather.
Eyes slightly narrowed in disbelief, Hollan nodded at her.
“Grandpa, seriously? You said there would be a spar, but you meant… him?”
“It’s not a real sword—it’s a wooden one.”
“That’s basically the same thing!”
“Not pleased?”
“This isn’t about being pleased! Does this even make sense?”
At her stubbornness, Hollan snapped his fingers.
“If you win this duel, I’ll let you stay two extra days in the capital. Go out into the city, shop, do whatever you like—I won’t interfere.”
Elin’s eyes widened.
No matter how much she pouted, her grandfather had always insisted they return on schedule.
*‘Just what’s so special about this duel?’*
Why was she being asked to spar with this mute young master here in this empty practice ground, with no spectators or referee?
She puzzled over it for a moment—then shrugged.
In the end, it didn’t matter.
*‘There’s no way I’d lose to some mute. Which means… I get two more days to have fun in the capital.’*
Decision made, Elin smirked.
Then she picked up one of the wooden swords laid out nearby.
Its tip was sharper than most, enough to cause injury.
Meanwhile, Arthur casually picked up a wooden sword of his own and stepped forward.
Once he was in position, Hollan spoke.
“This duel will be purely swordsmanship—no mana. I’ll decide when someone loses. Any questions?”
“None.”
“Noooone!”
With the answers given, Hollan stepped back.
As Elin instinctively widened the gap between them, as taught by the finest knights—
Arthur suddenly beckoned her.
“Come ooon!”
“…?”
“You go first! I’m older, after allll!”
Elin blinked.
Then, in a dumbfounded tone, muttered:
“You’re… letting me have the first move?”
“Yeeees!”
“…Wow. Unbelievable. You sure about this, young master?”
“Absolutely!”
Elin’s expression hardened.
She was bright—but still only thirteen.
The moment she felt slighted, the playful spar turned serious.
Watching from the sidelines, Hollan clicked his tongue.
Once Elin was angry, few of the northern trainees could match her sword.
*‘This might end faster than expected… this duel.’*
As he thought that, he turned his gaze back to Arthur.
Elin, gripping her sword tightly, bent her knees.
“Well then… I won’t hold back. I’ll take the first strike, young master.”
And with that, she launched forward.
Her movement was swift, and the wooden sword she swung was frighteningly sharp.
Hollan’s expression tensed.
The strike was more dangerous than he’d anticipated.
*‘If he doesn’t dodge, he’s at least getting bruised. Still… she’s holding back. Her sword path is clean.’*
With that assessment, Hollan turned his gaze.
How would Arthur Bayern respond to this strike?
As the question formed, his eyes widened.
Elin’s did, too.
Arthur had charged straight into the tip of her thrusting sword.
“…!”
Crunch—!
With a sickening sound, Elin’s wooden sword pierced slightly into Arthur’s shoulder.
Blood gushed out—and Elin froze, her thoughts and movements halting.
But Arthur did not.
Even with the blade lodged in his shoulder, he sharply struck her wrist with his own wooden sword.
Still dazed from the blood spatter, Elin failed to react and dropped her weapon.
“W-What?”
She stumbled back in shock.
But Arthur stepped forward.
His shoulder had been pierced, but his sword did not lose momentum as it struck her square on the crown of her head.
Thud!
With a heavy thump, Elin’s body trembled once—and then collapsed.
As she fell unconscious, the broken sword spun through the air and embedded itself at Hollan’s feet.
“…!”
Snapping out of his trance, Hollan looked down at the wooden blade shards.
He hurried toward the bloodied Arthur.
But before he could get close, Arthur reached for the shard in his shoulder—and yanked it out.
Shrrrip—!
A fresh spray of blood erupted.
And Hollan, momentarily stunned, was at a loss for words.
Meanwhile, Arthur smiled faintly, blood trickling down his lips.
“I win, godfather. So please—keep your promise.”
—
