***
Some time later, dawn crept along the eastern sky.
In the training grounds of the ducal castle, where the knights of House Saxon devoted themselves to practice—
Clang!
The crimson light scattered as it struck the gleaming blades.
The tips of a stiletto and a rapier clashed, then quickly parted again.
To close the distance, the ducal prodigy Dale kicked off the ground, while Charlotte, daughter of the Divine Sword, countered his approach with a swift strike.
Clang!
A shadow of murderous intent swept through the blades.
Clang!
Another flash of steel crossed.
Srrng.
Before long, the blue tip of Charlotte's rapier touched the nape of Dale's neck.
But Dale's stiletto, held in reverse grip, was also pressed against Charlotte's chest.
A draw.
"You've improved quite a bit."
At the end of the match, Dale smiled.
"Hmph, you say that like it's someone else's business."
Charlotte replied with feigned annoyance.
"You're the one who's already reached the 3rd Circle and cleared the 20th layer of the Tower Trial."
She continued.
"Ugh, people won't stop talking about 'Young Lord Dale' all day long!"
And now he was personally leading knights to purge monsters from the duchy.
Even if their duel ended in a draw, Dale was no swordsman. And in his match against Charlotte, he hadn't used the power of his prized artifact, the Shadow Cloak.
It was too dangerous.
Dale's swordsmanship was a killing style, designed purely to slay. If he added the Shadow Cloak's power and fought at full strength, even in a mock battle, it would be difficult to spare his opponent's life.
So in this match, Dale had likely shown no more than 30% of his true power.
Charlotte surely knew that.
An insurmountable gap in talent.
Yet considering her age, Charlotte's achievements were far from ordinary.
Daughter of the Divine Sword, a true genius in swordsmanship with astonishing growth.
She easily outclassed "knights in service" who had devoted decades to the sword before even coming of age.
And yet, even such a genius felt humbled before the boy standing in front of her.
Dale of Saxon, the empire's greatest prodigy.
"Don't worry too much."
Still, Dale spoke.
"You'll grow stronger too, Charlotte."
He spun the stiletto's hilt and sheathed it.
"Strong enough to protect me."
"W-What?! You're treating me like a kid again…"
Charlotte puffed her cheeks in protest.
"You are a kid."
"So are you!"
"Me?"
Dale tilted his head mischievously and grinned.
Then, with pride, he replied—
"I'm already all grown up."
The most childlike thing he could've said.
"When cavalry forces are deployed on both flanks of a unit to serve as the 'hammer'…"
On a large wooden table, chess-piece models were neatly arranged.
Sir Helmut advanced the cavalry-shaped pieces placed at both ends of the formation.
"The ideal scenario is for them to break through the enemy's wings and form an encirclement through flanking maneuvers."
A formation where the cavalry on both wings crush the enemy's flanks and form a pincer.
In simpler terms: a wrap-around attack.
"In other words, the highly mobile and powerful cavalry break through the enemy's wings to complete the encirclement—"
"—While the infantry-based blocking unit prevents the enemy's cavalry from breaking through. That's the key."
"Exactly, Young Lord Dale."
Helmut smiled with satisfaction at Dale's response.
This tactic required guaranteed superiority in cavalry strength. And in that regard, House Saxon's elite "Black Cavalry" was undoubtedly the finest piece on the board.
"Using this strategy, the ancient general Varka completely annihilated a massive force from the Rom Empire nearly twice his size."
In any world, the dynamics of war remain largely the same.
Hammer and anvil tactics, and the Lanchester Laws.
Helmut then moved the chess pieces to explain further.
Decisions based on terrain, troop numbers, soldier capabilities, and unit composition.
Because the right decision always depends on time and circumstance.
"…By the way."
As the lesson neared its end, Dale spoke casually.
"How is Charlotte's training going?"
Recalling their duel that afternoon.
"She's not comparable to you, but truly remarkable nonetheless."
Helmut answered with undisguised pride as her mentor.
"She's already formed the foundation of her sword style, and though it's early, she'll soon be formally taught House Saxon's aura techniques and swordsmanship."
Dale nodded, as if he'd expected that.
"Once she properly harnesses aura through the technique, she'll probably become dozens of times stronger."
Not just tenfold—dozens.
Charlotte's growth was beyond her own imagination. She simply hadn't realized it, overshadowed by Dale.
"…But there's one concern."
Just then, Helmut trailed off—uncharacteristically. Dale, sensing it, asked knowingly.
"Charlotte's compatibility with our sword style, right?"
Helmut gasped in surprise.
Right on target.
Dale had considered that too, which was why he'd tested Charlotte's skills and brought it up with Helmut.
Just as mages refine mana into magic through the heart's circle, knights refine and store mana as "aura" through mental techniques.
And just as mages build schools of thought through "magic towers," knights inherit their sword styles through "orders."
Knights serving lesser nobles often lack proper techniques, and even those nobles only elevate their knights' skills by submitting to great houses.
Among those great houses, the Duke of Saxon and other high lords pass down their traditions through elite orders led by swordmasters.
Even if the noble themselves doesn't walk the path of the sword.
The Night Raven Order of House Saxon, the Saint Magdalena Order of House Brandenburg, the Imperial Iron Cross Order…
And as Helmut's title "Mad Sword" suggests, northern knight doctrines are built on brute strength.
The "Black Cavalry" charges like tanks, crushing battlefields.
In terms of quality, they rank among the top five orders on the continent.
The problem is that Charlotte's sword style is based on speed and fluidity—swift and flowing swordsmanship.
Mental techniques and sword styles are inseparable. Accepting House Saxon's techniques means inheriting the northern knight tradition.
Of course, it doesn't mean she must wield a massive greatsword instead of a rapier. So at first, it may seem trivial.
But over time, that subtle mismatch will increasingly hinder her progress.
'Considering Charlotte's talent, she might reach the lowest rank of the Seven Swords.'
But only that far. She would never reach the "First Sword."
The pinnacle of the Seven Swords—once held by her father.
Dale's expectations for Charlotte were beyond anything she could imagine.
"Sword of Blossom…"
After thinking that far, Dale murmured. Helmut's expression stiffened.
The legendary swordsmanship once wielded by Charlotte's father, Sir Vardel the Divine Sword. Named for the violet aura shaped like blooming plum blossoms.
"…It was lost completely with the fall of the Knight Kingdom."
Helmut spoke with deep regret.
Dale nodded silently. Then looked at the knight-shaped chess piece on the table.
Recalling the man he had once defeated—Charlotte's father.
A mounted knight.
Did Sir Vardel truly not foresee the fall of his homeland and the disappearance of his sword?
'Is his swordsmanship truly gone from this world?'
As a swordsman, could he really accept the complete erasure of his legacy? Could the noblest knight of this world truly let go so easily?
The time to prove what he had learned came sooner than expected.
Swordsmanship, magic, more magic, military strategy—
A schedule so packed it felt like ten bodies wouldn't be enough.
And amid all that, Dale continued to raise his reputation through monster purges in the duchy.
Then, one of House Saxon's minor lords requested aid.
"──Baron Purker of the neighboring territory has claimed ownership of your copper mine and requested a territorial battle?"
At the absurd news, the Duke of Saxon asked in disbelief.
"Y-Yes, Your Grace."
In this world, borders between nations and territories are often vague. So it's not uncommon for people to exploit that ambiguity with baseless claims.
But for a lesser noble bound to a great house to be targeted—that's a different matter.
It's essentially a direct challenge to the great house itself.
And in this case, the great house was none other than the Duke of Sacon, the North's most powerful lord.
'Even if Baron Purker is a former bandit knight who lucked into his title…'
He wasn't foolish enough to act without backup.
"Also, if I refuse to surrender the mine and accept the territorial battle…"
As expected. After a pause, the minor lord hesitated and continued.
"Grand Duke Brandenburg has sided with Baron Purker's claim—"
He produced a parchment bearing the signature of the Holy Swordmaster.
"A letter stating that the Saint Magdalena Order will be dispatched in exchange for a share of the copper mine."
The Saint Magdalena Order. The empire's war heroes and the Holy Swordmaster's elite knights.
That name again. The air froze.
'Of course.'
Dale smirked bitterly.
'So this is how they want to play it.'
The Holy Swordmaster surely hadn't forgotten the humiliation he suffered from the Black Duke that day.
But he couldn't openly challenge House Sachsen. So he resorted to this petty scheme for revenge.
The territories involved were on the border between the northern and central regions—where the Duke's influence was weaker.
And most importantly, territorial battles aren't total wars aimed at annihilation.
Under restrictions that prevent misuse of the Black Tower's power, they're fair fights with swords and spears—where the Holy Swordmaster likely feels confident.
"Father."
After assessing the situation, Dale spoke.
"Please allow me to lead House Saxon's knights and command this battle myself."
"…Dale."
"Just as Sir Helmut said, it seems the time has come for me to conduct a territorial campaign."
No need to say "crisis is opportunity."
It was the perfect chance to repay the humiliation his father suffered—with interest.
A fight worth taking. A fight he could win.
****
Here we are! We have reached the end of what lies within our capability to translate. The rest requires money, which we unfortunately do not have.... <(_ _*)>
Thanks for reading!