Seven spent the next three hours training under Heinrich's supervision.
He had now learned the basic fundamentals of the sword, though his movements could still be considered clumsy and imperfect.
Step.
Step, step.
Having the ability to perform proper footwork, he noticed the wooden sword significantly weighed lighter compared to the day before.
Such fundamentals are essential.
It allows the knights for quick movement, quick evasion, and quick sudden body adjustments— anything but quick!
Fwoosh, fwoosh!
"You are nearing the proper form, young lord. But make sure to maintain your balance especially when watching your back."
Heinrich demonstrated the movement.
"Try it again."
"Yes."
Following the instruction, Seven planted his lead foot as an anchor, lifted the heel of his back foot slightly then turned on the ball of his foot.
That footwork allowed his hips and shoulders to rotate 180 degrees.
Fwoosh!
"Hm. That was clean."
Heinrich gave an approving nod.
Perhaps it is because of the blood flowing in his veins, but the young lord has a high aptitude for the sword. Learning most of the basic fundamentals within just the span of three hours was definitely beyond average.
To perfect those imperfections…
"Attack me, young lord. Try to land a single hit on any part of my body."
Heinrich placed both his hands on his back, acting as though those hands were tied.
Seven had expected this to happen.
In fact, he'd gladly do this rather than swinging the sword a thousand times in the air, though he cannot deny that doing that shit yesterday contributed to much of his progress today.
"...I won't hold back."
"Please don't. That's the point of our session."
Locking in, Seven calmed his breathing.
'Skill.'
'Activate skill.'
'Self-proclaimed genius.'
He had been trying to figure out how to activate the skill and thought that perhaps that would help him, but the system remained unresponsive.
'Damn it. This cheeky fudger…'
Heinrich smirked.
"Come."
Seven darted forward, thrusting the sword as a surprise rush. Starting with a stab was faster than a slash, so he had wondered why the knights were starting with the latter.
Heinrich tilted his body, just enough for the stab to fly past his shoulder.
Fwoosh, fwoosh!
Followed were a series of diagonal slash from the collarbone to the opposite hip, an imperfect attempt to transition from the stab.
Heinrich evaded the slashes aimed at him.
Seven turned his hips to transition the diagonal slashes into a horizontal slash and then into a vertical slash when he had gained enough momentum— not a single one had landed still.
An hour passed.
Seven was soaked with sweat, whereas not a single drop was visible on Heinrich's skin.
Fwoosh!
Fwoosh, fwoosh!
Heinrich changed his location from time to time, back and forth, mainly as a way to improve the stamina of the young lord's lower limbs.
Two hours had passed.
Seven was still yet to land a single hit, but he had learned a lot especially the application of the basic fundamentals. He panted, clearly worn out as he clutched his knees.
"That is enough for the meantime, young lord. I believe it is time for a quick breather."
"I can still—"
Heinrich shook his head and pointed into the distance with his lips.
Following his gesture, Seven saw Iria approaching, carrying a woven basket covered with white linen.
It was such a picturesque sight that, for a moment, he wondered if he had somehow stepped into a romantic novel instead.
"I have brought you food, my lord. I increased the portions so you may have more energy for your training."
"…I see."
He immediately placed the wooden sword on the rack.
Ignoring the meal Iria had brought would be disrespectful not only to her, but also to the villagers who had poured their blood, sweat, and tears into earning such a bountiful harvest.
The knights quietly rose from the bench and stepped away, leaving the young lord a proper place to eat.
Seven sat down as Iria removed the linen and began laying out the lunch. After that, she simply stood beside him with a gentle smile.
"What are you doing? Sit down."
"Pardon?"
"No matter how hungry I may be, there is no way I can finish all of this alone. You should help yourself."
The portion truly looked enough to feed "seven" people.
Iria tried to refuse at first, but once Seven repeated the request in a more formal tone, she had little choice but to comply.
Technically, the scene might have resembled a date, but Seven did not mind. His gaze drifted toward the other knights, who were watching with barely concealed envy.
'Look away, you damn geezers. Don't you all have a family back home? Take your wives on a date, damn it.'
Even so, his knights or not, he would gladly shoo them all away rather than share the food Iria had prepared for him.
After the meal, Iria returned to the manor.
Once the knights finished their own lunch, training resumed about an hour later.
There were no clocks present in the camp, so they measured time through a wooden sword stuck on the snow-laden ground and observed the shadow cast by the pale sun.
Fwoosh, fwoosh!
Seven continued his own training session, his wooden sword only meeting empty air as Heinrich evaded every strike aimed at him, effortlessly so!
Time passed, unnoticed.
Eventually, the knights packed up to return to their respective homes— for those who lived in Neamh.
Only nine knights came from the dukedom, so they decided to take turns in both patrolling the manor and resting in the cabin.
Heinrich alone would remain stationed at the front gate.
Step, step.
Seven returned to his room.
After taking a shower, he opened the window slightly to let the cold wind drift inside and picked up two books from the drawer.
The first book was a basic sword technique manual, and the other was a storybook.
He read the story first.
Then, he proceeded to read the manual only to fall asleep and the book fell flat on his face.
- – – 7 7 7 – – -
4th day of Bruma, Year 769.
"Grah. It's still nasty, damn it. I wish this world had a damn soda."
Seven scrunched his face, still tasting the lingering bitterness of the herbal tea served with breakfast. As usual, he poured the rest of it down the window.
Iria came to collect the utensils afterwards, then wished him luck with today's training.
Arriving at the camp, it was oddly silent— even when the knights had already formed a square on the training ground.
"Heh. I wonder who the match ups are today."
Is it the cadets coming from the lower bracket, or are yesterday's winners facing each other?
Seven still sat atop his usual throne, the stacked crates and watched the senior knight and the cadets inside the square. Strangely enough, there were only three cadets present.
"To start the second day of the tournament, let me introduce the cadets participating in the third bout."
The senior knight cleared his throat, not questioning the absence of one cadet.
"Lythian Floquet. Take your place."
Lythian grabbed a new wooden sword on the rack before stepping to the left side of the square.
The senior knight then gestured to the other side and called for the next cadet.
"Randolf. Take your place."
"Yes!"
Some of the knights loudly gasped in disappointment.
As someone having a large and bulky build, Randolf had the highest chance to best Lythian among the cadets— even when relying solely on his physical strength.
Given that Randolf had lost the spar yesterday, that means the knights expected Maelle to be the one facing Lythian today.
"In your positions… begin!"