Ding-ding-a-ling!
The soft chime of music echoed through the hall, signaling the start of an opulent banquet.
Delicious food adorned the tables, with diligent servants bustling about to ensure every need was met. Nobles, dressed in their finest, mingled with elegance, while stern-faced soldiers stood guard, maintaining an air of vigilance.
Amidst this grand scene, a group of slightly nervous children made their entrance—the true stars of the evening, the young heirs of the Linegrim family who had just completed their Sword Selection Ceremony. Behind them followed their sponsors, resplendent in their own dazzling attire.
The first to draw attention was, naturally, Seron Linegrim, the third son of Oswell, the most prominent figure among the direct lineage. Clad in a pristine white uniform, wielding a crimson-bladed sword, and with light brown hair that harmonized perfectly with his ensemble, he exuded the air of a refined young noble.
"Is that the one in front? Seron?"
"You mean the guy dressed head-to-toe in white?"
"With Oswell himself as his sponsor, that must be Seron Linegrim."
"They say he was chosen by the Azure Flame Sword, the one wielded by the Sword Saint himself!"
As Seron strode forward with confident poise, many in the crowd gazed at him with eyes full of admiration.
Next came another figure.
"Is that the girl chosen by the Black Dragon Sword this time?"
"Tch, how did such a beautiful young lady end up chosen by that cursed blade?"
"She may be from a branch family, but as Heinz's daughter, she's one to watch."
Meirin Linegrim, a blonde girl in a striking pink dress, entered the banquet hall with a radiant smile and graceful steps.
After the two most prominent figures, another drew the crowd's attention.
"Who's that girl?"
In stark contrast to Seron's all-white attire, a girl dressed entirely in black stepped forward, capturing every gaze in the room.
"Oh, that's Selena Marquros. Edin's daughter, you know, the famous one."
"Ah, so that's her?"
With her faintly blue-tinted, water-drop-colored hair adorned with a yellow flower pin, and the dark elegance of her black dress, Selena radiated a captivating charm despite her young age.
"She's still so young, but her beauty is already remarkable."
"Beauty? Rumor has it her swordsmanship talent is just as impressive."
"True. She didn't draw a renowned sword, but people have high expectations for her."
Nodding and murmuring among themselves, the crowd began to discuss Selena in earnest.
"High expectations, you say?"
"Of course! She's the daughter of the great Edin, isn't she?"
"Well, if it's Edin we're talking about…"
The Marquros family, vassals serving the Linegrim house, were renowned, largely due to Edin Marquros. Though he was neither of the direct nor branch lineage but a mere vassal, Edin's fame was undeniable. Astonishingly, he was a brother-in-arms to the Northern Sword Duke, Damon, having trained under the same master. As the current leader of the Eleven Tiger Swords, Edin was a formidable figure.
"But have you heard? They say Selena's potential surpasses even Edin's."
"No way, really?"
"I heard it straight from the Northern Sword Duke himself, so it's likely true."
"Goodness, potential greater than Edin's? What kind of monster is this girl going to become?"
"One of the Eleven Tiger Swords is already as good as claimed, then."
"Oh, come on, she's just a girl. A beauty like that shouldn't be swinging a sword."
Some spoke in hushed tones, subtly undermining Selena's talent and potential. Most of these voices belonged to those consumed by envy and jealousy toward the Marquros family.
Then, the crowd's attention shifted elsewhere.
A boy in a red uniform appeared.
"Pfft, that's Andrei, the one who drew a dagger."
"Isn't he Philip's eldest son?"
"How in the world does someone end up picking a dagger at the Sword Selection Ceremony?"
"Shh, quiet down. Philip's glaring at us with those sharp eyes."
Though Philip, the fourth son of the Northern Sword Duke, commanded enough respect to keep the crowd in check, most still cast mocking glances at Andrei for drawing a mere dagger.
"Are all the main figures here now?"
"No, there's still one more."
"One more?"
As the crowd tilted their heads in curiosity, the final entrant appeared, drawing every eye in the room.
"There he is."
"Hm?"
"Isn't that Lord Freon, the Frostblade Master?"
Naturally, attention first fell on the sponsor standing behind the child—Freon Zircazin, the Frostblade Master. Within the Linegrim family, Freon's status and reputation were far from insignificant.
But then…
"No, I mean the boy beside him."
Slowly, the crowd's gazes shifted to the boy who had entered alongside Freon.
"Is that the one? That boy?"
"You mean Cabel's son?"
"I still can't wrap my head around a disgraced family's child attending the Sword Selection Ceremony."
"Well, it was a direct order from the Northern Sword Duke, so what could they do?"
"True, but still…"
"I heard he was the last to appear at the ceremony."
"Tch, figures. Pathetic."
"So, what sword did he end up with?"
"What could the son of an outcast possibly draw? Probably some nameless blade, if he's lucky."
The crowd began to murmur, each tossing out disparaging remarks about Cabel's son, clicking their tongues in disdain. As a negative atmosphere formed around Luin, Cabel's son, even the gazes directed at Freon began to shift subtly.
"Tch, to think the great Freon is sponsoring a boy like that?"
"Poor man, forced to take on such a role. What a pity."
"Forced? He could've refused. What a fool for accepting."
"If it's an order from the Northern Sword Duke, wouldn't he leap into fire for it? You've got to admire that loyalty."
"Hmph! Is that loyalty? A true vassal should have the courage to call out a mistake and offer honest counsel."
"Haha, is that so?"
The crowd chuckled and bantered, even dragging Freon's reputation through the mud. Their murmurs, of course, reached the ears of both Freon and Luin.
The reaction is worse than I expected.
Though Freon had anticipated some negativity from the nobles, the atmosphere was harsher than he'd foreseen, causing his expression to harden slightly.
At least I warned him beforehand.
Recalling how he'd advised Luin to steel himself before entering, Freon glanced at the boy to gauge his reaction.
At that moment…
"Sorry about this."
"What?"
Luin's soft, whispered words made Freon's eyes widen in surprise.
"Because of me, even your reputation's taking a hit, Lord Freon. I should've just refused to come."
"…?!"
"But since we're here, let's just face it head-on. We've got nothing left to lose, right?"
"What do you mean by 'face it head-on'?"
"This is just a fancy feast, isn't it? Let's not care about their stares and just enjoy the food!"
With that, Luin grabbed Freon's hand and pulled him toward the tables laden with delicious dishes.
"…"
Freon watched as Luin, seemingly unfazed, marveled at the spread of food with sparkling eyes and let out excited cheers.
Is he mature for his age? Or is he just used to this?
As Freon studied Luin with a deep, contemplative gaze, voices from the crowd behind them broke through again.
"Tch, tch."
"A Linegrim heir distracted by food? Well, I suppose the son of an outcast wouldn't be used to a place like this."
"Truly pathetic."
The relentless sneers and criticisms made Freon's temple twitch slightly.
But…
"Have you tried this? Wow, it's my first time tasting something like this!"
Luin acted as though he couldn't hear a word of it. Despite surely hearing the insults, he carried himself with a steadfast resolve, as if to say, Keep talking—I'll walk my own path.
What is this boy…
Freon found himself lost in thought, observing Luin.
It was the same earlier.
He recalled how, when he'd expressed concern about the situation before entering, Luin had brushed it off with a smile, reassuring him instead.
He's definitely special, but I'm not sure if it's the good kind of special.
No matter how he looked at it, Luin was far from ordinary. Even as the crowd mocked him and his background, hurling insults and disdain, Luin showed no trace of hesitation, pressure, or disappointment. How many people—grown adults included—could laugh and suggest charging forward confidently in such a situation? And to top it off, he even showed concern for others before himself.
A good person… no, something more than that?
To Freon, Luin's demeanor was both deeply satisfying and admirable. Though his father, Cabel, had abandoned the Linegrim name, Luin's current conduct was more befitting of the Linegrim legacy than anyone else's.
…His growth from here will be something to watch.
Luin already possessed a remarkably mature inner strength. To Freon, who believed that a swordsman's success hinged on inner maturity, Luin was the ideal candidate—a prodigy ready to become a great swordsman.
The rest can be taught.
As Freon found himself unconsciously planning Luin's training and future, a voice interrupted his thoughts.
"Bushy yellow beard, red hair with a scar, curly black hair with green eyes."
"Hm?"
Turning to the source, Freon saw Luin, mouth stuffed with food, quietly muttering descriptions of people as if committing them to memory.
"Luin, what are you doing?"
"Eating, obviously."
"No, I mean… were you muttering about people's appearances just now?"
"Oh, I was memorizing them."
"Memorizing what, exactly?"
"The people who insulted me—well, us." Luin swallowed his food with a gulp.
Freon, in a cautious tone, pressed further.
"If I may ask, why are you memorizing them?"
Luin looked at him as if the question was absurd.
"Isn't it obvious?"
With an expression that screamed How could you even ask that?, Luin continued in a confident tone.
"For revenge, of course! They insulted us for no reason, so I'll make sure they regret it later. They're going to wish they never opened their mouths! Oh, but Lord Freon, try this—it's amazing."
With unwavering conviction, Luin held up a piece of food, offering it with a bright smile.
At that moment…
"Pfft."
Freon couldn't help but burst into laughter.
"Huh? What's so funny?"
"Don't misunderstand. I'm not mocking you. It's just…"
"Just?"
"You finally seem like a kid."
"A kid? What, am I a kid or an adult? Lame. Fine, I'll eat this myself."
Shaking his head at Freon's response, Luin popped the food back into his mouth.
"Wow, this is crazy good."
As if done with pointless chatter, Luin focused entirely on his meal, savoring each bite. Freon, watching him, gave a faint smile and spoke.
"The one with the bushy yellow beard is Viscount Pisar. The man with the scar is Baronet Confine…"
"Huh?"
"Didn't you say you were memorizing them for revenge? I'm just telling you their names."
"Oh."
Luin looked momentarily surprised by Freon's words but soon grinned and shook his head.
"Thanks, but I'm good. I'll never forget their faces."
"Really?"
"Yeah. But thanks for looking out for me."
Bowing politely in gratitude, Luin's gesture was met with a silent smile from Freon.
This boy…
Luin, barely reaching Freon's waist, looked like a small, young child. Even though he wore clothes prepared by the Linegrim main house for his first banquet, they paled in comparison to the elaborate outfits of the other children. Among the protagonists of the banquet, he was the least eye-catching, lacking in grandeur, elegance, or outward polish.
To others, that's likely how he appeared.
But…
He'll shine brighter than anyone.
In Freon's eyes, Luin's true essence glimmered with a brilliance that far surpassed the other children. And so, Freon made a silent vow.
In the name of Zircazin, I will support and watch over the growth of Luin Linegrim, son of Cabel.
At that moment—
Bbam-bba-bbam!
A loud trumpet blared, shaking the entire banquet hall, followed by a resounding proclamation.
"The Northern Sword Duke has arrived!"
The grand doors of the hall swung open, revealing Damon Linegrim, the Northern Sword Duke, clad in a magnificent black uniform.
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T/N:
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