Episode 131

“Excuse me. Is this your first time here? Please show your ID.”

Clack!

The guard stationed in front of the imperial training grounds snapped to attention and blocked Ian and his group. As Ian pulled out his ID, several knights passed by them with familiar ease.

Most of them were burly men. When Berrick instinctively tried to follow them inside, Ian grabbed him by the back of the collar.

“Ah, you’re Ian Hielo, the Viscount. Thank you for confirming.”

“Appreciate it.”

“Ian, did you see the size of those guys who just passed?”

“Let’s go. Inside, there will be even bigger ones.”

Compared to the worn-down training grounds on the border, this place was magnificent and imposing beyond words. The spacious area could hold hundreds at once, and everything was clean and perfect. The lighting, temperature, humidity—everything was just right.

“Wow, this is real. Everyone looks so tough. Even here, they have guards posted. And that guard looks like the weakest one. Whoa. Damn. Look at that guy’s muscles. I kinda wanna punch him. Whoa.”

Regular soldiers usually trained at the outer central grounds, but those gathered here were mostly knights assigned to protect nobles. The imperial central guard was no different. Since only exceptional warriors trained here, the atmosphere was naturally intense.

“There’s a second floor too.”

“That’s where nobles watch the knights train. Sometimes, if a noble spots a promising knight, they’ll pay extra to acquire him, or the captain of the imperial guard might recruit him.”

Every part of the palace had structures that allowed people upstairs to look down on the floors below. Berrick glanced at the nobles chatting above, then quickly followed Ian’s lead.

“So, we’re heading to the first floor now?”

“Yeah. Watch how the experienced ones handle their swords, and try to blend in naturally.”

“Ah, I’m really shy around new people.”

“You’ve gotten better at joking around. Not always pleasant to hear, though.”

Creak.

Ian smiled and nodded, and the guards opened the training hall doors. At once, the warriors gathered in small groups glanced over, focusing their attention on the two newcomers.

“Who are they? Never seen them before.”

“Oh, that’s Viscount Ian Hielo.”

“The first noble mage joining the Magic Department.”

“Then the redhead next to him must be his bodyguard?”

“Wow, no way. I heard he came up from the border, but is he some street punk…?”

Since these were men who made their living with their bodies, the atmosphere was rough and blunt. Berrick perked up his ears and looked their way, but they didn’t avoid his gaze—they just sneered openly.

“Did those bastards just call me a street punk?”

“Berrick, those guys are mercenaries brought in by nobles. They’re crude, so don’t bother with them. The ones you should look up to as your mentors and examples are over there.”

When Berrick glared wildly, showing the whites of his eyes, Ian gently turned his head away. Far off, men in the imperial guard’s training uniforms were sizing each other up, swords drawn.

“They say the spear thrown toward the sun flies the farthest. Since these are the men who serve His Majesty the Emperor, Berrick, you have much to learn.”

Among them was Barsabe. Though still an apprentice, his posture while practicing swordsmanship was serious and distinct.

“Even has a molar.”

“I’ll be upstairs on the second floor, so do your best. You haven’t forgotten what I told you, right?”

Berrick sniffed and chuckled. He still seemed unreliable, but the stares from the nobles watching from above were sharp. For the sake of appearances, Ian couldn’t stay on the first floor any longer.

“Watch closely, master.”

“Don’t get yourself killed. I can’t take you to the Magic Department if you get seriously hurt.”

Today would likely be a meaningful day for Berrick in many ways. He had grown every time he met stronger opponents, and now he would face some of the best warriors in Bariel and learn a lot.

‘I just hope he learns a bit about humility and restraint.’

Whether or not Berrick sensed Ian’s thoughts, he cocked one eyebrow slyly and stepped into the training hall. Ian went upstairs and immediately greeted the other nobles.

“Oh! Viscount Ian Hielo, good to see you. I thought today was a fine day, and here we meet again.”

“Good day. You’re from the Serro family…?”

“Marlohn Hoff Serro.”

He was the noble Ian had first met at the New Year’s gathering. Marlohn extended his hand warmly.

“I heard you’re joining the Magic Department today.”

“Yes, that’s right. Before that, I stopped by because my bodyguard is quite aggressive.”

“Indeed, that seems to be the case.”

“Indeed, that seems to be the case?”

Ian turned his gaze downward at Marlohn’s cryptic remark. Berrick was striding up to the man who had been mocking him earlier, thrusting his head forward. Their noses were almost touching as Berrick muttered his greeting.

“Hello? I’m Berrick. Ah, damn it. You know, I couldn’t help but notice you’re really good. I was so impressed my mouth just wouldn’t close. You look like you’ve got plenty of time—wanna have a match? I politely ask for a round. If you refuse, I’ll just take it as my win.”

Ian closed his eyes involuntarily. That was definitely the greeting he’d taught him, but it had gradually morphed into something else entirely. Marlohn chuckled, propping his chin on his hand and pointing at Berrick.

“Hahaha. How cute. Where did you pick him up?”

“I don’t even remember. Where I found him, I guess.”

“The owner of that one is probably… Ah, there he is. Viscount Tabienna. You might know him.”

“I don’t recall seeing him at the New Year’s gathering.”

“Yes, you remember correctly.”

Ian’s answer made Marlohn grin. Nobles who couldn’t enter the main banquet hall had titles, sure, but no real influence. Probably someone who recently bought his title with money.

“He seems to have quite a few knights with him.”

Looking around Berrick, more and more people gathered. But Berrick didn’t stop; he kept rubbing his head against the forehead of the man who had provoked him. His eyes gleamed wildly, like he was truly losing it.

“That’s his main business. I heard he was a street thug from the back alleys, but he’s got a knack for things—his mercenary agency has done pretty well.”

He probably got the title just to gain access to the imperial training grounds. Having ‘Imperial’ on a knight’s record more than doubles their value.

Ian sipped the drink Marlohn handed him and watched Berrick.

“That little guy’s got no fear right now…”

“Damn it. So, are you gonna fight or not? Scared? Scared?”

At the imperial training grounds, especially in gatherings like this where everyone tested their skills, mutual consent was crucial. The man’s face flushed red with anger as he looked up at his master, Viscount Tabienna.

“Is it alright if we fight?”

Tabienna glanced at Ian, then twirled his mustache. Normally, the goal was to maintain dignity while showing skill, but the opponent was none other than Ian Hielo, the talk of the town. Rumors of defeating the mage’s bodyguard would only add to the prestige.

“Is that acceptable, Viscount Ian Hielo?”

“Do as you wish.”

When Tabienna asked formally, Ian gave a light gesture. Even as fellow viscounts, Ian’s demeanor carried a certain grace. With his master’s permission, the man stripped off his shirt and shoved his head against Berrick’s.

“Alright. You asked for this, so don’t regret it. Your head’s red—if you bleed, it won’t even show.”

Fluffy chest hair! Arms as big as a human head! The man ground his teeth, and Berrick spat into his palm, grinning.

“I’ll learn a move or two. You learn two from me.”

“Shut up! Let’s see how much you can talk!”

“Don’t pass out! If you do, I’ll rip all your chest hair out!”

Swoosh!

The man threw the first punch. With so many aggressive types gathered, barehanded sparring over a quarrel was common. But…

“Isn’t the size difference too much?”

“Still, that redhead is the mage’s bodyguard.”

“Really? Then this might be worth watching.”

“Look at those quick moves. He’s got some skill.”

“Probably from the streets? His footwork’s raw.”

There was so much to focus on that everyone nearby stopped what they were doing to watch the fight. Even the imperial central guard in the distance wiped their sweat and laughed, watching.

“Still, so crude. They call those guys warriors? Tsk tsk.”

“I hate coming out on free training days for this reason.”

“But that one’s pretty good, right? Barsabe, look.”

“Pfft!”

Barsabe choked on his drink and spat it out. Though he’d said he’d come to the imperial training grounds, he hadn’t expected to arrive this quickly. Wiping his mouth, he stared at Berrick in shock.

“Wow—ho! Ahahaha!”

Smack! Smack!

Thud! Thud!

Like they were playing, Berrick shouted and threw punches. Despite his casual attitude, his attacks were anything but light. Every time the man struggled to block, the dull thuds told just how much force was behind them.

“What’s the matter, old man? Did that big mouth of yours finally shut up?”

“Y-you little—”

“Exactly! People should be humble! Especially us! The masters!”

Smack!

Wait, who is this guy telling to be humble right now?

While Ian snorted in disbelief and shook his head, Marlon laughed heartily, even clapping his hands. After all, a sparring match is meant for the participants to test their skills and for the spectators to enjoy the show. This was a perfect match in every way.

“Hahaha! Ian, you’re really something! How much did you pay for this guy?”

“Just enough to cover the cost of meat.”

“What? Haha! That’s some serious bang for your buck!”

If they knew how much he actually ate, they’d probably faint.

Smack!

Right from the start, the difference in skill between the two was clear. Beric moved as if he wasn’t even touching the ground, flying around and striking the man relentlessly. When blood dripped from the man’s nose onto the floor, he clutched it, gasping for breath.

“Y-you crazy bastard!”

Clang!

Finally, a sword was drawn. The crowd, who had been watching this as light entertainment, suddenly grew tense. Drawing a sword in the training grounds—especially a real one, not a wooden practice blade—was an unspoken signal that this was going all the way.

“Well then. I’ll show you what I’ve got. I just had the blade sharpened at the forge recently. It slices through paper like butter.”

Beric’s eyes gleamed with anticipation as he drew his sword. Muttering with a hint of madness dripping from his voice, he added, “I wonder if it can cut through a man’s arm too?”

“Another lunatic…”

Clang! Clang!

As the two exchanged blows again, Barsabe swallowed hard, nervously watching. Then, a man’s voice came from behind her.

“Barsabe.”

“Ah, Captain.”

One of the captains of the Imperial Palace’s central guard, Barsabe’s superior, and a close friend of Petreio—Jaret.

“So this is Ian and his subordinate.”

“Captain, over here.”

He smoothed his uniform jacket and approached them. In that brief moment, Beric had already torn into the man, who groaned in pain as blood flowed. Beric crouched before him, tapping the back of his neck with the sword.

“Tsk, tsk. If this were outside, you’d be dead in an instant.”

“Ugh, please, spare me…”

“Of course. This is the Imperial Palace, after all. Haha. But I’m going to trim some chest hair, alright? No more going shirtless like that—it’s disgusting.”

Crack.

Beric turned his head at the sound behind him. The man was middle-aged, well past fifty, but his presence was solid and dignified.

“Are you Ian’s subordinate?”

“Subordinate? Hmm, yes! My master is Ian!”

Beric glanced upward briefly, then shouted confidently. Hearing this, Jaret grasped the hilt of his sword.

“I am Jaret, captain of the Imperial Palace guard. You seem quite skilled. I’d like to spar with you. What do you say?”

What do I say? Beric looked toward Ian, as if seeking permission. Ian leaned halfway over the railing, looking down at the two with a smile.