Episode 14

The count and countess’s ancient castle had not quieted down until dawn. As a result, the next morning, only Chel and Ian showed up in the dining hall. Chel, weary and dragging his feet, paused and glanced around with wide eyes.

“Good morning, hyungnim.”

“……”

Ian greeted first, but no reply came. It was a mystery why their father and mother’s seats were empty.

“They’re unusually late today. Let’s start eating without them. Please, have a seat.”

Facing each other was already awkward enough—now they were expected to eat together? Chel tried to slip away quietly, but Ian caught him with a low voice.

“Do I need to pull out your chair for you?”

“N-no, it’s not that.”

Chel fumbled for an excuse but gave up and sat down. Just last week, Ian had been the one struggling, yet now the roles had reversed. Chel couldn’t understand how things had turned so upside down.

‘What was with those golden eyes back then…?’

Could it be a curse? Was their father planting some kind of curse inside Ian to wipe out the Cheollyeo tribe? Chel’s imagination ran wild, fueled by ignorance.

Ian watched him steadily as he ate his salad.

“Hyungnim.”

“…Hmm?”

“Yesterday, you seemed really exhausted. Are you undergoing any special training?”

Training? Chel often feigned illness to skip physical exercises at school. There was no way he was doing anything extra.

Ian spoke with a concerned tone.

“From what I saw yesterday, both you and I are in poor shape. We’re the only heirs of the Derga count family, and if we’re both this weak, I worry what the Cheollyeo tribe might think.”

Something ominous stirred in Chel’s gut. He slowly set down his knife. Ian smiled faintly as he cleared the dishes.

“So, how about we go to the training grounds together?”

Chel’s mouth dropped open in shock.

The training grounds? The place where soldiers swung swords and spears?

“If you say so, Father will welcome it. He’ll surely praise it as fitting for the next count.”

In truth, Derga was worried. Since they were in a semi-war state with the Cheollyeo tribe, it was important for the heirs to appear strong. But Chel, despite being the first heir, was far from that image.

So the count’s chosen method was to increase the captain’s authority. Deo was one of the beneficiaries.

“Y-yeah, I suppose he would…”

Chel hated swordplay and even running. He briefly pondered how to refuse, but Ian quickly seized the opportunity.

“Good. Then let’s watch first after breakfast. I hear it’s just outside the back gate.”

“Right after eating?”

“Why? Are you going to back out?”

It was a choice: eat first or go on an empty stomach. Chel clenched his lips and glanced resentfully at the empty seats of their parents.

Ian, as always, took only a little food. There would be plenty left over today.

---

The training grounds came into view as soon as they stepped out the back gate.

Though old, having been used since the ancestors’ time, the gray walls still radiated military might. The Bariel national flag and the Bratz family banner fluttered proudly in the wind.

“Deo.”

“Master Chel?”

Inside, they found Deo half-lying on a bench, clearly still using his injury as an excuse to skip training.

Surprised by the rare visit from the two boys, Deo sat up.

“What brings you here?”

“We wanted to check out the training grounds.”

“You, Master? Why?”

Ian stepped forward, his tone bordering on insolent.

“Why is it so strange for the young count to visit the training grounds?”

“It’s the first time.”

“After yesterday’s outing, we realized our stamina is lacking. We want to train together from now on. Even if the guards get drunk and pass out, I should at least be able to protect myself.”

Ian was scolding Deo for passing out after drinking wine in the quarters. From Ian’s perspective, it was fortunate, but Deo was clearly neglecting his duties.

The man smirked, running his tongue over his dark teeth.

‘What’s gotten into him all of a sudden?’

Deo wasn’t thrilled about the change.

Though unlikely, if Chel showed interest and talent in martial arts, some of the captain’s authority might be curtailed.

Well, Chel was still young and chubby, so no need to worry just yet…

“Alright. Follow me. It’s not hard to look around.”

Deo leisurely led the way. Inside the spacious grounds, soldiers trained freely—most shirtless, swinging swords or running while carrying wagon wheels on their backs. The raw intensity was palpable.

“Uaaah!”

“One more time!”

“Push! Harder!”

“Uaaah!”

They were gathered for individual training. The heat was thick, and screams echoed from all directions. Chel tried to keep his composure but looked clearly uncomfortable.

“This is the largest training ground. Over there is the warehouse, and behind that is the resting area. When training overnight, soldiers can eat and sleep in the rest area. Um, and…”

Ian listened half-heartedly to Deo’s explanation while scanning the area. In a corner, some young boys lay face down, heads pressed to the ground.

“What are they doing there?”

Unlike the mostly adult soldiers, these boys looked young—no older than eighteen.

Deo answered indifferently.

“They’re orphans.”

“Orphans?”

The Bratz family, struggling even to cover taxes, wouldn’t run an orphanage. The only way for orphans without guardians to survive was to become Derga’s soldiers. At least in the army, they’d get food and a place to sleep.

Deo muttered with a smile.

“If you’d been unlucky, Ian, you might have ended up here with me.”

Rude, but not untrue.

Chel was a bastard born to a lowborn mother. It wouldn’t have been surprising if he’d been abandoned. If that had happened, Ian would have had no choice but to join this group.

“What do you think, hyungnim? What’s your opinion?”

Ian’s question made Chel’s expression harden.

“Deo, don’t say things like that.”

Please, stop speaking so disrespectfully to Ian.

No one knew what might happen if those golden eyes appeared again. Though his reprimand was born of fear, Deo frowned in surprise.

At that moment, a commotion broke out in the blazing sun at the center of the training ground.

“Put your head down properly!”

Crack!

A man who looked like an instructor cracked a thin whip mercilessly. Red marks stood out on the boys’ arms, backs, and thighs.

‘Abusing child soldiers? This is insane.’

Derga—what kind of mind was behind this? Ian couldn’t even imagine such cruelty. In Bariel, where he was emperor, child soldiers only appeared when the country was on the brink of collapse.

Ian wanted to ease the children’s suffering, even briefly, and called to Deo.

“Deo, as you said, these could have been my comrades if luck had been against me. Let’s call them over to the shade for some encouragement.”

“What? Are you serious?”

“Do I have to say it twice?”

“That’s not allowed. Even if the count comes, training cannot stop. It’s a rule for discipline. Please understand.”

Discipline my foot. Ian sat on a nearby bench, watching them instead of arguing. Once the brutal training ended, he planned to call them over and check on them. Chel hesitated but eventually sat down at the edge.

“Uaaah!”

“Can’t do it right? Want to starve?”

“No! I can do it!”

“Keep your arms straight!”

“Aaah!”

The screams were agonizing, loud enough to drown out the other training noises. Bodies, supported only by their heads with arms behind their backs, began collapsing one by one.

“Hold on!”

One boy caught Ian’s eye.

His messy red hair was tied back roughly, but his gaze was fierce—not just angry, but as if he saw the world through that very hatred.

“That boy…”

Ian found himself speaking without thinking.

Red hair and eyes. His build was lean, and despite trembling violently, he endured to the end.

Following Ian’s gaze, Deo answered with a bored tone.

“That’s Beric.”

He wasn’t especially gifted physically, but he was relentless—so much so that even the instructors shook their heads. In a selection fight, he faced an opponent nearly twice his size, bit his ear, and won. Of course, he was punished with three days of fasting.

Ian crossed his legs and watched Beric closely.

“Ugh…”

Only two remained. Beric and another boy’s necks bent as if about to snap. The instructor checked his watch and fell silent, apparently waiting for one to give out.

“Uaaah!”

Beric screamed, holding on. At that moment, the other boy lost strength and collapsed sideways, his sweat-soaked upper body covered in sand.

“Enough.”

At the instructor’s command, Beric’s knees hit the ground. Panting, unable to stand, the boy barely turned his head to spit. His forehead was a mess of blood. He had given everything and now lay motionless.

“So, is this Beric the best among them?” Chel asked nervously, eyes wide as he looked on.

“That’s not quite it,” the instructor replied. “He’s got spirit, no doubt, but that’s where it ends. His skill just can’t keep up with his attitude—especially in combat.”

The instructor poured water over Beric’s head. Still, the boy didn’t get up. Instead, he closed his eyes with a frustrated grimace. The others, who had given up earlier, were moving around without issue.

“With that kind of enthusiasm, he must be a model trainee, right?”

“…There’s such a thing as natural aptitude. No matter how hard you try, some things just don’t improve. There are limits to innate ability.”

Beric came to the training ground early every day and left last, but his progress was slow. No one could match his sheer grit and endurance, but what good was that? Clenching your teeth in front of an enemy’s blade won’t save you.

“So, you have to know when to give up. Everyone has their own strengths. Beric seems better suited for special operations than the front lines, so we’re thinking of pulling him out.”

Deo added this as if speaking directly to Chel and Ian.

The message was clear: the people in charge of troop management, including himself, had things under control. You two should stick to your delicate pens. But Chel was too dull to catch the meaning, and Ian was lost in his own thoughts.

‘Something’s off.’

That look earlier—how to describe it?

It was the look of a knight willing to die for faith and honor. The fierce spirit that vividly recalled the flames of war. It was astonishing that a boy not even an adult yet could possess such a temperament.

And more than anything… when he shouted, Ian sensed a faint trace of magical energy.

‘Classic traits of a magic swordsman.’

A swordsman who wields magic.

Because their internal energy is blocked by magic, their growth before awakening is slow. But once awakened, they become a force few can rival.

‘To unlock that potential, you need a magic user who can stimulate the latent magic inside. Such people are rare, which is why many die without ever knowing they were magic swordsmen.’

“Training seems to be over. Go ahead and call him in.”

Ian gave Deo a firm order, leaving no room for refusal after two prior rejections.