By Zephyria 
The group leaving for Shierun Academy consisted of eight people: myself, the Cervelle siblings, four knights, and one coachman.
As our departure was delayed, everyone except the coachman mounted their respective horses to make up for lost time.
The rattling of the empty carriage was loud, bothering my ears.
Maelo Sanson had cried and thrown such a tantrum that my chest still felt raw, making it difficult to force a smile.
Unlike me, the knights, two each from House Ernhardt and House Cervelle, were grinning from ear to ear, as if they had found something incredibly amusing.
I rode alongside Sir Ventus, who had led the knights when we went to the Cervelle family villa, and his expression, devoid of any solemnity, bothered me enough that I finally spoke.
“What’s so enjoyable?”
“There’s nothing to dislike, is there? Thanks to the young master, I get to travel to the capital twice this year. If it weren’t for things like this, we’d never leave the territory. While the Ernhardt territory is peaceful and a good place, it’s not particularly attractive to young knights.”
“Excuse me? Sir Ventus, you aren’t exactly a young knight, are you?”
“What are you talking about? My heart is still young.”
“Hmm.”
One of the knights riding beside me made a joke.
Sir Ian Venters was forty-three years old, but his cheerful disposition and youthful appearance led people to believe he was in his early thirties.
He was around that age when my own breath had been cut short in the Central Plains, so to my eyes, he appeared to be a young man.
Whether in the Central Plains or in Shierun, the age of a martial artist was difficult to discern from their face alone.
Mana flowed in through the Middle Dantian as a conduit and then dispersed, so while mages aged according to their innate constitution, aura entered the body, permeated the muscles and minor meridians, and remained.
As a result, most knights had younger-looking faces than their age suggested.
Sir Ventus, after exchanging friendly banter with a knight of similar age, explained again.
“In any case, when you carry a sword, there are many documents required when entering a territory you don’t belong to, so it’s not common to come out like this. Furthermore, the Ernhardt Baronetcy rarely took summer vacations, so it’s all the more reason to be excited.”
I had never paid attention to those who traveled between territories before.
In the Central Plains, the Emperor was the lord of all lands.
Countless people, possessing the strength to fearlessly face the bandits swarming between villages, moved freely across the vast lands of the Central Plains.
In contrast, in Shierun, all territorial residents belonged to their territory, and moving to another territory required various documents.
A certificate of no criminal record, a statement of current assets, a permit detailing the purpose of travel…
These were things I hadn’t known because I had never handled them myself.
Were there such procedures in the Central Plains? I thought of the common folk who were born and disappeared like mayflies, but there was no way to know now.
As I was discussing the movement and migration of territorial residents and knights, who had just burst into laughter, the two siblings from House Cervelle moved their horses closer to join the conversation.
“That’s also why most business succession happens through blood relations.”
“Business?”
“You know, things like large merchant guilds such as the McFarran Merchant Guild or the Eldos Merchant Guild, and even smaller ones, all carry the surname of their proprietor. If the owner says, ‘My grandfather and father worked the same way, so I’ll just buy and sell goods without issue,’ the permit process is naturally simplified.”
“Of course, it’s also because naming is difficult.”
“Right. ‘Shining Brightly’ was considered a novel name when it was created, but now it’s treated as a joke.”
“…What is that? Is it a merchant guild that sells lighting fixtures?”
“No. It’s a merchant guild that sells reference books for the Academy entrance exams. When the Academy was first established, it was fashionable to quote theologians in a seemingly dignified manner. They said the future of students studying with this book would all shine brightly, a prophecy or something.”
“Oh, do they still use that these days? I studied with it too.”
“Me too.”
It was surprising how the knights chimed in one after another at Leila Servel’s explanation.
As a member of a noble family, I had paid a substantial entrance fee instead of taking the entrance exam.
I remembered the Ernhardt family’s letter of recommendation, the fixed entrance fee, and a brief martial arts demonstration during a one-on-one interview with an early admissions officer.
Knights, typically bound to noble families from their squire days, often encountered Academy graduates, so they tended to try the Academy entrance exam at least once.
Consequently, the competition was fierce, and among the four knights present, only Sir Ventus had passed and studied at the Academy.
The topic naturally shifted to the Academy’s faculty, and the conversation turned to Maelo Sanson.
Sir Ventus brought up a story he hadn’t dared to mention in front of Maelo Sanson.
“Lord Sanson was already a legend when I enrolled. Back then, he wasn’t a professor but was famous as the top graduate who was specially recruited into the Imperial Knight Order upon graduation. Even though I was his junior by a long shot, I was told in every class, ‘Do as Sanson does.’ ”
“…Professor Sanson was also an Academy senior?”
“Of course. He was the class representative that year. His swordsmanship was exceptional, but it’s said he always got perfect scores on theoretical exams. That’s why there was even a saying that swordsmanship pedagogy was divided into ‘before Sanson’ and ‘after Sanson.’ Thanks to that senior, the notion that swordsmanship students could be a bit ignorant completely disappeared.”
The story of Professor Sanson and Sir Ventus studying under the same swordsmanship instructor was very interesting.
Maelo Sanson, being human, couldn’t have been strong from birth, so it was astonishing to hear about the childhood of a Hwagyeong master so close by.
Ian Venters began by saying that when he entered Shierun Academy at fifteen, Maelo Sanson was already a twenty-four-year-old young man serving in the Imperial Knight Order, so he had never spoken to him directly, but he had heard many rumors.
As I had always observed Maelo Sanson closely, I already knew a lot about him.
Maelo Sanson was strict about his wake-up and sleep times but was not picky about food, and he liked silly jokes but wasn’t good at them.
He got along well with Professor Cedric, who was in charge of the Camping Class.
However, the story that he, now famous for his casual speech and relaxed demeanor, was a very meticulous and strict student in his youth was quite unexpected.
Curious, I asked various questions and pressed for answers several times.
Sir Ventus knew an astonishing amount about Professor Sanson.
After all, it wasn’t just about Sanson. Here in Shierun, perhaps due to the Nobility Yearbook, it seemed natural for people to chatter about each other’s public information.
When asked if people didn’t have things they wanted to hide, I suddenly recalled the face of Damian Christopher, who had retorted, “Shouldn’t one avoid doing things that would be shameful in the eyes of others?”
To Sir Ventus, stories about Professor Sanson must have felt similar to how I heard weekly updates about Wesley Kiadris.
Although I had never met Wesley Kiadris, I knew a lot about him.
This was because he was a Grand Sword Master closest in age to me.
“I recall Lord Maelo Sanson reaching the realm of Grand Sword Master five years after his graduation. If I had entered just one year earlier, I could have at least shaken Lord Sanson’s hand. Even now, I sometimes regret it.”
“His hand? How?”
“I heard that immediately after reaching that realm, he came to greet his professor at the time, thanking him for his teachings. The professor was so proud and boastful… He bragged endlessly that Lord Sanson refused the position of Imperial Knight Order Commander and came to be an Academy professor all thanks to him.”
The professor who taught them was also a Sword Master, who had now retired and was enjoying his later years in a fine mansion.
Sir Ventus’s voice, speaking of his mentor, was pleasant to hear, filled with fond memories.
In the Central Plains, it was a common belief that mentor and disciple were considered as one.
A single mentor had only a handful of disciples. Ten years were not enough to raise one child into a complete martial artist.
Therefore, the disciple inherited and repaid the mentor’s kindness and grudges.
It was an era when saying “So-and-so’s child, so-and-so’s disciple” became a mark of status.
In contrast, in Shierun, where it was natural for one mentor to teach multiple generations of disciples, the disciples felt it was sufficient to cherish their mentors in memory and visit them occasionally with respect.
Sir Ventus, too, had been busy with his life and hadn’t visited in a long time, but he mentioned he planned to visit again soon, and I nodded, moved by his kind heart.
Chatting as we rode, sometimes ahead, sometimes behind, we arrived at our destination village in the dead of night.
Since our departure was late today, we traveled until late, but I was told that from tomorrow onwards, we could reach the Academy on time by traveling only during daylight hours. Accepting this, I went straight to bed.
❖ ❖ ❖
I woke up to the crisp morning air.
My body, having trained consistently, was not tired from just a day of riding.
As I had clearly woken up earlier than the others, I strapped my sword to my waist and went down to the inn’s first floor.
Similar to inns in the Central Plains, Shierun inns had a large hall on the first floor for dining and rooms on the upper floors.
Even before sunrise, several tables filled with people caught my eye.
Worried whether it was permissible to draw my sword in a civilian establishment, even for self-cultivation, I chose an empty table instead of immediately looking for an open space.
A server, who approached without being called, immediately spoke to me.
“Breakfast is free for guests staying here! You can choose between two types of meat stew. Which would you prefer: spicy or mild?”
“I’m fine with the food… Is there an open space nearby where I can swing my sword?”
“Uh… are you planning to spar this early in the morning?”
“No. Just by myself.”
“Ah. In that case, if you go around the left side of the inn, there’s an empty lot behind the stables. It’s not enclosed by walls, but would that be alright?”
“Yes, thank you. If my companions ask for me, could you tell them I’m there?”
“You’re the one who came with four knights, right?”
“Yes.”
The server nodded kindly, saying they would.
A few of the armored individuals over there, slurping down bowls of meat stew, glanced this way, and I looked back, but I paid them no mind as most of them were third-rate or second-rate martial artists.