By Zephyria 
The clearing I was led to wasn’t very wide, making it unsuitable for running.
Nor did I want to stray far from my companions in this unfamiliar land, so instead of running in the palm-sized clearing, I drew my sword to warm up.
It was the Three Talents again. I straightened my posture and began by bringing the sword down.
I wanted to sort out the slight enlightenment I’d gained by the lake, but I felt hesitant to refine my swordsmanship in such an open space.
One reason was that I hadn’t yet shaken off my Central Plains habits, and I was too protective of my swordsmanship and Sword Path to show them to outsiders.
I wondered how many more years it would take before I could stop being so petty.
Having not used any internal energy, my entire body was drenched in sweat by the time the dim surroundings began to brighten. My shoulders ached from shortness of breath.
After thrusting the final sword strike, I sheathed my blade, and a few of those watching me applauded.
They were the same people who had been eating the meat stew in the hall earlier.
“Wow, you don’t waver even once. How old are you?”
“…Thirteen.”
“An Academy student?”
“Yes.”
There were three onlookers in total, a group consisting of two male martial artists and one female martial artist.
One of them, overly cheerful, extended his hand for a handshake, but I didn’t accept.
People from the Academy felt a sense of camaraderie, trusting fellow disciples and readily offering their hands and guard, but I couldn’t carelessly expose my Pulse Diagnosis to complete strangers.
Seeing my wary demeanor, one of the martial artists retracted his hand with a quick, “Ah, my bad,” feigning a noisy apology.
“We’re the Red Lion Mercenary Group, and my name is Krem. I’m not a strange person; I just wanted to get acquainted after seeing a cool knight for the first time in a while.”
“Yes.”
“…May I ask your name?”
I didn’t answer immediately, standing still and observing their energy.
Had all the Second-Rate Martial Artists from the first floor appeared? All three of them had an unusual glint in their eyes.
With my current skill, even if the three of them attacked me at once, it wouldn’t be a significant challenge, but I remained vigilant, mindful of my young body.
“Michael Ernhardt.”
“Ah, Young Master Ernhardt!”
“Didn’t you already know?”
The woman, about to say something else, fell silent.
I now clearly understood how conspicuous my hair color was.
I also knew that the Ernhardt magnolia emblem was modestly embroidered on the chests of the armor worn by the knights accompanying me.
They hadn’t approached when I was with my adult companions, but the fact that they waited to watch me train alone clearly meant they had some ulterior motive, which didn’t endear them to me.
Since none of them spoke, I merely nodded as a gesture of courtesy and left.
While having breakfast with my companions, I brought them up. The knights unanimously praised my response as appropriate, which felt awkward, as if they were treating me like a child.
After listening for a moment, I asked the question that was on my mind.
“What reason could a mere mercenary group have for approaching me?”
“Well, perhaps to build connections?”
“Connections? With someone they just saw on the street once?”
“They probably didn’t know our Young Master was such a sharp boy. Generally, boys who wield swords tend to admire and idolize knightly orders or mercenary groups.”
“That’s right. It’s quite common for escort mercenary groups to gain favor with young nobles by offering to help with swordsmanship demonstrations or sparring, or by sharing tales of their adventures.”
“Hmm.”
“Our Young Master, however, has only ever thought of becoming a knight since he was young.”
I looked around at the knights, who seemed somewhat proud.
This was a story from when I thought all sword-wielding individuals in this land were knights. It felt awkward because I hadn’t decided to become a knight because I liked or admired them.
The Cervelle siblings seemed curious, mentioning they had never spoken with mercenary groups either.
The knights vied to speak about their own experiences with mercenaries, raising their voices, but ultimately, Sir Ventus took charge of the explanation again.
“Mercenary groups are generally divided into three types. The first escorts nobles or merchant guilds, the second hunts monsters and sells their byproducts, and the third participates in Territory Wars to share the spoils.”
“Territory War?”
“Of course, the Sierran Empire discourages Territory Wars, so they are rarely seen. As a result, even if they gather a motley crew from here and there, they are no match for properly trained knights. You’d only see them in Owen, where internal strife is rampant.”
I calmed my momentarily surprised heart.
Owen was a distant kingdom, located in the northernmost part of the five kingdoms. It would take about a month’s ride from the Imperial capital to reach it, so there was no need to be overly concerned about the conflicts there.
“Names like Red Lion or Blue Hawk are common. The mercenary group that approached you today is likely one that specializes in escorting young masters or ladies from noble families. Knights usually accompany noble children for safety, but there are always children who want to hear the world’s stories from mercenaries.”
“Isn’t that more like a storyteller than a martial artist?”
“Well, either way, having extra escort personnel isn’t a bad thing… I’ve heard they sometimes guide people through shortcuts because they travel more than knights. Though I’ve never experienced it myself.”
“Indeed, hunting mercenaries are the true mercenaries, not escort ones. Among them, the White Lion Mercenary Group is famous.”
“Are they perhaps related to the Red Lion Mercenary Group…?”
“They’re likely unrelated. Lions are a very common name for mercenary groups in the first place.”
I recalled the individuals I had seen that morning.
They appeared to be in their late twenties to early thirties, and all of them were Second-Rate Martial Artists.
If they spent their time idly like that instead of focusing on training, their strength would eventually fade without reaching the First-Rate level.
Of course, making a living was paramount, so it wasn’t my place to judge.
Since I had been training to become a knight of the territory all along, I thought the knights, who had never ventured far, seemed to have overly high expectations of mercenaries who dealt with monsters.
I also heard that while most knights refrain from growing beards to maintain a neat appearance, many mercenaries proudly sport beards and chest hair.
It was information I didn’t particularly want to know. I couldn’t tell what my expression was, but judging by Leila Servel laughing heartily and patting Logan Servel’s back, I could guess.
The knights, suppressing their laughter, boasted that they shaved regularly, so I added no further comments.
❖ ❖ ❖
The journey to the Academy was peaceful the entire way. There were no high mountains or wide rivers between the capital and the Servel territory. We enjoyed leisurely horseback riding during the day and stayed in decent inns each evening.
The only ones complaining among the group were the Servel siblings.
On the fourth day, they cried out that their backs ached too much to bear and took to lying in the carriage. On the fifth day, they wailed, grabbing their wrists, begging for just one day of rest.
I worried about the young ones already having such poor stamina.
Thanks to our relatively early departure, we had ample time before the semester began.
Since there was no need to drag the crying ones along in the carriage like criminals, we extended our stay at the pre-arranged inn by another day and unpacked.
At dinner, as we sat together, the Servel siblings, with pale faces, barely touched their food, picking at it listlessly.
When riding, they had complained about their backs aching and legs cramping after only eight hours of horseback riding, but after dismounting, even lying down, they vomited from motion sickness, claiming the ground still felt like it was shaking.
It was no wonder they had no appetite.
“You need to eat well to regain your strength.”
“The ground still feels like it’s shaking… Normally, you don’t rush like this.”
“We rushed?”
I looked back at the knights, puzzled.
The knights of House Ernhardt looked equally bewildered, but the knights of House Servel nodded with smiles.
“The Young Master and Young Lady overdid it this time. We were worried from the moment they started trying to imitate Young Master Ernhardt by riding horses all day.”
“In House Servel, both of you usually travel by carriage when going to the Academy, and you take breaks two or three times in between to get some fresh air or stretch your bodies. There are plenty of villages to rest in on the way to the capital, so we usually allocate ample travel time.”
“For one thing, Young Master Logan has never ridden a horse for more than three hours before this.”
Martial artists are fundamentally accustomed to pushing their bodies to their limits.
In the Central Plains, when I pursued evildoers, I would run for three days and nights without sleep, using only my own two feet.
With Light Footwork, I could run faster than a horse, and it wasn’t easy to avoid detection by enemies while dragging such a large beast.
After being born in Sierren, I slept soundly at night like a child, and when my limbs felt stiff, I would stop swinging my sword and tend to my body.
However, my pain threshold was exceptionally high compared to ordinary Sierren people.
Since riding a horse was more comfortable than running on two feet, I had ridden alongside the knights from the moment I left the mansion to enroll in the Academy.
Sir Ventus of House Ernhardt had planned this itinerary and was in charge of leading the group.
His standards were set to my level, so the problem was that the schedule was planned in the same way as it was for the previous Academy entrance ceremony.
Come to think of it, when I enjoyed horseback riding at the villa, I never rode for more than an hour a day.
At the time, I thought it was just for light enjoyment, and I didn’t realize the siblings’ stamina was only this much.
Once I understood the reason, I felt awkward and apologetic, so I apologized to the Servel siblings.
Logan replied weakly, like a goat, that it was fine, but Leila glared at me and mumbled curses.
Recognizing she was joking, I chuckled and pushed a plate of food towards her.
After we roughly finished eating and sent the Servel siblings to their room, I had nothing to do with the remaining time.
The Servel family knights, unable to abandon their escort duties, rested in the room next to the siblings, while the two knights from House Ernhardt and I enjoyed a light sparring session to aid digestion.
After a full day of rest, the Servel siblings recovered, and we resumed our journey.