Chapter 53

After giving Amal and Rosalind their trial, I spent a little time assisting with their training.

For Amal, I taught no secret techniques or advanced tactics—only the absolute basics of the basics.

For Rosalind, I gave her intensive training on the finishing touches of the tactics she was to teach Amal.

From here on out, they truly have to figure things out for themselves.

What I provide is a direction, not a single, rigid style. Just to be safe, I went over the fine details with Rosalind, focusing on the underlying philosophy of the tactics. I told her, however, that these were merely like parts of a model kit; how they are ultimately assembled depends entirely on Amal.

“I won’t be coming to see you two starting tomorrow. Tell me the results the next time we meet.”

Leaving them with those words, I returned to headquarters. I drafted a summary of the situation in report format and left it in Commander Luger’s office—a room where he is often absent and documents tend to pile up on the desk. Then, letting out a sigh at the state of my wallet, I headed to bed.

On the third day, I was diligent with my daily training routine while wondering what to do with myself. I really didn’t have anything planned.

I’d heard this morning that the next mission would be announced the day after tomorrow. Rumor has it we’re heading North, so I’ve already pulled my winter gear out of my dresser. I’m well-prepared, but that still leaves me with plenty of time today and tomorrow. Now, what to do… I was thinking when I heard a satisfying thwack!! from the archery range.

Someone practicing with low-frequency long-range weapons at this hour?

Only one person came to mind, so I headed over.

As expected, I found the finest marksman in the order: Calme.

Calme stood there with a quiet intensity that was hard to imagine from his usual timid demeanor, leveling a rugged crossbow that looked disproportionately large for his slender frame. There wasn’t a trace of a tremor in his hands; it was as if Calme himself had become a part of the weapon.

“………”

Peering through one eye at the target at the end of the bolt’s path, Calme silently pulled the trigger. With a sharp whiz, a single bolt flew from the flexed bow and struck… thwack!! …almost exactly in the center of the target.

Lowering the crossbow, Calme took a breath and muttered while nocking the next bolt.

“It’s drifting slightly downward… but the projectile speed and range are good. As expected of the latest model.”

With a clack, he pulled the mechanism to nock the bolt and resumed the exact same stance as before, firing silently. This time, unlike the last, the bolt pierced the dead center of the target.

In the knight order, hitting within the ten-centimeter red circle at the center is considered a passing grade, but the target Calme was shooting at was so full of bolts it was practically bristling.

No, that wasn’t all. All five targets at the training range were in the same state. Furthermore, judging by the angle of the bolts, he had hit the red mark on every single one of them from the center without moving between lanes.

—To put it mildly, this was beyond human.

I’d learned a bit of archery at the Officers’ Academy, but for me, hitting the red mark once in ten tries was the best I could do. Astraea was reasonably good, but even she would likely throw up her hands after seeing this. I don’t feel like I could reach that terrifying level of precision even if I practiced for a hundred years.

He must have been practicing for quite a while; at his feet lay a nearly empty quiver and several crossbows laid out neatly. It seemed he was doing test-firing as well.

—Wait, does this guy just not miss during solo practice?

A shocking truth had been revealed.

Once, I’d described his skill with the crossbow as “being unable to demonstrate focus unless there’s someone nearby he wants to be praised by,” but more accurately, it seems that limitation only applies when he’s acting with others or being watched.

In other words, as long as he’s firing bolts in a place where no one is watching, he has absolutely no problem, as I could clearly see.

If that’s the case, he might be the strongest if allowed to act solo… but in a safety-conscious knight order, solo action is almost never permitted. On missions where you never know when or where an ambush might occur, the absolute rule is a two-man cell at minimum.

A junior with overflowing talent that he just can’t quite fully utilize.

In a different sense from Amal, this guy is a troublesome junior.

“Morning. You’re really fired up this early, aren’t you?”

“Heh? W-wah! Senior Varna!! S-s-s-since when were you watching!?”

“Don’t worry, I just got here.”

Calme flusteredly caught the crossbow he nearly dropped mid-air and let out a sigh of relief. His gestures were as feminine as ever, but I suddenly thought that if it were Amal, she’d have dropped it and probably caused a bolt to fire accidentally. With the same clumsiness, she’d make it life-threatening.

“Maybe I should help you improve your stage fright too… at this rate, you won’t be able to set a good example for the juniors coming in next year.”

“So sudden!? Well, I mean, I do think I can’t stay like this forever!!”

“It’s not that sudden. Your juniors will be joining the order next year, you know? And ‘problem children’ who are bound to stir up a storm, at that. You can’t keep feeling like a rookie forever, so pull yourself together.”

“Ugh… I see, I’m going to be a senior starting next year… wait, is it already confirmed that they’re problem children!?”

“I saw the candidates the day before yesterday and yesterday. Both of them are quite the ‘handfuls’ (talents).”

“I didn’t want to hear that…!! I didn’t want to hear such a cause for anxiety…!!”

It was indeed unwelcome news. To be fair, I only saw one of the five confirmed slots and one “maybe,” so they might not all be problem children.

“…Senior, what kind of kids were these ‘problem children’?”

Calme suddenly asked, looking up at me.

It seemed that, in his own way, he was curious about the state of his juniors.

“Hmm… one of them is a total idiot. Terrible at both studies and the sword. But she should be training desperately right now to make up for what she lacks.”

“…I was often told I was a failure back when I was a trainee, too. I feel like it’s not entirely someone else’s problem. No, I guess it won’t be someone else’s problem much longer anyway…”

“The other one is even more troublesome. If things stay on track, she’ll definitely graduate at the top of her class. However, her pride is so high that if you leave her alone, she’ll probably say something outrageous. She’s the type to keep men under her thumb.”

I could easily imagine a scene where, upon meeting, Rosalind would bark “Don’t take such a pathetic attitude, you’re my senior!!” and Calme would be left completely flustered. He seemed to have a bad feeling about it himself, as he was groaning with a pathetic expression.

“Ugh, I’m not good with strong-willed girls. I’m already worried about the future. What if I get so anxious I can’t sleep…?”

“Well, she is the type you’d struggle with. But, you know… if the boss or senior is pathetic, the juniors will end up pathetic too. Stay positive so you don’t disappoint them. You’re the one who has to show them the ropes.”

“So I don’t disappoint them? Ah… maybe my father was…”

Calme looked down at the crossbow in his hands and abruptly fired the loaded bolt at the target. The bolt struck the dead center with pinpoint accuracy—splitting the tail of the bolt already embedded there and driving itself into the middle.

“Senior. I joined the knight order because my father told me to become a strong man.”

While nocking another bolt, Calme began to speak of his roots as if telling a story from his memories.

“To me, my father was strong, cool, and like a superhero. I polished my archery because I wanted him to praise me, and I studied when he told me to be wise… but on my fifteenth birthday, he suddenly said this:”

—Go and acquire the kind of strength that will allow you to become the father you admire.

“To be honest, I didn’t understand what he meant… but somehow, I felt that maybe I shouldn’t just keep looking at my father’s back forever…”

“So, you took the plunge and knocked on the gates of the Officers’ Academy?”

“Yes.”

Calme fired another crossbow bolt. It accurately pierced the center of the adjacent target.

“Aiming for strength with friends like Caliban and Bevion is fresh, but the goal I’m aiming for is ultimately my father. Even if we’re apart, my father is still that big of a presence to me… Before I knew it, I was just chasing his back again. I guess you could call it a father complex?”

Calme smiled bashfully.

Through squinted eyes, he looked feminine enough that you’d believe it if someone said he was a girl.

“But… since joining the order, I’ve found a back as great as my father’s right in front of me. Strong, cool, and yet barely older than I am… For the first time, I admired someone other than my father.”

“Is that, uh… could that be me—”

“It’s bad form to say the rest out loud, you know?”

My mouth was silenced by Calme’s index finger before I could finish.

Once he confirmed I’d gone quiet, Calme removed his finger and nocked another bolt into his crossbow, leveling it.

“It’s because I don’t want to disappoint that person that I’m trying my hardest to fix my stage fright. I don’t want to be a pathetic senior once the new recruits arrive, either… and most of all, I want to be someone that person can rely on.”

With a sharp twang, the bolt flew.

This time, he didn’t aim for the center of the target. Instead, the bolt sliced through the air and struck a small wooden fragment that had been dancing in the wind near the target, pinning it perfectly to the backboard.

“I’m still far from reaching that person’s level, and I still get flustered easily… but for now, I’ll keep practicing like this until I can stand tall and proud.”

“I see. Well, if you’re that determined, I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

“Yes! I’ll do my best!”

Calme’s smile was bright and clear, with none of the usual gloom. Seeing his profile as he focused back on the target, I felt a small sense of relief.

It seemed that it wasn’t just me—everyone was moving forward in their own way. Whether it was the clumsy Amal, the overly serious Rosalind, or the timid Calme, they were all struggling and growing.

“Alright, I guess I’ll go get some training in too. Don’t push yourself too hard, okay?”

“Yes! Thank you, Senior Varna!”

Leaving the archery range behind, I started jogging toward the main training grounds.

The winter wind was cold, but my body felt strangely light. The time for the next mission was approaching. I didn’t know what kind of “evolution” or “hardship” awaited us in the North, but as long as I had comrades who looked up to me—and a sword that had survived countless deathblows—I felt like I could overcome whatever came my way.

‘The ‘first’ is special, and the ‘back’ you chase is even more so…’

I whispered those words to myself, matching my pace to the rhythm of my heartbeat as I ran toward the future.