Chapter 132

“Ho there, you know how to handle a sword, I see?”

The Sword Master’s blade stopped alongside a faint compliment.

Even though my body was cut, the faint scent of blood lingered around me.

Though it had already healed, the old man didn’t find it strange.

Just muttering about how sturdy I was and how good I was for practice, he kept slicing away.

Dried blood crusts and a few drops of blood.

In contrast, the Sword Master’s body bore not a single wound.

And what his blade had torn apart was merely a small piece of cloth.

That too, was the result of all my effort and calculation in one strike.

This was my current standing.

The gap between me and the Sword Master, and proof of the vast room for growth I still possessed.

“I’m quite lacking.”

“Hmm? Quite?”

Then the Sword Master picked up his sword again.

With his merciless forward momentum, I stepped back and politely declined.

“Compared to the Sword Master, I am deficient.”

“Eh? That’s obvious, isn’t it? The difference comes from years of experience.”

“Thanks to you, I’ve learned well.”

“Hmph. Good enough.”

Finally, my blurred vision cleared.

A near miss from a fatal blow and the discharge of magic power.

I checked if the surrounding area had been destroyed by the scattered remnants, but an elegant barrier had surrounded us.

Had I been too focused on the battle that I hadn’t noticed this barrier?

Moreover, this barrier originated from the Sword Master.

An indescribable sense conveyed that he hadn’t used his full strength.

“You fight cleanly.”

The Sword Master personally withdrew the barrier with his sword.

There was at least one level of difference between us.

According to skill descriptions, it was the gap between advanced and expert levels.

I could feel that such mastery was in a realm far beyond my reach.

Instinctively, I understood that only by advancing further could I even glimpse it.

“Thank you.”

“Let’s have a match occasionally. These days, the youngsters are too weak; it’s no fun hitting them.”

“Whenever you wish.”

“If ‘whenever’ means today, tomorrow, and the day after, three times a day, is that okay?”

The Sword Master chuckled and suddenly threw me a difficult question.

“If I don’t die first?”

With that exaggerated whining, the Sword Master didn’t push it any further.

“Hmph. If I get bored, I’ll drop by, so don’t turn me away.”

“Of course, always welcome. My spouse cooks well; please come visit sometime.”

“Hah.”

The old man smiled gently and tapped my shoulder.

His hand was filled with many wrinkles.

It was clear evidence that the flow of time couldn’t be escaped even with magic power and strength.

“Will you charge for the meal?”

“No way. It’s free.”

He extended his hand, and I shook it.

Our hands trembled slightly.

The wrinkled hand felt like any ordinary elderly person’s.

The calloused hand was thick but unmistakably human.

“See you later.”

Saying that, the Sword Master walked out of the banquet hall just as he had entered, taking slow steps.

Around where we had clashed swords, everything was quiet.

The floor was heavily slashed, its original form barely recognizable, yet the impact hadn’t breached the barrier.

Even while sparring with me, he had paid attention to this much.

Isn’t this proof that I still have a long way to go?

Whenever my skills feel decent and my self-esteem rises, thanks to opponents like this, it gets subtly chipped away.

It’s exactly like the saying “a frog in a well.”

Even though I thought my skills were pretty good, there’s still a lot of work ahead.

But instead of feeling frustrated, it motivates me to put in more effort.

Creaking sounds.

As the old man walked away, a massive wave of energy rippled around him, forming an aura-like presence.

It brushed against nearby objects, creating a crackling sound.

Was it the string of a bow? Or perhaps simply an expression of satisfaction?

I slowly got up and sat down somewhere.

Wiping off the sweat, I took a refreshing drink.

My tense body relaxed, and a lazy fatigue spread throughout.

Though I wanted to fall asleep right there, I forced myself awake.

Lazily slouching in the chair, I felt like I had almost fainted.

“So, our star of the banquet.”

“Is this what banquets are usually like?”

“Ho ho ho. Isn’t this a very special experience? You probably won’t encounter anything like it elsewhere.”

“Well, it’s not the kind of joy I’d want to experience again.”

“All the nobles must be satisfied, though.”

At Marco’s words, I gave a wry smile.

I hadn’t come to the banquet to be a clown, but somehow I ended up as one.

Still, it wasn’t entirely accurate to call me a mere clown since I tore up the script.

“When will the banquet end?”

“It’ll conclude once the appointments and promotions are finished.”

“More exhausting than I thought.”

“Ho ho ho! The main person involved would naturally feel that way. Relax.”

The banquet drifted along aimlessly.

Maybe because something big had happened earlier, everything else seemed less significant.

Greeting numerous nobles who approached me and remembering their names was also part of the job.

Forcing smiles and shaking hands until they felt raw wasn’t a pleasant task,

especially when those hands belonged to people who looked at me like a frog in a show.

Still, I didn’t want to make unnecessary enemies, so I endured.

Goodwill never hurt to accumulate.

When everything finally wrapped up,

the princess quietly appeared and conducted a simple promotion ceremony and noble appointment.

The baron with the severed arm.

The lean and quiet baron.

And me.

Thus, Marquis Marco was appointed.

The event lasted less than ten minutes.

The princess’s congratulatory words for officially becoming a noble barely registered.

I was just grateful the chaotic banquet was over.

I had prepared for the possibility of being summoned for an audience,

but I hadn’t imagined it unfolding like this.

Especially when I thought everyone was beneath me, the appearance of the old Sword Master flipped that notion.

Everything broke through my preconceived notions.

All I could think about was returning to my lodging to see my precious ones.

So when the princess gave permission to leave without a second thought, I exited immediately.

* * *

“Sword Master…”

“Yes!”

“Lord Melon crossed blades with you, resulting in a draw on the surface. They were evenly matched.”

“Yes! Of course, Sword Master held back significantly!”

“The nobles aren’t sharp enough to see that. They stared at the banquet floor in shock.”

The princess had never overestimated the nobles even once.

She always strived for objective evaluations fitting their positions.

“How surprising. He’s not just handsome!”

“That’s enough. I don’t want to hear endless praises now that I’ll be hearing them repeatedly in the future.”

“Praise implies your agreement, Princess!”

“Do you think about what people coming to me with these tales will say? If each one complains individually, I’ll have to hear the same thing ten times. The foreseeable future is clear.”

“Ten times or eleven—what’s the difference?”

“My point is, leave me alone to rest.”

The princess cut off Alice’s chatter beside her.

Among the banquets held over the past few decades, this one was the most miraculous and entertaining.

Especially with the emerging noble proving to be an exceptionally excellent swordsman.

The irony of receiving such accolades under the name Melon might ironically cast doubt on the royal court’s judgment.

Promoting a farmer for agricultural achievements to nobility created unexpected waves.

What brought the normally reclusive Sword Master to a noble’s banquet?

It almost felt like a staged performance to elevate the farmer.

Given there was no reason to lift an unknown farmer so high, and considering the Sword Master wouldn’t play such games, it was an implausible story.

Still, even with low probability, it was worth exploring once.

“Things are going to get interesting.”

“Right?”

Alice’s idea of fun differed greatly.

Firstly, producing more competent commoners as nobles.

The fact that the investiture unfolded this way meant, although it might follow a similar pattern, caution was necessary.

“It would be nice if Multein put in a bit more effort.”

“Huh? What did you say?”

“Nothing. Talking to myself.”

Demoting a raised noble back to a commoner.

Multein surely understands the risks involved.

Yet conducting such actions covertly demonstrated a mix of ambition and amusement, proving that neither authority nor the royal gaze was perfect.

Furthermore, doing so aimed to establish a justification for nobility above nobility.

Conversely, it implied the inherent danger of lowering nobles to commoners.

Precedents aren’t scary for nothing.

Once established, powerful justifications arise.

Especially if initiated by the nobility themselves—a compelling and flawless justification.

Lowering useless nobles.

Uncovering capable individuals.

Thus fostering a competitive system.

“Those who fail to grow and are eliminated… cannot survive.”

Muttering this, Delia clenched her lips tightly.

Growth and competition.

Life was always a precarious balancing act between the two.

Securing and dominating every position.

This world operated in such ways, and the state needed to gradually incorporate this system.

Slowly.

No rush was necessary.

Time was abundant, and the world changed steadily.

“Rather embarrassing, isn’t it?”

Just a farmer.

Or rather…

Now, a proven Sword Master and rare crop farmer.

Baron. Perhaps, the shortest path to Count or Duke might open.

There’s plenty of land available.

Talent acquisition is important, but managing it well matters equally.

Ultimately, a king’s greatest talent lies in personnel management and employing soldiers wisely.

“Not quite a king yet.”

“Can you keep this quiet?”

“Huh?”

“Ensure news of the banquet spreads to other countries as late as possible.”

“Oh…! I’ll try!”

“Good. Thank you.”

Alice wasn’t expected to accomplish much.

Simply stating this reinforced her own resolve.

The princess felt the need to reassess Lord Melon’s value upward.

Especially young and brimming with limitless potential.

His capabilities were hard to gauge.

Possessing the potential to become an asymmetrical force akin to the Sword Master.

Such a gem couldn’t easily be snatched away by another country.

Fortunately, he had settled down through marriage.

He didn’t seem like someone who’d fall for beauty traps.

If ever an unavoidable situation arose, his worth needed proper evaluation to extract fair value.

Dealing with other nations was always headache-inducing.

Emerging talents were always good, but unclear affiliations were regrettable.

“Let’s go.”

“Yes!”

“We should pay our respects to the Sword Master.”

“There’s only one duke in the nation.”

Moreover, the title of duke isn’t bestowed by the king.

Though nominally granted by the king, dukes claim the title themselves.

“I’ll guide you!”

“Please do.”

“You can trust me completely!”

With a harrumph, Alice patted her chest.

Her cute antics elicited a small chuckle.

Eccentric, yet lively and charming.

“Will you distribute the samples intended for the nobles as planned?”

“Take your time. There’s no rush.”

“Yes!”

Lord Melon’s products.

Promoting and valuing his potential and abilities was temporarily postponed.

Meeting the old man who claimed a dukedom with just a sword was more important now.

Thus, the princess’s procession proceeded with Alice in tow.

A quiet conclusion to the banquet.

* * *

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