Regressor of the Fallen Family

Chapter 169

“Iron Blood is surely a sword technique superior to Wind Breaker. It really drives home the fact that not all intermediate swordsmanship is created equal,” remarked Horhe, causing the expressions of the knights surrounding him to change.

Despite his pitiful appearance, with bandages wrapped around his forehead, no one paid any attention to his condition.

Regardless of how he looked, his influence on the former members of the Kalya Knight Order remained unchanged.

“Could it be an advanced sword technique…?”

“Advanced sword techniques are meant for aura users, Denmil.”

“Ah, my apologies.”

“Tch. Anyway, let’s stop talking about unrelated things. Learn this as best as you can. The strength of the Maclaine Knight Order is real.”

“…Yes, sir!”

After comforting his former subordinates, Horhe headed towards the training yard.

However, upon arriving at the training yard, he heard something he had not at all anticipated.

“What? Sir Digrum…?”

Horhe had to struggle not to show his disappointment.

“Yes. Technically speaking, it should rightfully be me or my father teaching you, but unfortunately, we’re rather busy. Sir Digrum is an advanced knight well capable of imparting the essence of swordsmanship, but is this not to your liking?”

“No, I will follow orders.”

“Good. Just becoming familiar with the Iron Blood technique will certainly make you stronger. Learn well.”

“Yes, thank you!”

Whether or not Logan was aware of his complicated feelings, he simply turned around after speaking those words.

No sooner had Logan left the training yard,

The knight order, temporarily bound together, became as noisy as expected.

“Is it even possible to repeat this a thousand times today with this speed? Aren’t you focused?!”

“Damn…”

“What did you just say over there?”

“I said I will practice vigorously enough to stir up a strong wind!”

It was unthinkable that a technique like Iron Blood, which normally required thirty minutes to execute even once, could be completed a thousand times in a day.

“Train as though it’s a real battle! Don’t knights know even this much? Charge!!”

“But why am I using a wooden sword…?”

“Consider it training for when you are at a disdvantage.”

“Hah…”

“What?”

“…I will endure even if it’s all day long.”

Training disguised as sparring was a luxury compared to the actual beatings they were receiving.

“It’s a purely defensive training. Just block.”

“Block only?”

“Yes. At all costs. Until I say stop.”

“Damn…”

“What?”

“…I will hold out until I break!”

Not all knights refrained from striking their opponents with full force.

Watching the entire scene from his office in the manor, Padric clicked his tongue and turned around.

“This is too harsh, isn’t it? It seems like our knights have had a lot bottled up inside them.”

“They’re just doing what they’ve been taught to do.”

“What? Who’s been teaching them this kind of training…?”

“…”

Catching the direct, unguarded gaze of his son, Padric flinched and looked away.

“Hmm. Hmmm. The circumstances weren’t great, so maybe a bit too provocative… Hm, what lovely weather.”

Logan, watching his father avert his gaze, smirked slightly and looked towards a particularly quiet spot in the midst of the noisy training yard.

The commotion caused by most of the people there was within the realm of expectation.

But the scene unfolding before him was truly unforeseen.

Boom.

The explosion of air resounded, even though no aura was infused. Simply channeling the proper sword spirit into the correct path of the blade made it sound as if the air itself might burst.

A well-trained advanced knight instinctively realized he had executed the Iron Blood technique properly for the first time.

A mere ten days of practice had led to this achievement.

It was due to Horhe’s own understanding of swordsmanship and his high level of aura, but also…

“Good. It seems you just need more practice to become comfortable with it.”

The ‘master’ before Horhe nodded calmly. His teachings had been excellent.

Horhe sincerely bowed to his young instructor.

“Thank you, Sir Digrum. Your instruction is the reason for my progress.”

Was that unexpected?

Startled, Digrum immediately shook his head.

“No, it’s due to your hard work, Sir Horhe. Let’s call it a day.”

Despite the heartfelt thanks, Digrum simply said his piece and turned to leave.

Watching him walk away, Horhe suddenly blurted out the words he had kept to himself.

“Why are you treating me so kindly?”

Digrum, without looking back, responded in a calm voice.

“I’ve only done what I was ordered to do from above.”

“You don’t dislike me?”

“Is there any reason I should?”

“Until recently, I was your enemy.”

“Many people here are.”

Digrum answered indifferently and was about to move on when Horhe said something he couldn’t ignore.

“It’s embarrassing to admit, but my men, or rather my former subordinates, might be excited that I could hold a major position within the knight order someday. And even I thought that perhaps, knowing of your tendencies as a duke, it might be possible.”

That made Digrum stop in his tracks and turn around, but…

His reply was different from what Horhe had anticipated.

“…The duke values competence over honor. It’s entirely feasible based on merit.”

“What I want to know is how you feel about it.”

“…Excuse me?”

“Do you have any complaints?”

“A knight follows his lord’s commands. My feelings are irrelevant.”

“But one’s heart might say otherwise…”

“I believe that any direction that strengthens our knight order is acceptable. The duke would likely agree. So if you were to hold such a position, please keep that in mind.”

With that, Horhe gazed intently into Digrum’s blue eyes.

A straightforward answer without a hint of greed.

Could this really be an answer coming from an ordinary person?

But upon seeing the unshaken resolve in Digrum’s eyes, Horhe could only chuckle resignedly and nod.

Then, with a voice loud enough for the entire training yard to hear, he declared,

“I, Horhe, swear to respect and follow Sir Digrum as my senior knight, upon my lord’s command.”

A look of dismay crossed Digrum’s face.

“What are you doing, Sir Horhe?”

Seeing Digrum finally shaken, Horhe allowed himself a small laugh.

Padric, observing the entire scene, tilted his head in confusion.

Although he couldn’t hear the voices, he could see the actions within his line of sight.

“Weren’t they supposed to be the most problematic? But it seems they’ve reconciled now?”

“Yes. It seems so.”

“Hmm. Faster than expected.”

“Yes. And it seems we’ve decided on the potential future leader of the knight order.”

“What?”

Caught off guard by his father’s baffled expression, Logan was about to explain what he had heard when another question from his father took him by surprise.

“Wasn’t it Ronian who was meant to become the future commander of the knight order?”

“Excuse me?”

“Excuse me? If you were to take over the family, what did you plan to do with your brother? Were you considering allowing him to claim independence with the title of baron? To have such an asset-laden brother?”

“No, that wasn’t my intention. If necessary, Ronian would take on the roles of you or me. But the notion of him leading the knight order… That responsibility should ultimately fall to one of these men as their next generation commander.”

If the situation ever allows, we would need to confer upon him further roles.

Before Logan could articulate his thoughts, his father looked at him with a strange expression.

“Really?”

“Yes?”

“If it were a time of war, it might be different, but isn’t Ronian sufficient during this peaceful period? With his experience and rising level of competence, he might well become more than qualified. Being the commander doesn’t mean he can’t act as deputy when you’re away.”

“Ah…”

Logan suddenly realized a critical oversight in his thinking.

Before he could add anything more, his father continued.

“That said, given the way you’ve been talking, it sounds like there might be trouble brewing within the next few years. Is that right?”

“Ah. Hahaha. No, that’s not what I mean…”

He felt cold sweat break out on his back.

“Instead of entrusting such heavy responsibilities to Ronian before he’s fully mature, wouldn’t it be better to assign him various tasks to gain experience? The future seems too distant for us.”

“Yes. That might be so, but Logan, someday you’ll realize that time doesn’t flow uniformly. As you get older, the years seem to pass ever more swiftly. At my age, a decade feels like it has gone by in the blink of an eye.”

Before this nation falls to ruin, that is.

“Always look to and plan for the distant future.”

“Yes, I understand.”

Specifically, my focus is concentrated on the period five and a half years from now.

As Logan replied with earnestness reserved for his inner voice, his father made another unexpected remark.

“In that sense, it may have been a mistake to entrust Ronian with the full operation of the peacekeeping forces.”

“What’s the problem with that? Did something happen?”

“No. It turns out the organization, formed by even including retired knights, is much more effective. The number of disputes in the towns have dropped significantly, in Tesserin and Maclaine especially. The cheers of the townsfolk reach my ears.”

“That’s good news, isn’t it?”

“Yes. Except for one thing.”

Where could there possibly be a downside in such news?

A puzzled Logan listened as Padric continued with a slightly hardened expression.

“Of course, it’s not a major issue, but Ronian’s name has been making the rounds among the townsfolk quite a bit.”

“And how is that a problem…?”

“It’s only been a few days since the organization was activated, so it’s not a concern yet, but if Ronian keeps up this work and builds a reputation among the townsfolk, there might be issues later on.”

Logan then understood what his father meant.

Though accepting the possibility was another matter entirely.

“There won’t be any issues, Father.”

“I hope so. You’re well-established, and Ronian follows you. But the future is uncertain. Even if Ronian doesn’t wish it, he might come up in succession talks.”

At that, Logan almost laughed out loud and missed the chance for a rebuttal. His father, however, pressed further.

“Maybe it’s better not to keep Ronian out and about, but to focus him only on swordsmanship training. A second son of a noble family is sufficient if he becomes an accomplished knight. He shouldn’t become a factor of dispute within the family.”

Feeling an intense sense of disconnection,

‘In my past life, Ronian saved the family alone. He defended the country to the end. I was nothing more than an exiled prodigal son.’

The stark contrast between his past life and present hit him like a wave, and a defeatist sigh escaped his lips.

“Father. I plan to entrust the territory to Ronian.”

“What?! What nonsense is that?”

“It’s just as you heard. Not right away, but eventually, Ronian will lead the Maclaine lands.”

“That’s absurd!!”

Padric shouted, but Logan remained resolute.

“It makes sense. He’s fully qualified.”

“Do you have any idea of all the contributions you’ve made to the territory…”

“I’m aiming for something greater.”

“…What?”

“It’s not something I can discuss yet, but please understand that much. So, it’s actually good that he’s building a reputation.”

“You mean that’s why at the meeting…”

“Yes. I was glad that Ronian voiced his opinions on the territory and resolved them too.”

“No, that still doesn’t make any sense to me. I refuse to accept it!”

“You’ll come to accept it, as always.”

“You… just what are you thinking…”

As Padric let his sentence trail off,

Logan simply smiled at his father.

‘Father…’

Ronian, who was about to knock on the door, found his hand frozen in place.

He had been sneaking up to the office to proudly share his achievements, navigating as stealthily as a cat.

Hiding even his aura to suddenly surprise his brother had been the only plan.

But he had overheard a conversation he was never meant to hear.

‘I am a hindrance to my brother’s future?’

A thought that had never crossed his mind.

His clenched fist, ready to knock, tightened unconsciously.

Ronian Maclaine, his face clouded with despondency, quietly retreated the way he had come.

As if nothing had happened at all.