***
Victor’s skills were terrifying.
He was naturally quick and agile, and easily memorized whatever moves he saw.
Even a thick tree could be cut down with a single stroke, as if its weaknesses were clearly visible to him.
Before long, he easily defeated all of Morte’s apprentice knights, and even the official knights had trouble.
A number of famous young mercenaries came to visit, but none were Victor’s equal.
Victor Morte was a genius.
He was rivaled by none.
While people were talking about how his talent was given by God, or a deal with the devil, Victor became depressed.
He was sensitive, so he was painfully aware of the atmosphere around him.
People praised Victor, reluctantly.
They praised him out of awe or fear, but never showed friendliness or affection towards the young knight.
He was naturally anxious.
‘What if other people do this too? Like my father? Or Mortheon?’
‘What if brother comes to hate me?’
While he was deep in thought, Mortheon visited his room.
“Victor.”
His older brother, who was always busy, was dressed lightly.
He smiled sweetly at his younger brother.
“Come on. Let’s go to the training ground.”
Victor didn’t want to, but he couldn’t decline and nodded his head.
Before he knew it, Victor was facing Mortheon with a wooden sword in the empty training ground.
His older brother grinned at him.
“You’re strong, so I won’t go easy on you.”
Then he greeted him with knightly courtesy.
Victor bowed his head in confusion.
The next moment, Mortheon closed the gap.
Mortheon was Morte’s successor.
He would become the master of the most famous knights in the Empire. Of course, he was very strong. Victor fought with all his might for a long time.
Their swords collided several times, their footwork kicking up dirt.
In the end, Victor, who could not handle Mortheon’s last blow, dropped his sword.
Seeing his wooden sword lying on the ground, Victor was relieved for some reason. Mortheon approached and stroked his head affectionately.
“Are you disappointed that you lost?”
“No.”
Mortheon laughed.
“You will have come a long way to defeat this older brother!”
Victor muttered gloomily.
“I wasn’t disappointed.”
“Okay, okay. Don’t be sad. Okay? Your talent is great. So there’s no need to hide it or get upset.”
Mortheon spoke seriously.
“You’re a cool kid, so if you display your talents honestly, everyone will like you. Brag to your heart’s content. And one day, when you are the best knight on the continent…”
Mortheon smiled softly.
“Become the commander of my knights. Please?”
Victor stared at Mortheon silently.
The brown eyes that looked down at him were determined.
Although he was only 20 years old, his older brother was ready to bear the name of the people, the knights, and the family.
And Mortheon was saying that he would reserve a place for Victor beside him. The position of an honorable knight who could protect his brother and his homeland.
Victor’s heart was beating out of his chest as he nodded.
“Yes, I will. I will become my brother’s knight commander.”
Mortheon smiled and ruffled his little brother’s hair.
Victor exhaled a sigh of relief and smiled broadly.
***
From that day on, Victor was devoted to swordsmanship training, without hiding it.
He swung his sword to his heart’s content every day, without paying attention to the knights or vassals.
He was already at a level that the apprentice knights could not compete with, so he openly asked senior knights for matches.
Then strangely, the sense of distance they felt towards Victor disappeared. Knights came to him willingly and taught him, and even learned from him.
“As a swordsman, I am curious what level the young master will reach.”
One of the knights who helped him said such a thing.
He didn’t know exactly what it meant, but it felt good regardless. Because, as he promised his older brother, he had to become the best knight on the continent.
One day, while he was in the midst of training, he met Leonard Odo and Carlz Denion.
‘Met them? In fact, it was too awkward to describe our encounter as a meeting.’
Because they were secretly hiding in Victor’s private training ground.
To be precise, Leonard was forcibly holding back Carlz, who was trying to get away.
“I can’t. The Little Duke trains here…”
“And? It’s so big, does he use it all himself? Is there a separate training ground?”
As far as Victor knew, this training ground was ‘his’. He stepped forward to claim his right.
The two of them, feeling a presence, recognized Victor and stood up.
The blonde boy kneeled perfectly, and greeted him very seriously.
“I greet my master, the Little Duke of Morte. I am Leonard of Odo.”
Victor crossed his arms, not knowing how to react.
First of all, he didn’t know who they were. He mostly trained with senior knights, and only occasionally encountered apprentice knights and trainees. He stiffened for a moment when the blonde boy gave him an overly polite greeting. No one else ever had.
‘Why hasn’t the other guy said hello?’
When he turned his gaze to the other boy, the red-haired kid who had been wiping the dirt off his clothes crookedly bowed his head.
“Hello, I’m Carlz Denion.”
‘He’s different.’
Victor sincerely thought so.
***
The two were, surprisingly, apprentice knights and not trainees.
Considering that Leonard was two years older than Victor and Carlz was the same age as him, they became apprentice knights at a fairly young age. Naturally, they were the youngest, and they said that they could not find a place to train freely without others noticing.
Victor, quite frankly, was intrigued, so he generously agreed to share his training ground.
But he quickly regretted it. The two were louder than expected.
“So I almost died. Who knew it was a salamander?!”
“Would you really die from touching a salamander? The worst it could do is nip your fingers.”
“Hey, do you know how spicy salamanders are? Little Duke, what do you think? Have you ever touched a salamander?”
“No. Shut up and train.”
Victor swung his wooden sword in annoyance.
Immediately, Leonard pointed out Carlz’s rude behavior.
“Your habit of talking doesn’t seem to have gotten better, even after several months.”
“What? And you think you talk in such a lovely way?”
The two ignored Victor and started fighting.
Carlz was the third son of Count Denion, a high lord of a southern province.
He said that while reading an adventure novel, he dreamed of becoming a knight. So, he came to Morte, looking for the famous knight group.
Contrary to his light demeanor, he was quite talented and took his training seriously, but he suffered from a fatal ‘disease’ that prevented him from speaking formally. It was because he grew up spoiled.
On the other hand, Leonard was the second son of Viscount Odo, who had served Morte for generations. He said that he had been training in swordsmanship since he was young, younger than Victor. Growing up in a strict family, he placed great importance on courtesy, unlike Carlz.
But to Victor, the two were the same.
Both were noisy.
Victor shook his head and continued to swing his sword. His wooden sword cut where it needed to without a single deviation.
When his smooth movements finished, he heard applause from behind. Victor turned his head. Carlz gushed, unable to hide his admiration.
“I feel this every time I see you, Little Duke. How can you be so strong? I’ve never seen a swordsman like you.”
“Mortheon is stronger than me.”
“Lord Mortheon is much bigger than you! Competing on an equal footing with him is a big deal.”
Victor didn’t respond.
He felt weird.
Leonard and Carlz were purely admiring his skills. Not wary or reluctant, just proud of a talented friend. There were no other people like them except for Mortheon.
Carlz chuckled.
“You’re going to be a great knight. And I’ll be your right hand. Victor Morte, the great knight general, and Carlz Denion, his vice general.”
“Why do you get to be the right hand? I also want to be his right hand.”
Leonard took everything seriously. He was so serious that it was hard to tell if he was joking or not. He emphasized once more to Victor.
“I’d like to be your right hand, too.”
“Can you stop talking respectfully? It’s awkward because you’re always formal.”
“It’s wrong to talk informally to the Little Duke.”
The two growled at each other again.
Victor was tired of their constant quarreling, so he spoke up.
“I don’t really care.”
“Look! It doesn’t matter!”
Carlz exclaimed triumphantly. Leonard shot him a glare before turning to Victor very seriously.
He answered with great determination.
“I see… I’ll try.”
Victor laughed.
***