Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Reincarnation was like having faded memories of a distant past since consciousness awakened at a very young age.

Gaining a new life and having new experiences, past memories become fainter and more distant. Sticky smell of iron, burnt smell, and such things are replaced by fragrant ones.

My mother smiling seeing me do absurd things, running and playing with brothers in the forest, the fresh touch of wearing new shoes, promises kept with friends, special snacks on special days.

And when my father, usually blunt, hugged me in surprise.

Starlight-like things gathered piece by piece to fill the empty inside one by one. Every day, opening my eyes in the morning, I would look forward to what would happen today.

How to express these things. No suitable word comes to mind. Just this thought occurred. I owe a great debt. Childhood memories that cannot be obtained with any effort, let alone money.

Having the nickname Ricky, should I call it coincidental? Rickart despised destiny but thought it wasn't bad.

"How is your body now?"

Abelich asked while wiping his hands stained with meat grease with a towel. Then Graut and his wife, and Vilter looked at Rickart at the dining table.

His hand, where even muscles were torn from gripping the spear shaft so hard, had the bandages removed. A month had passed since that incident.

Rickart covered his mouth because of food and answered.

"I'm fine. Same then and now. Don't worry."

"......"

Silence flowed as Rickart answered nonchalantly.

When people witness a shocking sight, they initially find it hard to accept, but eventually find a reason to accept it.

The reason people found was believing it was heavenly luck. Luck upon luck overlapping. Otherwise, how could a ten-year-old catch that big boar in one shot?

Still, facing a charging boar without freezing or running away meant he was born with extraordinary temperament.

The gaze looking at Rickart changed. The attitude treating him also changed subtly. He felt it himself too.

"Would you like to try learning swordsmanship?"

"......I don't know well."

Rickart answered as if he had no confidence.

Not avoiding a charging boar but fearing holding a sword? The family thought, surely he's still a kid.

But it wasn't for another reason; Rickart simply felt reluctant to hold again the sword he had wielded tirelessly in his past life.

"Hard to understand. When I got to learn swordsmanship at your age, I was very excited."

Vilter said.

As boys usually are, if told they would be taught sword, they tend to like it thinking it's cool.

But realizing they have no talent and continuing boring practice, they soon lose interest.

Still, one should be happy when first learning; Vilter thought his brother was definitely a bit strange.

Graut spoke admonishingly seeing the somewhat intimidated Rickart.

"A man must do even things he doesn't feel like doing. Especially mastering swordsmanship should not be neglected throughout life. You can't just not do it because you don't want to."

Learning sword was a basic refinement for a noble besides training martial arts. Even if not achieving enormous success, one had to learn the basics.

But Rickart didn't answer even at the words of his eldest brother eight years older. A brief silence flowed.

"Answer."

"......Okay."

Rickart answered reluctantly.

Whether Vilter was hitting puberty or just arguing with the eldest brother lately, in fact, Graut was intentionally keeping his distance from his younger brothers.

Since when? Probably since receiving successor lessons in earnest after marriage. Rickart clearly felt such a change too.

When young, just running in the fields with the eldest brother made laughter burst out. He used to stand me up and dust off my clothes when I fell. He even gave me piggyback rides when returning home at sunset after playing outside.

Now was the age to say goodbye to such things. Sadness and happiness are not forever, Rickart realized.

After the meal, Rickart left the mansion. He wore a thick gambeson like his brothers wore at his age, mittens, and held a blunt practice sword.

Since there wasn't a separate training ground, he just took a kind of first lesson in the courtyard, and naturally, the gazes of stable keepers or hound keepers gathered.

Father and Vilter watched from a distance, and Graut spun his wrist holding a practice sword and said.

"Proper power comes from proper posture. It might be awkward at first, but through constant practice, you must be able to do it like breathing in any situation. Ultimately, you must handle the sword like a limb. Simple, but not easy."

Graut swung the practice sword hard into the air finishing his words. A threatening whoosh sound was heard, and his body not swaying from his own force looked disciplined.

Rickart just stood blankly holding the sword with two hands resting it on his shoulder.

"Stand spreading your legs like this. Left foot is the axis. Center of gravity slightly forward. Left foot. Yes. When moving forward in this state, take a big step with the right foot, and when moving sideways, like this. Footwork is important. If feet are messy, you can't produce power properly."

Graut taught the youngest really basic things. But he didn't teach carelessly; he taught properly with care in his own way.

Rickart did everything his brother told him to. However, for Rickart with memories of a past life, excessively basic things rather restricted his skills.

Actually, it didn't matter. It wasn't wrong.

"Do it with the feeling of pushing rather than swinging. Like this. If you do this, you can attack simultaneously with defense. In real combat, you pull and slice with all your might. There are various variations, but let's just do this much today. Try just what I taught you first."

Rickart did as his brother ordered. Spread legs front and back, bend knees slightly, put center of gravity more forward, take a big step forward with the rear foot and thrust the sword.

Once, twice, three times, four times......

The sword cut the air making whooshing sounds, and the onlookers felt a little incongruity. Because even though he was learning the sword for the first time today, there was no awkwardness peculiar to beginners at all. Beginners tend to sway their bodies unable to overcome their own force.

It wasn't just posture. There was discipline in it. Not just copying the outside seeing what the eldest brother did, but penetrating the essence and making it his own.

Certainly, extraordinary. To an unbelievable extent. Isn't this a genius rather than just having talent at this level?

Perhaps because of that, Abelich looking at his youngest son felt complicated. He felt very proud and anxious at the same time.

Being excessively talented wasn't just good. If that could be a threat to the future he envisioned.

"Graut, spar with him."

Abelich watching from a distance said.

Graut looked back at his father. What Graut understood from his father's words meant education harshly.

Rickart also stopped swinging the sword into the air as he heard what his father said. His body was just an ordinary child, so he was a little out of breath.

Graut looked at his brother. Hesitation dwelt in the eyes looking at his brother.

Rickart stared silently at his brother's gaze, then lowered his head deeply.

Graut looked at his young brother, steeled his heart, and said.

"What I taught you just now? Try it on me. You'd better fold the thought that I might get hurt."

But Rickart just stood still with his head down without answering.

After a brief silence, he said.

"......No."

"What?"

"I said no. I don't want to."

It was the first time. For the docile and obedient Rickart to resist.

Graut looked back at his father. The middle-aged man with a blunt expression was staring intently this way. So he looked at Rickart again and said.

"Are you rebelling like Billy too?"

"That's not it......"

Graut poked Rickart's chest with the blunt practice sword. Then Rickart hesitantly backed away.

"Then what are these words and actions? I clearly told you to swing the sword as I taught. Do it quickly."

"......No."

"You!"

Graut struck his brother's upper arm hard. Even wearing a thick gambeson, it couldn't not hurt.

"Ouch!"

Rickart squeezed his eyes shut, shrank his shoulders, and trembled in pain.

"I say it one more time. Swing the sword."

"No."

"You are taking me lightly."

Graut struck the other arm this time. A thud was heard, and he hit not once but successively. Thighs, shoulders, hit evenly.

Thud. Thwack. Thud. Thud......

Even so, Rickart just took the hits shrinking his body holding the sword tight with two hands. Eyes squeezed shut, face distorted in pain.

Observers watched with calm expressions, not knowing how they felt inside. They knew that no matter how noble, or rather because they were nobles, sometimes they were stricter.

Refusing an order from an elder of the household, especially the head, was impossible.

"I'll give you a last chance. Swing the sword. If you don't listen this time, I'll strike your head."

Even if it was a practice sword, since it was made of metal, hitting the head could cause serious injury.

"No. I won't."

Rickart said firmly. Then Graut's hand holding the sword trembled. Having said the words, he had to hit the head, but that felt like something he couldn't do.

So he looked back at his father pleadingly. Vilter was fidgeting next to him.

Despairingly, Abelich nodded. It was permission to hit the head. No, it was an order.

Graut turned back to his brother and spoke small so others wouldn't hear.

"Just swing once. Please. I don't want to do this either."

"Because I know that, I can't."

"What do you mean?"

"......"

Graut couldn't understand why he was doing this to this extent. It was the first time hitting his brother like this, and the first time Rickart resisted.

The reason Rickart didn't swing his sword at his eldest brother was that the swordsmanship he knew wasn't for sparring. It was a sword tempered only by blood on a desperate battlefield.

Knowing that only pure killing intent was contained at the sword tip, Rickart couldn't point it at his eldest brother.

Even if the relationship had estranged lately, he couldn't cut past memories and his brother's affectionate heart towards him with a sword. That was much worse than hurting himself.

And he didn't know how to pretend roughly and swing clumsily to lose on purpose. So doing nothing was the only way.

However, from the onlookers' perspective, it looked like Rickart was rebelling uselessly. A docile and obedient kid, did he learn from observing Billy?

At Rickart's resistance, Graut began to be visibly flustered. Since Father's order fell, no matter how small, he had to do it unconditionally.

Why on earth on the first day of sword class. Should I hit controlling strength? Or hit the shoulder blade pretending to hit the head? Would it be seen from Father's direction?

Graut had various thoughts. Then he reached the thought that hitting the head wasn't right.

So he held the sword and struck Rickart's shoulder blade hard. Looking from the side or back, it looked exactly like hitting the head.

Thwack!

"Ugh!"

Thud.

Rickart, who had been taking hits standing until now, finally collapsed. He tried to raise his body but strength didn't enter his body easily.

Graut's eyes looking at the fallen brother shook wildly. At this point, he didn't know what to do either and kept looking between Father and brother alternately. Graut was not yet at a mature age either.

Then Abelich strode over. Looking down at the fallen Rickart, he said indifferently.

"Stand up. Swing the sword."

At the stern father's order, the fallen Rickart only trembled like a bird in rain.

Then, he opened his eyes which had been squeezed shut. Rickart looked up at his father, clenched his molars tight and said.

"I won't. I won't even if I die."

It wasn't just words. His unique hazel eyes blazed as if burning.

The gaze was so intense that Abelich momentarily felt a chill on his nape. It felt like coolness swept down his spine making his fine hairs stand.

Silence flowed for quite a long time. Graut lowered his head deeply with the sword dangling, perhaps ashamed to face Father and sorry to his brother.

Rickart lowered his head again and shed tears. Black dots dripped on the dry ground.

Abelich felt an unknown feeling. But without showing it, he said bluntly as always.

"......Class is up to here."

Then Vilter hurriedly approached, helped Rickart up, supported him and took him to the room.

Rickart's whole body ached and hurt so much that even lying on the bed was difficult.

"Are you a fool......"

Out of pity, Vilter scolded for no reason. Rickart just smiled meaningfully without saying anything lying on the bed.

A while later, a knock was heard and someone entered. It was Sister-in-law. She had brought ointment and bandages herself with her pregnant body.

She must have seen what happened through the window. As Vilter tactfully left, Sister-in-law said.

"I'll apply medicine."

Rickart endured pain and raised his upper body. Then took off his upper garment and lowered his pants.

Dark blue bruises already appeared on both arms and outer thighs, and the shoulder blade was a mixture of red and blue, almost black.

Shocked seeing that, Sister-in-law's hand trembled slightly while applying ointment.

She came to say that Graut didn't do it on purpose, couldn't help it, don't resent him too much, but words wouldn't come out.

But from the trembling touch, Rickart could sufficiently feel that complicated and sorry heart.

"It's okay. I'm used to pain. Rather, it's closer to an old friend."

"......Pardon?"

"I think I'm already enjoying undeserved happiness. Even if it's something like a mirage as someone said. Rather, I'm worried that Eldest Brother might feel bad. Even if he pretends not to be on the outside, he's still tender. So please tell Eldest Brother. That I understand everything, that my heart isn't hurt, and that I still love Brother."

At Rickart's words, Sister-in-law's hand applying ointment stopped. Her eyes widened as if she couldn't immediately understand what she just heard.

There's a limit to being mature; she never imagined Rickart would say such things or have such deep thoughts.

Sister-in-law was dumbfounded just blinking her eyes, and Rickart smiled brightly enduring pain with his aching body.