Valle

“Are you sure you’re fine, Lord Valle?” asked Princess Nevada.

“Why, of course,” I replied, sipping at my wine. It was always interesting to test the limits of politeness in noble society—Cresna was the least noble of the noble cities, but I had to mingle with higher class nobles than myself all the time due to my duties as both the City Lord’s son and as Champion. One wonderful thing I had noticed was that if you insisted someone was wrong in a polite fashion, no matter how absurd your statement was, they would be unsure how to proceed.

So I stood there, bleeding out of my stomach as one of my wounds reopened, blood dripping all the way to the floor and nearly touching the princess’s feet, politely insisting it was not a problem and sipping at my wine with her. The princess appeared to be pretending my injury didn’t exist to be polite and I appreciated that. If you act like something isn’t real, nobility often pretends to agree with you…lord above, this never gets old. It wasn’t that serious. True, the wound was bad, but compared to the pain I felt duelling Johan…it didn’t even register anymore. Perhaps something unique in me broke during that match. Perhaps the fever was just making me make bad decisions. In any case, I had enough [HP] to withstand this and it seemed important.

“That said, my princess, I must say that running into you here has been quite the surprise.”

It was a surprise in more ways than one.

For one, the princess had been mostly confined to her castle since her father’s unfortunate passing for security reasons. The princess and I were never close acquaintances, though we did briefly meet a few times at social events. My bloodline was hardly noteworthy and my achievements were hardly impressive—most of my wins were coloured as impressive, for someone from Cresna. My [Swordsmanship] was higher than my father’s by nearly twice the amount and this rare anomaly was seen as a point of entertainment for many of my countrymen. Amusing, isn’t it? That Lord Valle of Cresna is that strong despite being born there?

Ah, but they laughed behind my back, I knew. Because I was still weaker than her and they all knew my ambitions to become the best. What would it take to beat her? A [Sword] of absurd power. Would even Godslayer have been enough? Probably not. Proper fencing footwork, however…maybe now I could stand a chance.

I don’t think the princess mocked me—she seemed far too naive and pure to do so—but I doubted she held much respect for me. Now, however, she looked at me as though I were her heroic saviour—and this was the second reason why seeing her had surprised me.

I had no earthly clue why this creature was a prisoner in the ship we took to escape. I was hardly the type of person who screamed in surprise, so instead when I happened to come across her room I merely nodded and greeted her. She was the one who screamed, though I doubt anyone heard her.

It had been a weird day for me since I woke up—Carr has been screaming about making a plan to defeat Johan in the corridor and I heard it all the way from my room. It took me a while to stand up and by the time I did I had no idea where everyone was. I tried to find everyone and instead I found the princess. Champion’s Luck, I suppose. After I talked to her briefly I went to eat with Carr and the others, and now I had returned.

“Are the pirates responsible for your wound, Lord Valle?” Her question was earnest and there was some concern there as well. “Do you need [Restoration]?”

“Probably.” There was an eerie disconnect between my words and my actions. It felt as though I had danced on the edge of death for so long in that duel that merely approaching it hardly registered in my mind now. I should get healed. “Yes, I do, Your Highness.”

“Would you allow me the honor of healing you before we escape?”

Ah…right, she assumes she was captured by some sort of swindling pirate lord. This is going to take some effort to fix. “Absolutely. First, however…you mentioned something earlier about being captured while attempting to purchase this ship?”

“Yes!” Nevada exclaimed. “I…I needed a ship, but that man he—I had no idea, he appeared trustworthy until…”

This interested me more than the ‘kidnapping’ itself. “May I inquire as to why you needed a ship so badly, Your Highness?” It was a rude question to ask someone of higher ranking but if she assumed I was her saviour some measure of decorum could be waived away.

She appeared to hesitate for a moment. “Lord Valle…there are those that seek my death in the castle.”

“Lord Johan?” I asked without thinking.

Nevada’s surprise was palpable—she brought both hands to her mouth in shock. “I…yes. But my lord, no one dares to say as much out loud! Johan is too beloved ever since his victory in the campaign against Inglaterra. To even utter a word against him…he is nearly Emperor already. No one would say anything bad about him aloud!”

“But lots says something quietly. Which is why he wants to get rid of you—the support of the former Emperor’s daughter means a lot.” Of course, Johan could merely grab the throne by force at this point by winning the Battle for the Crown, but it was customary to withdraw your candidacy if you realized you didn’t have enough political support to actually rule the Empire well even if you were to win. It would be hardly surprising if Johan broke tradition there—a commoner named as a possible successor was unusual enough—but he would probably still rather start with as good a political situation as he could.

“I…I did not want to believe Lord Johan would be behind such—such attempts on my life. Yet…I…I could ignore it no longer. My decision was made but I had no allies in court, so I attempted to seek refuge elsewhere.” Yet she did not say where that was. Perhaps the princess wasn’t as naive as I had once thought. “If I used any of the royal vessels I would be easily tracked, I thought, so I thought of purchasing my own private ship and…well…the result is as you see.”

This is annoying. Princess Nevada is being targeted by Johan and we…seem to have kidnapped her? I think? I am not entirely sure where we even are. We are aboard Gilder’s ship? Is he an agent of Johan’s or simply an imbecile? There was a lot to consider.

I took a deep breath and began saying, “Your Highness—” But I wasn’t going to be allowed to finish.

The wall burst open.

The first thing I noticed was the moon shining outside. So it’s night right now? Have I not been asleep for long or has it been a full day? The second thing I noticed was the man bursting through that hole, landing inside the cabin before the shards of wood had even finished landing. He was young, handsome and sported a longsword. His hair was dark and spiky and his grin was maniacal.

My immediate instinct was to put myself between the princess and the attacker. Even if I had resigned myself to give up my title and lands, I was still not enough of a scumbag to let a non-combatant be exposed to danger. The man’s longsword came toward me and I parried it without much effort—the issue came after, when I dropped to my knees and noticed the flow of blood from my stomach. No, it was no longer simply my stomach; numerous wounds around my shoulders had reopened as well.

“Not much of a bodyguard, are you?” The Assassin asked. “You look like you are at death’s door already and I haven’t even done anything.

What? Bodyguard? What is he saying? Isn’t he here on Johan’s orders to finish us off? What…

Suddenly it came to me. Johan likely had sent assassins after us, true. But this assassin had been sent after the princess. What happened to my Champion’s Luck? This was the opposite of that! No…it’s good. It’s giving me the chance to protect an innocent life. I aimed my sword at the assassin and my knees felt unsteady.

“LORD VALLE!” The princess’s voice snapped me back to reality. It was all well and good to dream of heroics, but it was difficult to even stand right now. I should have accepted her offer of [Restoration] earlier. Are you serious? I managed to land two hits on Johan and I will die to this clown?

[Nameless the Assassin]

[Level]: 15

[Swordsmanship]: 12

[Sword]: 690

[HP]: 19

[Skills]:

「He Who Whispers」]: 1002

[Poison]: 910

[Forgery]: 902

[Hidden Blades]: 302

[Autopsy]: 404

[Stealth]: 302

[Investigation]: 192

[Blessings]:

Johan’s Favour

[Curses]:

Johan’s Favour

[Equipment]:

Federschwert

“This is what Johan sends to take care of us? Or the princess? Are really not worth more—” I couldn’t even finish the start of my theatrics before falling to my knees and having to stab the wood underneath to not fall over completely. He’s absolute garbage…but I can’t even stand up right now. I haven’t healed yet from my last duel. What do I do? That said, even if I were healthy, I would be concerned about that…a legendary skill. What did it even do?

No. I have to rethink my approach…why would Johan send someone so weak to fight all of us? He couldn’t defeat any of us. Even Celle could probably take him on and she isn’t a fighter. Even before that…his [Swordsmanship] is really low. How did he create that hole in the wall? Is there more than one of them here? No…is it that skill? Or just his [Sword]? Think…think…

“Lord Valle!” Cried the princess. “Are you well?”

Why hadn’t she run yet? Oh…she thought she was kidnapped by pirates. Right. How could I tell her it was safe to run away in as few words as possible?

The Assassin’s longsword came at me again and I parried it in quarte—I had watched Carr’s duel against the Executioner. Parrying had come awkwardly for Carr, but he used a much smaller blade and was much weaker than me, physically. That was the theory, anyhow.

The reality was that I was injured enough that I ended up less parrying the attack so much as putting up my blade as a clumsy defence before his sword smashed against me and sent me tumbling toward the wall. I had lost too much blood already and he hadn’t even hit me once. This was it. “RUN!” I shouted at the princess. She did not move. Lord Above, give me strength… My prayer went unanswered by him and the Assassin neared me.

“It is not how I would have thought I would end the Champion of Cresna…but in my line of work, we don’t complain about good fortune.” He lifted his blade. “Sorry, no time for last words. Have a lot to do after I’m done with you.”

I did not close my eyes as he brought his blade down on me and that was a good thing. Had I decided not to witness my own death, I would have missed the sight of Carr jumping over me—no, lungingover me, taking the longsword in a sixte bind and hitting the assassin in the face.

Strangely, this attack didn’t cost the Assassin any [HP].

“You saved me from Johan…and I didn’t thank you yet.” Carr stood between me and the Assassin now and didn’t turn his head to speak to me. He did, however, raise two fingers with his crippled left hand and point sideways in a gesture that seemed to scream leave it to me. He took two steps forward. “Thank you, Valle. You’re a great rival and a better friend. I can’t pay you back for the shit you did to Johan, but let this be a beginning.” He pointed his épée at the Assassin and I suddenly realized the issue—that wasn’t his regular sword.

It was his old sword, the one he had used to duel me. It wasn’t sharp at all!

“Carr, that’s—”

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” he said. Something about his attitude seemed more serious than usual. “I’m in a really pissed off mood because I lost to Johan, so I really want to take out my anger on someone and this fucker with the longsword will do.”

Carr

I feel like I reverted a little bit to what I was like when I got here. The smart thing to do would have been to let Isabella or Fedal handle the fucker with the longsword—probably Fedal, he was the least injured. I didn’t have enough weapons and I was collecting injuries like they were trading cards. Engaging in any more duels than I had to was absolutely pointless and out of the question. I should save my strength for that team bout coming up soon.

Was this how Earth’s Champion was supposed to live in this stupid fucking Swordland? In constant fear of injuries? Damn it all to hell. If I die, that’s that. If I can’t fence again, that’s that. But if I walk away from a fight—that’s on me. I was pissed. I had lost to Johan and I needed to prove to myself I could still handle a fight. Besides, I was having a lovely time reading a book with Celle until this imbecile caused all of this. “Hey, longsword fucker. Valle had a long fucking day. Duel me instead.”

“And who are you?” The Longswordsman replied. He squinted at me, probably looking at my stupid fucking numbers, and gasped out loud. “Oh? OH MAN!” The spiky haired man threw his head back and laughed. “You’re the Swordsman of Zero! I can’t believe my luck!”

“Is that seriously my title?” I asked. I actually really liked how it sounded but I felt like I had to protest it out loud.

He grinned maniacally at me. “Do you know how much Lord Johan talks about you? You’re his earth and heaven. He needs you as his practice partner. Oh man…if I bring you back, he’s going to give me a fucking castle!”

Something about that didn’t add up. “Do you always board someone’s ship then act surprised that they are there?”

He went on as if he didn’t hear me, speaking excitedly as if making a scientific discovery. “If I kill you…then Lord Johan will surely reward me! He’ll give me the best weapons, the best missions…I won’t ever have to work again! Maybe I’ll finally convince him that I’m the best training partner for him!”

Sorry, fuckface. Johan won’t accept anyone but me…for better or worse. He certainly won’t accept some loser like you. “Less talking, more fencing.”

“As you wish, Swordsman of Zero.”

I got into my traditional fencing stance and pointed my épée at him. It was hard not to smile. True, it was nowhere near as strong as the sword Gilder had made me. But there was not a single sword in this world that would ever feel as comfortable in my hand as my trusty Vniti. True, I couldn’t stab him normally…but I could still stick it through his eye like a metal pole.

My thoughts were interrupted when I saw his stance. I had expected something lazy or incomplete, like Valder the Executioner had used against me. But when the Longswordsman fell in his stance I felt a chill go down my spine. Even though I wasn’t overly familiar with longsword, the sheer precision with which he fell in his stance reawakened memories in me of watching coaches demonstrate the form. Longsword stances aren’t always entirely strict—they vary with the movement. Yet you can still spot a master from a student from the way they apply the form. The way he stood left me no doubt.

This man is a master.

He stood, feet somewhat parallel to each other, one drawn slightly back and sword held low, tip aimed high. Posta Breve, the Short Position. One of Fiore’s longsword forms. I wasn’t a longsword specialist by any means. I was an épée fencer at heart, HEMA was only a hobby of mine. Yet you still pay some attention to your hobbies and when seeing a perfect recreation of it you are bound to remember that which you hardly think about.

If he’s a master long-swordsman and I only have my blade from home…this will be more than tough. I barely beat Valder and that was with a sharp blade. This could be problematic.

“What’s the matter? Afraid?” Asked the Longswordsman. “Well, if you won’t come to me—“ He dashed forward.

My instinct as a fencer was to dash backwards, with my arm extended. It doesn’t matter how strong he is, if the distance isn’t right, he’s gonna miss.

And to my surprise, miss he did. He was too slow. Slower than anyone else I had faced in this world so far. I was no sabre judge but that had been a simple exchange. Attaque non. Attack, no. His move had failed to reach me. Without a doubt, this man was slower than a trained athlete back on Earth. His small numbers seemed to agree with that but then, what was that perfect posture from earlier? How could someone achieve such perfection and not be physically fit?

It didn’t matter.

I threw down my sword.

“Oh? What’s the matter? Decided to surrender your life to me? Very well, I accept!”

“CARR ARE YOU CRAZY?” Valle shouted.

“It’s fine.” I was pretty confident too. With my épée I would have to aim for a strike through his eyes. This wasn’t something I wanted to risk against a beginner. And this is what this man was like, in spite of his godlike form. Beginners are unpredictable. Even Cassius had been at least predictable enough that I could plan how to attack him. I feared I would be unable to do the same against this man.

This move I planned on executing wasn’t something I would have done against anyone strong, like the Executioner. But against this man it was the safest option. If my left arm was still usable I would just use that instead, but now I had no choice but to drop my sword. Then, with my now free right hand extended, I used my index finger to beckon him at me. Hand gestures have different meanings across different cultures but I knew this one was pretty universal—bring it, coward.

The longswords-man ran up and thrusted his sword at me. At this speed…this isn’t even something you can call an attack! It was a sign of madness that this felt like a safe option for me, but I stepped in and caught his blade with my hand and squeezed it. I would have lost my hand if I had tried to stop the attack. Instead, I grabbed it before his attack had initiated it. I was confident in my speed compared to his. It hurts...but not as much as Valder’s sword did. This man didn’t have the same strength, the same pressure, and as such I didn’t feel as much pain. It was barely a scratch and I had bled more due to paper. With his sword trapped in my hand, it was time to follow the textbook—or as much as I could one-handed.

Still holding on to this sword, I stepped in and kicked him in the chest. At the same time, I lowered his blade and pulled it. It was an ugly disarm. I am not even a HEMA fencer and I felt ashamed of that one—but again, I was one-armed, what else could I do? And it was enough. The man stumbled backwards, swordless. I grinned and pointed his own sword at him—now held at the handle, rather than the blade itself.

“That’s game,” I told him.

I expected the man to panic, curse or run. He did none of those. There was a thunderous sound that only a second later I realized to be his laughter, followed by an eerie light coming from the ground. A hole appeared to form there and a sword flew upwards from it into his hand—another longsword. “We’re not done yet, Swordsman of Zero! Not by a longshot, oh no…now we begin.”

“So you got yourself another sword. Big deal.” I pointed at him with the longsword. “This isn’t my weapon of choice, but now that I have something sharp this next exchange is going to end with me fucking stabbing you to death, you lunatic.”

“Oh? Is it now?” His voice was amused. “Ah, I thought I was in trouble at first when you showed up…but you’ve fulfilled my activation requirement, Swordsman of Zero. It must be my lucky day.”

I heard a shifting sound behind me followed by Valle screaming, “CARR! WATCH OUT!”

The man slapped his fingertips together, sword handle between them. Whatever he planned on doing my instinct knew better—I retreated back and bent my knees ready to escape. I knew it in my very soul, something bad was going to happen. Behind the long-swordsman, the moon shone bright, illuminating his new sword, reflecting the night at me. For a long second there was no sound other than the gentle ocean waves outside. Then he thundered—

“[LEGENDARY SKILL] —「He Who Whispers」!”