Chapter 44 : I Will Become a Knight
Chapter 44: I Will Become a Knight
Robin hurriedly pulled a dagger from his chest and swung it.
“Where are you looking? That’s just my afterimage.”
Calimacos moved quickly, but not enough to leave an afterimage.
In other words, he was taunting him.
Calimacos had a talent for provoking his opponent.
‘Is this part of his plan too?’
Robin tried his best not to fall for the provocation.
Annoying attitude aside, Calimacos had barely moved his feet, yet he was already outside Robin’s range of attack.
‘That’s the Captain’s movement.’
It wasn’t so fast that Robin couldn’t follow with his accelerated thought process.
But it was still impossible for him to imitate.
There was an unbridgeable gap between an adult’s body and a child’s.
Even if they took the same step, their strides were different—putting Robin at a disadvantage.
“Are you going to stand there all day? Or are you going to show me something?”
Calimacos cracked his neck as he provoked him.
Robin gripped the daggers in both hands.
“You’ve already seen everything anyway. You must’ve heard from Paul, so I’ll show you something new.”
The dagger held in reverse grip in his left hand, and the dagger held in standard grip in his right hand—this stance was one he had never shown anyone.
Because this was the first time.
Calimacos’s playful attack just now had made him realize his limits.
Right now, even if he were to die and be reborn, Robin couldn’t defeat Calimacos.
So what should he do?
‘There’s no choice but to try something new.’
The mural he saw in the cave known as the Mercenary King’s tomb.
The mural depicted a person’s movements in a vague, ambiguous way.
It left room for interpretation—and from it, Robin had realized something.
‘That swordsmanship isn’t fixed. It can be adapted depending on the situation.’
He didn’t know who created that swordsmanship or what their intention was, but Robin had accepted it that way.
With blades in both hands, he could unleash ferocious attacks or defend like an iron fortress.
He could create countless variations.
“Looks like you’ve seen something somewhere.”
“Huff!”
Robin’s body leapt forward.
In an instant, he closed the distance to where Calimacos stood, and the dagger in his right hand clashed against his opponent’s sword.
‘Of course he blocked it.’
He immediately lifted his left hand.
Held in reverse grip, the dagger’s hilt—not the blade—aimed for Calimacos.
Tang.
Calimacos’s longsword blocked his left hand.
He had forced down Robin’s right hand with sheer strength.
Alber.
The stance Calimacos practiced every day—the low guard.
Followed by an upward slash—Langort.
‘That’s a knight’s swordsmanship.’
He had read the first part of the book Mirian gave him.
The stances illustrated in the swordsmanship manual were now unfolding before his eyes.
‘It’s similar to Paul’s stance too.’
Next came Pflug, the middle guard.
A stance that formed the foundation of seamless offense and defense.
Robin, still a child with short arms, had no room to slip inside while holding daggers.
His spar with Paul flashed through his mind.
The only advantage Robin could claim now was speed.
He swept his dagger-wielding arms widely through the air.
“Paul told me about you, but seeing it in person is something else. What kind of talent are you made of?”
Calimacos raised his sword high.
Vom Tag.
In that same posture, he jumped and brought his sword down toward Robin.
“Tch.”
“There are a few problems with that technique. What will you do if your opponent attacks before you can build momentum?”
Robin swung his daggers again, but Calimacos didn’t let him.
He had picked the wrong opponent.
Calimacos couldn’t be defeated with a technique that relied on explosive speed.
As he said, he kept attacking before Robin could gain any acceleration.
His strikes weren’t simple swings—they subtly disrupted Robin’s movements.
Swinging his longsword this way and that as he approached, Calimacos’s attacks weren’t necessarily faster than Robin’s daggers.
‘Even so, the reason I’m being overwhelmed isn’t just the difference in physical strength. The Captain is reading me.’
Even when Robin attacked off-beat or moved differently than usual, it didn’t work.
Calimacos pressured him like a hyena stalking its prey.
Blocking was the best Robin could do.
Swish.
With the sound of air being sliced, darkness flashed before Robin’s eyes.
‘Huh?’
For a brief moment, it felt as though the world had gone out.
When he came to, Calimacos’s sword was touching his neck.
“I lost.”
“Of course.”
Calimacos twirled his sword a few times with one hand before sheathing it, wearing a smug expression.
Robin sank to the ground, closed his eyes, and replayed the spar in his head.
The knight’s swordsmanship was flawless.
A style that pursued unity of offense and defense—one sword was more than enough.
‘I don’t know how Calimacos and Paul know the knight’s swordsmanship, but… ah.’
Robin cautiously opened his mouth.
“Captain, were you and Paul aspiring knights?”
“You’re only realizing that now?”
Calimacos had even defeated the knight Robin had set as his goal.
Hearing that he was once an aspiring knight made Robin’s heart race a little.
“The stances you and Paul practice every day—those are knight techniques, right?”
“Yeah. That’s the swordsmanship of the knight you want to become. You enjoyed watching us secretly, didn’t you?”
“Uh… you knew?”
“Boys your age always dream of becoming knights at least once. But you don’t seem like the type to stop at dreaming.”
That was unexpected.
Other than Mirian, he had never told anyone about his goal of becoming a knight.
There had to be a reason why he hadn’t told Calimacos.
‘It’s not like I’ll find the answer by thinking about it alone. Might as well just ask.’
“I’m going to become a knight.”
“I know.”
“That’s it?”
“What kind of reaction are you expecting from me?”
‘He doesn’t seem fazed at all.’
“Did Mirian tell you?”
Robin gave a small nod.
“Mirian’s always been sensitive about that sort of thing. Not that there’s any need to be.”
“Why’s that? You were being petty toward Sir Greg when we came out of the forest too. Do you have something against knights?”
“You’re curious, huh. I’ll tell you when you beat me.”
Robin tightened his grip on his daggers and lunged at Calimacos again.
Calimacos, as always, stayed composed.
He charged at Calimacos until the sun went down—but it was all in vain.
“Huff… huff…”
“You’ve been coming at me all day, so rest tomorrow. I’ve got things to do too.”
Calimacos sat down beside him.
Robin sprawled flat on his back, staring up at the sky as he spoke.
“Then tell me this—what’s the Mercenary King?”
“Well, should I tell you or not.”
“Come on, just tell me.”
Calimacos poured water over Robin’s head.
It felt refreshing.
The sweat and dust were washed away, and his vision became clear.
“About twenty or thirty years ago. He was a mercenary who made quite a name for himself. He won every war he joined, unmatched among mercenaries, so people started calling him the Mercenary King.”
“Wow.”
Robin, being a ten-year-old boy, loved stories like this.
It reminded him of the tales Jeremy used to tell.
“Maybe about ten years after the Mercenary King disappeared, rumors started spreading that someone had found his tomb. They said the tomb was piled high with all the wealth he had accumulated.”
“That cave we saw in Stonegoth—is that supposed to be the Mercenary King’s tomb?”
“I can’t be certain, but that’s what I believe.”
“Wow! Then that’s an incredible discovery!”
Robin’s eyes sparkled as he looked at Calimacos.
Calimacos continued, his lips curving slightly downward.
“Was that cave full of treasure?”
“No.”
“Right. When I went there, I couldn’t find any treasure either. What I saw were unknown writings and drawings.”
The cave that Calimacos and Robin had discovered was different from the rumors.
There was no treasure.
Which meant either someone had gotten there first and taken everything, or it wasn’t truly the Mercenary King’s tomb—or perhaps they had simply been mistaken.
Robin’s eyes dimmed.
“Still, I found what I was looking for there.”
“You mean swordsmanship?”
“Yeah. I was never interested in treasure to begin with. It would’ve been nice to find some, but more than that—I wanted strength.”
Calimacos snatched both of Robin’s daggers.
“Watch closely.”
Calimacos’s arms began to move slowly.
Tracing curves in the air, his movements differed from Robin’s interpretation.
His arms began softly, almost like a dance, but his legs moved with weight and power in contrast.
Amidst the graceful movements of what looked like a sword dance, destructive strikes were hidden.
‘I see why it’s different. The Captain’s movements assume holding a longsword in each hand.’
Robin, who still lacked the strength to wield two longswords, couldn’t think like Calimacos yet.
‘The Captain’s swordsmanship is closer to completion.’
Calimacos’s sword dance ended with his arms crossing, then spreading open again.
That part, at least, was the same as Robin’s.
“Amazing.”
Robin clapped, full of admiration.
He had gained a clue by watching Calimacos.
In the end, what Robin needed most was physical growth.
“You’ll probably develop a swordsmanship beyond mine someday. Do you know why I showed you this?”
“To learn from it, right?”
“Well, that’s a big part of it, yeah. Haa… what am I supposed to do with this kid.”
Calimacos pressed down on Robin’s head firmly, shaking his own.
“It’s not often you get to watch someone else’s swordsmanship. And if you’re caught spying on a knight’s techniques, you could end up in serious trouble.”
Robin blinked his eyes wide.
Until now, traveling with the mercenary band, he had observed their training freely—they never tried to hide it.
“We never told you directly, but all of us had to admit it. Robin, your talent is frightening. I confirmed it during your duel with Felix.”
“So you’re saying my talent is so great that you’re fine with teaching me swordsmanship?”
“Exactly. Whether we show you or not, you’ll grow immensely on your own anyway. We figured there’s no point hiding it.”
‘Am I really that good?’
“Besides, if you grow stronger while watching us, that’s a good thing. When your name spreads someday, we can say we played a part in it.”
In Calimacos’s eyes, there was pride, envy, concern, and a touch of regret.
“Captain, you’re already strong—so why do you still want to be stronger?”
“I’m not strong. I want to become strong because I’m weak.”
“What do you mean? You even beat a knight.”
“I feel bad for Sir Greg, but knights of his level are everywhere. I’m aiming higher than that.”
“Higher than that? Is it even possible to be stronger than a knight?”
“Of course.”
Robin poked at Calimacos’s side, curious what that meant.
“Today’s training is over. What are you supposed to do if you’re curious about something?”
“You told me to beat you.”
“Exactly. The winner decides everything.”
Calimacos threw Robin’s longsword and daggers toward a nearby shack.
Since Robin, under the Baron’s care, wasn’t allowed to carry personal weapons, he worried that someone might steal them if left like that.
“If your weapons go missing, I’ll buy you new ones. Don’t worry.”
“You’re awfully carefree, Captain.”
Calimacos tucked Robin under his arm and carried him all the way to Baron Tefir’s mansion.
The rightful heir of the Tefir Baron household.
Imelda, with her twin braids fluttering, dashed across the Knights’ Training Yard.
Her personal attendant, Jessie, watched nervously, afraid the lively girl might trip.
“Jessie! Robin oppa—no, Robin! Is he here yet?”
“I’ve told you many times, Miss, Robin—”
Jessie changed her wording mid-sentence.
“My lady. He’s coming.”
Imelda stopped at the center of the training yard and ran toward the entrance.
“Jessie? I heard no one uses this place at this hour. Are you here to train too?”
Robin had come to the training yard before ending his day, hoping to review his spar with Calimacos.
Sparring and solo practice were different.
He had expected the yard to be empty, so finding someone here was unexpected.
“Robin!”
Imelda came running straight toward him.
Though he hadn’t been fully trained as a servant, Robin quickly bowed his head politely.
Imelda was now someone he was supposed to serve.
“Good evening, my lady. What brings you here at this hour?”
“I was waiting to train with you!”
At Imelda’s open and honest answer, Jessie frowned slightly.
Robin didn’t notice the change.
“I didn’t know you liked to exercise, my lady. Shall we run together, then?”
“Mm-hm!”
Robin started running around the yard without warming up.
Imelda ran beside him but soon began to lag behind.
When she stopped and sat down, Robin came over.
“Are you all right?”
“Huff… I’m fine. Robin, you’re really fast.”
As Imelda caught her breath, Jessie brought her a bottle of cool water.
‘A personal attendant has to anticipate their master’s needs before they even ask.’
Robin made a mental note to bring water himself next time and waited while Imelda drank.
‘Looks like I won’t be practicing swordsmanship today.’
That was fine, though.
Imelda had been busy all afternoon, leaving no time for them to talk—this was a good opportunity.
As he organized the questions he wanted to ask to learn more about his superior, an unexpected question came instead.
“Robin, when did you start learning swordsmanship?”
Imelda looked up at him with innocent curiosity.
“Pardon? Swordsmanship?”
Robin immediately feigned ignorance, but Imelda was relentless.
“You’re a swordsman, Robin! I saw you!”
Robin had been told many times to keep his swordsmanship talent hidden.
But now, only a day after starting work at the mansion, he was about to be found out.
Should he deny it—or admit it?
Robin’s mind raced furiously.