Chapter 20
The Rodus Training Center was bustling from early morning.
Standing beside the window of his private room, Riyan stared outside.
Fighters had gathered to condition their bodies and practice, clashing wooden swords against one another.
Watching them, Riyan tilted his head.
A Champion...
That had been Aries's request.
He wanted to live.
And so, he wanted Riyan to make him a Champion.
He was probably desperate for freedom.
Once he became a Champion, he would be able to become a knight and leave the Arena.
Aries understood that his life could end at any moment.
Of course, it was an unreasonable request.
Simply introducing Riyan to a noble was hardly worth the effort required to raise someone into a Champion.
However, Aries's subsequent explanation had been quite persuasive.
"Being born in a province is a considerable disadvantage in the Imperial Capital, where everyone loves dividing people according to their status. Riyan, finding her on your own would be extremely difficult. She would never say a word about her origins."
"How did you find out?"
"Well, you know how some people reveal absolutely everything when they fall in love because they want someone to comfort them?"
In other words, a woman who had fallen deeply in love with Aries had confessed that she was originally from a province.
Riyan scratched his chin.
How could he find that woman on his own without accepting Aries's proposal?
He could start by using the same method Aries had used to gather information.
...No.
Wandering from one noble bedroom to another would take too much time.
It could also create unnecessary enemies.
After all, it was already clear that the Empire didn't look favorably upon Aries's behavior.
What about following the people Aries regularly met?
There were far too many.
How would Riyan even begin?
Hiring people with gold coins would also be difficult.
They wouldn't be following ordinary citizens.
They would be investigating nobles.
Few people would willingly accept a job that could cost them their lives.
Should I capture Aries and torture the information out of him?
That option was rejected as well.
Aries was the goose that laid golden eggs for the Verso Training Center.
How would Riyan abduct him?
And what would happen if the kidnapping were discovered?
The answer is obvious.
He would make Aries a Champion.
Aries had shown tremendous interest in Riyan because he'd defeated Yavrik.
He probably believed Riyan was someone who would become a Champion before long.
And he seemed to think that learning from someone like that would allow him to recognize his own weaknesses and improve his abilities.
Can I really do it?
Teaching someone...
In his previous life, Riyan had occasionally examined the swordsmanship of other knights and companions.
But the differences in their social standing had prevented him from taking a particularly active role in teaching them.
Aries, on the other hand, was a fighter.
I should be able to work him as hard as I like.
It didn't seem likely that Aries would take offense over something like that.
He had struck Riyan as a fairly thoughtful man.
The fact that I can do it without drawing suspicion from the people watching me is another advantage.
Simply spending time with the Rose Fighter would be interpreted as an attempt to obtain sponsorship.
There was little reason for concern.
But the situation would be different if they were training in swordsmanship rather than pursuing pleasure.
They needed somewhere that wouldn't attract the watchers' attention.
They also needed a plausible excuse that would allow Riyan to bring Aries there without raising suspicion.
After organizing his thoughts, Riyan closed the window and left his private room.
Berka was working in his office when Riyan suddenly appeared.
He looked surprised, but he was happy to welcome him inside.
"What's the matter, Riyan? You don't have to come and report everything until your injuries have completely healed. You can rest in your room."
"There's something I'd like to discuss with you, Director Berka. Should I come back another time?"
"Hm? Discuss?"
"It's about my future matches."
Berka's eyes curved with delight.
What a wonderful kid!
Even though he'd been granted leave, he was already thinking about his duties and coming to ask for advice.
He was different from the other fighters Berka had known from the very beginning.
"Of course! We can discuss something like that anytime. Come in and sit down. Would you like something to drink?"
"Anything is fine."
"I have some excellent tea."
Berka headed toward a cabinet in one corner of the office.
He retrieved a paper packet that had been hidden deep inside and smiled broadly.
"I bought this when I traveled all the way to Graice Province. It's genuine Athine tea! Until now, I've only served it to important guests."
He skillfully began boiling water and preparing the tea.
Watching such a large, muscular man carefully perform the small movements involved in preparing tea was a rather unusual sight.
Meanwhile, the familiar name stirred something inside Riyan.
...Athine, Queen of the Sea.
Before the War of Races, Athine had possessed enormous influence.
Situated on the eastern peninsula of the long, horizontally stretching Central Sea, Athine was a vast coastal city-state that controlled numerous islands.
As one of the great powers of the Central Sea, it held a firm grip on maritime trade.
During the War of Races, Athine had made a tremendous contribution to humanity's victory by taking the lead in organizing difficult maritime supply operations.
Riyan remembered hearing a great deal about its culture from soldiers who had come from Athine to participate in the war.
They said the sight of hundreds of merchant ships coming and going beneath those towering coastal cliffs was magnificent.
He didn't know whether it would be possible, but if he ever had the opportunity...
Just then, Berka placed a teacup in front of him and sat down opposite him, interrupting his thoughts.
"So, what was it you wanted to discuss about your matches?"
"I'm getting restless from resting all the time. I think I'd feel more comfortable if my next match were decided so I could start preparing for it."
"Oh? Is that so?"
A huge smile spread across Berka's face.
His mouth stretched so widely that the long scar running from his cheek toward his temple bent with it.
"That's an excellent attitude. Being good with a sword isn't enough to become a great fighter. You also have to consider how the public sees you. And you can't expect to fight on battlefields that always suit your preferences. You need to keep studying."
Berka nodded repeatedly.
"In that respect, you're perfect. Haral tells me you're already arranging your own sponsorships."
"Yes. I've been looking into several possibilities."
"Good. I'll leave that to you. Originally, I was thinking of finding someone suitable myself. But a thoughtful fellow like you should be able to find a sponsor you get along with. Of course, no matter how well your personalities match, the most important thing is..."
"Naturally, financial resources come first."
"Khahaha! I only have to tell you one thing, and you understand two!"
People said praise could make even a whale dance.
But at this point, Berka was praising Riyan so enthusiastically that the person receiving the compliments was starting to feel embarrassed.
Riyan gently raised his teacup and tasted it.
"Hmm..."
Sweet.
Horribly sweet.
Berka had said it came from Athine, but it was probably something that had reached the city through the wandering tribes of the eastern desert.
Riyan had heard that the scorching desert exhausted people easily, so its inhabitants ate sweet things to recover their energy.
"Well? How does it taste?"
Berka looked at him expectantly.
Riyan quietly lowered the cup and cleared his throat.
"I'm afraid I can't really judge it. My knowledge is rather limited."
If he said it was too sweet, Berka would be disappointed.
If he said he liked it, Berka might give him more.
An evasive answer seemed safest.
Unfortunately, Berka interpreted even that as modesty and burst into another round of laughter.
"Good, good. As for your next match... Hmm. Nothing has been decided yet. You've already proven yourself, so there's no need to rush. I've put things on hold for now. Is there a particular kind of match you'd like?"
"I'd like to hear what kinds of matches are available first."
"Well, let's see..."
Berka's explanation was lengthy.
Simple duels and fights against wild animals were the most basic events.
There were also competitive matches in which terrain and obstacles were installed inside the Arena, with participants competing to destroy or break through them first.
Then there were violent free-for-all brawls, where dozens of fighters were thrown together without weapons and forced to fight barehanded.
Some events even involved fighters acting as representatives of the gods, providing theatrical entertainment alongside the fighting.
The very description of those battles sounded bizarre.
"What do you mean by representatives of the gods?"
"Simple. Say someone represents the God of Lightning. They'd fight while carrying a skewer shaped like a lightning bolt. And they'd dye their hair yellow."
"..."
Eventually, Berka mentioned the siege battles and mock naval battles Riyan had seen when they first visited the Supervisor.
"What about a siege battle?"
"We just had one, remember? Those matches require a huge amount of construction, so they aren't held very often. We'll probably have to wait until next year for another one."
That was unfortunate.
Riyan had participated in more than a dozen sieges during the War of Races.
Of course, he'd always been on the defending side.
Monsters didn't build fortresses and barricade themselves inside them, after all.
Still, defending fortifications was something he had become thoroughly accustomed to.
"Hmm. As for mock naval battles..."
Berka trailed off.
"There should be one coming up soon. We haven't had one this year. It'll probably be held during the upcoming autumn Harvest Festival."
"So that's about three or four months away."
"The timing isn't bad. But..."
Berka looked Riyan up and down.
"A mock naval battle is a terrible idea. Skip that one."
"That means participating isn't impossible."
"Those matches require so many people that they'll invite practically every training center in the Imperial Capital. Naturally, ours will be included. Nearly fifty people can board a single ship, and no training center can supply enough fighters on its own. They'll drag in everyone, even inexperienced little slave brats, and mix them together."
A promising beginning.
"Then..."
"We'll probably be joining forces with another training center."
"Would we train together as well?"
"Technically, yes. But training is just an excuse. Everyone will be fighting like starving dogs to secure the safest possible positions. It has very little to do with camaraderie or unity."
"They fight over the positions? So victory and defeat aren't determined by completely destroying the opposing force?"
"Right. Usually, the objective is to capture the commander's flag installed on the enemy warship."
Berka waved a hand as though merely remembering the event irritated him.
"Anyway, mock naval battles are dangerous. Every time we hold one, about half the fighters are injured or drown."
"...If the losses are that severe, why hold them at all?"
"It's the Harvest Festival. The idea is to repay what we've harvested with blood. It's a shitty superstition, but what can we say if the Empire insists? Of course, the rewards are enormous if you win. Anyway..."
Berka paused and looked at Riyan.
His expression practically said that Riyan should simply trust him.
"Don't worry. I'll get you out of it no matter what I have to do. I can't throw the future of our training center, a fighter who's already proven himself, into such a dangerous match. Just relax and choose something else..."
"Sounds good."
"What?"
Berka's face twisted.
It was almost exactly the expression he'd worn when Riyan had announced he wanted to fight first in the Winning Streak Battle.
"The mock naval battle sounds good."
"Hey, you idiot!"
Berka exploded and slammed his hand against the table.
"Mock naval battles have nothing to do with individual strength! I don't care how incredible you are with a sword. What are you going to do if your ship gets smashed apart? If an enemy ship rams you, you'll be crushed to pieces!"
"It's fine. I should be able to see something that large coming and dodge it."
"And you think dodging solves everything? This isn't a matter of one or two people. Dozens have to work together! I have complete faith in your swordsmanship, but commanding people is an entirely different matter!"
Riyan smiled faintly at Berka's words.
He was right.
Being skilled with a sword and being skilled at commanding troops were two completely separate abilities.
But that was precisely why Riyan was confident.
Who was he?
During the War of Races against the Demon Dragon, he'd begun as a mere soldier.
Through constant effort and repeated victories, he'd eventually risen to become a representative knight who commanded an entire legion...
"You've already been at this training center for quite some time, and you still haven't made a single friend. Yet you want to participate in a mock naval battle? You're lucky Haral seems to like you, at least."
"..."
"I'll choose your next match myself. That's final!"
Tap.
Riyan set down his teacup and frowned.
"It's not that I can't make friends. I choose not to."
"Oh, is that so? Fine. Let's say that's true. At your age, I suppose it's understandable. With swordsmanship as good as yours, I doubt the other fighters even look like people to you."
"...Would it be enough if I showed you?"
"Show me? Show me what?"
"My ability to command."
