The Peaceful Life Of A Maid Who Hides Her Power And Enjoys It - Side Story 4

The Swordmaster, who’d been quietly gazing up at the sky, turned his head and looked into my eyes.

“The strong are those who have nothing to protect. The reason the weak are weak is because they have things they want to keep, things they want to protect. But it’s not the same for the strong. For someone who has nothing, there is no hardship, no adversity, no anguish.”

“…No hardship, no adversity, no anguish. Does such a person really exist?”

“They’re spread all throughout the earth. But isn’t their existence the same as non-existent? That’s why, Sir Andert, I’d like you to struggle a bit.”

It was a sudden change of subject. I lamented, waving my once-severed arm.

“Did you already forget my arm that was cut off while struggling so hard?”

The Swordmaster looked at me with a mysterious expression and briefly clicked his tongue.

“You sometimes miss the point in the strangest places.”

As if to offer me a dull word of consolation, he patted my shoulder and then rose from his seat. The few light movements resulted in specks of mud falling off from his black uniform. His following words were tinged with a faint smile.

“Still don’t see what I meant? It means that you, Our dear Sir Andert, are my most cherished knight. Don’t forget that, remember it well.”

I thought it would be another cryptic remark I couldn’t understand again, but it was different this time.

“Your Excellency, Sir Calpenweaver urgently needs to speak with you…”

“I’ll go right back.”

“I shall escort you.”

I didn’t know how they found us, but a few knights from Berkeley-Gratten who’d come to meet the Swordmaster were now approaching me.

Ah, that was meant for them to hear.

‘Anyway, they really take things seriously.’

There was a time when I had a falling out with the young nobles of Penrotta, but now it was all in the past. Even the once hostile young Count Rogenhoff, to put it mildly, had changed to a somewhat amicable level, virtually making us friends.

‘Except for those Berkeley-Gratten knights, of course, who are always grumpy.’

Such fussy fellows. It was even funnier because I could guess why they were so sensitive. They must have thought that their leader, the Swordmaster, was being taken away from them by me.

Do you avoid shit because it’s dirty or because it’s scary? I tried to leave before I could be woven into the situation and see a messy situation erupt.

“Despite rolling around in the battlefield, that guy is still too busy being a suck-up.”

But shit is not shit for no reason.

“Is licking Raphael Zenail’s boots not enough? What a filthy opportunist.”

Did they think whispering like this wouldn’t reach the Swordmaster’s ears? Or perhaps, did they think everyone would just pretend not to hear it even if it entered their ears?

Yes, that’s right.

Normally, I would have just glanced over and not bothered to engage with the brats.

But sometimes, people lose their self-restraint on unexpected days. For example…

“I’m warning you for the last time. Do not wander about in front of His Excellency. If our eyes catch you again…”

Like today.

Thud-

The sensation of hitting tight skin with my fist was rather exhilarating. I didn’t hae any regrets about giving up on patience. However, I did feel a little guilty about the Swordmaster.

“You crazy punk! We can’t stop now!”

No matter what, isn’t having a dog fight in front of your superior disrespectful?

“Hmm. Your arm seems perfectly fine.”

Well, the Swordmaster himself didn’t seem to care much.

* * *

“Are you out of your mind?”

The remark was thrown like a sharp dart. If one’s conscience was flesh, then it was intended to rough up the area around it.

Sitting obediently for the examination, I answered as if making an excuse. No, I was making excuses.

“As always, I’m not the one who started. Those punks were the ones who provoked…”

“You know that’s not what I’m talking about.”

Raphael was cold even with the second dart.

Stepping into the makeshift clinic in the barracks, he came in with a chilling glare that seemed like he was about to hit me as soon as our eyes met.

The atmosphere was so intense that everyone lying on the makeshift beds quickly vacated their spots. “You punk, causing trouble again…” they said before leaving. I couldn’t just shrug it off, I also had my pride, you know.

“Two months. That was a minimum, Andert. You should have stayed quiet for at least two months to get your arm back to normal. But you couldn’t even keep to half of the advised period?”

I sent a look asking for help to Desherro, who was busy examining my arm, but the back of his head remained relentlessly still.

So, in the end, my best defense attorney was me, huh?

“My body will be fine even without two months, Raphael. Have you forgotten how resilient I am?”

“Is that so? Very confident. Let me see for myself how ‘resilient’ you truly are, then.”

Swoosh. With a chilling sound, Raphael’s sword’s point proudly displayed its graceful figure.

Oh, it was blinding. No, the brightness wasn’t the problem right now! Amidst my silent consternation, Desherro let out a sigh and looked up.

“Stop it, Raphael. Andert’s condition is much better than what you’re worried about. Remarkable resilience, as usual. Even a wild bear would be less sturdy than this.”

P-Phew…

‘Thank you, Desherro.’

Did he hear the whisper of gratitude I said in my heart? Desherro smiled while making eye-contact with me and added like it wasn’t a big deal.

“Of course, I think we might need to extend the recovery period from two months to about two and a half months.”

Wait a minute.

“But that’s the case for the average soldier; it wouldn’t apply to Andert.”

Phew.

“However, Andert also suffered greatly just before he nearly lost his arm, so I think we’ll have to continue monitoring him…”

Wait a minute.

“Anyways, he’s not someone who uses his body simply because he’s a little angry, so just let this one go. Didn’t His Excellency handle it well?”

Phew.

“Of course, if someone who’s suffering from one-sided violence expresses great dissatisfaction, things would become annoying, but…”

Fine, do as you please.

After giving me a bottle of medicine for a while, Desherro eventually handed me a candy from his pocket.

It was a soberingly salty candy, but I couldn’t spit it out because of the words he said: “a gift from my younger sister.” So I had to endure the taste terrorism.

“Tsk tsk. You brought it upon yourself, Andert. If you had fought using your feet instead of your hands, Raphael might have let it go.”

“Don’t encourage him, Natasha.”

Natasha asked, rolling a different candy that was probably from prince Ashcream or something in her mouth, “Don’t you usually put up with it? What happened today to cause this incident?”

I recalled the intense feelings I felt at the time and roughly chose a somewhat suitable response.

“I didn’t like the way he looked at me.”

“What kind of look was it?”

“The eyes of looking at the shameless playboy who stole his woman. But now, he doesn’t have anything anymore, so he’s even more angry like a child.”

“Well that’s unnecessarily detailed.”

Chin in hand, Natasha blinked quietly and then spoke with a somewhat contemplative tone.

“But that knight is unexpectedly bold, too. I can’t believe he picked a fight with Andert in front of Duke Jurian. Were there still people with that much audacity left?”

“Brats who throw around false accusations don’t care about time or place; they just go off.”

“That’s for when your opponent is in the same position as you. A fool who makes such a ridiculous mistake even while knowing Duke Jurian especially cares for you… wouldn’t have been able to join the Berkeley-Gratten Knights.”

What do you mean ‘especially cares about me’? I’m getting goosebumps.