“Clink!” The force behind the swords wasn’t that great, so there was none of the shower-of-sparks scene one might imagine.

Still, the exchange between Shilo and Rhode had a solid rhythm to it. It was about the intensity of a normal spar.

Even if Felisha said to go harder, there was no way Shilo could be that ruthless toward his own brother.

And forget Felisha—even Shilo could tell Rhode looked really awkward with a sword.

Of course, Rhode seemed to be getting used to it too. He wasn’t as bad as he was at the start.

“Rhode, have you really been practicing swordsmanship?” Honestly, it wouldn’t have been hard for Shilo to knock Rhode’s sword away.

The gap between them was pretty big.

“Of course I have,” Rhode said without changing expression.

Sure, what he practiced had been heavily modified, but it still counted as swordsmanship, more or less.

Besides, Black Sword had emphasized this before: daggers have edges, swords have edges, so if you round it off, they’re basically the same thing.

“Shilo, don’t think you can fool me right in front of me.” Felisha swept a cold glance over Shilo and Rhode.

She wasn’t stupid. She could naturally tell Shilo had been holding back the whole time. But she had already said it—no holding back.

“Go all out. Don’t worry about hurting your brother. I’m right here.” When Felisha said that, she sounded unusually confident.

It wasn’t arrogance. She really did have the ability to stop things from turning bloody.

“...”

Shilo and Rhode exchanged a look with perfect tacit understanding.

Shilo blinked hard, asking what they should do now.

Rhode blinked back in a steady rhythm, telling him to just go all out.

So the force in Shilo’s sword instantly rose. When the next slash came down, Rhode could barely block it at all.

Even when he did block it, the impact still forced him back two or three steps.

And that was after Rhode tried using one of the force-dispersing techniques Black Sword had taught him.

Of course, calling it force neutralization wouldn’t be wrong either.

“Train more. You’re too weak,” Black Sword said to Rhode.

“...” Rhode’s expression stiffened slightly when he heard that.

He thought he’d done pretty well, so he hadn’t expected Black Sword to suddenly hit him with that line.

While Rhode was distracted, Shilo’s next strike directly knocked his sword flying.

Clang!

The sword landed on the empty ground nearby.

Rhode raised his hands in surrender, then looked at Felisha with an innocent expression.

“That’s enough. I know how to guide you from here,” Felisha said, glancing at Shilo.

After that brief spar, Felisha had more or less come up with a training plan for him.

Shilo had strong potential, so Felisha didn’t intend to teach him too many things marked by her own personal style.

Basics, basics, basics. That was what mattered most. As for personal style, he could develop that himself later.

There were countless schools of swordsmanship in the world. Strictly speaking, none was absolutely superior or inferior.

For the moment, Felisha set Shilo’s matter aside and turned her gaze to the innocent-looking Rhode.

This guy’s swordsmanship was bad... but for some reason, Felisha kept feeling a strong sense of dissonance.

Of course, she wasn’t thinking Rhode was some hidden expert playing weak. His level wasn’t high enough to fake being green.

Also, just now, this kid seemed to have used some very simple force-dispersing techniques.

Did someone teach him? Or did he figure it out himself?

Well, figuring it out on his own sounded a little too absurd. So someone must have taught him.

Felisha wasn’t that curious about Rhode himself, but she was very curious about the person who had taught him.

“Can I go now?” Rhode asked weakly. He wanted to sound a little tougher, but he just couldn’t do it in front of a woman who felt like a wolf.

“You can go.” Felisha nodded and let him off.

After all, she was here specifically to teach Shilo swordsmanship, not Rhode.

And on a side note... she was also serving as Shilo’s bodyguard, protecting this candidate for the throne.

---

By evening, Shilo had finished today’s sword lesson.

But instead of going to rest, he was still trying out the new things Felisha had taught him.

They couldn’t really be called techniques. Strictly speaking, they were basic movements.

No matter what, though, Shilo practiced them with obvious relish.

Talent that had been unearthed, and a personality that wasn’t lazy.

Seeing that, Rhode could only sigh inwardly.

He had a thousand things he wanted to say, but in the end, he realized none of them needed to be spoken.

“Shilo, come here, come here.” Rhode crooked a finger at Shilo, who was swinging his sword.

Shilo froze for a moment, then stopped what he was doing, his face full of confusion.

Still, he listened and walked over.

“What is it, Rhode?”

“I’m going to carry you.” Rhode bent down halfway and said it with a straight face.

“???”

Shilo’s eyes were full of question marks. He had no idea what was going on.

Seeing how lost he was, Rhode explained, “I lost a bet with myself, so I’m punishing myself by carrying you for two laps.”

Left with no better option, Shilo put away his sword and climbed onto Rhode’s back.

As expected of his brother... he was as impossible to understand as ever.

“Heh!” The moment Shilo got on, Rhode immediately started running.

“Rhode, have you really been practicing swordsmanship?” Shilo asked with his eyes closed, the cool wind blowing against his face.

“I told you at noon. I really am practicing,” Rhode answered while running.

“It’s just that I really don’t like it. I think I’m actually pretty motivated in other areas.” He thought of the whole night he had spent catching crows and said that to Shilo.

“Like what?” Shilo asked curiously.

“For example... catching crows all night,” Rhode said seriously.

“Uh... why would your teacher make you do that?”

“Who knows? It’s pretty fun anyway.” Rhode shrugged, and nearly threw Shilo off while doing it.

“Fun...” Shilo was speechless.

The twin brothers’ shadows stretched endlessly under the setting sun.

They were ten years old now, but ten wasn’t even their starting point.

Still, don’t be anxious, and don’t worry. Their starting point would arrive very soon.

Very soon.

---

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At ten, we never thought about war or politics, because before we were old enough to think with maturity, all we needed was to feel our childhood. —Unnamed Chronicle