I Became the Strategist the Monarchs Obsess Over

Chapter 16

Two weeks later. As always, Glasia was enthusiastically beating me with a wooden sword. I calmly observed Glasia's sword path, blocked it, and launched a counterattack.

Of course, due to the difference in physical abilities, the frequency of counterattacks was not high. If Glasia attacked five times, I retaliated once. However, considering that Glasia was ranked third in the world as a genius swordsman, it was evident how much my skills had improved compared to before.

A tuition fee of 1 ducat per hour. To be honest, it was an absurdly exorbitant rate. 1 ducat was the amount of money an adult male laborer could earn through a month of physical labor.

Even so, though Glasia charged such a hefty sum every hour, I never thought it was a waste. Glasia's lessons were the very essence of practical combat training.

Thus, a month had passed since the first lesson.

"Your posture is looking pretty decent now. It seems like we can set a date for the decisive battle."

The decisive battle. Saying it like that made it sound special, but it wasn't anything grand. It was simply the day to beat up the trio of punks—Andre, Hugh, and Enrique.

Glasia wrote a letter to the punks on my behalf, mixing in insults and provocations she had picked up from the back alleys. But...

"A reply has arrived from Andre."

"What does it say?"

"It states that dueling is a noble tradition, and commoners are not eligible to request a duel. Therefore, Sir Charles's request for a duel is invalid."

Hearing that, I couldn't help but burst out laughing.

"Hahaha!"

Naturally, because last time, Andre had eagerly jumped into the duel arena.

"What a coward."

"It seems he's scared."

Glasia and I spoke simultaneously. That's right. Andre had chickened out against me!

"What will you do? Are you going to give up on the duel?"

Giving up would make the month of training feel like a total waste. And I couldn't let go of the resentment from being beaten by such lousy punks so far.

"Honestly, sparing him would be fine, but I want to properly set an example."

"Showing what happens if someone messes with you?"

"Yeah, that's the idea."

Glasia nodded.

"That was the way it worked in the back alleys too. If you thoroughly discipline one of them, the others won't dare to mess with you. However..."

Glasia hesitated for a moment before speaking.

"Do you have a specific plan?"

"Hmm..."

After pondering for a while, I said.

"I do have one."

The problem was that it was a rather dangerous method.

-----

The next day, I went to an armory and bought armor and a helmet.

As I walked around the academy wearing armor and a helmet, people's gazes naturally gathered. However, since I was carrying a wooden sword instead of a real one, the academy guards assumed, 'There must be a training session,' and didn't think much of it.

But my destination wasn't the training ground. It was the restaurant frequented by Andre, Enrique, and Hugh—the trio of punks.

-Clang!

I slammed open the restaurant door with a loud bang and shouted.

"Andre Gomes! Draw your sword! I'll beat you to death."

Startled by my words, Andre stood up, and I approached him step by step with my wooden sword aimed at him.

"What are you doing, commoner? This is a restaurant! Show some manners!"

"Shut up and draw your sword unless you want to get beaten one-sidedly."

"Ha! Are you still talking about dueling? Who would bother dueling with a commoner like you..."

-Whoosh!

A wooden sword swung right in front of Andre's face.

"Next time, I'll hit you. Draw your sword while I'm still speaking nicely."

"Y-You insolent wretch! Someone drag this commoner out of here!"

The guards approached, but Glasia blocked their path. She exuded a deadly aura at the guards, and upon sensing that her level was far beyond theirs, the guards naturally backed off. Then, as I raised my sword again...

"D-Damn it! Enrique! Hugh! Draw your swords!"

"You two stay out of this."

However, Enrique and Hugh hesitated between me and Andre, clearly unable to decide what to do. They seemed to have realized that I had come fully prepared.

"What's it going to be? Your friends don't want to fight. Let me give you a choice. Do you want to get beaten one-sidedly or resist and still get beaten?"

"Y-You...! I'm going to kill you!"

Whoosh! Andre drew his real sword from his waist and swung it. The pressure from the real sword was certainly there, but compared to Glasia's swordsmanship, it was nothing more than child's play. Moreover, since I was wearing armor and a helmet, I was unlikely to die from a single blow. Thus, I moved with confidence.

I lured Andre into attacking, continuously creating openings, and struck him with the wooden sword whenever there was a gap. One hit, two hits. Without taking a single blow, I kept increasing the number of wounds on Andre's body. The students in the restaurant began to marvel at the one-sided fight.

"Who's that guy in armor? He's fighting pretty well."

"Isn't it Charles?"

"That loser? No way. If it's Charles, he's always Andre's punching bag."

"Looks like now Andre's the punching bag."

At those words, there was a snicker of laughter from somewhere. Andre's face started turning red.

"Commoner! Consider today the day you meet your end!"

Andre, growing even more furious, wildly swung his sword. Several tables were overturned, expensive teacups and pots shattered, covering the floor with shards of glass. However, none of Andre's attacks landed. Charles calmly dodged Andre's strikes, taunting him.

"Is that all you've got? I thought noble bloodlines were supposed to be something special. Weren't you going to show me the difference?"

"Shut up!"

Then, as Andre's frustration reached its peak...

His movements became larger, and more openings appeared. Charles dodged Andre's vertical strike by stepping sideways, then swung his wooden sword at Andre's head, knocking him down.

"Argh!"

Andre screamed. It wasn't the pain from the wooden sword that caused him to cry out. It was because he had fallen onto broken shards of teacups and pots.

"Oh, damn."

Andre's body and face were now embedded with ceramic fragments, bleeding all over. Even though Andre had used a real sword, it felt a bit excessive.

"Aah! Aaaahhh!"

"Are you okay? That wasn't intentional..."

"Blood! Blood!"

"Someone call a healer! What are the men doing?"

Andre's screams, the onlookers' reactions, and the guards' panic combined into utter chaos. The one who calmed the situation was Dian de Balboa, who arrived leading a group of guards.

"Everyone, step aside. I will take control of this situation."

"Yes, sir!"

The guards let out sighs of relief upon Dian's arrival. Dian immediately moved to the center of the scene to assess the situation.

Dian took in my flushed face and heavy breathing, piecing together what had happened.

"Charles, I'm asking just to confirm—was this your doing?"

"Uh, yes. It wasn't intentional, though..."

"We'll hear your excuses later."

Dian let out a deep sigh, as if it came from the depths of his soul, then spoke.

"Guards."

"Yes, sir!"

"Detain Charles Jean Rochefort. The charge is assault."

"Yes, sir!"

Thus, I was taken into custody by the guards.

Andre, with glass shards embedded in his body, was immediately transported to the infirmary, where the healers treated him.

That day, an unprecedented event occurred at Arcadia Academy.

-----

-Smack!

A loud noise left my ears ringing.

"Was it you? The filthy fallen nobility who injured my son? My son! My son, hurt by some mere fallen nobility...!"

Andre's mother, seething with indignation as if she would die from the unfairness of it all, was stopped by Professor Dian de Balboa.

"Madam, please calm down. Your son has received prompt treatment and is recovering."

"His face... his handsome face now bears a terrible scar! Do you even understand how much of a flaw a scar on the face is for a noble?"

"If you're saying that with me in mind..."

At Dian's words, Andre's mother realized her slip of the tongue and quickly covered her mouth. Of course, Dian had spent his life on the battlefield and bore several sword scars on his face.

"Ah, no! That's not what I meant... Anyway, expel this fallen noble immediately!"

"Madam, Charles is a promising and talented student. This is merely a quarrel between students, and it can be resolved through an agreement. Expulsion is too drastic."

"I have no intention of reaching an agreement! He must be expelled, no matter what!"

Although Dian earnestly tried to persuade Andre's mother on my behalf, she remained adamant. It seemed the scar on her son's face was a considerable shock to her.

"But they still haven't arrived... It should be about time for them to show up."

What I trusted was my promise with Isabel de Poitiers.

I told Isabel that instead of taking 200 Ducats, she should back me up. And Isabel accepted that.

Because of that, there was no way Isabel wouldn't step in when such a problem arose. Isabel was the type to keep her word.

At the moment I thought so,

-Screech

The door opened, and two knights in uniform appeared from there.

"Yuria? Isabel? Why are you...?"

"It has been a while, teacher."

Yuria bowed her head to Dian. Come to think of it, Yuria and Dian had a teacher-student relationship outside of the academy, and it was said that Yuria had lived as a guest at Dian's house during her childhood, learning strategy and tactics.

Andre's mother, flustered by the sudden appearance of the two knights.

"Who might these people be...?"

"I am Yuria Russell."

"I am Isabel de Poitiers."

"If it's the Russell and Poitiers families... are you the close aides of Her Highness the Princess?"

Andre's mother brightened up. Andre, Yuria, and Isabel were all from baronial families, but even among baronial families, there were differences in standing. Yuria and Isabel were from families favored by the princess, and there was a gap akin to a billion light-years between families favored by royalty and regular families.

Andre's mother cautiously asked.

"But what brings you here..."

"We are here to provide materials regarding the case of Charles Jean Rochefort's assault by Andre Gomes."

"Materials?"

Andre's mother asked in confusion, and Isabel de Poitiers handed a document to her. Then Andre's mother's complexion began to turn pale.