Alfonso, wandering aimlessly wherever his steps took him, eventually crossed the border and arrived at Frederick’s territory.
When Alfonso appeared in the village, the local militia grew tense.
Though he had been starving for days, having run out of money, and his appearance was utterly shabby (the fact that he had lasted this long was thanks to his attendant, Marcio, who had secretly rifled through the belongings of a knight defeated in a duel), his dazzling looks could not be obscured.
Moreover, by his side stood Marcio, who devotedly served this arrogant knight.
Clearly, he appeared to be the heir of a noble family. The militia, wary of provoking someone with such an air, left Alfonso alone as he rambled nonsense outside the wooden fence.
But even the militia were human.
Though Alfonso may not have intended it, his words had a knack for thoroughly getting on people’s nerves. Unable to endure any longer, a few young men armed themselves with spears and swords and charged at Alfonso.
Three young men fell. Fortunately, none of them died. Alfonso hated taking lives without reason, so they only suffered non-life-threatening injuries.
Without even drawing his rapier, he used only a small main-gauche (a type of dagger) and subdued the three with lightning-fast, dazzling swordsmanship. The sight was nothing short of “fantastic.”
With three militia members down, it was only natural for the guards to intervene.
The guard captain, Einse, accompanied by Helford, who was infuriated at the audacity of a arrogant knight displaying such unseen dagger skills, stepped outside the fence.
When Alfonso faced the two knights, he greeted them with his characteristic verbose courtesy, though it adhered to noble etiquette.
Einse, who judged all matters through the lens of chivalry, found Alfonso’s slightly odd demeanor surprisingly polite and courteous, and he didn’t think poorly of him.
Whether due to being dense or excessively principled, Einse was the sort of person who ignored all insults or eccentricities so long as they didn’t breach the code of chivalry. He suggested to Lawrence, who had arrived shortly, that they take Alfonso—clearly a noble—into the castle.
However, Helford, who was simple, blunt, and aggressive, and who possessed a burning desire for combat, utterly despised Alfonso.
He couldn’t stand Alfonso’s arrogance and posturing despite his beggar-like appearance, and most of all, he detested his feminine looks.
So Helford provoked Alfonso with cutting words, and Alfonso, who wasn’t one to tolerate such insults, retaliated by calling Helford “boar,” a nickname that would later become Helford’s infamous moniker.
Thus, a duel began.
Helford declared that if Alfonso could break his sword, he would personally carry him into the castle.
Before Helford’s words had even settled, Alfonso charged at him with a low whistle.
There was no time for Lawrence or Einse to intervene.
A slender rapier and a main-gauche clashed against a massive two-handed sword, creating a tempest of steel.
With astounding speed and acrobatics beyond reason, the two knights collided over and over again. For nearly ten minutes, the sound of steel meeting steel echoed loudly.
Lawrence and Einse, despite being knights themselves, could only stand dumbfounded at the overwhelming combat prowess of the two duelists.
Even Lawrence, typically cool-headed, was mesmerized. Though he knew he should intervene, as a knight himself, his blood boiled at the sight of such a remarkable duel.
However, if the fight continued, one of them would surely die or suffer severe injury.
It had to be stopped.
Just as Lawrence raised his hand high, ready to shout for them to halt—
Whiz!
An arrow flew toward Alfonso.
One of the soldiers holding a shortbow, tense from the confrontation, had accidentally loosed his string.
Lawrence’s eyes widened in horror.
Alfonso was clad in thin leather armor, while Helford wore chainmail. At this distance, the arrow would pierce either of them without fail.
Snap!
Then, something unbelievable happened.
Only Lawrence and Einse saw it clearly.
The other soldiers had no idea what had occurred, nor why the arrow lay shattered on the ground.
The arrow, which had sliced through the air with a sharp sound, had been split in two by Alfonso’s main-gauche before it fell to the ground.
All movement ceased. No one spoke.
In that silence, Lawrence slowly opened his mouth.
“Could it be… a Fantasy Knight?”
Among knights, there is a legend…
In this world, there are knights with reflexes that defy common sense, able to foresee a scene mere moments before it unfolds, relying solely on instinct.
It is said that when the Archangel Feriam first descended to Inse, he lightly touched the shoulders of a few unborn souls with his sword. Those who were born and walked the path of the sword would gain the title “Fantasy Knight.”
Lawrence had once seen such a knight from afar while serving under Grand Duke Rossandria.
Wilhelm Borossas, the Fantasy Knight of Rossandria, had deflected three arrows shot in succession from a distance of 30 yards.
Lawrence gulped unconsciously.
Though not four arrows like Wilhelm, Alfonso had deflected a shortbow arrow fired from 20 yards away.
There was no doubt about it. The dazzlingly handsome knight, wielding his rapier and main-gauche with breathtaking skill, was undoubtedly a Fantasy Knight.
Even if, by some chance, he wasn’t, it didn’t matter.
A knight as extraordinary as him was a rare sight, and Lawrence’s conclusion was simple:
“We must recruit him!”
When Lawrence first offered Alfonso a position as a Estates knight, Alfonso flatly refused.
He declared that he wanted to be a poet, not a knight. His dream was to recite poetry and wander with the wind, not to be bound to anyone, wielding a sword.
Even when Helford, having acknowledged Alfonso as a worthy rival, half-threatened him to stay in the estate for a rematch, Alfonso stood firm.
He even insulted Helford, saying knights of his brutish “boar-like” caliber were a dime a dozen, further enraging Helford and nearly sparking another brawl—this time in the presence of Baron Frederick himself.
It was only thanks to Lawrence and Einse restraining the rampaging Helford that a life-or-death confrontation was avoided.
When Baron Frederick urged Alfonso to at least rest for a few days at the castle, Alfonso reluctantly agreed to stay as a guest.
During that time, Lawrence persistently tried to persuade him, but Alfonso remained unmoved.
Just when even the famously tenacious Lawrence was about to give up, Roselia returned, accompanied by a man who bore the expressionless demeanor of a knight.
To everyone’s surprise, the stoic knight immediately challenged Alfonso to a duel upon seeing him.
His reason was simple: he sensed that Alfonso was a type of knight he had never encountered before.
Naturally, Alfonso, who avoided meaningless fights, declined.
But the stoic knight was relentless, charging at him regardless.
After dozens of exchanges, the stoic knight was defeated, left with a long sword wound on his thigh.
He vowed that if Alfonso left, he would pursue him to the ends of the earth until he was bested.
Alfonso merely grinned and told him to do as he pleased.
The knight’s injury was more severe than it appeared, requiring at least two weeks of rest for recovery—ample time for Alfonso to leave the castle.
Yet Alfonso didn’t leave.
The reason? Baron Frederick’s daughter, Lady Roselia Frederick, had judged his poetry.
Not with the venomous criticism he had endured at Quern’s Academy, but with detailed analysis and even occasional praise.
She pointed out that his poems were overly self-indulgent, making it hard for others to appreciate them, but acknowledged their precise rhythm and merit.
Alfonso was deeply moved.
Until then, no one had truly understood his poetry. Everyone envied his genius and mocked his work.
Though he never showed it outwardly, he had started doubting whether he truly had talent for poetry.
To have someone appreciate his poems—especially someone as young and lovely as Roselia—was enough to make him cling to her in joy.
Every two or three days, he would write a new poem and ask for Roselia’s opinion, and she never refused.
As time passed, Alfonso grew increasingly grateful and touched. He became anxious at the thought that without this beautiful young lady, no one would recognize his genius.
He later discovered that even Baron Frederick, though not as passionate as Roselia, had a surprisingly deep interest in literature for a rural lord.
One day, Baron Frederick delivered the decisive blow:
“You may write poetry all you wish, but stay in my domain as my knight.”
There was no hesitation.
That very day, Alfonso swore to become Baron Frederick’s loyal blade—a formally appointed knight, despite having vowed never to be bound to anyone.
Now, with endless inspiration for poetry, he was ecstatic, to the point of madness.
Though he occasionally found it tiresome to fend off the stoic knight’s challenges or deal with Helford’s glares and premature sword-drawing, Alfonso found himself increasingly fond of life as a domain knight.
Thus, he became the fourth knight of Baron Frederick’s household.
(To be continued…)