“Ooh! Finally home! My beloved Frelly Castle! How I missed you! No words in this mortal world can express my fervent longing!” A man loudly proclaimed, dramatically blowing kisses toward the castle.
With his bright blonde hair, eyes as clear and deep as a lake, a sharply defined nose, and a slender, fair face, he was the epitome of a handsome man. But he was excessively talkative.
“How clear the sky is today! It feels as if even the heavens are celebrating the return of this noble knight. Look, even the sun parts the clouds to gaze upon me! Oh, Lord, forgive this sinful man!”
He continued his rambling and overly fancy monologue, then turned to another man who was quietly guiding his horse beside him.
“Sir Rodrick, don’t you feel anything? We’ve been away for so long. Does it not stir any new feelings or evoke a surge of emotion deep within you?”
“……”
The man called Rodrick continued to ride in silence. The talkative man clicked his tongue in disapproval.
“Tsk, tsk! No wonder the ladies don’t follow you. A knight should be able to express his genuine feelings with refined and dignified language. Honestly, Sir Roddick, you are becoming more like that boorish boar of a knight.”
“… my… Helfford… cannot.”
“Pardon?”
The voice was too low to catch, but a squire riding a pony next to Rodrick quickly translated.
“My master said, ‘My sword is not mightier than Sir Helford’s,’ Sir Alfonso.”
“Hah! What nonsense is this? Comparing the crude, brute strength of Helford’s sword to the elegant, soaring blades of knights like us is an insult, an insult! Ugh, just thinking about that boar dampens my mood.”
Alfonso, the excessively talkative knight, turned his head away in a huff, clicking his tongue incessantly.
“Pfft!”
His squire couldn’t hold back a chuckle.
Thwack!
“Ow!”
“Oh, Marcio, foolish Marcio. While I understand that it’s the season for frogs to croak, laughing so rudely beside me is beneath you. Tsk, tsk! How can you hope to be the squire of such an elegant and refined knight like me? Ah, it’s truly disheartening.”
The squire, who had been struck on the head with the tip of Alfonso’s rapier, protested with a pout.
“Frogs? Master, that’s too much. I’ve never let you down, have I?”
The boy, with a cute, pretty face and a wrinkled nose, looked adorabely pitiful.
“Indeed. As the squire to the distinguished Sir Alfonso Chestein, you have never once disappointed me in the past six years. Plus, with your excellent cooking skills, it would be hard to find another squire as capable as you.”
At Alfonso’s feigned nod of agreement, Marcio brightened up and chimed in.
“See! Even you admit it. But hearing you call me a noisy frog every day and getting hit like this… it’s honestly a bit hurtful.”
“Well, that’s that, and this is this. If you truly feel wronged, I can change your nickname to something more fitting. How about ‘Marcio the Noisy Frog who is still somewhat useful’?”
“Ugh! Fine, call me whatever you like.”
Marcio, now visibly upset, focused on guiding his pony in silence.
Alfonso grinned, reached into his pocket, and tossed something to his squire.
“Here, catch this, my faithful frog Marcio. I bought it for a high price in Flanic.”
“Oh! This is…!”
“Ha-ha! Do you like it? I’ve smoked a little, but there’s plenty left to last you six days.”
“Hehe! Thank you, Master! You really are the best.”
Marcio eagerly took out rolling papers and started filling them with the tobacco, looking quite adept despite being on horseback.
“Phew! Wow, Master, this tastes amazing.”
Blowing out a long puff of smoke, Marcio looked from the cigarette to his master with admiration. Alfonso, pleased by his squire’s joy, smiled with pride.
“This master’s refined taste even shows in the tobacco I choose. That’s a special blend called Gorlois. It’s made with the family’s secret recipe, free from any additives.”
“So, this is the famous Gorlois! No wonder it tastes different.”
Marcio, half-closed eyes and a contented expression, puffed away happily. His demeanor resembled that of a cat basking in the spring sun.
With the rhythmic clatter of hooves and wisps of white smoke drifting lazily into the air, the knights appeared to be enjoying a carefree life.
Thud!
“Ow!”
“Smoking is fine, but we’re approaching the castle now. Pay attention. Also, you…”
“Yes, yes.”
“……”
The handsome knight kept chatting, while his squire grumbled, responding to every word. Meanwhile, the brown-haired, stoic knight silently guided his horse, heading toward the slowly descending drawbridge, accompanied by his observant squire.
“Well met, everyone! Ha-ha-ha! Seeing your brave faces again fills me with boundless joy! Oh, Roman, how’s your little daughter? Raise her well, so she can be a fine lady for a splendid knight like me. Hey, Seram, you look thinner! How will you win the hearts of the village maidens now? A true man should…”
Alfonso greeted the soldiers lined up on either side, engaging each one in conversation. However, no one responded to Sir Alfonso. In fact, they seemed to avoid meeting his gaze.
Just then, someone appeared and, with a disgruntled expression, interrupted Alfonso’s endless chatter disguised as greetings.
“Still as chatty as ever, huh? Chirping like a cursed sparrow.”
“Well, if it isn’t the most brutish and chubby knight of them all, Sir Helford! Still obsessed with showcasing your strength, I see?”
“If you’d just shut that cursed mouth of yours, I’d have no need to show off my strength, you chirping sparrow!”
“Tsk, tsk! How could a boar rolling around in the dirt understand the grace of a bird soaring freely in the sky? Besides, I’m more akin to a swan or a hawk, am I not? Whereas anyone can see you resemble a pig.”
“What?! You sparrow bastard!”
Though they hadn’t seen each other in three months, the two knights treated each other like bitter enemies who had parted just days before.
“Let me go! I swear I’ll shove a mace down that chirping mouth of yours!”
Unable to match Alfonso in verbal sparring, Helford fumed, trying to pull him off his horse, causing a commotion at the gate as the surrounding soldiers tried to restrain him.
Amid the chaos, Rodrick rode on without a glance, steering his horse through the drawbridge.
“They’re… more talkative than I expected.”
“Yes, a bit. But Sir Alfonso’s skills rival those of Sir Helfford.”
“Still… didn’t Sir Alfonso just return from his father’s funeral?”
“Well, you’ll see once you get to know him.”
Standing at the castle’s entrance, Jiwoon watched the spectacle between Alfonso and Helford with disbelief. He had heard of Alfonso but hadn’t expected this level of flashiness. It was hard to believe he had just attended his father’s funeral.
And then there was the stoic knight who seemed entirely unaffected by the ruckus, calmly guiding his horse. Based on his appearance and demeanor, Jiwoon assumed this was the knight Rodrick, who was supposed to train him in swordsmanship.
At least Lawrence appears composed. This one, though, seems utterly devoid of expression.
Rodrick was known as the quietest knight in the territory, wholly dedicated to his sword. A third son of a local noble, he had been recognized for his exceptional talent and taken in by a renowned wandering knight who personally trained him.
In just five years, Rodrick went from squire to regional lord’s esquire and eventually became a swordsmanship instructor at the royal academy despite his low status, thanks to his master’s recommendation. However, due to his reserved nature and the envy of noble knights, he soon left the academy.
He came to serve the Frederick Barony after being approached by Roselia, who had studied under him at the academy. Though his thoughts were a mystery, Roselia saw him as a skilled and serious sword instructor, persuading him to meet her father, Baron Frederick, and the other knights. Reluctantly, Rodrick agreed, only to experience his first defeat at the hands of a knight of the Frederick Barony: none other than Alfonso.
Rodrick, who declared that he couldn’t leave the territory until he defeated Alfonso, challenged him more than a dozen times afterward and finally emerged victorious. However, upon realizing that Alfonso had not fought him with full strength, Rodrick stayed in the territory.
Eventually, he accepted the baron Frederick and Lawrence’s proposal and was knighted, and officially became a knight of the estate. Despite his extremely reserved nature, Rodrick was highly loyal to Baron Frederick and upheld his duties as a knight admirably. Lawrence held him in high regard, despite his enigmatic personality.
Perhaps the most suitable swordsmanship teacher for Jiwoon had already been decided. Indeed, compared to the quick-tempered Halford or the chatterbox Alfonso, the somewhat dark Rodrick seemed a better fit.
Feeling relieved, Jiwoon walked with Lawrence towards the inner castle to meet the two knights.
“Sir Chestein Alfonso! Under the sole permission of my lord, whose presence alone my sword shall never be raised against, I have returned safely from my mission.”
“Sir Rodrick. I have completed my mission and returned.”
Although their expressions were notably different, both reported their safe return. Baron Frederick, with a broad smile, welcomed his loyal knights back.
“Well done, Sir Alfonso and Sir Rodrick. I eagerly awaited your return. Truly, the Lord’s grace has answered my humble prayers, allowing me to see you both hale and hearty once more. Now, enough of formalities, please have a seat.”
“Yes.”
With the baron’s permission, the two knights sat in the prepared chairs. As Alfonso glanced around at the familiar faces, his eyes suddenly sparkled upon noticing someone new.
“There’s someone I’ve never met before. Might I be introduced to the person with eyes as mysterious as the night sky?”
At Alfonso’s words, Rodrick also subtly turned his impassive face towards the new figure. Baron Frederick, still smiling, introduced the person Alfonso referred to as having ‘mysterious eyes.’
“Indeed, I was about to introduce you. This is Sir Han Jiwoon from a renowned count’s family across the distant seas of Korea. He came here to convey the will of our Lord Reyes but has decided to stay in our estate for a while due to an unfortunate accident.”
“Oh, is that so?”
Alfonso squinted as he observed Jiwoon. Though his behaviour was quite discourteous, the baron, understanding Alfonso’s character, continued speaking without taking offense.
“Sir Alfonso, Sir Jiwoon is not a knight, so such an inspection is unnecessary. He is a civil noble who aspired to politics in his homeland, possessing extensive knowledge and being well-versed in various new cultures.”
“Ah, I see.”
“Moreover, Sir Jiwoon has a deep appreciation for poetry and literature, which you, Sir Alfonso, are so fond of. I assure you, he will be recognized as the greatest poet of our kingdom someday.”
Roselia chimed in, echoing the baron’s words.
“Oh…!”
Upon hearing this, Alfonso’s expression gradually transformed from a mere nod of acknowledgment to a bright smile over the next five seconds.
“Oh! Is that so? It’s truly a pleasure! I am Chestein Alfonso, who discusses both poetry and swords!”
“I am Han Jiwoon. I have heard much about you. It is an honor to meet Sir Alfonso, who is renowned as both an outstanding knight and an equally magnificent poet.”
At Jiwoon’s compliment, Alfonso waved his hands as if embarrassed, standing up abruptly.
“Oh, no! Whoever told you that must have left out a part. Let me reintroduce myself properly. I am Chestein Alfonso, the kingdom’s finest poet-knight, who blends loyalty as a knight and noble elegance into artistic expressions. I humbly greet Sir Jiwoon of Korea, who possesses eyes that seem to hold all the wisdom of the world.”
The handsome knight’s elegant gesture of bowing with his right hand extended was quite impressive, though only if one hadn’t listened to his self-praising words.
“Ah, yes…”
Caught off guard by Alfonso’s grandiose introduction, Jiwoon found himself standing up to return the bow but froze mid-action.
“Hahaha! You’re so modest. I understand, though. Most nobles react the same way when they see my face and graceful demeanor…”
Alfonso’s words trailed off as Jiwoon awkwardly sat back down, overwhelmed by the display.
This is exhausting. This guy is a full-blown case of narcissism. How did he even become a knight?
Jiwoon cautiously asked Lawrence, seated next to him.
“How did Sir Alfonso come to serve under Baron Frederic?”
“Hmm! I thought you might ask that. Well, the truth is…”
Lawrence sighed, shaking his head, before beginning the tale.
Alfonso was born as the second son of a relatively wealthy but not particularly prestigious newly-risen viscount family. He inherited his talent as a knight from his father, a distinguished knight, and his striking appearance from his mother, a renowned beauty. A wealthy young man who excelled in swordsmanship, Alfonso lacked nothing. However, as the second son, he was not in line to inherit the title.
At sixteen, despite his father promising to knight him by the age of twenty if he stayed in the estate, Alfonso convinced his parents and left home. What mattered most to him was different. With a considerable amount of wealth and accompanied only by his loyal servant Marcio, who had served him since childhood, Alfonso ventured out, heading to the famous academy of the Kingdom of Quern to pursue his dream.
A master swordsman with no match, Alfonso chose to study literature. Believing that he lacked only this one thing, he devoted himself to poetry and literature. His dream was not to succeed with the sword but to become a celebrated poet recognized by all.
At the academy, Alfonso studied diligently and proudly presented his poetry. His works, presented by a handsome and wealthy noble youth, became a topic of conversation. However, the reviews were harsh. Most people would have been devastated, unable to continue in the literary world.
But Alfonso was not ‘most people.’ A terminal case of narcissism, he could not accept the jealousy and criticism from those who failed to understand his art.
Thus, he lamented the ignorance of others as he left the academy.
“I understand the great poet Romero’s plight! Alas, I am a genius born in an age that fails to recognize me! Farewell, ordinary folks! I, Chestein Alfonso, will sing my songs with the wind and dew as my companions!”
Romero, the famous poet who wrote “The Song of the Wind,” was exiled and spent his later years in misery due to the envy of others who could not appreciate his genius. Unlike Alfonso, however, Romero was a true poet.
After leaving the academy, Alfonso wandered for three years with his faithful servant Marcio. Over time, the wealth he left home with dwindled, and he faced countless duels. These were mostly a result of his attempts to court various beautiful ladies with poorly composed poetry, leading to arguments and subsequent duels with their knights.
The more he traveled, the more often he encountered attractive ladies, leading to frequent duels. And he kept winning.
28 victories, 1 draw.
Alfonso only remembered meeting twenty-seven ladies. The record was meticulously kept by his loyal servant Marcio, who noted every duel. Alfonso, aspiring to be a noble crane, never bothered to remember the number of men he defeated. Only the draw remained etched in his memory, for it was not over a lady but against Halford.
(To be continued )