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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 8
Chapter Title: Fellow Knights
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Please take good care of me.
'Ah, I'm seriously going to die.'
Arsen moved his steps, leaning on the wall because his legs were trembling and shaking.
If he didn't, he felt like he would collapse ungracefully and roll on the floor right then and there.
Palato Knight, finding his appearance quite amusing, threw some words from behind in a voice mixed with laughter, unclear if it was a joke or serious.
"You won't end up marrying that wall, will you? Shall I assign a maid to help support you on the way?"
"...I'm fine."
Spurred by pride, Arsen refused, not wanting to show such a sight, and took another step.
In the end, until the 12 o'clock bell rang, the most Arsen could manage was about 150 laps.
In fact, the first 100 laps were completed in less than thirty minutes, and because he didn't pace himself amid Palato's constant urging—Faster! Is that all you've got? More! More!—he spent the remaining hour and a half running with legs gone limp.
He learned that normally he could run at about 60 km/h for around thirty minutes—that was today's achievement, if it could be called one.
"We're back."
The communal dining hall they returned to was bustling with people, unlike what he'd seen that morning.
Since some time had passed since the bell rang, some servants were clearing away eaten places, while others were still eating heartily.
There were people who looked like administrators and others who seemed like squires.
As soon as Palato and Arsen entered, they drew eyes, and a group eating near the door waved hands and called out.
"Over here, Palato Knight!"
Arsen realized they were knights from the strange pressure emanating from their bodies.
Anyone could tell they were knights just from their builds, each a head taller than the others.
They all looked about ten years younger than Palato.
As Arsen and Palato approached, the knight who had first called Palato stood up abruptly.
The knight who came over tousled and stroked Arsen's head as if he were a cute doll.
"This little guy is the new one we've heard about? Man, he's adorable!"
"That's right. Let's sit and talk first, Weble. I've been drilling him pretty hard, so standing right now is probably torture for him."
As soon as Palato and Arsen sat in the empty seats beside the knights, servants promptly brought food.
White bread and soup, seasoned and grilled lamb, potatoes baked with cheese... His stomach growled fiercely from all the running, but it would be unseemly to dive into the food without greeting his future fellow knights sharing a pot of rice.
Arsen desperately averted his gaze from the meal, etching endurance into himself.
"Introduce yourselves too. This fellow here is Arsen, who will become our new knight comrade."
"I'm Knight Arsen, assigned as squire under Palato Knight. Please take good care of me."
Matching Palato's introduction, Arsen bowed his head politely in greeting.
Once again, the peculiar phrasing of "knight doing squire duty" amused them, drawing laughter from here and there.
Fortunately, it was closer to the laughter of watching a child's antics than mockery.
"How peculiar. A body like a child's, yet with powerful mana—a knight."
"It's amazing how he became a knight without much physical training. Oh, you remember me? We met yesterday. I'm Zenovia."
"Ah, yes. I remember. Zenovia Knight."
The friendly one pretending to know him was the female knight he'd seen in the office last evening.
Her striking red bob cut reaching her shoulders stood out.
Having seen all sorts of hair colors in this fantasy world, he'd never encountered one as vividly dyed-red as hers.
"You just heard from Palato Knight, right? Name's Weble. Nice to meet you, little guy."
"Kamin."
"Pleased to meet you. Please take good care of me. Weble Knight, Kamin Knight."
"Yeah, you too! Aren't you too skinny? At your age, you need to eat lots of pork backfat to bulk up. That's how you become a fine knight!"
Weble was the burly knight who'd stood up earlier to pat Arsen's head, while Kamin appeared much smaller by comparison—though hard to tell since he was sitting.
Weble had a short sports cut, a round and friendly handsome face, a loud voice, and a cheerful demeanor.
Kamin had roughly grown shaggy hair, an angular and sharp face, and an indifferent expression.
Zenovia was the woman, and the contrasting images of the men made them easy to remember.
Their personalities differed too—with Weble treating the politely greeting Arsen like a cute kid and offering advice, Kamin barely spared him a word of his name before turning back to his meal, as if minimal acknowledgment sufficed.
"Don't mind him. Kamin doesn't talk much to anyone but me and Weble by nature."
At Zenovia's words, Arsen smiled politely and let it pass.
Honestly, it irked him a bit, but what could he do.
Whether it was wariness or hostility toward the new knight candidate, or just his personality as Zenovia said, he'd learn in time.
"Alright, enough chit-chat. He's probably exhausted from running laps in the training grounds, so stop making him talk and let him eat. Supervising the training and running along, I'm starving to death too."
"How many laps did he do?"
"For the honor of our Arsen Knight, the training details shall remain secret. Let's just say it's a level I can't utter with my own mouth."
The knights burst into laughter at Palato's words and resumed eating.
Arsen matched the atmosphere and devoured the food before him.
Fortunately, the territory's dining culture wasn't like Renaissance nobles picking elegantly at their food.
Even Palato and Kamin gripped knives and forks loosely like ordinary Koreans eating Western food, tearing into their meals, and that was the most refined.
Weble and Zenovia lifted soup bowls to their mouths and tore into ribs with bare hands—barbarians had nothing on them.
During the meal, Weble, Zenovia, and Arsen built rapport chatting about trivial personal matters.
Zenovia's red hair was a rare trait hard to find nearby, characteristic of people from the distant north; Weble had awakened as a knight at fifteen—not as young as Arsen, but still early—and grown this tall; such stories.
"So you might even reach ten arim (3m). I've never seen a knight awaken at such a young age!"
"Usually the earliest is mid-teens. I awakened at nineteen, which is fast, but really, does awakening age correlate with height? Ramun Knight awakened around your age too and didn't grow much."
"Well..."
Lost for words, Weble stuffed another lamb rib into his mouth.
Arsen too hoped Zenovia was right. Being tall was fine in moderation, but 3m? He couldn't imagine the inconvenience.
Joints and such would be fine as a knight, but at that height, he'd likely never walk upright in any building.
"We'll head out first then."
"Enjoy your meal, Palato Knight! See you later, little guy!"
"I'll see you again next time. Weble Knight, Zenovia Knight, Kamin Knight."
"See ya."
Having eaten first, Zenovia, Weble, and Kamin rose from the table ahead of them.
Surprisingly, Kamin said nothing until the end, merely dipping his head lightly in farewell to Palato.
After they left, Palato asked Arsen, who was slurping spaghetti vigorously.
"How are they, your impressions of your comrades?"
"I think they're good people. Well, honestly, Kamin Knight doesn't seem to like me much..."
"Ha, he gets that misunderstanding a lot. Used to get scolded by senior knights for it back in the day. Now we just accept it's his personality. He's a deep guy once you get to know him, so don't take it to heart."
"Understood."
Since even Palato said so, he probably was just socially awkward.
There were people like that in his previous life too.
Those who found conversing or mingling with strangers inherently uncomfortable.
There was no need to be buddies with every comrade, and Arsen himself wasn't the type to enjoy socializing that much.
As long as they weren't hostile, a nodding acquaintance was fine.
"You eat well. Does the dining hall food suit your taste?"
"To confess, I didn't grow up eating so well in the castle. I wasn't the favored son."
"If my son were as polite as you, I'd have raised him with love and affection."
"You have a son?"
"No son, but I have a daughter. A wild one. She insists on becoming a knight like her dad, but I don't know if she has the talent. Well, some things only show with age."
Seeing him at the training ground from morning, Arsen had unconsciously assumed Palato was single, but on second thought, a knight that age without family would be the oddity here.
Thereafter, Palato boasted—disguised as complaints—about his daughter a bit more, then wiped his mouth with a napkin and stood.
"I'll head out first. I'll be busy all afternoon, so spend your time freely. You can go see Luden Knight as mentioned earlier."
"I'll go see him. Then, good luck."
"Thanks. See you tomorrow."
With all the knights gone, Arsen continued eating alone.
It was like a beggar lived in his stomach—with what felt like ten times his usual intake, more kept going in endlessly.
Only after a long while did he finally feel full. Looking around, no one else was eating.
Rising, Arsen called to a servant cleaning the dining hall.
"Hey. Do you know where Mage Luden is?"
"Mage Luden, you mean? He's usually in the east annex, doesn't come out much."
"Where's the east annex?"
"Go out the main building's front gate and head left all the way."
"Shall I guide you?"
The servant's face already showed reluctance.
Did mages evoke that much aversion?
It still didn't make sense.
'Maybe because unlike others, I have memories from my previous life? Nah, that can't be.'
"No, it's fine. I can find it myself. Go ahead."
"Understood."
The servant, wearing an expression as if "good luck with that" was omitted, quickly vanished back to his duties.
After sending the servant off, Arsen passed a few stairs and corridors, exited the front gate, and looked left.
There, in the distance, stood a building like a proper mage's tower.
'More surprising I didn't notice it on the way here.'
Reaching the tower's entrance, Arsen lifted the iron knocker on the door and rapped it firmly: knock, knock.
An extraordinary aura emanated even from the rusty knocker.
"Are you in?"
[Who is it?]
A man's drowsy voice came from inside, as if he'd just woken.
Sounds of things being shoved around, toppling over, curses—then the door opened.
"Did Weble Knight send you? Tell that jerk his damn armor still needs time to repair! What nerve, wrecking it to pieces and hounding me!"
Surprisingly, Mage Luden was a muscular giant with hair, sideburns, and beard so bushy they blended indistinguishably.
Shorter than knights over 2m, but about his half-brother Philus's size.
Dressed in pajamas as if he'd been sleeping until moments ago, his eyes crusted, drool dried on his beard.
Like Eloise, none of the mages he'd seen in this world looked the part of mages.