Chapter 8: Gabriel. (4)

Gabriel rubbed his head. Goddamn, the old man had a nasty arm on him. Sure, the hit felt gentler than what the bushy-browed knight had done, but he still felt his brain bounce around within his skull. If this world had anything like a drill instructor then it would have to be this man.

"Jesus H…"

He muttered half a curse as he looked at the wooden sword that was pierced into the ground. It was already a bit dirty from before, only getting worse after it struck him. A few blotches of blood had appeared along the edge, slowly sliding down. Christ, and to think he felt that the hit was gentler than the one delivered by the bushy-knight.

He stretched out his hand and clutched the weapon, giving it a few tugs. But the damn thing wasn’t moving.

"Good lord, didn’t have to go that hard…"

He muttered a few more curses as he continued to tug at the stick, eventually resorting to using both hands. He looked like an oaf, an old man trying to pick a turnip out of the ground. But for now, this was his weapon, thus he had to draw it. And after a great deal of exertion, or perhaps it just felt like that because his current body was so weak, he managed to draw the sword out of the ground.

"Is that your choice, little knight?"

Lawrence loomed over him, looking down at the young child that was gasping for breath. A few small drops of blood ran out from his dirty hair and slid down his face, causing the old man to wince slightly. He’d hit him too hard, he would have to apologise for that. Gabriel spat out a heavy breath, he couldn’t even feel the trace amount of blood on his face thanks to the sheer amount of sweat that was leaking out from this weak body.

"The world’s a hostile place, no use in running from it."

Hostility, he didn’t think that there was a single world where that word couldn’t be used to describe the state of things. In his past life, the world had been hostile to the poor and the weak who got hold of more than they could protect. Well, that was technically true for this world as well if he looked back at the story, perhaps he could just attribute it to a fact of life at that point.

Lawrence looked… dumbfounded. Should he called the kid they brought in to torment realistic? Or should he just be honest and call him stoic, if not depressing? For god’s sake, he looked like a little kid that had barely celebrated his fifth birthday, he should be more concerned with drinking enough milk to grow taller.

"Haah, I weep for this duchy."

He could only reiterate his earlier words, for a different reason this time. How lucky it would be if there was only a single adult knight who could have at least a halfway similar mindset. Oh well, it wasn’t as if things would change if he complained about it.

"You probably already know, but I’m Lawrence Cadbury, I’m the one in charge of training the young blood that comes here. And I’ll say this, I apologise for hitting you like that, I did not adequately control my strength, please forgive me for that."

Lawrence finally drew his own sword out of the ground, holding it at his side as he tilted forward and lowered his head. From the looks of things, he was a simple person, sincere even. It made sense that Leonardo had him executed, he didn’t seem like someone who would let himself get controlled.

"I’ve been given the name Gabriel by Lady Alice. And there is no need to apologise, the trainer is allowed to treat his students however he sees fit, all that matters is that there are results."

He held out his hand with a shake of his head. Cursing about it was one thing, but in the end, Lawrence was still fully justified. Besides, it was just a hit, Gabriel had received so many of those that he couldn’t even be bothered to count them. In the end, they too were just a part of life.

"I am the one who decides what I am allowed, and I have decided that I’ve crossed the line. That is all there is to it. Now, hold your sword properly."

Lawrence ignored the little child and finished his bow before straightening his back and stabbing his sword back into the ground. He had lived this long without regrets by adhering to his principles, he was not about to go back on them now.

The moment the tip of Lawrence’s blade struck the ground, the air around him changed. Gabriel sensed it, he was sensitive to it. If the previous Lawrence was a sturdy wall that protected the house then the current Lawrence was a panther stalking the forest. Death followed him, both to take him and to reap what he sowed. His grasp on the wooden sword unconsciously tightened, Lawrence’s one eye seemingly piercing into him.

"They may call me the Knight Trainer, but I cannot teach you the swordplay of a knight, be it one from the royal family, from the duchy, or even from a minor noble house. A knight is grace, elegance, etiquette, the way of the knight is the way of honour even in the face of defeat."

Knights were more often than not one of the greatest weapons of the noble families, sometimes even their face and pride. Competitions were frequent and praises flew non-stop about the houses that had the best knights. To be a knight for a noble family was something you could take pride in even in your next life so it was something many people dreamt of. But Lawrence could not, and would not feed that dream. And just by looking at the air around him, Gabriel understood why.

"What I will teach you is to kill. To take the head of those who aim for your lady, to sever the arms of those who would take up arms against her. A knight will fight and die honourably, even if his carriage is surrounded by bandits. But you, you will not. You will cheat, you will launch low-blows, you will exploit weaknesses, you will throw dirt, you will roll around in shit, you will take hostages if need be. Raise your sword, Gabriel, I will teach you how to survive and how to kill."

Gabriel’s grip tightened further. As it was in his past life, so it would be in this it seemed. But the weapons had changed so he would have to learn anew. And thus, he raised his sword and listened to the panther.