BSWL 19

Chapter 19,

“The Pen Is Mightier Than the Sword (2)”

That day, in the training grounds, I wondered what sort of realization had taken root in the duke’s mind.

“What should I teach you?”
“You must have learned something at the academy. Literature, history, philosophy—anything will do. Try teaching me something.”

The duke shortened his training time and began studying actively.

Honestly, “studying” meant little more than recounting what he had learned at the academy, just like he had said. But he talked about history, and sometimes even about philosophy.

The surprising part was how easily he followed along.

I had thought his brain was all muscle and no capacity for learning.

“When studying arts like philosophy or literature, it’s important to first grasp the overall lineage or flow. At the academy, we called this ‘drawing a map.’”
“That’s similar to swordsmanship. When studying sword techniques, you break down each move—when, where, and how to swing the blade—engrave it into your body, and only at the end do you create a map under the name ‘swordsmanship.’”

Maybe it was because I had underestimated the duke’s basic ability and was teaching first-year-level humanities that even children could understand. But more likely, it was because he connected everything he learned to swordsmanship, using it to understand the material.

At first, that method seemed crude.

But listening to him, it turned out to be unexpectedly fun.

I realized that the humanities and philosophy I had studied—the things that seemed useless and tedious—could actually be connected to martial arts.

It made me organize my own thoughts while lecturing.

Could I integrate the knowledge I had absorbed from the Akashic Records into swordsmanship? Could I advise countless swordsmen based on what I read there, as people often misunderstood?

Thinking about all of this made lecture time both enjoyable and fulfilling.

My own training continued as well.

Head butler Apel had now begun teaching actual martial arts in earnest.

He hadn’t stopped basic physical training, but he had started showing how to hold and swing a sword.

The techniques were basic—the three essential sword moves: horizontal slash, vertical slash, and thrust—but even that was enough for me to feel myself learning martial arts and growing stronger.

The civilian settlements in the Duchy of Helpion were gradually being reorganized.

After Dahlenberg’s death, the Grizzly Mercenary Company disbanded.

Out of 250 members, about 40 who had actively joined Dahlenberg’s schemes were dead, some others left the duchy, and the remainder simply resigned from the mercenary group and continued living under the duke.

The village atmosphere was unsettled for a few days but quickly returned to normal.

Perhaps it was because death was familiar in the Duchy of Helpion due to constant battles with demons and magical beasts. Or perhaps it was because Lady Elsia, another pillar of the duchy, actively quelled complaints.

It was a relief that the chaos was resolved quickly and no other problems arose.

Yes. Things had gone so smoothly that I might have let my guard down for a moment.

“You called me?”

At the unusually urgent message from the head butler, I hurriedly left the office and moved to the duke’s audience room.

Inside was a very rare scene.

The duke was nervously biting his nails, clearly flustered.

“This is serious.”

Only a handful of things could unsettle Duke Helpion to this degree.

I learned from the butler that a letter from Lady Titania had arrived.

“What is it? Did Lady Titania send a letter to break up with you?”

Recently, besides the letters I had written on his behalf, there had also been one written directly by the duke.

Perhaps the lady had suddenly realized the duke’s ignorance and was shocked.

But the duke’s eyes were flickering wildly.

What? Was I joking, and it hit the mark?!

“Bigger than that.”
“What do you mean?”
“Duke Squarrett plans to visit the territory and speak formally.”

Duke Squarrett—the father of Lady Titania.

“Why now?”
“I don’t know the reason, but if someone of his stature visits, it’s surely to permit the marriage, isn’t it?”
“No, that can’t be.”
“You’re very firm in denial.”

I had learned that it’s easier to just say no when something isn’t true.

The duke shook his head regretfully.

Squarrett, huh. I had read about him a few times in textbooks. And now he’s coming to our duchy.

“What kind of person is Duke Squarrett?”
“Hmm…”

For some reason, Duke Helpion’s expression soured.

“He’s the most aristocracy-obsessed old man in the Delphi Kingdom.”

Still, judging him so harshly for a duke of a nation…

“For fifteen years, he’s ruled Delphi as the ‘Iron-Blooded Chancellor.’ Even the empire fears his strictness and meticulousness.”
“Textbooks call him the Iron-Blooded Chancellor and praise him highly. They call him the guardian of Delphi.”
“He increased the wealth of Delphi fivefold while others struggled. Worthy of a textbook.”

Not the kind of praise a person who beheaded a demon lord should give, though.

“And… he doesn’t really get along with me.”
“Huh?”
“I… I don’t care much for ceremony. But that man, whenever there’s a royal meeting, complains about manners, dress codes… ugh.”
“And yet you fell for his daughter.”
“His daughter doesn’t resemble him at all.”

I couldn’t know that. They’d only briefly met for a few minutes.

“When is the visit?”
“The letter says in about two days.”

Two days?! They must have left immediately after sending the letter!

“Then we need to prepare quickly. You, the head butler, the housekeeper, and even I or the chef are unfamiliar with noble customs. So you must prepare for Duke Squarrett’s arrival.”
“Me?!”

The duke nodded.

Of course, warriors like him had never politely hosted nobles…

Wait, a noble. I’m just the son of a middle-class merchant family. I know nothing of aristocratic life or etiquette!

All I know is how to behave so a noble doesn’t feel insulted, or how to manipulate foolish nobles to invest money. That’s it.

But the duke, pretending not to notice my panic—or maybe intentionally ignoring it—patted my shoulder and left the audience room.

“I’ll go to the demon territory for training for two days!”

What?! Leaving everything behind?

I grabbed his arm.

“Don’t be ridiculous! The prospective father-in-law is coming! We need preparation! I’ll give you strict etiquette lessons for the next two days!”

The duke made an openly displeased face.

Anyway, the task was before me, and I had to do it.

Because I was the subordinate.

The duke had at least been considerate enough to open the family warehouse and let me spend freely.

I learned for the first time the scale of funds in the Duchy of Helpion.

Three million gold just in the warehouse.

No wonder he could invest ten thousand gold here and there.

The fourth faction I had briefed on in the strategy room—using Head Butler Apel to manipulate market trades—had accumulated this much money for the duke.

Plus, the wealth collected from the Grizzly Mercenary Company wasn’t included yet.

With this kind of amount, I could at least imitate aristocratic etiquette.

“So you came to see the old man?”
“Haha, there’s no other place to trade in the duchy.”
“Tsk, tsk. You must be blind in your youth. Look around—there’s nothing here but food.”
“You speak like your daughter, Jamie.”
“She learned from someone—magic, speech, and even youthful rudeness, all copied from me.”

Lady Elsia laughed heartily.

Even an elegant old lady like her had quite the tongue.

“We only have two days. No need for flamboyance. Let’s at least serve food according to etiquette.”
“Do we even have the ingredients?”

She touched her cheek in worry, but I shook my head confidently.

Among desert tribes, the one who succeeds in a monster hunt can drink the beast’s heart blood, believing it grants the creature’s power.

Similarly, etiquette is symbolic. I can pull from Salvinus tea leaves, imperial nobility customs, Delphi nobility customs, or even foreign etiquette to serve.

“That’s a mishmash.”
“Can’t help it. It’s the Duchy of Helpion.”

Lady Elsia laughed heartily at that.

“Yes. This is the Duchy of Helpion. You know what’s essential.”
“A wandering knight who killed a demon lord, top assassins, mercenaries, uneducated wanderers—we’ll follow etiquette, but our way. That’s Helpion’s etiquette.”
“You’re turning this place into a principality?”

She came at me strong.

I shrugged.

“That’s the duke’s decision.”
“You look like you’re trying to devour him.”
“That’s the duke’s responsibility. I’m just following orders.”

“A head clerk who ruins the entire duchy.”

I smirked and handed Lady Elsia the order list.

“Buying so much—any discount?”
“We buy and sell at list price, same as your store. Don’t like it? Go elsewhere.”

Where else in the duchy could there be a shop like this?

I tearfully bought everything at full price and returned to the duke’s residence.

With the housekeeper’s help, I cleaned the estate and prepared the guest rooms.

The two days flew by.

We went out to the castle gates, with Duke Helpion leading all the retainers, to receive Duke Squarrett.

“Welcome.”

As the letter had said, Duke Squarrett visited the territory.

A little over 160 cm, stocky build, white hair slicked back, a matching white mustache, a firm jaw exuding stubbornness, sharp narrow eyes giving a strict impression.

Wearing a dark blue formal coat suitable for royal events, holding a neat staff, and smoking a pipe—a textbook aristocrat through and through.

“Are you the one?”

Ironically, Duke Squarrett spoke first to me, not the duke.

Why?

“You… you are the one who writes the letters on their behalf.”

Ah, um… what do I do?

I forced myself to keep a composed expression.

I know nothing. I am innocent.

Squarrett was notoriously strict. He had even openly criticized a previous king’s tyranny as unworthy of nobility.

If he learned that a mere clerk wrote the letters for his daughter…

Ugh, memories of the Crappy incident came rushing back.

I was a scapegoat entangled with nobility.