Chapter 56
Kassel’s Childhood (1)
Riena sat on a chair the attendant had placed for her under the shade of a tree, watching Kassel as he guided the young apprentice knights.
He’s grown so much.
When he had first come to Count Dike’s domain, Kassel had known nothing about swordsmanship. His stamina had been so poor that he couldn’t even hold a wooden sword at the start.
The Count had him go through basic physical training first, and only when he had built up enough strength did he gift him a wooden sword.
He had practiced endlessly—swinging it up and down, cutting diagonally, repeating the same drills over and over, gradually learning something new each time…
Though Kassel had been timid, he was always serious—almost grim—whenever it came to sword lessons.
“It might be hard to believe now, but if you keep at it, by the time you’re grown, you’ll be the greatest knight in the Empire.” Just as the Count had said back then, Kassel’s skills improved rapidly.
He absorbed everything like a sponge, never letting a single lesson slip by.
A student who understood ten things when told only one—that was Kassel.
Count Dike had wanted to keep teaching such a promising boy himself until the very end, but he hadn’t been able to, since Kassel had returned to his own household.
And now here Kassel was, truly the Empire’s greatest knight, passing down the very teachings he had once received. That thought made Riena’s chest swell with emotion.
That timid boy had grown so much in ten years—it was hard for her not to be deeply moved.
She regretted that Count Dike wasn’t alive to see this. If he could see Kassel now, he would have been immensely proud.
“What’s on your mind, my lady?”
“Nothing… just realizing how much time has passed. I used to watch Kassel practice like this when we were children.”
“Oh, that’s right. His Grace said he first learned the sword from Count Dike!”
“Yes.”
Amy, too, looked at Kassel with an emotional expression.
“When His Grace returned to the dukedom, everyone was shocked. They said that when he left, he was small and timid, but in just half a year he had changed so much. He’d grown taller, healthier, and most of all, his personality had become livelier.”
“Really?”
Riena leaned in, intrigued.
Kassel had only told her briefly about his past ten years. It hadn’t been enough.
Especially—she wanted to know how he had endured when he left Dike, the place he cherished more than his own home, only to return to his estate and face his brother’s death.
“When people heard he had learned swordsmanship, Sir Peter, the knight captain at the time, was astonished. He said Kassel’s skill was unbelievable—impossible to gain in just half a year.”
“Father said Kassel was a born talent. A genius who might appear once in a hundred years. He regretted that Kassel hadn’t even touched a sword until he was eleven. He said that if he’d started earlier, he would have shone at an even younger age.”
“Sir Peter said the same thing. After that, His Grace continued his training under him. Sir Peter was delighted that His Grace had learned such a solid foundation from Count Dike.”
Riena laughed, swinging her legs back and forth.
“Father was kind, but when strict, he was very strict. Honestly, I thought Kassel would give up crying. But to my surprise, he endured. Even when he struggled, he’d sneak out at night to practice. I had to drag him back inside more than once.”
“That didn’t change even after he returned. Only, as mere servants, we couldn’t stop him by force.”
Amy giggled softly.
“It was all thanks to you and the Count that His Grace was able to change so much.”
“Well… I wouldn’t go that far…”
Riena trailed off and turned her eyes back to Kassel. He was now demonstrating a stance to the children, wooden sword in hand.
The basic downward cut—from top to bottom. It looked simple at first glance, but it was the most fundamental and by no means easy.
Kassel’s form was far better than in his youth. So precise, so textbook-perfect that it could serve as an example for every aspiring knight.
In him, Riena could still glimpse the boy she once knew.
After some hesitation, she spoke.
“Amy.”
“Yes, my lady?”
“What was it like when Kassel first returned to the dukedom?”
“When he first returned?”
“Yes.”
Riena’s smile faded.
“Kassel rushed home upon hearing the news of his brother Asher Winkler’s death. He didn’t believe it at all, not until he left the estate. He kept insisting it was impossible.”
“…”
“He said he just needed to confirm that his brother was safe, and then he would come back to Dike. But I knew, even then, that he would never return. And indeed, he didn’t.”
Riena lowered her head, recalling the boy’s face, crying as though the world were ending.
“I worried so much about how he would cope when he went back and had to face reality.”
“His Grace…”
Amy’s tone was heavy.
“He wept bitterly at first. He couldn’t help it—Young Master Asher had been so good to him.”
“Yes, I heard about that.”
“But soon, he forced himself to accept it. Even at the funeral, he held back his tears. He said that if he cried, his brother wouldn’t be able to rest in peace, so he had to show him he would live on well.”
Riena imagined Kassel, clad in mourning black, standing before his brother’s coffin, holding back his tears.
Just the thought made her chest ache unbearably. If only he had cried freely—it would have been less heartbreaking than this.
To not cry for his brother… for a mere twelve-year-old, that wasn’t a natural thought at all.
“And after that?”
“As the only direct heir left, His Grace endured rigorous training as the successor of House Winkler. Since he had only gone through basic lessons until then, he worked endlessly to catch up.”
“…I see.”
“Outwardly, he bore it all well. He never complained. But according to my mother—who was his wet nurse—he would often cry alone at night back then.”
“I see…”
Amy’s voice grew sadder.
“But as time passed, His Grace grew tougher. The nights of secret weeping became fewer and fewer, until a year later, he didn’t cry at all anymore.”
That was fortunate, perhaps, but not something to be simply welcomed.
Becoming tougher meant he had bent to a harsh reality.
“From then on, he changed a lot. At first he used to laugh easily, with many expressions. But after a while, he grew expressionless, hiding his feelings. The late Duke was pleased, saying he was becoming a true heir of Winkler. But honestly… I sometimes miss the boy who was open with his emotions.”
“I feel the same.”
Riena gave a bitter smile and fell silent, lost in thought. Amy too turned her eyes back to the training ground without saying more.
After a long pause, Riena cautiously asked:
“Kassel’s parents… the late Duke and Duchess Winkler—what kind of people were they?”
“Hmm…”
Amy looked troubled.
“I don’t think that’s something I should say lightly. Especially here—ears are everywhere. The knights may be far, but they hear well.”
Amy was a servant of House Winkler. Asking about Kassel’s life had been one thing—it called for objective facts. But asking what kind of people his parents were—that would inevitably involve personal judgment.
Even if the two were already gone, it wasn’t a subject to speak carelessly of.
If anything, it’s harder to speak because they’re gone.
She couldn’t trouble Amy with her curiosity.
“I understand. That was a thoughtless question.”
“No, I’m the one who’s sorry I couldn’t answer you.”
After that, they chatted lightly about the festival as they watched the training grounds, then returned to their room.
Later, after changing out of her dust-covered clothes, Riena idled away, looking at the flowers Ryan had brought her. Then Amy came in, shutting the door behind her and sitting opposite her.
“My lady.”
“Yes?”
Amy’s face was unusually grave.
“What is it?”
“Well…”
She struggled to speak. Riena patiently waited.
“About the question you asked earlier.”
“My question? You mean about the late Duke and Duchess?”
“Yes.”
Even though no one was around, Amy lowered her voice. Riena pulled her chair closer, lowering her own voice as well.
“What about it?”
“…Normally, I shouldn’t tell you. But—”
“Then you don’t have to. Don’t force yourself.”
“No… I want to tell you.”
Amy downed a full glass of water in one go, as though her throat had gone dry.
