And now we're back in the present time, Luke is being surrounded by his knights who are ready to die for him; they covered him with shields.
But I wonder, how did that annoying man tame this well-coordinated knight group?
I didn't believe in this man at first, but I made a very fatal flaw. I only checked his fighting capabilities and prowess; I didn't even give him a test to see if he was smart.
Tsk, the sudden coma of his elder brother and the death of his father, as well as his quick ascension to marquess, it was his schemes all along.
I looked at the men in the back, and they looked hesitant and scared; they are only fighting for money.
Enough money for them to live a nice life with their family. These men might have wives waiting for them to come home.
And I'm just gonna kill them? But at this point, why not? It's only a few men; they must be rich for working with the marquess for quite a while.
"Esmond, you son of a b*tch, don't look at the soldiers, look at me!" Luke let out an irritating scream.
"Your men are worth more than your family, scum. Even if you were a king, I wouldn't look at you. That's how much I detest you."
"Bastard, you'll die here. I can kill you. I'm confident. Bahahahaha!" He stretched his hand like a crazy maniac while laughing.
"Esmond... You still know how to do healing magic, right?" Paisley, who was at the back, walked up beside me.
"I know how, but you know I suck at it, right?"
"It doesn't matter. Albrecht is suffering; his wound needs to be closed." He drew his sword, which was like a rapier, a fitting weapon for him.
"I'll handle them while you heal Albrecht. Please, I can't lose another friend."
"But..." I'm screwed. I can't use healing magic properly, nor did I try to perfect it. All I did was focus on my defensive and attack magic. That's why I didn't rely on healing.
"Please!" Paisley looked at me with pleading eyes. He had a warrior's aura but a kind man's heart.
"You're the only one who can do it now. I'm a failure at magic. That's why I wasn't qualified to be a part of the temple. Your friend over there said she can't as well. Please, Esmond, please."
That's right, Gesine can't do healing magic, and Paisley doesn't know how to use magic, like he wasn't destined to have magic.
(Backstory again, sorry folks)
Paisley once told me his story on the battlefield. He thought he would die in battle, so he shared his story with me.
And tell his family and descendants about his life.
"My story being told by a hero! There's no greater honor than that," is what he said, but fortunately, he didn't die.
He called me at dawn and gave me some alcohol. Believe me, I didn't like it, but he was loving it. It was almost morning, and the horde of monsters might come, but he didn't think much of it.
"Lord Esmond, you know I might die today, tomorrow, or maybe I have died yesterday, and you're just an image after I died."
He was so wasted that he started calling me with honorifics, which he never did.
"Hahaha, even if you're a fake, a demon, or an illusion, please listen to my story"
"You get drunk really quickly at your age? Ha! Alright, I'll listen to this story of yours, and maybe I'll tell your descendants about you"
—
The Paisley household ruled the eastern part of the Holy Empire, and it was a family famous for its bloodline of genius magic swordsmen. This family was a dedicated member of the temple, which is why they sent their children there to learn.
Among them was Arnold Paisley, the son of Duke Paisley and his wife. His father had four wives, and he was fortunate to be the son of the main wife.
However, he wasn't lucky enough to have magic.
Despite being the second son of the main wife, he was treated like an outsider, an extra mouth to feed in a renowned family.
"Worthless!" A bruised child was being surrounded by five children kicking and punching him. He lay on the floor helplessly.
"Don't go too hard on the 'adopted' child; he might still be useful for cleaning our rooms."
"Hahaha, right! Don't hurt his fingers and hands so he can hold a broom."
The five children laughed as they continued to mock him. All five of them were children of the concubines the Duke had.
But the maids and butlers just passed by, looking at their master laying on the floor covered in blood.
They watched as the children of the concubines injured their real master, whom they were meant to serve, but there was nothing they could do.
A boy with no magic is born into a house that needs magic. Why is God so cruel? Arnold thought about that many times.
"Why me? Why should it be me?" He wakes up at dawn to think of these words. Why is he still there just to suffer?
Even when being beaten up, he uses it as a time to think; their kicks eventually feel like nothing to him.
One day, there was a sudden event that will eventually change the paisley household forever.
"Ready yourselves, hold your weapons, the duke will arrive at any given moment," the knight stood beside five children.
They gathered there for an important event to test their capabilities as swordsmen, aside from the first son who was the oldest, Arnold didn't participate.
He stood at the entrance door with his head looking down on the ground, while the rest of the children are at the center of the training grounds.
The door beside him opened, and two guards came forward, and behind them was a broad man with a menacing-looking beard; he had a scar on his neck.
He wore gloves, and he had a silver sword in his waist; it was bigger than the average one.
The man gazed down at the small Arnold and walked off towards the other children.
Behind the man was Arnold's mother, though younger than his husband, she has more power than the other wives, and this was the reason why Arnold was neglected.
Because of the power and wealth, his mother didn't bother to raise her son properly. She didn't defend him or help him in any situation.
"Bring that boy here and give him a sword," the duke ordered the instructor.
"B-but he doesn't know how to. I never taught him anything!"
"Get that boy a sword and bring him here now," he looked at him, and immediately the instructor felt a pierce in his leg, so he hurriedly ran to get a sword and bring Arnold over.
Arnold came without speaking a word. He glanced at the duke and immediately looked back down again.
He stood beside the rest, and his brothers didn't like it. They were disgusted, to put it simply.
One thought came to mind on the dukes mind.
'For a boy that's been beaten up, his body is far better than the rest of these children.'
The duke walked up in front of the children and let out a faint bloodlust that drove the people at the arena to fall on the ground.
Everyone was lying on the ground, some with their faces kissing the ground.
But Arnold wasn't laying down or kissing the ground; he was kneeling with one knee supporting his body so he wouldn't fall to the ground.
"That's a fighting spirit right there," the duke smirked and stopped his sudden bloodlust, then shouted words that echoed through the training grounds.
"It's time for the children of the Paisley household to go to the temple and prove their worth. Six of you will participate. I hope to see what you're capable of."