The Conqueror from a Dying Kingdom, page 24
I left my three journals in the locker and closed it. I took my purse, dagger, and locker key with me before leaving the room.
✧✧✧
That had been the first fight of my life. I wasn’t used to such things, which might’ve been why I’d overdone it. Now that I was able to think straight, I realized that my attempts at self-defense would actually count as excessive force.
Haah... I’ve gone and done it. Mom and dad are gonna be furious when I get home.
As I gloomily left the dorm, Myalo called out to me.
“Yuri, wait up.”
I stopped. “What is it?”
What could he want?
“I know you’re still worked up over what happened, but you should at least clean your hands and face before leaving. There’s blood on them.”
“Oh, okay.”
I was about to carelessly wipe my face with my sleeve, but Myalo grabbed my arm to stop me.
“You’ll stain your clothes.”
Good point. But there’s blood on both of my hands, so my sleeves are all I’ve got.
“There’s a well by the rear entrance. Let’s wash you up there.”
Myalo grabbed my hand and led me there. Now I was getting blood on his hand too.
“Sorry. For everything,” I apologized.
“Don’t be. It’s not worth dwelling on it now.”
It isn’t?
“Didn’t you see what happened?”
“I saw. It was impressive.” Myalo sounded a little merry. Excited, even.
“No it wasn’t. It was stupid.”
I really shouldn’t have gone that far. I receive a little training and that’s how I act when I get mad? There’s a side of me I never knew existed.
We reached the well where Myalo used his bloodstained hand to pull up the brand-new bucket, which was full of fresh water.
“Please give me your hands.”
I held out my hands and Myalo tipped the bucket so that the water washed over them. It rinsed the blood from my hands. Once they were clean, I washed Myalo’s hands in turn, then turned my attention to my face and bloodstained sleeves. I started to feel better once I was done. That was when I realized that I’d reeked of blood the whole time.
“Haah...” I couldn’t help but sigh.
I’ve really done it this time. I’ll be expelled. How can I make this up to my parents?
“Looks like we’ll be saying goodbye even though we just met,” I said.
“What do you mean?” Myalo replied.
“They’ll probably expel me for this, won’t they?”
“Pfft,” Myalo laughed. “You thought you’d get expelled? There’s no chance of that.”
“There isn’t?”
He has to be wrong.
“It’d be another story if you punched Princess Carol, but the idea of a member of the Ho family being expelled over something like this is a little far-fetched.”
He sounds pretty certain...
“But I gave him a real beating.”
“But you didn’t kill him, did you?”
“I didn’t go that far.”
“The academy won’t want to make a big deal of it either. They’ll make sure he’s not bleeding and that his face is cleaned up before he goes home to his parents. They might even hide his injuries with makeup. So there’s no need to worry about any of that.”
What he said made sense. It wasn’t like the blood had come from wounds—well, besides maybe a few cuts around his eyelids and a split lip. It had all been from his nose, so he’d just be left with some bruising once he was cleaned up. His bones weren’t broken or anything.
Getting some assurance from someone else had made me regain my calm. It was just as Myalo said. I hadn’t realized it until now, but I hadn’t been thinking straight.
“And Dolla is well-known for causing trouble. Whatever happens, I’m sure you won’t be expelled. I guarantee it.”
Hearing that made me feel I was going to be okay.
“All right. I feel like I can relax now.”
It felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I wouldn’t have been able to look Rook or Suzuya in the eye if I’d been expelled on my first day.
“I’m glad that I could be of service,” Myalo said, sounding pleased.
After parting with Myalo, I returned to the Ho residence on foot. The gatekeeper was there to greet me when I arrived.
“Hello, I’m back,” I said to him.
He welcomed me home and let me through. My face was known to the staff here, though the fact that I hadn’t returned via carriage made him suspicious.
When I entered the building, the head maid appeared and immediately spotted the blood splatters on my clothes.
“Are you quite all right, little one?”
I’d known this maid for many years and could never get her to stop calling me little one.
“I’m fine. I just had a fight with my roommate. The blood’s all his. Will it wash out?”
“Please remove those clothes right away. I’ll bring you something else to wear. Oh, but you can’t undress here—to the parlor, please.”
You don’t have to tell me not to strip naked in the entrance hall.
She sprinted off before I could reply to her, so I went into the parlor alone and began removing my uniform. The head maid returned with clean clothes before I’d finished undressing.
“My apologies, but I must ask you to dress yourself. The blood will leave a stain if I wait too long.”
Now I see why she’s in a rush.
As soon as I handed her the soiled clothes I’d removed, she hastily ran off with them. My clothes had almost completely dried out, but hopefully wetting the fabric earlier with water from the well had prevented staining.
After I’d changed, I sat down on a sofa in the parlor and relaxed.
After a short time, Rook came to talk to me. I knew he was around because he’d planned to stay here today and tomorrow. It felt awkward to see him regardless.
“Yuri, what happened?”
I quickly stood up from the sofa and bowed my head.
“I got into a fight already, and I was asked to leave the dormitory. I’m sorry,” I told him honestly.
This is shameful.
“A fight? With who?” Rook looked cross as he asked me.
I guess he’s a little mad at me. Then again, who wouldn’t be?
“With Galla’s son. I’m not sure whether it’s just a coincidence, but he’s my roommate in the dormitory.”
“Ah,” Rook replied. He sounded understanding. “You shouldn’t pick fights with people. That’s not what martial arts are for.”
It was a common warning given to martial arts students, but Rook said it without much conviction—he’d probably heard enough about Dolla from Galla to know that the boy was a troublemaker.
“I won’t do it again.”
“Don’t get into fights.”
“Yes, dad.”
“He attacked you, did he?”
“Yes.”
“I thought so. I’ve heard a few stories from Galla.”
I knew it.
“I see.”
Good thing I’ve got such an understanding dad. I don’t think I would’ve been able to stand it if he’d been disappointed in me and given me a long lecture.
“You didn’t use a dagger, did you?”
“Just my hands.”
“You didn’t break any bones or fracture his jaw?”
“Nothing like that.”
“Okay... And just to be sure, you didn’t kill him? And you didn’t beat him unconscious?”
I had to stop myself from laughing. That’s asking the questions in the wrong order.
“I didn’t kill him, but I did choke him out.”
“You choked him?” Rook’s tone changed—he sounded more reproachful.
I have to take blame for that.
“Why’d you do that? Using a move like that without a lot of training is dangerous.”
“He was like a rabid dog. I thought he’d keep fighting to the point of exhaustion unless I choked him out.”
That much was true.
“Use an armlock at times like that,” Rook chastised me.
“I thought I might injure his elbow.”
I’d learned a lot about holds from Soim. The pain someone in an armlock felt was completely different from the pain of being punched. I’d experienced it myself, so I was all too familiar with it. When done properly, it caused pain beyond what most people could withstand, so it was an easy way to make an opponent submit.
But if the subject of an armlock panicked and thrashed in an attempt to get free, there was a risk of a tendon injury. Those could be devastating. In some cases, the tendon would hurt whenever the joint moved, even ten or twenty years later. And it wasn’t the sort of pain that could just be brushed aside—if, for example, brandishing a spear caused pain, the muscle would be stimulated in response. That would make the spear-bearer’s movements awkward, and it could be a lifelong impediment to a knight.
“Hmm. You could’ve kicked his legs while avoiding his punches.”
The legs... Should I have gone for the legs?
“He’s bigger than I am. Would it have been possible for someone like me?”
I hadn’t considered the legs.
For someone with a small body, it was always difficult to deal damage when landing any kind of blow, so I hadn’t considered any fighting styles of that sort. Even Soim had told me not to rely on blows until I’d grown up.
“If you’d kicked him repeatedly, that might’ve worked, but I’m not sure. Maintaining your distance takes a lot of skill when you’re against someone who’s used to fighting. Take Galla, for example—a single blow from someone his size would be enough to permanently knock down anyone who’s not properly trained.”
He was right. A low kick that left Dolla unable to stand would’ve been ideal. But it was just as he’d said: when an opponent was trying to punch and grab you, it took skill to repeatedly deliver low blows while keeping a fixed, safe distance. Sure, it might’ve been possible in the middle of a tidy courtyard where there were plenty of places to retreat, but it was highly unlikely in a small dorm room. One mistake and I would’ve been pinned against a wall and beaten senseless. It was beyond my skill level.
“It sounds like the best option was to avoid fighting in the first place,” I said. “I should’ve yielded to him and then complained to the housemistress. If that didn’t work, I could’ve commuted from here.”
“Maybe...but that’s not how a knight does things. You’d be laughed at.” Rook looked surprisingly bitter.
Apparently, that wasn’t an acceptable way for a man to handle their problems. Running off with my tail between my legs whenever someone picked a fight would just cause more problems.
Don’t get into fights, but don’t back down if someone picks a fight. Also, don’t injure anyone when fighting. Those demands weren’t reasonable. From the moment Dolla had picked a fight with me, I’d been caught between a rock and a hard place. But the problems people faced when dealing with one another often weren’t easy. As sad as it was, it was just one of those things about life.
“I’m actually planning to go drinking with Galla today. I’ll talk to him about it.”
D-Dad... You’re planning to go out drinking while your son’s dealing with this impossible dilemma? Oh well, I suppose I’ll be all right.
“Ah! What happened?!” someone cried out, interrupting us.
Suzuya had appeared from behind Rook and spotted me. She was shocked to see her son here when I should’ve been at the academy. I felt a chill run down my spine. In a sense, she was the last person I wanted to be scolded by.
“I’m s-sorry. I came home.” My voice sounded pathetic, even to me.
Rook was there to back me up, of course. “Yuri had a little fight with a friend. It happens all the time.”
Thanks, dad.
“You stay out of this,” Suzuya snapped.
Dad closed his mouth.
Dad...
“You had a fight, Yuri?” she asked. She didn’t sound sympathetic. If anything, it sounded like she was grilling me.
“Yes...”
This is nothing new, but every time it happens, I feel like I’m really a little kid. It seriously gets me down.
“You punched someone?”
“I did.”
No sooner than I’d finished speaking, I felt a hard, sharp smack on the top of my head. Somehow, it reverberated all the way down to my jaw. Stars swam in my vision, and I couldn’t help but curl up and hold my head in my hands.
Ouch! Hey, that really hurt!
My eyes welled up with tears.
“If you punched or kicked each other in a fight, then you both deserve to get hit like that.”
Since when was that the rule?
I’d teared up so much it looked like I was viewing things from underwater.
“I’m sure the other boy will get hit by his parents too, so it’s fair,” Suzuya explained. She sounded fully confident in her unique form of reasoning.
I somehow doubt that, I thought, but I didn’t want to argue. I can’t win against my mom.
A little later, Rook went out drinking and Sham returned home. It turned out we’d just missed each other when I’d first arrived, since she’d headed out to the Grand Library. When she learned I was back, she was overjoyed and came straight to see me.
I ate dinner with Suzuya and Sham while a bump steadily grew on my head.
Afterward, Sham asked me for the homework I’d promised her, so I stayed up late into the night coming up with problems. While I was busy, Rook came home drunk and told me, “Galla says thanks for teaching his son a lesson. You can go back to the academy tomorrow with no worries.”
I was relieved, and this relief turned to sleepiness, so it was tough to stay awake long enough to finish making homework questions. When I finally went to sleep, all I could imagine was how pleased Sham would be.
✧✧✧
The next day, I woke up early and boarded a carriage in my sleep-deprived state. When I reached the dorm, I saw a puffy-faced Dolla waiting for me at the entrance.
What does he want now? I wish he’d leave me alone...
Dolla’s entire face was swollen and covered in bruises. He looked so bad that I wondered if he might’ve been missing a couple of teeth. I was impressed that he was here at all.
As I approached the entrance, he spoke to me. “I didn’t lose.”
I was dumbfounded. Is there something wrong with my ears?
“I’d like to ask you a question,” I said.
“What...?”
“If that didn’t count as a loss, then what would it take?” I genuinely wanted to know.
“I don’t accept that I’ve lost.”
Seriously? So you don’t lose unless you’ve accepted your defeat? That’s a simple way of looking at it. Well, I suppose it’s sort of like his faith—there’s no use arguing with it. If he tells me he’s fine, then he’s fine, even if his face is black and blue. That’s all well and good for him, but it puts me in a tough spot.
“Then who won yesterday’s fight?” I asked.
At first, Dolla didn’t respond. He clearly didn’t know what to say, because he didn’t utter a single word. He couldn’t declare himself the winner, but he didn’t want to concede a draw either. Finally, he appeared to reach a conclusion.
“Our fight’s not over,” he declared.
Oh, I’m tired of this.
“All right. Let’s say I lost yesterday’s fight. There you go. I lose,” I conceded.
“Huuuh?!” Dolla looked at me in disbelief.
“Isn’t that nice? You won. Congratulations.”
“No. I don’t accept that.”
“But you just said yourself that someone wins when the other person accepts that they’ve lost.”
That’s why I said what I did. What’s the problem?
“No.”
What’s wrong with him?
“Then let me ask you—if you don’t accept that you’ve lost, even after being bloodied and choked out, what would it actually take?”
“I’ll accept it if I lose two or three times.”
Aaand he’s back to talking nonsense.
“Oh. Really? So even after being beaten to a pulp, you’ll act like you were unbeaten if you defeat me in another fight right now? Is that the sort of man you are? Aren’t you ashamed of yourself?”
“Grrr...” Unsurprisingly, he didn’t have a comeback. “Fine. I lost yesterday. But we’re gonna fight again. Just you wait.”
No way. Why’s he causing so much trouble? What’s with him?
“I’d rather not.”
“Jerk... You won’t give me a rematch?” His eyes were full of resentment for some reason.
“So in your world, you can repeat every fight as many times as you like? That’s a real simple outlook you’ve got.”
“Huh?”
“A true fight between two knights is a fight to the death. Losing doesn’t just mean you didn’t win—it means you’re dead and it’s over.”
Soim had repeated that to me many times over. Having lived through several battles, he often spoke of the mindset they required.
“I went easy on you yesterday because it was just an argument, but if it was a duel, we’d have fought to the death. If you intend to be a knight, I’d advise you to take such matters more seriously. Unless, of course, you plan on spending your whole life on petty squabbles like the one we had yesterday.”
Unfortunately, someone like him was likely to do just that, brainless as he was.
“Grrr...”
“If you do want to fight me, at least get some proper training first.”
“You mean I should take you on again once I’ve trained? All right. But you’re gonna give me a rematch. I’m not gonna let you run.”
“I’m not running. Just promise me you won’t attack me while I’m sleeping; that wouldn’t be a real victory.” I decided to impose that as a rule while I had the upper hand.
“As if I would! You don’t know who you’re talking to!”
Feels like this whole thing started because you had no idea who you were talking to... But whatever. At least now I know that I don’t need to sleep with a weapon under my pillow.
