The Medieval Modern Man With A Gamer Mindset
Chapter 83

The Medieval-Modern Man With A Gamer Mindset 83

83. No Objections

Knights are very competitive.

In fact, all warriors are like that. Warriors who live their lives by demonstrating their strength and gaining fame should be like that. However, when the life of a warrior is combined with the status of a noble, it tends to develop into a strong sense of privilege.

The knights of the Dawn Islands were in that transitional period.

Those with exceptional martial skills rose to the ranks of the nobility. The title of knight was not hereditary, but they were treated as nobles in name only. Only their personal strength mattered.

That is why knights were a more closed class than one might think. If one could not prove one’s strength, one would not be recognized by other knights. They believed that real warriors should be distinguished from nobles who had simply inherited their status through luck.

That was what knights were all about.

Their high sense of honor and arrogance led them to cling to the virtues that they called themselves chivalry. There was no way that such knights would let the rumors from the audience chamber pass them by.

“Bishop Duke, I, as a knight, request a duel with you.”

“I have heard that Your Grace gives lessons…”

“Now that I have just come of age, I, Bishop-elect Narva, make this bold claim:

No knight in the Principality of Powys can defeat me.”

If one were to ignore such a remark, they would be considered not a bold hero, but a coward who shrinks back even after being insulted.

Knights had an obligation to take up the challenge for their own honor and for the honor of their lord, whether they liked it or not.

At least, that was how it used to be.

However, now, three days after Narva’s declaration that he would accept any challenge, knights no longer came to Narva to prove their honor, but to learn from him.

And Narva, the source of the rumor, would often look at the knights lined up before his quarters and say with a dry expression,

“Only ten today.”

Narva would say, pressing down on the corners of his slightly raised lips.

“To the training ground.”

Now the knights knew where Narva’s confidence came from.

He was the seed highly praised by Powys’ greatest knight, Terbaire. A man that Terbaire, who would not even accept a seed unless they were capable, had personally requested to become a knight.

Narva had long since overwhelmed the knights by simply showing them his talent, his instincts, and a glimpse of his practical technique.

‘How can someone who should be a knight choose the path of the clergy…!!!’

The knights glared at the back of Narva’s head, but it was no use.

Soon, when Narva arrived at the training ground with the knights, the lords, squires, and seeds who had heard the news of the duel were already gathered in a circle, their eyes sparkling.

However, instead of meeting their expectations, Narva chose to stride towards the display of swords. He did not particularly choose a sword.

“You are busy, and I am also busy.”

He simply picked up the hilt of the first sword his hand reached.

“Let’s finish this quickly.”

***

Knights seek a lord they can serve, dreaming of acquiring an estate where they can settle down for life.

To that end, they repeatedly polished their blades with oiled rags and wander in search of battles so that their skills do not rust. Among them, the knight Sir Beneworth was a man with an extraordinary thirst for improvement.

Thirty-two years old this year.

An age where one’s sharpness leans towards refined senses and techniques rather than relying on the physical abilities of their vigorous twenties. However, he was still a typical knight who relied heavily on physical prowess.

He highly valued the importance of technique, but on the other hand, he could not shake off his disdain for it.

‘In the end, technique cannot overcome strength. Overwhelming strength is the law that breaks technique.’

Beneworth believed in his exceptionally strong physique more than anyone else, and he was indeed rewarded for it.

His strength amazing never betrayed him. When dealing with bandits, mobs of gypsies, or criminals, he only had to kick his horse, and they would all scatter in fear.

He realized that this idea was truly arrogant after he fought against Bishop-elect Narva.

Clack, clack-.

The sound of footsteps crushing the soil broke the silence.

Narva and Beneworth.

The two circled each other like whirlwinds, aiming at each other. The only difference was in their posture. Beneworth held his sword pointedly, but Narva was tilting his head and fiddling with the hilt of his sword.

As if he didn’t even care, he looked around, swinging his sword here and there.

This is my chance. If I charge in now, I can defeat him in one breath.

-If he had not seen the previous duels that collapsed due to such easy judgment, Beneworth would have made the same mistake.

After a long standoff, Narva was the first to open his mouth.

“Well. I used it too much. It seems you are quite patient.”

Those who rely on innate strength or are driven by passion are good at and prefer to take the offensive.

If he were in his twenties, Beneworth would have already charged out.

Yet, Beneworth had learned that patience was also a virtue a warrior should possess. He maintained his composure even in the face of Narva’s arrogant words and condescending gaze.

Only then did Narva adjust his posture.

“Sir Knight Beneworth. Let’s relax.”

He widened his stride and gripped his sword hilt firmly.

His gaze swept over his opponent’s body, footwork, and shoulder muscles in an instant, and his breathing calmed down like the still surface of a long-frozen lake.

“If you try too hard, I might cause a ripple.”

He made a joke that was anything but a joke, but Beneworth couldn’t let his guard down.

Narva, who had only been facing him until now, began to approach one step at a time.

Narva closed the distance with no hesitation, raising his sword. At first glance, it was a simple, straightforward attack, but…

The sound that followed proved otherwise.

Clang!!!

The blade was repelled, accompanied by a faint spark. Beneworth gritted his teeth at the stinging sensation that ran through his fingertips. The tip of Narva’s sword, which had been a considerable distance away just a moment ago, was now within striking distance.

But he had deflected it. The opportunity to attack was once again his.

Beneworth gripped his sword with renewed confidence, but Narva was also spinning his sword hilt in the meantime.

‘Vertical slash!’

The power of a swing and a vertical slash is different.

From Noble mtl dot com

If Beneworth swung at him now, Narva’s downward strike would shatter his sword or knock it out of his hand. Should he risk it and attack, or should he retreat for now?

Beneworth chose the latter.

Beneworth took a step back with his right foot and twisted his upper body with all his might. He intended to take a few steps back and regain his distance, but…

-Narva seemed to have anticipated this and instantly lowered the tip of his sword, which he had been about to raise, to Beneworth’s chest.

“Hup!!!”

Clang-!

Beneworth barely managed to block the thrust by improvising and crossing his sword over his chest. Despite it being a training sword and deflecting the impact, he broke out in a cold sweat at the heaviness that was transmitted through it.

However, Narva had no intention of giving up the distance he had finally closed.

The moment Narva realized that the tip of his sword had been blocked, he moved his sword hilt. Narva’s sword slid up Beneworth’s blade like a snake flicking its tongue…

At one point, it floated into the air, and in the blink of an eye, the end of the weight attached to the sword hilt was right in front of Beneworth’s nose.

Had he swung it, his face would have been caved in without fail.

Beneworth could only stare at the sword hilt with his face pale with shock. After a long moment of embarrassment, the sword hilt was withdrawn.

Beneworth’s complete defeat.

And his opponent, who had overwhelmingly defeated Beneworth with his skill, was tapping his training sword with his index finger, a wicked smile on his face.

“The end.”

“…”

“I was a bit worried about causing a ripple. I commend your loyalty. But you should practice your swordsmanship a bit more.”

Only then did Beneworth realize why Narva had made that strange joke about ripples.

The ripple talk wasn’t a joke…

“If you’re pushed this far by an opponent wielding a toy weapon, wouldn’t the lord who granted you the title of champion suffer from a bruised ego?”

It was nothing more than a flimsy means of saving face for knights who had dedicated their lives to the sword.

***

When they first heard Narva’s boasting, the lords had laughed at him.

There were many variations of mockery.

The young fool knows nothing. He only intends to use the prestige of Tervere to intimidate the lords. The knave dares to insult knights without knowing their abilities or what war is.

Among the lords, not a single one believed Narva would actually take command of the army and go to war.

Instead, they simply ordered their knights to challenge him to chastise his arrogance for accepting the challenge. Even then, when news of the first defeat came, it was mostly met with contempt and disdain.

“A knight can’t defeat a mere bishop?”

“Tsk, I guess a noble is still a noble. Even if they’re uncultured, they’re bound to be better than average.”

However, as time passed and the challenges continued, and as Narva’s frustrating piled up, the situation began to reverse.

The knights who had been angry by his insults were now silently accepting his rebukes, impressed by the martial prowess displayed. Some even began to argue with their lords who berated them for their defeats.

“My lord, if you have ever held a sword, you would know. The bishop has an astonishing sense… An innate talent for gauging distance, using footwork, and wielding weapons freely. It’s a talent that even experienced knights replace difficult to cultivate!”

“You dare to defend your defeat in such a manner!”

“If the bishop were not a vassal of Lord Tervere and had not chosen the path of the clergy… I would have suggested he become my vassal. Not everyone can earn the reputation of having produced such a knight.”

Ironically, it was those who had been most hostile towards Narva who were the first to acknowledge his talent and skill.

In particular, the sense of crisis felt by Count Oduard, who had been sharply opposed to Narva, was the greatest. Count Oduard was a knight before he was a noble, and he had actually distinguished himself in battle, so he recognized Narva’s talent as soon as he saw him in action.

Count Oduard would sometimes watch the farcical spectacle unfolding in the training yard with his attendant and let out a dissatisfied sigh. Then, he would pat his attendant’s shoulder, who stood there blankly, and excitedly exclaim:

“Look there, look at that.”

“Yes?”

“In the blink of an eye, he changed his stance and moved according to his opponent’s reaction. But his eyes moved first. Do you know what that means?”

“Er…”

“His opponent’s tendons, or perhaps their gaze. He reads the signs from their body first and moves first. That’s in the realm of prediction. But no one notices… They’re all blind as bats.”

Count Oduard continued to watch Narva’s training with a complex gaze that mingled admiration and annoyance.

“He had to be born as the third son of His Majesty the Co-King. Even if his actions were despicable, if he had shown that level of skill, there would have been more than a few knights who would have followed him.”

“Your Grace, forgive me for speaking out of turn… but isn’t the bishop your political opponent?”

“That’s why I’m saying it, that’s why.”

He had a premonition of his own defeat.

“With that level of skill, this time, I have no choice but to support him.”

***

March 9th, 1213.

The tearful performance, the knight show, was over.

As I watched the knights’ skills, I was like a giant campfire that would have set their hearts ablaze if they had been watching me.

I scanned the lords gathered in the reception hall and opened my mouth.

“Do you have any objections to my going to war?”

The answer came back unanimously.