Chương 34: The Starboy And The Guild's Test

The trainees and students of the Crown's Guild did not usually run. It was instilled in them that a noble should glide through halls, not run through them. But now, almost half of the entire guild was rushing across hallways. The older ones walked at first, but when they heard what the commotion was about, their steps also quickened.

"Where is everyone going?!" Someone who didn't know what was happening turned, gripping the books in his hand tighter in fear that they might fall if someone bumped into him.

"Did you not hear?! The Hero of the West Camp has arrived!"

"... Who?"

"The Blessed who helped end the war with the barbarians!"

"The Oathrunner?! Why did you not say so?!" The boy no longer cared for his books, dropping them as he rushed with the others. And there were many of them. By the time Enel, Guinevere, Tiny, the two riders, Marshal Uller, and the man called Roger arrived at the testing hall, the balconies were already filling. All the trainees and young masters leaned over stone rails. The older ones tried to look uninterested, but as soon as Enel walked in, their eyes widened.

"That... is the Oathrunner?"

"That is him?! He looks like a woman!"

"I heard a rumor he is from a dying barony. That was a lie! Look at him!"

"I... expected the Oathrunner to be older."

"... I wonder what he does with his hair?"

"Are we sure it is him? He looks like one of the men my sister brings to her room at night."

"... Why does your sister bring men to her room?"

"Ah! The Oathrunner looked here!" Enel looked at all the young people around him, and he could not help but lower his head. This was the first time he'd ever been surrounded with people his age... as well as status.

"Uh..." Tiny leaned closer to Enel.

"M'lord. Why are they calling you that? Even the guards outside called you that."

"What? I... was not paying attention." Enel squinted.

"Oatrunner."

"... Maybe because I used to deliver oats to the people of Widow's Wall?" Enel once again looked around.

"I wonder how they know about that."

"No. Oathrunner," Guinevere walked on his other side, her book tucked beneath her arm.

"Oh." Guinevere glanced at Tiny.

"And I do not see why they would not call him that. He crossed the realm and ran toward war because of an oath. He ran from the battlefield because of an oath."

"But... how would they know about that?" Tiny asked. Marshal Tommen Uller glanced back at them. He smiled at Tiny, causing the hair behind his neck to stand up.

"Information travels fast at a certain level of hierarchy, little one," he said.

"The whispers of young people more so than others. After all, these young masters require three things to remain healthy: training, food, and gossip." Tiny tried his best to stare back at him.

"Well... I need food."" Well, that will happen later. Right now, you are the food." Tiny's steps faltered upon hearing that.

"What... does that mean?" He glanced at Guinevere, who only shrugged at him. He didn't bother asking Enel, as he looked even more confused than Tiny was.

"And why are there so many people?" Tiny squinted, almost drowning from how many nobles there were in one place.

"I thought this was supposed to be of private affair?"

"Everything here is public, little one—but you are right, most of the young masters here usually do not care about new trainees. As I said, your lord is... delectable."

"Huh..." Tiny's eyes narrowed even further as he slid closer to Guinevere.

"He... is weird, My Lady." This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source. Guinevere glanced at him.

"He is?"

"... Right." Tiny stood there, thinking how it was possible that a thief like him was the most normal person there. Roger, who seemed to be Marshal Uller's assistant, said nothing. But Tiny could see him glancing at Enel from time to time.

"We wait here, then." Marshal Uller motioned for Guinevere and Tiny to stop.

"Roger?"

"Of course, Marshal." Roger bowed, then gestured to Enel to follow him. The testing grounds were not outside, though with how big it was, Enel thought they should have been. The chamber was vast, with a ceiling so high that the banners hanging from it looked like strips of cloth. The floor was marble, divided into circles and lanes—all marked and scratched by years of duels and practice. There were war dummies scattered everywhere, too.

They were plated with bands of metal, protecting the seemingly already dense wood underneath. Enel's eyes couldn't explore much, however, as more and more trainees poured into the raised seats around the chamber. He'd... never really felt like this before. Being watched like this.

"Young lord." Enel focused his attention on Roger, who was now standing beside a tall podium at the center of the hall—and on top of it, a glass sphere the size of a head. And as Enel approached, he noticed it had Scripts carved all over it.

"We begin with Breath response," Roger said, and as soon as he did so, the whispers of the trainees and future lords and ladies began to grow stronger. Enel couldn't help but look at them, but Roger's voice brought him back.

"My Lord."

"Oh. I... apologize, Sir Roger." Enel moved closer.

"What... is this?"

"This is an instrument to test the Depth of your Breath, My Lord." Roger stepped back.

"Please, place your hand near the stone, do not touch it. And then, just take a deep breath."

"But... I do not have Breath, sir." Enel almost looked down.

"And there is no shame in that, My Lord. I, too, have no Breath." Roger trailed his palm across the trainees.

"Most of Aldwyn has no Breath. This is only for formality and record, My Lord."

"I... understand." Enel nodded, then held his palm over the hollow crystal and took in a deep breath. Roger watched the stone for a moment, then approached.

"It is fine now, My Lord. You may remove your hand." And immediately, the trainees began to whisper even louder.

"No Breath?"

"Then how did he kill Tibay?!"

"Are... we sure he's the Oathrunner?"

"He is Blessed, idiot. Blesseds are different."

"Are... the Blessed really that strong? Do... we not have another Blessed enrolled?"

"How would I know? Do I look Blessed?"

"No. Not at all."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Ignore them, young lord," Roger called Enel's attention again and wrote something on a small slate. After a while, he backed away and motioned for Enel to follow him.

"We move on to the next test. We will have someone to spar with you, please wait—""I would rather not spar," Enel cut him off, his steps immediately stopping. Roger looked at him, then at Tommen, who only shrugged in response.

"And why is that, young lord?" Roger asked.

"The blessing that the gods have given me made my flesh stronger than most, Sir. It... would not be wise for me to spar with anyone I do not know." Enel looked around, then spotted the war dummy close to them.

"May I show you?" Roger once again looked at Tommen, and he... looked delighted. Perhaps too much.

"Very well, young lord." Enel approached one of the war dummies. Up close, he could see all the marks it had over the years—still, aside from chips and hair-thin cracks, it still looked incredibly dense and heavy. He carefully placed a palm over the dummy's armor, then looked at Roger.

"I... would not be paying for this?"

"No, young lord. And you do not have to worry about damaging it. The wood has been enhanced with Breath, and its armor—" A soft but loud creaking noise whispered through the entire hall before Roger could finish. He wondered what it was at first, but his eyes snapped toward Enel's hand. His fingers... were slowly sinking into the enhanced wood. And the armor.

"You..." Roger's eyes turned incredibly wide, and the whispers that had plagued the hall instantly died. Enel did not even look as if he were using much strength. He... was just casually standing there. He curled his hand, then lightly pulled. And a chunk of the dummy's chest came free with a deep groan, armor and all. He held it in his hand for a moment, then casually squeezed it, causing the wood to splinter outward.

He then carefully set it down on the floor, and everyone saw how bent—no, how mangled the piece of metal was and how squashed the wood was.

"I would rather not spar," Enel said again. The trainees remained quiet. Roger stared at the hole in the construct.

"That is reinforced heartwood."

"Is... that expensive?" Enel swallowed. Meanwhile, Tiny looked around at the silent chamber and slowly smiled. He glanced at Guinevere.

"How does it feel that your fiancée is a god?"

"Is he a god?"

"What? No. What I'm saying is—mind me not, My Lady." Tommen stepped forward, and for the first time since Enel had met him, the amusement in his eyes turned... quiet.

"Ah," he said.

"So that is the trouble."

"What trouble, Marshal?" Enel asked.

"Why Duke Gawen sent you here." Tommen approached, leaning closer to the dummy at first before he circled Enel.

"You are here to learn restraint."

"I have been taught restraint, Marshal."

"No. You have been taught to hold back." Tommen tugged the pale red scarf from his neck, throwing it to Roger.

"You will be sparring with me, young lord." Guinevere stepped forward.

"Marshal."

"Do not fret, dear girl. I am far too vain to die in front of this many witnesses." Tommen started removing the rings on his fingers, once again throwing each of them to Roger. And then, to Enel's surprise, he pulled another pale red scarf from his coat. Two of them, this time.

"I might hurt you."

"Take it from me, Lord Blackwood," Tommen whispered, licking his lips while he wrapped the two scarves around his arm, letting the fabric hang loose.

"You will not even be able to touch me." And once again, the whispers of the students began to fill the hall.

"Should we not... stop them, My Lady?" Tiny swallowed.

"What if... Enel accidentally kills him?"

"I do not think there is much to worry about," Guinevere answered.

"What? You have seen how strong Enel is!"

"I have. I have also seen how strong the Marshal is—he is at the Sixth Depth."

"W-what...?" Tiny's eyes widened.

"The same as Lord Duncan?" Guinevere's eyes remained on Tommen.

"Not exactly. The Lord Commander is still stronger. But Marshal Tommen was an assassin who once tried to kill my father... and survived. Tommen the Pale Death."

"What?!"