Chapter 81
“Sir Hamilton!”
With her short legs moving as fast as possible, Princess Muriela arrived in the servants’ quarters in a flash.
Thud-thud-thud. The once quiet quarters echoed loudly with her footsteps. And she even shouted at the top of her lungs.
Everyone who had been peacefully resting had no choice but to jump up in surprise.
That included the chef who had been dozing off at the garden table. He was so startled he fell out of his chair.
“Ow, my back…”
Rubbing his sore backside, he stood up and saw none other than Princess Muriela in her pajamas.
She had eaten so much of the food he had warmed for her earlier that her belly still stuck out enough to show her navel.
She was banging on the door of the servants’ quarters, calling out to Hamilton again and again.
The chef hesitated for a moment about whether to speak to her but quickly decided to muster up some courage.
If he hadn’t seen her, he could have pretended not to know—but he had. And now he was fully awake too.
“Your Highness, may I ask why you are looking for Sir Hamilton?”
“Oh, Chef! The food earlier was delicious. I’ve rested enough, so I thought I’d use the spare time for some sword training.”
The chef wasn’t particularly surprised by this.
It wasn’t the first or second time he had seen the princess practicing swordsmanship in the garden.
He had even sat at the table with Bianca and watched her before.
Still, there was a clear awkwardness he couldn’t hide from his face.
“Yes, well…”
“What? Do you have something to say?”
“…No, nothing.”
In the end, the chef backed away without saying what he wanted to say.
He wasn’t bold enough to point out the princess’s ridiculous outfit.
The only person who could get away with doing that in Muriela’s quarters was Bianca.
A little while later, Sir Hamilton came rushing out, clearly having thrown on clothes in a hurry.
His attire aside, the look on his face made it obvious that he had been sleeping until moments ago.
Out of the three who had gone out yesterday, he was definitely the most exhausted.
Muriela was tired from all the walking in her young body. Florina had expended a lot of mental energy.
But Hamilton had truly fought for his life against multiple opponents.
It would have been strange if he wasn’t physically and mentally drained.
Like the chef, Hamilton noticed the princess’s disheveled pajamas but didn’t comment.
There was no need to poke at her nerves over something so trivial. Not after everything that happened yesterday.
“Y-Your Highness. Is something the matter?”
“What do you think? I’ve got some free time, so it’s sword training time.”
“Ah, yes… Understood. I’ll bring out the wooden swords right away. Just a moment…”
Sir Hamilton trudged back to his room, clearly trying to hide the gloomy expression on his face.
Praising the princess’s swordsmanship the other day had clearly been a mistake.
Ever since then, the princess would ask him for sword lessons whenever she had free time.
Of course, watching over her sword practice wasn’t an especially taxing task for him.
Taking a few hits from a little kid’s wooden sword wasn’t going to exhaust him physically.
The real problem was having to compliment her even when it was painfully clear she wasn’t any good.
Sir Hamilton was honest by nature. And though they were white lies, telling them over and over again was still exhausting.
“Hi-yah! How’s that, Sir Hamilton?”
“Your Highness, that is an excellent stance. That form could even stand tall among my fellow knights.”
“Wow! Really?”
Strictly speaking, it wasn’t a lie. Her posture was indeed good. Her posture.
But the problem was that she took an absurdly long time to get into that posture, and it had no real power behind it.
Even considering her young age and lack of strength, the degree of weakness was concerning.
Her form and balance were off—it was like she was just mimicking poses from an illustration.
“At this rate, even if she trained her whole life…”
Sure, if she keeps exercising diligently, her strength and speed will improve.
But if that’s all it takes, then talent wouldn’t matter. Anyone could do it.
What truly mattered was one’s natural aptitude and initial growth rate.
“Her motor skills are… seriously lacking.”
No matter how much training a slow person does, they can never catch up to someone born fast.
Same goes for strength—it’s not just about muscles.
Someone born with natural talent will grow several times stronger from the same training. It’s an issue of efficiency.
“Even if she trains diligently for ten years… I doubt she’ll match the skill I had at age eight…”
That wasn’t an exaggeration. He could already imagine what Princess Muriela would look like at eighteen.
Faster, stronger—but still moving awkwardly.
At that level, he could probably beat her with the skills he had when he was just eight years old.
“When I first picked up a sword…”
Even Hamilton had defeated all his peers just one month after first picking up a wooden sword.
Within three months, he could easily overpower seniors who had been training for over a year.
He was the same age then as the princess is now—eight years old. In short, he was naturally gifted.
And his progress after that was dazzling.
By the time three years of training had passed, even those five or six years older than him couldn’t last more than a few bouts.
He was treated like a genius by those around him, and his confidence swelled as he headed to the capital at thirteen.
When he met other aspiring knights there, he couldn’t help but be shocked.
All of them had almost identical experiences during childhood.
Being called a genius over and over again had become so routine that it wasn’t something worth bragging about.
Even among those talented peers, there was still a hierarchy. There were monsters who left others speechless.
But even those monsters trained to the point of vomiting every single day.
Because if they didn’t, they would inevitably be overtaken.
For the first time in his life, Hamilton had to exert himself just to keep up with his peers.
Even with his immense talent and constant daily training, there were always those ahead of him.
It was then that he realized: no matter how hard an ordinary person works, they can’t surpass him or his peers.
Because even geniuses like them were working themselves to death.
Even now, there were probably child swordsmanship prodigies sweating and bleeding in pursuit of knighthood.
Even if Silbrenoa had started to waver in recent years, knights were still admired.
Becoming a knight meant automatic elevation to quasi-noble status and quite a bit of wealth.
It was only natural for all physically talented children in the kingdom to set knighthood as their goal.
But Princess Muriela was not one of those talented children. In fact, she belonged to the opposite category.
Even though it had only been two weeks since she started training with Hamilton, she hadn’t improved at all.
As far as he knew, the princess exercised daily and trained her stamina diligently.
He himself had started training at the same age, so he clearly remembered how quickly he had progressed.
It felt like his skills advanced noticeably every week, as if he were becoming a different person each time.
If only he had been honest with her from the start, it would’ve been fine—but now it was too late.
Of course, the princess wasn’t going to find herself in real combat, so there was no need for her to become strong.
But having to keep lying to his lord—that was what tormented him.
“Ugh…”
On top of that, he had seen her true nature just yesterday.
A cruel instinct so intense that even he, an exceptional knight, felt fear.
What if she found out he’d been lying to her all along?
That’s why one must always be more honest with those closest to them.
Hamilton could only groan internally as he looked at the princess cheerfully swinging her wooden sword.
“Hi-yah!”
“Eyyit!”
“How was that? Did I do well?”
With that, it was time for the short mock duel that always concluded each lesson.
In truth, it was a waste of time that benefited neither the princess nor Hamilton.
But he had once let it slip that it helped him too, so stopping now was out of the question.
He carefully masked his weary expression and slowly picked up his wooden sword.
“Here I come! Hi-yah!”
With a bold cry, Muriela launched a thrust aimed at the center of Hamilton’s chest.
Her targeting and intent were genuinely praiseworthy.
The problem was that her sword moved at a snail’s pace.
Raising his sword slowly, Hamilton gently deflected her thrust to the left.
It was an effortless move for him, but he made sure to pretend it gave him a bit of trouble.
“Whoa!”
As always, Muriela lost her balance, her feet tangling beneath her.
Hamilton caught her with practiced ease—this wasn’t the first time it had happened.
“As expected, that was impressive! Great form!”
“You flatter me. Your Highness’s piercing strike was enough to chill the soul. I had to respond with full seriousness.”
“Then, I’ll go again!”
For a long while, Sir Hamilton had to endure the princess’s clumsy swordplay with as serious an expression as he could muster.
Once the princess finally left, satisfied, Hamilton gazed up at the sky and murmured softly.
“Oh, the fate I’ve been dealt…”
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