The Perfect Knight and the Illusionist (BL)
Chapter 19: A Village with Good Potatoes

Chapter 19: A Village with Good Potatoes

MARIUS

I lost.

Not because I wasn’t fast or strong enough, and not because my sword skills were lacking.

I lost because I knew that if Dorian had had a real sword, he could have killed me as easily as stepping on an ant.

I couldn’t read his intentions, and I couldn’t read his movement. When he closed the distance and swung his sword, it was only because I managed to see the sword at the last possible second that I was able to dodge it—barely.

Had I been walking on a busy street, or sitting at a desk reading a book, or even just having a meal at a restaurant—he would have approached me without me ever noticing and I’d have been left with a fatal wound without even realizing what hit me.

I dodged only because I was watching him intently, fully concentrated, in broad daylight.

"You okay, Marius?"

Dimitri asked me as I squeezed and rubbed his calf. I didn’t mean to kick him so hard, but neither could I hold back in a match. That would have been disrespectful.

"Yes, Dimitri. I’m fine."

"That Dorian was really sly, eh?"

"I wouldn’t call any opponent who outfights me sly. I was beaten fair and square."

"That is very generous of you, hah."

I knew Dimitri didn’t mean it in a bad way, but I hated the sympathy I was given. It was noble to show sympathy, but to put oneself into a situation evoking sympathy from others was nothing but a failure.

And there was something else that bothered me.

As I glanced over at Skylark—who seemed surprisingly flexible, as flexible as the ladies in the class—I noticed that he seemed discontent. It was a look that I was familiar with, a look that I learned to dread at a young age—a look of disappointment.

Skylark was disappointed that I lost.

Maybe he cheered for me because I gave him biscuits. Maybe he expected me to win because of whatever reputation he might have heard about Valenkraft. Or maybe he had a gentleman’s bet with his friend Thomas.

Either way, I was expected to win and I lost.

"Don’t let me down ever again."

Father’s words, the words that were spoken with such a heavy scent of disdain when I lost my first junior archery competition at the age of seven, echoed in my mind again.

It was painful.

My heart was twitching with a piercing pain as I saw Skylark’s gloomy face.

Pain.

Why?

Then he looked over at me, our eyes met briefly, and...

’Why are you making such a sad face, Skylark...?’

"Aah, Marius, that hurts!"

I was violently awakened from my frivolous thoughts as Dimitri screamed.

I realized that I was squeezing his calf with all my might.

"I’m terribly sorry, Dimitri. I didn’t mean to," I apologized immediately.

"Mate, thanks for helping out, but at this rate you are going to break my leg! Haha!" Dimitri said and gestured for me to put my hands away from his leg.

I looked over in Skylark’s direction again, but this time, he was standing with his back turned toward me. Just like that time Father told me not to disappoint him again, turned his back, and walked away.

But that was the broad, strong back of a man, a knight, a Valen.

Skylark’s back was small. Boyish. A peasant’s.

Just a clumsy boy from the South.

Erdville. A village with good potatoes.

For a moment, my mind drifted away. As if enchanted by a breeze, it was led to a place that I had never been, and probably never would.

A small village in the South. Boys catching fish in the river, sharing the catch. With twenty people. It must have been a big catch. I’d never been fishing, let alone with friends. They were kind people. "People are very nice," Skylark said—not to be polite about his villagers, but because he really believed they were.

Would I have felt the same if I was born and raised in such a village?

Could I have spent my summer days fishing in the river with someone like Skylark?

Would have—

Could have—

Should have—

I should have won.

I lacked training. But practising ten thousand swings wasn’t going to help me face someone like Dorian. I needed to learn, learn something that was never taught to me.

I looked over at Dorian. He had no partner, although the even number of students in the class meant he should have had a partner for stretching. He was stretching alone, and I noticed he, too, was surprisingly flexible.

Like water, like a liquid, a liquid poison.

Something clicked in my mind, and I was starting to have a vague idea of how to approach this new challenge. One cannot fight poison with a sword. One can only avoid it with vigilance and the ability to sense it.

Without realizing what I was actually doing, I started to walk toward Skylark. A challenge. A challenge was something I could live with—or, rather, it was what I lived for. I might not know right now how to overcome this challenge. But as long as something was a challenge, it was something I could take on.

And I won’t fail again.

I’m Marius Valenkraft. A Valen.

Skylark must have heard my approaching footsteps. He turned and saw me, his eyes widening first in surprise, then gazing down as if he wanted to avoid me.

I did not know what I was going to say to Skylark. Apologize to him for the disappointment, reassure him of a victory next time, or prove something to him.

Perhaps all three.

Perhaps none.

I walked right up to him, faced him squarely, and placed my hands on both his shoulders. And I said,

"I’m Marius Valenkraft."

"O—okay..."

"I won’t be poisoned."

"I—I..! I didn’t plan to!!!"

Then Skylark turned and ran away.

’What in the world did I just say?!’

I didn’t know.

I knew nothing.

But I didn’t want to lose.

I started running after Skylark as he headed toward the woods.