Chapter 14: Of Course, Belgrieve Was an Adventurer

Of course, Belgrieve was an adventurer, and it wasn’t as if he was completely against having his name known among the high-ranking heroes. His younger days were spent taking on any job, no matter how small, to put food on the table—but a part of him did aspire. Someday, maybe even I could be someone, he would tell himself.

He was forty-two now, but the feeling hadn’t completely disappeared. Though he had given up and returned to Turnera at the loss of his right leg, he still trained every day as an adventurer would. He had gone far beyond what would be considered rehabilitation to ensure his artificial leg didn’t impede him, and he was proud of the effort he put in.

Thanks to this, he could move around freely, and after retiring at E-Rank, he could take on monsters of C- and B-Rank on his own. Perhaps he had never given up on himself as an adventurer; apart from his pure desire to protect the village, perhaps something inside him was still kicking and screaming, yearning to compete with his old party members who had continued on as adventurers.

Thus, he didn’t hate receiving recognition. It could bolster his confidence and get him back on his feet after he failed to find any worth in himself.

“But this just ain’t it...”

“Hmm...? What’s wrong, dad? Do you have a headache...?”

Angeline frantically stroked his head. Her hands were gentle and caring; it was clear she was concerned about him. Angeline did not have any ill intent, surely, but that only made it all the more troublesome for him.

He did resent having unknowingly been evaluated far beyond what he was capable of. However, that came about from Angeline’s good intentions. He got the feeling it would be wrong to holler at her without first hearing what she had to say. Though he was soft on his daughter to begin with and couldn’t have brought himself to raise his voice to her in any case.

Kerry popped his head through the doorway. “Oi, Bell. You don’t have to come to the conference.”

Belgrieve lifted his head from his hands. “Huh? Why?”

“I mean Ange’s just come back, so I don’t think you’d be up for sitting down to a calm, levelheaded discussion.”

“Ugh...”

Kerry had a point. Even if Belgrieve did join in, his mind was in such turmoil that he would be completely tuned out. He was happy Angeline had returned, of course, but now there was a separate problem entirely.

Belgrieve awkwardly scratched his head. “Sorry ’bout that, Kerry.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it. We can’t rely on you for everything! Wa ha ha ha! Hey, Barnes! Quit loitering around and get in here!”

Dragged along by his father, Barnes entered sullenly with blankets in hand.

“Where do you want them, Mr. Bell?”

“Could you lay them over the straw... What’s wrong?”

Barnes had been staring transfixed at Anessa and Miriam until Belgrieve’s question snapped him out of it. And so he brought the blankets over. In answer to the perplexed look he saw on Belgrieve’s face, he whispered, “I guess girls from the capital are as beautiful as they say...”

“Hey now—Rita would cry if she heard that...”

“Stu—Why are you bringing up Rita’s name! What’s she got to do with this?!” Barnes hastily draped the blankets over the straw before running out of the house, red to the ears.

Kerry looked at him and sighed. “Pathetic, that boy... What a sight he makes compared to Ange.”

“Ha ha, I don’t see the problem. You were like that too, once upon a time.”

“The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree, eh? You got me there... Not that it matters, I guess. Take it easy with your daughter, Red Ogre Belgrieve,” Kerry teasingly said, and left in high spirits. Belgrieve was left scratching his head once again.

Monikers were the sort of thing that stuck after being arbitrarily proposed by god only knows who. The fact that Angeline made it up out of nothing did not make it any less valid. But was it not strange to stick such a moniker to a middle-aged farmer who was neither an adventurer nor a soldier? Perhaps it would be fine if he had accomplished anything to merit it, but Belgrieve couldn’t recall doing anything of the sort. He was definitely failing to live up to his name—or rather, his fame—and that gave him an itchy feeling.

“Umm... Did I do something wrong?” Angeline asked timidly when she noticed the inscrutable look on his face. “Dad, did I do something you didn’t like...?” She looked like she was on the verge of tears. How could he possibly get angry at that face?

Belgrieve wryly shrugged. “No, well... How should I put it? I know you were thinking for my sake, Ange, but your dad hasn’t done anything to earn everyone’s praise...”

The only achievements he was aware of involved beating fiends that were B-Rank at best. Perhaps they could make a big deal out of him as the one who raised Angeline, but her achievements as an adventurer were all her own doing. He was proud of her, but did not see himself claiming any part of her glory.

Watching Belgrieve’s reactions, Anessa and Miriam cocked their heads to the side.

“Umm... So he’s not as amazing as Ange makes him out to be?”

“Ange was just letting her imagination run wild?”

“That’s not it at all!” Angeline rose in a rage. The two girls inadvertently flinched, shivering. “My dad is incredible... I told you, didn’t I? I’ve never managed to strike him in a duel.”

“That was five years ago, Ange—”

“It doesn’t matter if it’s five years or ten—it doesn’t!” Angeline cut Belgrieve off.

No, five years does matter quite a bit, Belgrieve thought. Meanwhile, Angeline tapped on the table with a sullen look on her face.

“If you’re not convinced...let me show you! Dad!”

“Yes?”

“I request a sparring match!”

“Oh, sure...huh? Wait, Ange, shouldn’t you rest? You were never good with long journeys...”

“I’m fine... Just come with me!” Angeline said, leaving the house with her sword.

“Wow,” exclaimed Miriam. “I can finally see his rumored swordsmanship. I can’t wait.”

Anessa nodded. “Both Ange and Sasha spoke highly of him. This will be a good learning experience.”

And with that, the girls were out the door.

Not quite knowing what was going on, Belgrieve grabbed the sword leaning against the wall and cocked his head. “What exactly has been going on since I’ve last seen her?”

○

“Dad—come at me seriously!”

The sky that had been so clear moments before was now mottled with white clouds. It was neither dark enough for rain, nor bright enough for the sun to cast strong shadows. The ground was a little damp from the snowmelt. One careless moment would send someone tumbling.

Father and daughter stood opposed in the yard. Belgrieve still seemed somewhat bewildered, while Ange was clearly seething about something.

Her anger was not directed at Belgrieve, per se—though she was a little irritated to see the man she had always known as a pillar of reliability smiling so uncertainly. She wanted her beloved father to remain the man she believed him to be, even if a part of her understood just how unreasonable and selfish that was.

On the other hand, Belgrieve, while confused, found himself surprisingly calm the moment he stood there holding a sword. It must be all the years catching up to me. He smiled bitterly, though he felt those years were saving him now. He was weak—incomparable to an active S-Rank like Angeline. In the first place, he wasn’t even an adventurer.

Perhaps this would be a farce; perhaps he would disappoint Angeline. Once that happened, maybe she wouldn’t idolize him anymore. However, children were quick to surpass their parents. Many of the children who grew up in the village would carry on the farmwork as well as, if not better than, their predecessors.

“Is this a path every parent has to tread?” he muttered to himself. Meanwhile, Angeline took a stance with her sheathed sword. He couldn’t help but sigh in admiration of the fluidity of her stance. She had grown into a splendid warrior.

Angeline had shown glimpses of her talent from a young age, and by the time she was ten, she had nearly landed a blow on him several times. When this happened, Belgrieve would train himself even harder than before. That was probably his youthful stubbornness at work—the part of him which refused to lose to a little girl. It was perhaps for that reason that the sword skills he had once nearly given up on had been polished further than he ever thought possible for him.

But this was different. Angeline had faced off against many adventurers and fiends while in Orphen. Her skills were presumably greater than he could possibly imagine.

There would be no regrets if he lost. But he wasn’t going down without a fight.

Belgrieve took his stance. He stood square to her, and at a glance, it seemed as if he was completely unguarded. However, his sword arm vigilantly reacted to every slight movement from his daughter, swishing back and forth ever so slightly. It was as if he was inviting her to charge.

Angeline was delighted to see this. He hadn’t dulled in the slightest—he really was the same father she had so admired.

A strange sense of tension hung over the yard. They trembled as if the threads holding them up were being pulled to the snapping point. Even Anessa and Miriam, who were merely on the sidelines, found themselves watching with bated breath. They too were powerful fighters who could understand a clash between the strong.

Belgrieve could hear his heart beating detestably loud and slow. It felt as if mere seconds were lasting a lifetime.

A drop of melted snow fell from the roof. Belgrieve jerked, his eyes shifted ever so slightly. And Angeline took that chance to move. She was fast. He thought she had only stepped with her right leg, yet in that brief instant, she had already kicked off several times and closed the distance in the blink of an eye. From her low stance, she swung her sword upwards with fearsome momentum.

“...Hmm?”

However, Belgrieve casually avoided her charge, a disappointed look on his face as he struck her on the head.

“Eep!” she yelped, hunkering down.

Belgrieve looked over her, perplexed. “Ange...I keep telling you not to go for obvious feints, and you haven’t fixed that at all. Then, there’s your starting move—stepping in with your right foot, and slicing up—it’s a bad habit of yours...”

“Urgh... You seriously hit me...”

“Huh? Well, I mean, you told me to take this seriously...”

She pursed her lips and held out her arms. “Carry me.”

“You’re already seventeen, aren’t you...?”

“Carry me!”

While her brow was furrowed, her eyes looked as if they would burst into tears at any moment. Belgrieve shook his head, stooped down, wrapped an arm around her waist, and lifted her up high enough to sit on his shoulder.

He couldn’t help it—he was soft on his daughter. For some reason, he felt as though they had had this exact same exchange before.

For a silent moment, Angeline hugged Belgrieve’s head and buried her face in his hair. Eventually, she leaped down to the ground.

“One more time! We’ll spar again!”

“I don’t mind...” he replied with a quizzical gesture of his head. He realized he wasn’t so nervous anymore.

They stood at a distance again and faced one another. This time, Angeline moved immediately. While surprise crossed Belgrieve’s face, he parried the first blow, pivoted on his peg leg, and parried. Angeline immediately backed off, but Belgrieve kicked off with his left leg, closing the distance. Reacting swiftly, Angeline was about to leap right, and yet—

“Stop letting your eyes give away where you’re going to move!”

Belgrieve once again whacked her before she could react. He swung knowing exactly which way she would go next, and she had no means of avoiding it. “Nyah!” she cried out, crouching down again.

Belgrieve scratched his cheek and sighed. “Ange...you haven’t fixed a single thing I told you to correct.”

“Urgh...”

There were tears in Angeline’s eyes, yet for some reason, she seemed delighted.

“Hee hee... See? My dad really is strong!”

“Uh... No, I mean, you’re...”

Belgrieve felt a little let down. Her movements were faster, sharper, and far more polished compared to when she left home. However, no matter how fast and sharp they were, they were still the exact same movements he knew.

This was strange. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. His eyes wandered as he thought over the matter.

Angeline was a ball of talent, but her genius was intuitive, not analytical. She could do almost anything without any understanding of the logic behind it, and she could do it frightfully well. And so, while Belgrieve had laid the groundwork for her swordsmanship to some degree, her actual style, honed in real combat, should have been entirely self-taught.

To some degree, Belgrieve had been a shackle to her, and once she’d escaped that binding, she had earnestly devoted herself to expanding upon a sword style that incorporated all of her bad habits. Her sword was fast and fierce, making all who witnessed or confronted it cower in shock and awe, and ultimately planting her opponents in the dirt.

Meanwhile, Belgrieve, who had been attempting to correct her bad habits, was well aware of how she moved. From her footwork and line of sight, he knew whatever she would do beforehand. Of course, that wasn’t something that just any foe could figure out in the midst of battle; this was something only her father, who had observed and crossed blades with her so many times, could understand.

Having seen her fearsome talent up close, he had trained himself even more than before in the hope that he wouldn’t fall behind. What’s more, as Angeline was the only one in Turnera who could put up a decent fight, he had unconsciously grasped all her movements, and trained specifically to counteract them.

This was added to the fact that Angeline’s intuitive movements increased in severity the more she despised her foe. She was stronger against fiends and people she hated, but her abilities similarly declined against those to whom she was positively disposed—all the more so against her father, who she loved most in the world. She couldn’t possibly clad herself in wrath, dodging about like a vengeful spirit as she would against bandits and fiends.

This was a malady brought about specifically by her genius. If she had access to all her abilities, Belgrieve would have been cut down before they had even locked blades.

In short, it was unknown how Belgrieve would fare against other high-ranking adventurers, but it was impossible for him to lose to Angeline as she was now. He was the greatest anti-Angeline weapon there was.

Not that either of them understood this. Angeline was certain she was going all-out, only increasing her admiration towards her father; for his part, Belgrieve only grew even more confused.

And then, there were her party members, who silently watched over the ordeal.

“No way... Ange was no match...”

“I can’t believe it...”

These two had seen Angeline carving her way through atrocious fiends on the front lines. As her party members, they thought they knew her strength better than anyone. The Black-Haired Valkyrie was the strongest in Orphen, and hardly anyone could challenge her in the entirety of Estogal.

That very same Angeline had been easily sidestepped, unable to land a single blow. Despite how long it had felt to Belgrieve and Angeline, it was over in an instant—so quickly, it took a moment for her friends to understand what had taken place.

Could this really be happening? Anessa held her head while Miriam pinched her cheek. It did seem Belgrieve’s skills were worthy of the reputation of “the Red Ogre.”

Looking rather satisfied, Angeline clambered up onto Belgrieve’s back again and smiled. Belgrieve himself was still mulling it over, his face conflicted.

“How was that, Anne?” Angeline proudly proclaimed. “Dad’s the strongest, isn’t he?”

“Y-Yeah... I’m amazed, shocked even—you weren’t holding back, were you Ange?”

“I would never... Did I look like I was...?” Ange asked, and Miriam shook her head.

“No, that was the usual Ange. I didn’t feel much spirit in your attacks, but your movements weren’t any slower than usual. Right, Anne?”

“I...think so. It didn’t feel like her movements had dulled at all... Your dad’s incredible.”

“Isn’t he...? Mwa ha ha, he’s my dad, after all.” Angeline happily rubbed her mouth against his hair.

“Ange...” Belgrieve said with a frown.

“What is it, dad?”

“Yes... I know you love daddy, but...please stop spreading rumors about me being strong and whatnot...”

“Eh...? But you really are strong. Stronger than me.”

“No, that’s just because... Anyways, please give it a rest. You won’t make me happy by doing that.”

Angeline seemed unconvinced, but then it suddenly struck her, and she clapped her hands together. With a cheerful face, she said, “I see! The skilled hawk hides its claws! I got it! I’ll keep it a secret... An unknown master... That’s cool too.”

“That’s not what I meant... That’s not it at all... Sigh...”

Belgrieve chewed his words a bit, but ultimately kept his peace. It seemed he’d given up.