Chapter 53: Maybe, I really can become like Prince Arnold one day!

"Haah…"

After training, Rishe sat at the now-deserted water station. Until a little while ago, there had been plenty of other recruits, but they all regained their energy quickly and left to go change. Among the lot of them, only "Lucius," Rishe in disguise, was unable to move.

This is Galkhein's basic training?!

They'd started the day with running. In Rishe's experience, "running " meant going down a set course, trying to improve your pace each time you did so. But the training these cadets did was different. They'd been ordered to run for an hour and a half straight without regard to distance. The instructor merely specified, "Jog at a slightly faster pace than walking."

At first, Rishe had thought this was rather lenient, but when she actually tried it, she found it harsh. The other trainees seemed to struggle as well, but as they were all genuine boys and men, they had an easier time finishing the course than Rishe did.

Their next task—upper-body conditioning—was much the same. They performed exercises that skated toward unreasonable difficulty for minutes at a time, taking breaks between sets. Even if the initial sets were no problem, your fatigue would compound until your whole upper body felt dragged down by a dull weight.

Then they ran some more. After a final session of conditioning, their training ended for the day. Ordered to eat a light meal, they received chicken sandwiches, though many of them were in no state to eat. They wouldn't put on muscle without protein, though, so they choked the food down.

Cadet training was in the morning. For her "I'm going to sleep in until noon for a while, so please don't wake me!" Story to hold up, Rishe needed to hurry back to her maids and guards.

I haven't trained in a long time. No, I'm conditioning this body for the first time. This will be easier than the rookie training I did as a knight, but I'm still feeling the burn. It feels just as hard.

A dull pain settled in her upper arms, muscles already aching. Imagining the soreness yet to come, Rishe sighed.

I feel warm, at least.

She closed her eyes, enjoying the cool breeze caressing her cheek, when someone approached her from behind.

"Yo, Lucius! You're still not changed?"

Rishe whirled around to find a young man smiling at her cheerfully. The boy had cropped, chestnut-brown hair and almond-shaped eyes. He was a trainee like Rishe. When Rishe had fallen behind on their run, he'd lagged behind too out of concern.

"I appreciate what you did for me earlier. I believe your name was Fritz, wasn't it?" She said.

"Ha ha! Don't make it into a big deal. We're all in the same boat, right? And you don't have to be so stiff."

"All right. Thanks anyway, though."

"Sure! I'll speak plainly with ya too, if that's okay." Fritz beamed in satisfaction, sitting down beside Rishe.

"I was about to head back to my lodgings, but I was kinda worried about you. Can you walk?" He asked.

"Well, I'd like to say I'm fine, but…I think I'll just rest for a while longer." The cadence she'd spoken with as knight came out more easily than she'd expected.

It had been a while, but Fritz was easy to talk to. That probably helped.

"I'll stay behind too, then."

"Huh? No need to worry about me. You should go back and rest! You must be tired."

"It's fine. I wanted to talk to you, Lucius. You got a compliment from the instructor when you spoke up during his speech, right? But then when the actual training started, you looked like you were dying. You're an interesting guy." He gave her a toothy grin, expression broad and open.

"I come from far away, so I don't have any friends here. You ever hear of Ceutena? It's a port town in the north. Ships from Coyolles berth there sometimes."

Coyolles was a place Rishe was intimately familiar with. The snowy country was on the other side of the sea from Galkhein, remote and cold. Rishe had lived there in one of her previous lives.

"I've never been to Ceutena, but I know the name. They have great fish there, right?"

"Ha ha, you get tired of it! It's a nice town, though. If I didn't look up to him so much, I wouldn't have bothered to become a knight. I would've just lived my whole life there."

"Look up to who?"

Fritz's grin widened, and he thrust his finger at Rishe. "Crown Prince Arnold, of course!"

Rishe froze, but Fritz didn't seem to notice as he happily prattled on. "A war hero, a master of the sword, a political genius! People say all sorts of stuff about him, but he's just so cool, isn't he?!"

"Ahh…y-yeah…" Rishe managed a half-hearted response, averting her eyes.

"Things were pretty bad during the war three years ago, even up in our port town, but Prince Arnold was amazing! He evacuated the citizens and then took down a whole boatload of enemies! He utilized the terrain or whatever. I didn't fully understand the details."

"O-oh?"

"It's not fair that he's so good with a sword and can do strategy and stuff! I want to ask the knights about him, but it sounds like only his personal guard can really get close."

Seeing Fritz talk about Arnold with his eyes sparkling made Rishe feel strangely discomfited.

"I only saw him once, but Prince Arnold's swordplay isn't just strong, it's beautiful."

Hearing that, Rishe couldn't help herself from mumbling, "Yeah, I get that."

When she realized what she'd said, her face flushed. Wait, what did I just…?!

"Right?! We agree! So,—Wait. That means you've seen Prince Arnold wield his sword, right?"

"J-just one time!"

Fritz paid no heed to the blush spreading across her cheeks. She hung her head, hoping he wouldn't think she was strange. Her face refused to cool down.

Why not? I've told him myself I think his swordplay is beautiful! And just recently too! Come to think of it, Arnold had been surprised to hear such praise.

As Rishe's mind spun in circles, Fritz continued breezily, "Even if I can't become like Prince Arnold, I want to get stronger."

Fritz stood and picked up a broom in the corner of the water station. He held it like a sword and took a combat stance.

"Hah!"

The broom sliced through the air.

Confused, Rishe looked up. "Fritz. Tighten the grip of your pinky."

Still holding the strike, Fritz glanced at Rishe. "My pinky?"

"Yes. When you hold a sword, your grip should be strongest around your pinky. If you're right-handed, grip the hilt harder with your left hand. Let your right be about half that tight."

"Is half enough?"

"Your grip will be uneven without that balance. Don't let your wrists… Yeah, now swing it like that."

"Like this? Hah!"

The broom swung down, hissing more sharply through the air. Its trajectory—formerly diagonal—went straight down. With the adjusted grip, he was no longer wasting his strength.

"Whoa!"

Fritz observed the difference in the swings. "How do you know all this, Lucius?"

"I have a bit of experience with the sword, that's all. You're impressive though, Fritz! You learn fast."

"No way, you're the impressive one!" Fritz looked down at the broom in his grip, eyes shining.

"I didn't know just a little instruction could make such a difference… Maybe, I really can become like Prince Arnold one day!"

"You two," Came a man's voice from behind them, and Fritz and Rishe turned to see him. "You must not speak so casually of the royal family. You would do well to call him His Highness the Crown Prince."

"Y-yes, sir! Sorry, sir!"

Fritz bowed. Rishe stood and joined him.