He spent the last few hours in the room Althea had granted him, not experimenting on his body in the literal sense, but learning a more practical skill: how to patch himself up.
His wounds were far from agonizing. In fact, he'd suffered worse against the Elgina—a sobering testament to just how much Haldran had been restraining himself. The loss, however, was a necessary, eye-opening lesson.
Lacerta had to admit, he had been growing cocky. Overwhelming those bandits had lulled him into a false sense of strength. Clearly, he was mistaken.
He replayed the fight in his mind. Lacerta had held back with the blade for obvious reasons, using no more than half his strength until that final, room-cleaving swing that Haldran had still avoided. His speed, however, was a different story. From the midpoint of their short battle, he had been giving it his all.
And yet, Lacerta knew the physical gap between them wasn't vast. In terms of raw, brute power, he probably even had the advantage.
Then why did I lose?
The answer was as simple as it was infuriating: battle experience. Haldran had toyed with him, masterfully manipulating his emotions and baiting his attacks throughout the entire fight.
So this is the limit of theory. Swinging a sword thousands of times in my head got me to where I am now fast, but it's not enough. It can't bridge the gap forged by real combat, by true experience.
And a Second-Class General of the Vollachian Empire, he now understood, had a ridiculous amount of experience in comparison to himself.
Lacerta ricocheted between the walls, a blur of motion rebounding from each surface the instant he made contact. Haldran had a name for it: the "Flow Method."
The Flow Method. Was that the secret to his unnatural physical prowess? The explanation seemed to click right into place.
And once again, a bitter frustration settled over Lacerta, born from the depths of his own lack of knowledge.
————————————————————————————————
Lacerta's departure from the estate, soon after recovering from his minor injuries, was anything but ordinary. He'd never imagined leaving in such a peculiar fashion.
By flying dragon?
The three of them—Lacerta, another important figure, and the dragon rider—ascended onto the majestic beast's back. It soared through the sky, its speed shattering the sound barrier as they raced back towards the Fortress City of Guaral. The sight was astonishing; the distance that had taken hours by carriage was now being covered in mere minutes.
Yes, the three of them. While only the other passenger held significance, the third individual was simply the one skilled enough to pilot the dragon. Domesticating such a creature was supposedly no easy feat, necessitating a capable handler.
The man accompanying Lacerta was the one Haldran had mentioned briefly while Lacerta was incapacitated. He was Rusk, a guard of the Velin Estate, with dark red hair that evoked a similar feeling to Haldran's presence.
Powerful.
Though, perhaps slightly less so than Haldran? It was difficult to gauge with just a single glance.
————————————————————————————————
Unfortunately, they couldn't fly straight into the fortress city; instead, they had to enter the same way Lacerta had previously. With Rusk accompanying him, however, the ordeal was much simpler. The guards didn't even bother to check if they were dangerous—terrorists, perhaps, or something similar.
Lacerta remained quiet as he walked down the street behind Rusk. The man was certainly stoic, and his own conversational abilities were likely just as lacking.
As the sun began to set, tinting the sky in shades of orange and purple, Lacerta finally opted to speak.
Lacerta: ["I'm just curious... what do you think of Haldran?"]
The question seemed to come from nowhere, and Rusk raised a brow in response.
Rusk: ["He's a powerful man. But he's a good one, too."]
Lacerta: ["...I see?"]
Well, so much for striking up a conversation—
Rusk: ["I was.... a soldier back then, tasked with guarding the young Lady Althea when she was even smaller than you. I was weaker, and a group of assassins struck in the night. They nearly killed all of us—but they hadn't taken Haldran's existence into account. He took care of them single-handedly. In short, he saved my life. I owe him a debt that can never be repaid."]
Lacerta blinked, surprised to hear so much come from the man's mouth all at once.
Rusk: ["I know full well we're in Vollachia... but a kid like you shouldn't be doin' dirty tasks like this, regardless of however talented you might be. For starters, makes me feel like a useless prick."]
Lacerta: ["——Eh?"]
He wasn't sure how to argue against those words, or if he even should.
This was the Vollachian Empire, the 'land of the wolves' where the strong rule over the weak. If he could exist and be powerful, then age shouldn't be a factor for a warrior.
Still, he was young, that was true. Though, his lack of memories likely made him more mature than most children his age.
Rusk: ["...Well, it's not my place to say what you should or shouldn't do, you are your own person in the end of the day. I suppose I just don't wanna see that talent thrown away doing something risky, that's all."]
Lacerta: ["——?"]
Silence fell between them again, the only sound their footsteps echoing in the growing darkness as the last remnants of the sun disappeared below the horizon.
Eventually, Lacerta spoke again, this time with purpose.
Lacerta: ["Ahem... it shouldn't take long. There's something—or rather, someone—I need to check on."]
He hadn't meant for it to sound like a question, but it did.
Rusk looked back at Lacerta, his expression unreadable for a moment before he gave a single, decisive nod.
————————————————————————————————
Lacerta glanced back at Rusk, who stood waiting patiently, before approaching the familiar door of the inn. He swung it open, and the moment he stepped inside, a frown creased his brow. A barrage of scents assaulted his acute senses.
???: ["A kid like you shouldn't be in here, you know!"]
The voice came from behind a counter, where a woman was meticulously polishing a glass before stowing it in a compartment beneath the wooden surface.
Lacerta approached, disregarding the curious stares he received, likely from the boisterous patrons. The innkeeper, engrossed in a half-hearted conversation with a drunken man nursing an empty mug, brought her gaze back toward Lacerta.
Drunkard: ["And then you want to know what she said... she... she—"]
Lacerta: ["...Have you seen an old guy in here? Grey-haired, one eye... carries an axe?"]
The drunken man continued his rambling, though it was increasingly drowned out by the general noise.
Innkeeper: ["Ahh, you mean Glenn?"]
The innkeeper replied with a smirk, dismissing the drunkard with a swipe of her hand.
Innkeeper: ["He's a regular. Been coming here a while. He's really put himself to the test today, though; I didn't expect a kid to come babysit him. Anyway, he's right around that corner. I think he's been passed out for hours. I was going to wake him soon since it's nearing closing time, but..."]
Lacerta: ["Okay. Thanks."]
Innkeeper: ["Sure thing, kid."]
Nodding, Lacerta moved deeper into the inn, his eyes soon landing on the familiar form of an unconscious man—Glenn.
With a short breath of relief, he tapped the man's shoulder repeatedly in an attempt to wake him. Though seeing that Glenn didn't stir whatsoever made Lacerta frown.
Lacerta: ["Are you dead, or something?"]
He was joking of course, he could still hear Glenn's heartbeat. Mentally, he thought that it was a shame no one was listening to the joke he'd made, he thought it was quite funny!
Realizing a gentle tap wouldn't suffice, Lacerta increased the force, slapping the man's back with enough vigor to jolt him forward with a yell.
Glenn: ["Argh—what the hell?!"]
Glenn shouted, instinctively reaching for his axe. He stopped, however, the moment he recognized Lacerta.
Glenn: ["Oh, kid... You're back already?"]
Lacerta: ["It's been several hours, though."]
Glenn frowned the moment he'd heard those words and leaned back, glaring at the ceiling with a wince.
Glenn: ["Haaah... that explains why it feels like a damn javelin's been thrown through my skull..."]
Lacerta's brows furrowed in confusion. How remarkable was Glenn's pain tolerance that he could endure such a jolt without more apparent agony?
Lacerta: ["Can you come now? I have a mission to do and didn't want to leave you like this."]
Glenn: ["Huh? A mission? How the hell did you manage that in the span of a few hours?"]
Lacerta recounted the events of the past several hours as they made their way out of the inn and back to where Rusk still stood, waiting silently.
Glenn: ["So..... after getting that new fancy sword of yours, you killed a group of bandits to save some noble girl that was being kidnapped. That same noble girl hired you to rescue someone who had also been kidnapped, and then you got your ass beaten by her father...?"]
Lacerta nodded.
Glenn: ["Why are you even doing this for her, kid? You didn't strike me as the type to just do things out of the goodness of your heart."]
Lacerta: ["I'm not. She has information about the big man I'm looking for."]
Glenn: [""I already know where he's stayin', though. Why do you need information...?"]
Lacerta didn't quite answer. In all honesty, why did he need it?
He believed that the best choice of action when unable to respond was to simply frown and ignore Glenn.
So he turned toward Rusk and spoke.
Lacerta: ["Can we go now?"]
Rusk nodded, taking the lead. Lacerta followed closely, leaving Glenn behind.
Glenn: ["Argh, hey kid! This better not be the start of some teenage mood swings, you hear me!"]