The butler swore that in all his years as Dawn Winery's steward, he had never encountered such a shameless person—and certainly not such a shameless bard. Giving a tattered manual that looked like it came from a rubbish heap as a gift, then trying to take away several jugs of wine on his way out—and even planning to come back?
The butler was tempted to tell the bard to never set foot in Dawn Winery again. But he was only a butler; he couldn't be rude to his master's guest. So he could only say stiffly, "I will relay every word you've said to Master Crepus when he wakes."
The bard nodded with satisfaction. "Eh heh, I'll be off, then."
With that, he hugged his harp and walked out of Dawn Winery with light, carefree steps, plucking a song of freedom as he went. He was thoroughly pleased. Burp! What a satisfying drink today. Master Crepus was truly a good man.
Hehe. In a few days, he'd visit Master Crepus again.
...
After the bard left, half a day passed before Crepus, with the butler's help, finally woke from his drunken stupor. Upon realizing he had been completely outdone, he sighed.
"I, Crepus Ragnvindr, heir of the Ragnvindr Clan and master of Dawn Winery, got outdrunk by a bard? That fellow is a monster."
The bard looked so young—with his harp and two small braids, like a boy—yet he was astonishingly knowledgeable and could drink like a fish. It was baffling.
After a bowl of hangover soup cleared his head, the butler produced the tattered manual with a look of disgust.
"Master Crepus, the bard left this wretched sword manual behind. Honestly, something that looks like it came from a dump—how could he offer it as a gift?"
Even holding it, the butler found it filthy, especially the stench of rat droppings mixed with the winery's fragrance—it was overwhelming.
But Crepus didn't recoil. He gently picked up the crumbling booklet.
"A sword manual? A bard carrying something like this? Let me see what kind of manual could make you so repulsed—it can't be anything authentic."
Carefully, afraid it might fall apart, he opened the first page. The moment he saw the writing, his expression shifted from shock to disbelief to elation.
He hadn't misread it. It was the sword manual left by the Ragnvindr ancestors—lost a hundred years ago. How had it ended up in the bard's hands?
His ancestor's manual, recovered! Crepus was ecstatic. If the bard were still here, he might have kissed him. With this manual, the Ragnvindr Clan's knightly dream could live on.
The butler, utterly bewildered by Crepus's delight, could not understand. What was so special about a rat‑smelling manual, possibly scavenged from a dump? Why was his master so overjoyed?
Though confused, the butler faithfully relayed the bard's words.
"The bard also said this manual is especially suited for young Master Diluc. He's never even met the young master—how would he know?"
He was clearly still irked by the bard. But when Crepus heard this, he was struck by a revelation.
Yes—his son Diluc was surely more suited to this swordsmanship than he himself was. Diluc could carry on the Ragnvindr dream.
Crepus asked eagerly, "What else? Did the bard say anything more?"
The butler grumbled, "That rude fellow said he'd visit again in a few days. Master, please don't let him in next time."
But Crepus shook his head. "No, no—next time he comes, make sure the finest wine is ready."
The butler was dumbfounded. He couldn't understand why Crepus indulged an ordinary bard so much. But as a butler, he had to follow orders.
The next moment, Crepus said with joy, "Diluc—call Diluc here. I've decided to teach him swordsmanship starting today. Let him carry the Ragnvindr Clan's dream and become a great knight."
Originally, Crepus had planned for Diluc to learn winemaking first and then swordsmanship. But now, with the ancestral manual in hand, he changed his mind. He would have Diluc learn the ancestor's sword art directly and inherit the family's honor.
The butler was baffled. That ragged manual—was he really going to have young Master Diluc train with it? Was this a joke?
Despite his confusion, he replied, "As you wish—I'll fetch Master Diluc at once."
Ten minutes later, he returned with young Diluc.
Crepus looked at his son and smiled. "Diluc, do you want to learn swordsmanship and become a proud knight?"
Diluc's eyes sparkled with anticipation. "Father, of course I want to be a knight! Teach me now!"
Having grown up on knight stories, becoming a Knight of Favonius was also Diluc's childhood dream.
So Crepus began teaching Diluc using his own training methods and the ancestral sword manual. To his amazement, Diluc learned every technique almost instantly. After just a few practices, his moves were already superior to Crepus's.
Within days, young Diluc had surpassed his bumbling father in swordsmanship. In that moment, both Crepus and the rest of the Ragnvindr family realized: young Diluc was the clan's future hope.
What shocked everyone even more was that, not long after starting his training and before he had even come of age, Diluc suddenly awakened a Vision.