Near evening, an exhausted Raine said goodbye to Blacksmith Boris and returned to Habsburg Estate.

He finished dinner in a few hurried bites, then collapsed into a deep sleep in the dormitory.

The following morning, once the page boys had assembled, a tall, powerfully built man strode toward them.

His golden hair stood straight up like a boar's bristles. Beneath heavy brows, large bright eyes shone from a stern face. A hand-and-a-half sword hung at his waist, and his every step radiated steadiness.

"I am Humbert, your swordsmanship instructor. You will be learning the basic swordsmanship required of every militia fighter."

"Has anyone here trained in swordsmanship before?"

His gaze swept across the boys.

Bushy Brow raised his hand eagerly. "Instructor Humbert, sir! I have."

"Which style? For how long?"

"Basic Swordsmanship as well. About... two years, though my training was on and off."

Bushy Brow had intended to claim less time so that his talent would appear more impressive. Under Humbert's sword-sharp stare, the truth slipped out instead.

Humbert nodded. "Anyone else?"

No one answered.

"Then step forward and demonstrate what you learned."

"Me? Demonstrate? All right."

Bushy Brow was visibly nervous in front of the formidable instructor. He accepted the ironwood sword Humbert handed him, assumed a starting stance, and began cutting through the air.

To page boys who had never studied swordsmanship, the practiced swishes looked impressive.

"Stop." Humbert frowned faintly and waved him back. "Not bad. Return to your place."

"Yes, Instructor."

Bushy Brow rejoined the group with a delighted expression. He had received praise on the very first day.

Raine read the exchange differently. That slight frown hadn't shown approval. Humbert was dissatisfied with Bushy Brow's demonstration.

Even so, Bushy Brow was far ahead of Raine in strength and familiarity with the forms. Raine had never held a sword in either of his lives.

---

Humbert led the page boys into the training ground at the center of the outer bailey. The young nobles weren't using it that day.

This was the page boys' first time inside, and they looked around curiously.

Beneath the rain shelter stood racks of blunt two-handed swords, one-handed swords, shields, lances, training armor, padded cloth armor, and other equipment.

None of it was for them.

Humbert brought the group to a rack holding only wooden short swords.

"Here. Take one short sword each, then form ranks."

The boys crowded forward.

Freckles lifted his wooden sword with open disdain. "What's this? A child's toy? My five-year-old brother plays with wooden swords."

Then he turned to Bushy Brow. "Your swordsmanship looked solid. Much better than mine, I'll admit."

"You've trained before too?" Bushy Brow asked in surprise.

"Of course. My uncle is a mercenary. I learned a little from him when I was younger, though I've forgotten most of it." Freckles spoke casually, but his pride was obvious. Among the page boys, he ranked second only to Bushy Brow in swordsmanship.

"Not bad, you two," said the baker's son. "Looks like you'll both get a chance to shine."

"Exactly." Freckles glanced sidelong at Raine. "Someone won't be able to attract attention by trimming hooves anymore. A man should prove himself through strength."

"You..." George began, unable to let the insult pass.

Raine shook his head and stopped him.

They were only empty words. Arguing with the merchant boys would gain him nothing.

Besides, who said their head start meant he couldn't catch them?

He glanced at the two skill points saved on his panel.

---

The moment Raine took hold of his wooden sword, his eyes brightened.

This wasn't ordinary wood. The weapon had been made from oil-soaked ironwood. It was tough, durable, and nearly as heavy as a genuine iron sword, making it an excellent training weapon.

The merchant boys realized the same thing a moment later.

"I knew it. The count's household would never use ordinary wooden swords. These are ironwood."

Once every boy held a weapon, Humbert raised his voice.

"Now I will demonstrate the Basic Swordsmanship you are expected to master."

"First Form: Step Thrust!"

"Second Form: Stepping Downward Slash!"

"Third Form: Stepping Rising Cut!"

Basic Swordsmanship contained only three forms, but Humbert performed them with far greater speed and power than Bushy Brow.

The same movements in the hands of two different people produced results worlds apart.

The page boys watched with complete concentration. Then, following Humbert's example, they began swinging their ironwood swords.

Only after trying did they understand the difficulty.

The three forms looked simple. For Raine and the other boys who had never studied swordsmanship, they were anything but.

Placing the blade correctly was only the beginning. Their footwork also had to match, with hands and feet moving as one.

That coordination couldn't be mastered in a short time. It had to be built through constant repetition.

Under the blazing sun, the boys sweated and shouted as they swung their ironwood swords again and again.

"Do you want to protect your families?" Humbert's rough voice rolled across the training ground as he moved among them, correcting their postures. "When danger comes, do you want the strength to resist it, even for a moment?"

"Yes!"

The boys answered in a single fervent roar. No one had ever stirred them with words like these.

"Good! Then follow the movements I showed you. Practice them again and again until you no longer need to think, until your body performs them by instinct."

Humbert continued explaining as they trained.

"For the Step Thrust, power begins in your rear leg. Push from the ground and drive that force through your waist, chest, arm, and into the sword. Every part of the body must link together."

The system responded.

[Practice: Basic Swordsmanship Training]

[Skill Acquired: Basic Swordsmanship]

[Basic Swordsmanship EXP +1]

[Class Panel Unlocked: Militia]

*Militia? Not Swordsman or Guard?*

Joy and disappointment struck Raine together.

He had finally unlocked a combat Class Panel. He was no longer limited to Blacksmith Apprentice, a crafting class. This was his first true step toward martial strength.

Yet the class sounded weak.

The name made that obvious. Militia weren't a formal military force, so the class's ceiling was probably low.

*Still...*

*For someone starting from nothing, Militia may not be a bad class. A lower ceiling might also mean easier levels.*

Once Raine saw it that way, his disappointment vanished.