Exiled from the Start and Dominating the Wasteland with an Intelligence System Chapter 115 : Chapter 115

Chapter 115. The Young Duke’s Sparring Partner

The next day, sunlight poured over a training ground reserved for private use within La Roche Fortress.

Eli looked at the future Duke of the Western Frontier before him, who was staring at him with those bright eyes of his in a pitifully eager way.

“Baron Eli~” Constantine dragged out the last syllable.

“My teacher, Sir Fars, has family matters to deal with lately, so he won’t be coming for a while.

“Look, it’s already exhausting and boring enough for to keep swinging my sword at a wooden post all by myself.

“How about letting rest for half an hour? Just half an hour!”

Seeing him like this, Eli could not help finding it a little amusing.

He sighed and deliberately put on a stern face. “Half an hour?

“Your total training ti for today is only one hour... What kind of nonsense is it to rest for half of it?”

Constantine’s little face imdiately fell, and even his eyes dimd.

Then Eli changed his tone and held back a smile. “However... considering how ‘hard’ you’ve worked,

“I can still allow you twenty minutes of rest.”

At once, the dullness in Constantine’s eyes vanished, and they lit up again.

The butler, who had been silently observing the training from a distance, could only shake his head helplessly at the sight.

Young Duke Constantine was the child Duke Federico had gotten late in life, and he was seen as a blessing bestowed upon the La Roche Family by the gods.

Because of that, the entire family doted on him greatly, yet at the sa ti placed extrely high hopes upon him and imposed very strict demands.

Particularly in martial skill and scholarship, not the slightest slackness was tolerated.

With permission to rest, Constantine’s mood improved at once. He looked Eli up and down curiously.

“Baron Eli, I’ve heard lots of people in the castle saying that you rendered great service to the Western Frontier! That’s amazing!”

Eli smiled and sat down beside him.

“When Your Grace grows a little older, you will certainly be able to render even greater service to the Western Frontier, just like your father and uncle.”

As expected, the mont Constantine heard that familiar and well-worn line, he imdiately curled his lips.

“That again! Why are all you grown-ups exactly the sa?

“Father says that, Uncle says that, and my teacher says it too!

“Hmph! It’s as if I was born for the sole purpose of growing up!”

That childish complaint made Eli’s body stiffen ever so slightly.

Yes...

Since when had he beco this kind of grown-up too?

He had grown used to looking at everything through the eyes of calculation... He really had changed quite a lot.

A child’s emotions ca quickly and went quickly.

Before long, Constantine had already thrown that bit of displeasure to the back of his mind, and his attention returned to Eli’s... hair.

“By the way, Baron Eli, why did your hair turn white?

“I rember that the last ti we t, your hair was still black!

“Did you catch so strange illness? Or did you practice so amazing Breathing Technique?”

Eli did not answer directly.

Looking into Constantine’s eyes, full of curiosity and energy, an idea suddenly rose in his heart.

“Your Grace, rely resting is not very interesting either.

“How about... we have a spar?”

“A spar?” Constantine’s eyes instantly lit up, and he sprang off the stone steps at once.

“Sure! Wonderful! I’m bored to death fighting wooden posts all day!”

He ran excitedly over to the nearby weapon rack and shouted, “Baron Eli!

“If you win, you can choose any weapon here and take it away!”

At the side, the butler’s face showed a trace of hesitation when he heard that promise.

There was no shortage of fine equipnt on that weapon rack, and so of it had even once belonged to Duke Federico and Sir Lucius in their youth.

But then he reconsidered.

Though Baron Pendragon was said to be rather shrewd, back in the royal capital he had been famous as a wastrel noble youth. As for actual combat ability, it probably was not all that impressive...

Perhaps it would be just the thing to help the young duke build a little confidence.

With that in mind, he said nothing and did not interrupt the young duke’s enthusiasm.

Eli casually took what looked like the plainest wooden sword from the rack and weighed it in his hand.

Constantine had already chosen his own sword as well.

He struck what he thought was a very handso opening stance and shouted loudly, “Baron Eli!

“I won’t go easy on you! Be careful!

“I can take on ten guards all by myself!”

With that, he let out a low cry, stepped forward, and charged straight at Eli.

Using the montum of his rush, he gripped the sword with both hands and brought it down in a heavy overhead slash.

The form was standard, but the openings were far too large.

Eli laughed inwardly. With a slight shift of footwork, his body slipped lightly to the side like a willow leaf in the wind.

At nearly the sa instant, the wooden sword in his hand shot swiftly toward the opening in Constantine’s waist and abdon that had been exposed by the force of his downward strike.

Startled, Constantine hurriedly brought his sword back to block.

Smack!

The two wooden swords collided with a crisp sound.

From that single exchange, Eli clearly felt the force traveling through the blade, and he could not help feeling slightly startled.

This boy’s strength was far greater than that of ordinary children his age.

The bloodline of the La Roche Family truly was extraordinary.

Unfortunately, his skill and experience were still far too lacking.

With a flick of his wrist, Eli easily shed the force of the block.

At the sa ti, his right foot seed to probe forward casually, lightly hooking Constantine at the ankle.

Then, following through with the motion, he gave the boy’s raised backside a light kick with his shin.

“Ow!”

Constantine instantly lost his balance and lurched forward.

With a thump, he landed squarely on his backside, and the wooden sword flew out of his hand.

The butler’s face changed at once, and he was just about to rush forward and stop Eli’s rather overbold behavior.

How dare you kick the future Duke of the Western Frontier in the backside?

But then he saw that although Constantine had fallen to the ground, there was not the slightest trace of anger or grievance on his face.

Instead, the boy scrambled up imdiately, his little face filled with a rare fighting spirit and a kind of... seriousness.

The words that had reached the butler’s lips were swallowed back down. Silently, he stepped away again.

“Damn it!” Constantine snatched up his wooden sword and pointed it at Eli in outrage.

“You... you cheated! You’re only a little taller than I am! That doesn’t count! That doesn’t count! Again!”

Then he waved his wooden sword and charged at Eli again with a yell.

Eli faced him with a smile, calm and composed.

He could tell that the young duke had clearly received orthodox knightly training. His fundantals were solid, and his strength was impressive.

But he lacked true experience in live exchanges. His movents were too broad, too rigid, too textbook—far too easy to read and exploit.

So Eli deliberately slowed himself down and controlled his strength, beginning to guide Constantine through the bout.

His blocks and evasions were always perfectly judged. They dissolved the attacks, yet still left Constantine with just enough hope that he might break through if he tried a little harder.

In that way, Eli guided him into thinking about how to connect his movents and how to search for an opponent’s openings.

Constantine had never experienced such an exhilarating fight before.

Whenever he trained against the guards, they did nothing but defend, which bored him to no end.

Or else they were like Teacher Fars, who would crush him within a few moves and leave him with nothing but frustration.

But an opponent like Eli, who could both let him fight to his heart’s content and also allow him to clearly feel every single bit of progress and every mistake he made, was the first of his kind.

The more he fought, the more absorbed he beca. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and his breathing gradually turned ragged.

His attacks slowed.

Eli stood where he was, then lightly tossed out a single sentence.

“With only this much skill, and you still dream of rendering service to the Western Frontier all day?”

That “taunt” was astonishingly effective.

“Ah! I’m so mad!”

Constantine roared and ca charging at Eli with his sword.

They fought for so ti longer. At last, Eli felt that the intensity was more than enough for Constantine’s current stamina.

So he seized an opportunity, first barely blocking one of Constantine’s fierce attacks.

Then his foot “accidentally” slipped, as though he had exposed an enormous opening.

Constantine was overjoyed and thrust forward with all his strength.

Just as the tip of the sword was about to strike ho, Eli’s body twisted sharply in a manner that looked clumsy but was in fact exquisitely controlled.

His wooden sword slid in along the opposing blade. With a turn of the wrist, the tip lightly tapped Constantine on the chest.

At the sa ti, his foot hooked once more with perfect precision.

“Ugh!”

Constantine felt only a light touch on his chest, then a sudden weakness underfoot, and he toppled onto his back yet again.

This ti, he was so exhausted that he panted for breath and could not quite get back up at once.

Lying on the ground, Constantine called out in broken gasps, but the light in his eyes only grew brighter and brighter.

“Baron Eli... you... you’re really amazing... I... I admit you’ve got so real skill...

“But I’m undefeated against all the guards of La Roche Castle!

“Tomorrow! Tomorrow I’ll definitely beat you!”

Eli chuckled softly, walked over, and extended a hand toward him.

Constantine stared at the hand before him and froze for a mont. Then he smiled too, reached out, and tightly grasped Eli’s hand, borrowing the strength to stand back up.

Only then did the butler hurry over. “My young duke, are you all right? Did you hurt yourself in the fall?”

Constantine grinned from ear to ear. Though his whole body ached, he looked incomparably excited.

“I’m fine, I’m fine! That was great! Way more fun than swinging at a wooden post!”

He turned toward Eli and waved grandly.

“Baron Eli! You won! A promise is a promise! Pick whatever you like from that weapon rack!”

Eli found the whole thing rather amusing. He sighed and played along.

“Your Grace’s skill is extraordinary, and your talent astonishing. I was rely fortunate just now. You nearly defeated .

“Since Your Grace is so generous, then I will gratefully accept.”

That little display of yielding and praise imdiately put Constantine in an even better mood.

He burst into laughter, as though he truly believed he had only narrowly lost by a single move. “Tomorrow! Tomorrow I’ll definitely beat you!”

Eli walked over to the weapon rack, his gaze passing over the training longswords, battle-axes, spiked maces, and the like.

In the end, his eyes fell on a recurve bow hanging alone at the side, kept in excellent condition.

The material of the bow was obviously different. Its limbs curved in elegant, flowing lines, and simple silver and gold patterns had been inlaid into it as ornantation.

He reached out and took the bow down. It felt satisfyingly heavy in his hand, the string taut, the grip excellent.

The mont the butler saw that Eli had chosen this bow, his expression changed slightly.

“Baron Eli... this bow...

“It seems to have been one of Sir Lucius’s favorite bows in his youth. It has always been kept here...”

When Constantine saw that Eli had picked that very bow, his eyes lit up even more.

Not only did he not stop him, he even seed to take a certain delighted pleasure in “getting back” at his uncle.

“That one! Baron Eli, you’ve got a good eye! Uncle’s things are just sitting there collecting dust anyway! It’s yours! Quick, show how your archery is!”

Eli smiled and did not refuse.

He drew three training arrows without tal heads from the quiver nearby.

He planted his feet, nocked the arrows, drew the bow, and aid...

His movents were smooth and steady, carrying a unique sense of power and rhythm, as though he and the bow in his hands had beco a single whole.

Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!

Three exceedingly short, sharp sounds of tearing air overlapped almost into one.

In the distance, a hundred ters away, three arrows had each punched clean through the bull’s-eye of a different target.

Silence.

Constantine and the butler both stood there with their mouths hanging open and their eyes wide and round in shock.

They had not even seen clearly how Eli had aid. They had only felt that his movents were astonishingly fast.

And then, all at once, the centers of three different targets had simply been blasted open.

Only after several seconds did Constantine suddenly co back to himself and erupt into a deafening cheer.

“Wow!!! That’s amazing! That’s so cool! It’s way cooler than swordsmanship!

“Baron Eli! Teach ! Please, please teach archery!”

He rushed over to Eli in one leap, grabbed him by the arm, and stared at him with eyes full of worshipful little stars.

His earlier defeat and all his unwillingness to accept it had already been flung straight beyond the clouds.

And beneath the shadow of a corridor pillar in the distance from the training ground, Marquess Marcus—who had arrived at so unknown point and silently watched the latter half of the match as well as those stunning three arrows—could not help revealing a trace of shock he was unable to conceal.

He had originally only co by on the way to see how Eli was “looking after” the young duke.

He had never expected to witness a scene like this.

This Eli Pendragon...

He really was rather interesting.