"Now this is a surprise…"
The gravy was perfectly flavoured. The meat was tender, thick bread softened the richness of the gravy. Steam curled upward in lazy strands, carrying warmth that lingered longer than the taste itself.
Otto chewed slowly as he reminisced about his childhood. This was the best meal he had since arriving in this world.
"Haha! Eat all of them you want. A strong body needs to be full, after all." Gerav scooped a spoonful of meat and shoving it into his mouth.
Otto placed the wooden spoon aside before opening his mouth. "What kind of job do you have for me?" Gerav swallowed all the food in his mouth and drank from a cup of water. "Well, in all honesty, I can't just hire anyone else to help me out in the church, as that would break the rulings of the Nox Goddess. But you are a generous traveller that casually donated three silver coins! I can't just turn my gaze away from such a person."
Otto smiled bitterly and chuckled. "Well, that was just to attract your attention."
Gerav raised his ashen eyebrow. "But you don't have to donate all of those coins. Why didn't you just come up to me for help?"
Otto's eyes twitched involuntarily. "You see…"
He looks down at the table before continuing, as if it held a secret he needed to know.
– There's a rumour that talks about a priest that loves money beside his faith. Maybe you can use that to your advantage to win his favour. Oh, this information also comes at a small price. One silver coin, please.
Otto clenched his fist below the table and gritted his teeth. He still clearly remembered that merchant holding out his palm with a smirk on his face. If I see that bastard again, then I'm going to punch him in the face.
"Hahaha! What an interesting merchant you've met. Alright, back to the topic. Your job is to defeat me in combat." Gerav picked up his plate and put it in the wooden sink.
Defeat him in combat… wait, what?? Otto instinctively looked up just to see the man still smiling at him. "That must be a joke, right? Besides, I don't even know how to pick up a sword."
Gerav shook his head. "It doesn't have to be a sword. Come, I'll let you pick your preference."
Otto, while still unable to proceed with the priest's decision, picked up his plate and placed it in the sink before washing it. He followed Gerav upstairs and was met with a corridor paired with a set of 5 doors—four to the sides and one in front.
The both of them walked past all four doors and arrived before the last door. Gerav fumbled his keys again before inserting one into the keyhole and twisting the doorknob.
The latter rubbed his chin over what the priest was trying to convey by proposing a duel to him. The door opened to reveal its interior, his eyes widened before blinking twice.
The entire room was filled with racks of weapons ranging from a close melee dagger to a long bow. Before long, his eyes dilated and his heart palpitated unrhythmically before looking over to Gerav. So that was it. Luring an undocumented foreigner to a room full of weapons.
Before Otto could move a single muscle to dash out, Gerav waved his right hand, slow and deliberate, as if dispersing a thought before it fully formed. "It's not what you think it is; don't worry."
The man took a deep breath before opening his mouth again. "You see, Otto, I was thinking that it was my time to put the sword aside for good. But I also desire someone to inherit my swordsmanship, even if it's just a part of it. However, not a single person in this town that gives a slight interest."
He shook his head with a sigh before getting a grip on himself. "That is why I want to offer this to you, young traveller. Inherit my swordsmanship, and I'll teach you Yirtam." He slowly extended his arm to Otto.
So that's how it is. Still, I should keep an eye on this man. Otto shook the extended hand, the grip firm, the decision settling quietly between them. "I see. Then, I'm counting on you, master."
"Master?" Gerav smirked. He remembered that he did tell Otto to address him however he likes.
…
"Haa!"
Two wooden blades clashed in a field of vast green behind Gerav's house. Two figures held a wooden sword and had begun their training since dawn. Gerav counselled his disciple under the morning glow. "That strength has potential. You just need a technique to control it."
Otto nodded while trying to steady his breathing, each inhale scraping against his chest. He lowered his body in a steady position and pushed his leg to dash forward while having his sword positioned on the left.
He swung horizontally before getting parried by Gerav's sword. He lost his balance in return. Then, Gerav grabbed Otto's left wrist—the one holding the wooden sword—and swung his sword upwards from the right before stopping at an inch distance to the latter's left abdomen.
"You're open." He let go of the gasping Otto, which the former then advised. "Never attack an opponent without searching for their weaknesses initially. You also have to keep in mind your own position."
"Yes, sir…" The young man nodded again as he wiped off his sweat. Gerav took note of this and nodded whilst crossing his arms. "Alright, our combat training will end for today. In the meantime, I have a training regime for you."
Do they have those in this medieval world? The oblivious Otto tilted his head. "What regime?"
"We will have you train your body in the day. And I'll teach you Yirtam every nightfall." Gerav responded.
Otto gave a sharp nod. "So, when will I start?"
Gerav beamed a smile at his disciple. "Starting now, of course. Run a full lap around the town and return before night comes."
Otto's motivation withered away. The town's region covered a large area. So much so that one will take hours to walk from the western gate to the eastern gate.
This was Otto's own conclusion after reading the Crystamap he borrowed from the inn's bartender.
He furrowed his eyebrows. "Now?"
"Now." The master answered.