Sif was a little nervous; today marked her first official day as the Red Tide Lord's secretary.
She didn't harbor much affection for Louis—on the contrary, she was rather wary of him. To her, this Lord was just another Imperial noble cloaked in a gentle facade, fundamentally no different from the corrupt aristocrats of the Iron-Blood Empire.
She arrived punctually at the Lord's quarters. What greeted her was a figure sitting cross-legged in the middle of the room, deep in cultivation. Louis was focused on circulating his breathing technique, refining his battle qi.
This was only the second time she had seen him, but compared to their first encounter in the sickroom, she observed him more closely now. His facial features were sharp and well-defined, his build tall and slender, and his brows carried a calm seriousness. Unlike those pampered nobles who paraded around in extravagant clothing and bloated bodies, Louis resembled a scholar, exuding composure even while cultivating.
That kind of temperament made it difficult for Sif to equate him with the scheming nobles she had come to despise. Still, she quickly checked herself—this could very well be a carefully cultivated image. If he were truly so diligent, why was his strength still so mediocre?
As Louis ended his cultivation, he opened his eyes and immediately noticed her.
"You're quite early," he said with a relaxed smile.
Sif nodded silently.
Today, she wore a simple leather jacket crafted in a local workshop. The outfit emphasized her capable, no-nonsense demeanor.
Louis gave her a casual glance and thought that if supplies in the Northland weren't so tight, a proper maid outfit might suit her. But he quickly dismissed the thought—after all, it was still cold outside. Besides, he wasn't accustomed to being waited on. In the entire Red Tide Territory, no young maids served him directly. Only an elderly woman took care of basic cleaning and laundry.
"I'm not scolding you," Louis clarified, "It's just that I have sword training next. Official work won't begin for another hour."
Sif only nodded again, maintaining her silence.
Louis then left for his daily training with Lambert, the veteran knight who had been guiding his swordsmanship.
On the training grounds, Lambert wielded his sword with steady hands and a fierce presence. Each strike was precise and carried considerable force. In contrast, Louis focused more on technique, relying on agile footwork to dodge and find counterattack openings.
"Your footwork still needs more stability," Lambert advised in his deep voice before launching another powerful strike.
Louis quickly sidestepped, barely avoiding the blade. But Lambert adapted instantly, swinging his sword horizontally. Louis had no choice but to raise his sword in defense. The impact forced him back several steps, his arm tingling from the force.
Sif, watching from the sidelines, silently evaluated the exchange: Lambert's strength far exceeded hers. As for Louis's swordsmanship—well, it was passable at best.
He's just putting on a show, she thought.
But she noticed something odd. No matter how many times Lambert attacked, Louis never slacked. He was genuinely trying, fully focused on improving his technique.
"Again?" Lambert asked.
"Of course." Louis wiped sweat from his brow and readjusted his stance.
Sif's brow furrowed slightly. This guy didn't seem to be faking it—he was truly giving it his all.
Since arriving in the Red Tide Territory, Louis had insisted on one hour of sword training with Lambert every day. And so, the session continued with the rhythmic clash of steel and constant movement. After an hour of sparring, Louis finally sheathed his sword, exhaling deeply as he wiped away the sweat on his forehead. A satisfied smile formed on his face.
Sif quickly looked away. Admittedly, he was rather handsome.
"Alright, time to start the day's Lord's duties," Louis said casually. "Don't be so tense; being a secretary is actually quite simple."
He gave her a brief overview of her tasks and summarized with, "Your main job today is to accompany me and record everything I do."
Sif nodded and responded quietly, "Understood."
Their first stop was the military training grounds, where soldiers were already undergoing their morning drills.
One hundred and twenty soldiers ran in a square formation around the field, their synchronized steps pounding the ground in unison. Though panting heavily, not a single one cried out in exhaustion.
"Five more laps! Push harder!"
"Move! Faster! Didn't you eat breakfast?"
"Let's go! You've still got energy left!"
The knight instructor ran beside them, constantly shouting instructions.
This training regime was unlike anything seen in other noble territories of the Iron-Blood Empire. Most noble lords trained only physical strength and basic weapon skills, often through one-on-one master-apprentice teaching. The result was scattered techniques and poorly developed combat ability. Ordinary soldiers trained that way were nothing more than cannon fodder for Bloodline Knights in battle.
But Louis had a different vision. He knew this was a low-magic world—no legendary knight could slay 2,600 enemies with a single swing. Even a skilled apprentice knight could only take on ten at best—roughly two Ip Mans, by his reckoning.
However, the difficulty of cultivating an apprentice knight was at least a hundred times greater than training a regular soldier.
So, drawing on knowledge from his previous life, Louis implemented a systematic training system: standardized drills, team coordination, rapid response, and especially battlefield adaptability. Though these men had no battle qi, Louis believed they could become an elite force through structured training alone.
"Attention!"
The soldiers abruptly stopped and turned to face forward in perfect formation.
Louis walked across the field slowly. Though he said nothing, his natural presence caused every soldier to straighten their backs unconsciously.
"Good morning, Lord!" the soldiers shouted in unison, their voices booming across the field.
Louis nodded calmly. "You've worked hard."
"We are not tired!" they responded loudly and clearly.
These men trained relentlessly every day: physical conditioning, formations, and simulated combat. The regimen was intense, yet not a single one complained.
Because they were well-fed, clothed warmly, and most of all, they were treated with respect by Lord Louis.
That respect etched itself deeply into their hearts.
Louis scanned the ranks and noticed a few soldiers whose posture and movements had slacked.
"On the battlefield, such sluggishness could get you—and your comrades—killed."
Those soldiers instantly broke out in cold sweat and bowed their heads in shame.
"Five more laps."
"Yes, Lord!" they responded without hesitation, resuming their run with renewed vigor.
Their footfalls echoed across the grounds, firmer and more determined than before.
Sif stood nearby, watching them in silence. Her heart stirred with conflicting feelings.
She didn't fully understand the methodology behind Louis's training reforms. But she couldn't deny one thing: the soldiers' respect for him was real.
Louis hadn't needed to shout commands or display exaggerated gestures. Yet, every word he spoke prompted unwavering obedience.
This young Lord really did seem… different from the other nobles.
FOR MORE CHAPTERS
patreon.com/Johnybairstow