The Female Knight of Doom - TFKOD 50: Hard Training

That evening, Kent and Alice found themselves plagued by restless sleep.

Alice’s circumstances need not be elaborated upon; she has long been conditioned with the skills of a mercenary. Rom’s instruction has traditionally centered on melee combat and self-preservation—techniques that starkly contrast with the refined disciplines of the knights. Now, finally afforded the chance to systematically study knightly knowledge, she was filled with a profound sense of excitement.

As for Kent, though he was a page from Cloud Mist Castle and had mastered a comprehensive set of knightly skills, he could not help but feel a lingering regret—Knight Philo, no longer responsible for training pages here, had left a void in his education. With this gap now poised to be bridged, his restlessness only grew, eager to seize the opportunity that lay ahead.

The next day, they arrived at the training grounds early, but Knight Philo was already there, “The tournament consists of three disciplines: archery, swordplay, and jousting.” He looked at Kent and Alice, “Kent is good at archery, Alice specializes in swordplay, and I’m an expert at jousting. If the three of us each win the championship in all three disciplines, it’ll be easy to win the entire tournament.”

That’s exactly what Kent had said to Alice the day before, and he was very happy to hear Knight Philo say the same thing, “Yes, I intend to.”

Knight Philo pointed out calmly, “But you overlooked something. I may be an expert at fencing, but I’ve injured my back. It’s not so bad that I can’t stay on a horse, but in my current state, there’s no way I can win a duel.”

Kent’s smile was a little stiff.

Although Knight Philo had said yesterday that he wouldn’t win the tournament, Kent had taken it as just a humble comment. But when Knight Philo mentioned his back injury, Kent realized that his original plan would definitely not come to fruition, and he felt a little annoyed.

But then Knight Philo said, “So, the plan is to change course and train you both to win three tournaments, and I will do my best to keep you in contention.”

Kent hesitated slightly, “Can we… really do this?”

His fears were valid. Although he had undergone extensive training in mounted combat, he had never been in actual combat.

Not to mention Alice, who was originally a mercenary and knew nothing about mounted combat. She would have to learn everything from scratch.

“Of course,” said Knight Philo, as if he didn’t see it as a problem at all. “Why join if I can’t win? I agreed to join to win the tournament and to honor Her Grace, not to embarrass.”

In his eyes, if they wouldn’t win all three tournaments, they would have brought shame on the duchess.

Alice and Kent felt the pressure at his words.

But he seemed not to notice, and looked at Kent, “Archery is your family’s tradition, I don’t think I need to worry too much about it, do I?”

Kent nodded, “No problem, I’ll see to it that Alice is trained in that area.”

Knight Philo turned once more to Alice, his voice calm yet commanding, “A competition is not a battle,” he explained gently. “In this contest, everyone will wield the same type of foil. Your usual greatsword won’t be permitted. Do you find that acceptable?”

“No problem,” she responded confidently. “I’ve trained in fencing with foils before.”

A reassuring smile touched Knight Philo’s lips as he picked up two training foils, tossing one to her, “Excellent. Let’s see how you fare.”

Alice accepted the foil, noting that this training weapon lacked a blade and featured a small ball at the tip—designed to ensure safety. Yet, despite its gentler nature, it is perfectly suited to reveal the subtle differences in skill between opponents.

Without uttering a word, the two began their practice.

She had never before witnessed Knight Philo wield a sword, nor was she familiar with his mastery in swordsmanship. Yet, the moment their blades clashed, she found herself immediately confronting her adversary.

Despite Knight Philo’s age—sixty years—the intensity of his presence was unparalleled, surpassing even her encounters with the formidable Silver Helmet Dewitt.

The disparity between Dewitt and herself was chiefly physical; however, Knight Philo’s skillful and remarkably agile swordsmanship approached perfection. Having fought for many years and considering herself well-versed in combat, Alice had never encountered such an opponent.

She found herself momentarily overwhelmed, merely reacting to the situation without the strength to mount a counterattack.

Ever since she began studying swordsmanship on her own, she had never encountered an opponent like this. After just a dozen rounds, she was already sweating and struggling to keep up.

Just as she was about to collapse from lack of breath, Knight Philo took a step back and sheathed his sword, “Not bad,” he said. “You’ve been in battle many times and have a decent amount of skill. It’s rare for you to be able to perform so many techniques with my skills. With a little guidance, it won’t be difficult for you to win this tournament.”

When he had finished assessing Alice, he turned to Kent, “You come.”

Alice gently handed her sword to Kent and observed as he faced the formidable Knight Philo.

During her recent clash with Knight Philo, her focus was solely on defending, leaving little room to contemplate strategic maneuvers.

Now, standing aside to witness Kent’s duel with Knight Philo, she discerned subtle tactics at play.

Knight Philo’s blade moves with remarkable speed and precision, deftly targeting his opponent’s vulnerabilities.

Kent, though more extensively trained than Alice, lacked the practical experience she had gained through combat.

He managed to hold his ground for a brief moment, appearing stronger than Alice, yet as the exchange progressed, he began to falter, ultimately succumbing even more swiftly than Alice had initially, revealing the harsh reality that skill without experience can only carry one so far.

She observed the intense rivalry between the two fighters and gently turned to Knight Philo, “With your formidable strength, surely you could claim the championship in the sword fighting competition?”

He shook his head thoughtfully, “Ten years ago, I might have claimed that no one could stand against me,” he replied. “But now… I can still hold my own in a few matches, yet my stamina has waned, and I would inevitably falter in the later rounds. You young ones must not rely on an aging man like myself.”

Overcome with a sense of shame, Alice found herself speechless, for she had no words to counter his humble wisdom.

She was already seventeen years old, and in a few months, she would be eighteen for the martial arts competition. People of this age should be at the forefront, instead of relying on old men who were three times her age.

Knight Philo had tested the swordsmanship of the two, and now he wanted to test their riding skills.

The three of them went to the stable to get horses.

Knight Philo’s horse, a docile mare named Minnie, rubbed against him affectionately when he approached.

He reached out and stroked the horse’s nose, and said to the two, “My horse ‘Silver Star’, which has been with me for more than ten years, is gone. This one is too docile and not ready for the battlefield. I’m afraid it will suffer in the competition. Kent’s horse is better, but it depends on his control over it, otherwise it will be easy to have accidents on the field.”

Kent’s horse, Lightning, was just as energetic, but it was more moody and easily excitable. Alice secretly thought it was much like his owner.

Fighting on horseback was a knightly staple, and Kent had been doing it since he was a child, but she knew nothing about it. She wasn’t good at it, and even her riding skills weren’t very good.

Knight Philo looked at the ‘strange’ horse she had brought and smiled, “You’re going to compete on this thing?”

Alice felt a little nervous at his question, “Can’t I?”

“Not impossible. That’s a fine horse, well-proportioned and agile. But you can tell at first glance, he’s a bit short-tempered. Can you really handle him?”

“It’s fine,” she nodded. “I just have to keep giving him carrots, and lately he seems to be getting tired of them and is becoming increasingly disobedient.”

“That’s okay,” said knight Philo. “The bond between man and horse develops slowly. You can give him a pumpkin or an apple as a reward, but don’t spoil him. What’s the little fellow’s name?”

“His name is Grumpy. I brought him from the battlefield. Since he chose me, I can’t abandon him.”

Knight Philo had to laugh when he heard the pony’s strange name, “It’s fine, many knights ride to tournaments on all sorts of strange horses. That’s perfectly normal and not at all shameful. Tournaments aren’t races. It doesn’t matter how fast the horse is. What matters is that you’re in sync.”

Alice never envisioned herself establishing a connection with this peculiar creature she whimsically named “Grumpy.”

Initially, she refrained from assigning it a name, finding it too uncomfortable to do so. In a moment of playful frustration, she chose the moniker “Grumpy,” never imagining it would resonate or that the creature would adapt so unexpectedly.

Remarkably, whenever she addressed it by this name, it would respond with a gentle “hui hui,” provided it was in a good mood.

On less agreeable days, it would simply turn away, presenting its rear to everyone until enticed with carrots, at which point its demeanor would shift.

Knight Philo assured her that all was well, affirming both Alice and Kent’s horses, which bolstered their confidence and encouraged further practice. Ultimately, it was persistence and patience that fostered their growing bond.

At its core, jousting is a regal contest where two knights propel themselves toward each other, wielding wooden lances in a daring display of skill and valor.

Victory is achieved through unseating an opponent, striking a specific target, or shattering a set number of lances upon armor—each outcome demanding not only precision but also immense courage.

While agility and technique are vital, the true essence of the challenge lies in the knight’s boldness; youthful knights often hold an advantage, unburdened by fear and untouched by pain. Conversely, seasoned veterans, enriched by experience, may lack the same daring, and their momentum often wanes with age.

Yet, a grand tournament of such grandeur cannot flourish solely on bravery. With proper mentorship from seasoned masters, young knights can amplify their efforts, achieving twice the success with half the exertion.

Guided by the wise Knight Philo, Alice and Kent embarked on rigorous training.

Alice rose early each morning and trained tirelessly throughout the day, so exhausted by nightfall that she often lay in bed, too fatigued to even move her fingers—her dedication embodying the spirit of true knighthood.

During this period, the village chief of Ronald Village dispatched a messenger to deliver a heartfelt invitation on behalf of the community, informing her that the sacred festival honoring the God of Agriculture and Herding was imminent.

Alas, her commitments prevented her from attending.

Simultaneously, the duchess’ envoys traversed West Felix, spreading the news of the forthcoming knightly tournament to the noble houses across the region.

Several months later, knights from distant lands converged upon Cloud Mist Castle, and the grand competition was officially underway.