Reynald was originally a mercenary; certainly not the strongest, but by far one of the more personable. He famously refused to extort people for his services, giving him a favorable impression among the common people.
As such, when the royal family merged the guilds to create the Adventurers’ Guild, Reynald was elected to serve as the vice guildmaster. To his dismay, while the head guildmaster—a representative from the Explorers’ Guild—would be managing the majority of the guild’s interactions with the nobility, Reynald was also expected to do so—thus forcing him to adopt the appropriate manners expected of him.
Although Reynald recognized the necessity of the merge—it would cause chaos if the guilds collapsed and the mercenaries were to run free—and the benefits it brought besides, that knowledge did nothing to alleviate the headaches from the people both above and below him. Haughty nobles were insufferable and the idiots he managed were… well, idiots.
When the gods proclaimed that the guild would have to take on the Travelers from another world, Reynald cursed them aloud—“They’ll forgive me for this much if they're making me deal with this bullsh*t,” he ranted; they would be just as bad, if not worse than, the people he was already dealing with, and there would be even more of them.
For better or worse, he was only half-right; they were vastly more pleasant to deal with... for the most part. But even though only a small percent of them were as obnoxious as expected, the sheer number of Travelers meant those annoying few were just as prevalent. Even the innocent ones were tiring, simply because they lacked any common sense.
After hours of dealing with these sorts of people, Reynald was already tired and, more importantly, irritated. Menez, unfortunately, had not caught on to this.
“Can I fight you, then?”
“... Hah?”
“You aren't training anyone... So it's fine if you're the one fighting me... Right?”
Even with his judgment clouded by agitation, Reynald noticed the odd intensity of the half-wolf who had asked that question. His stare, expressionless as it was, never broke contact with Reynald; he hadn't even left his fighting stance from when he was sparring. However, Reynald passed that off as a mere peculiarity.
Just another overconfident fool, Reynald thought to himself. It would be easy to simply deny Fenris’s request…
… But since he requested it himself, isn't it fine to let off some steam?
“H-hey, Fen, you should let this one go,” Louis quickly interjected.
Oh? He's a smart one.
However, Reynald’s mind was already made.
“It's perfectly fine,” Reynald said with an even deeper smile than before. “It will be a good example for you Travelers to aim for… unless you’d like to volunteer instead?”
Fenris’s stare locked onto Louis.
(Let me have this or you're next), both Reynald and Fenris seemed to be saying.
… Well, it's out of my hands now, Louis decided, cleaning his hands of the whole affair. If he dies, he dies.
“Well then,” Reynald said, pointing his walking cane in front of him. “As the challenger, you may have the first strike.”
Fenris lunged.
———
Reynald watched Fenris as they stepped in, their sword arm pulled back towards their head.
His form is much better than before, Reynald noted with mild shock. He remembered Menez instructing Fenris earlier to ‘tighten his swing’. Did he really integrate this into his fighting just now?
Although Reynald praised Fenris, their skill levels were still miles apart. As Fenris entered Reynald’s reach, Reynald simply flicked his cane up, knocking the sword out of Fenris’s hand, and pointed his cane towards Fenris’s throat.
Ordinarily, the fight would have finished as soon as Fenris lost his sword; beginners fixated on their weapons, and would panic as soon as they lost them. Panic created openings, and openings guaranteed defeat.
However, instead of recoiling back upon losing his weapon, as Reynald had expected, Fenris immediately parried the cane as it was thrust forwards, and continued his attack with a straight punch.
Reynald swayed back, safely out of reach, but was forced to take two more steps as Fenris took one more swing with his left and then again with his right.
Did his attacks get sharper again? … No, it looks like he’s just more used to using his fists.
Reynald took back the initiative with a well-timed swipe of his cane, forcing Fenris to block. It took three more hits before Fenris could properly parry one of Reynald's attacks and restart their own offensive.
These trades continued for nearly a full minute until, instead of blocking, Fenris started copying Reynald and swaying out of the cane’s reach. With less need to block, Fenris could attack much more frequently—but for the veteran Reynald, this simply gave him more opportunities to counterattack. The ebb of offense and defense accelerated from probing, extended chains of attacks into a relentless volley of counters strung together one after the other.
The next development came only twelve seconds later. Reynald leaned back to avoid Fenris’s fist, as he had been doing up until this point, and was forced to raise his cane to block for the first time as Fenris swung his shield, gripping it by its edge to extend his reach.
This goddamn freak…!
Fenris was undoubtedly an amateur—his movements lacked the refinement that comes from proper training—but a normal person wouldn't just use their shield like that.
As far as Reynald could tell, Fenris hadn't even planned that little trick; as soon as the thought entered his head, he went through with it without hesitation. There was not a single thought of the risks—only the instinctive understanding that he could win if worked.
A genuine smile—more like a snarl—came to Reynald’s face.
It had been years since Reynald had gotten to fight someone—and for the first one since then to be against someone like this… It really motivated him.
Reynald swung with a left hook while Fenris was still recovering from their own attack; without his shield, Fenris was forced to sway back to dodge the blow.
As this happened, Reynald flipped his cane around and used the handle to hook Fenris’s leg and lift him into the air—
“Ah.” Fenris said, suddenly floating.
—before grabbing Fenris’s face and slamming their head into the ground.
“... C-call the healer!” Menez shouted.
Reynald was originally a mercenary; certainly not the strongest, but by far one of the more personable. He famously refused to extort people for his services, giving him a favorable impression among the common people.
As such, when the royal family merged the guilds to create the Adventurers’ Guild, Reynald was elected to serve as the vice guildmaster. To his dismay, while the head guildmaster—a representative from the Explorers’ Guild—would be managing the majority of the guild’s interactions with the nobility, Reynald was also expected to do so—thus forcing him to adopt the appropriate manners expected of him.
Although Reynald recognized the necessity of the merge—it would cause chaos if the guilds collapsed and the mercenaries were to run free—and the benefits it brought besides, that knowledge did nothing to alleviate the headaches from the people both above and below him. Haughty nobles were insufferable and the idiots he managed were… well, idiots.
When the gods proclaimed that the guild would have to take on the Travelers from another world, Reynald cursed them aloud—“They’ll forgive me for this much if they're making me deal with this bullsh*t,” he ranted; they would be just as bad, if not worse than, the people he was already dealing with, and there would be even more of them.
For better or worse, he was only half-right; they were vastly more pleasant to deal with... for the most part. But even though only a small percent of them were as obnoxious as expected, the sheer number of Travelers meant those annoying few were just as prevalent. Even the innocent ones were tiring, simply because they lacked any common sense.
After hours of dealing with these sorts of people, Reynald was already tired and, more importantly, irritated. Menez, unfortunately, had not caught on to this.
“Can I fight you, then?”
“... Hah?”
“You aren't training anyone... So it's fine if you're the one fighting me... Right?”
Even with his judgment clouded by agitation, Reynald noticed the odd intensity of the half-wolf who had asked that question. His stare, expressionless as it was, never broke contact with Reynald; he hadn't even left his fighting stance from when he was sparring. However, Reynald passed that off as a mere peculiarity.
Just another overconfident fool, Reynald thought to himself. It would be easy to simply deny Fenris’s request…
… But since he requested it himself, isn't it fine to let off some steam?
“H-hey, Fen, you should let this one go,” Louis quickly interjected.
Oh? He's a smart one.
However, Reynald’s mind was already made.
“It's perfectly fine,” Reynald said with an even deeper smile than before. “It will be a good example for you Travelers to aim for… unless you’d like to volunteer instead?”
Fenris’s stare locked onto Louis.
(Let me have this or you're next), both Reynald and Fenris seemed to be saying.
… Well, it's out of my hands now, Louis decided, cleaning his hands of the whole affair. If he dies, he dies.
“Well then,” Reynald said, pointing his walking cane in front of him. “As the challenger, you may have the first strike.”
Fenris lunged.
———
Reynald watched Fenris as they stepped in, their sword arm pulled back towards their head.
His form is much better than before, Reynald noted with mild shock. He remembered Menez instructing Fenris earlier to ‘tighten his swing’. Did he really integrate this into his fighting just now?
Although Reynald praised Fenris, their skill levels were still miles apart. As Fenris entered Reynald’s reach, Reynald simply flicked his cane up, knocking the sword out of Fenris’s hand, and pointed his cane towards Fenris’s throat.
Ordinarily, the fight would have finished as soon as Fenris lost his sword; beginners fixated on their weapons, and would panic as soon as they lost them. Panic created openings, and openings guaranteed defeat.
However, instead of recoiling back upon losing his weapon, as Reynald had expected, Fenris immediately parried the cane as it was thrust forwards, and continued his attack with a straight punch.
Reynald swayed back, safely out of reach, but was forced to take two more steps as Fenris took one more swing with his left and then again with his right.
Did his attacks get sharper again? … No, it looks like he’s just more used to using his fists.
Reynald took back the initiative with a well-timed swipe of his cane, forcing Fenris to block. It took three more hits before Fenris could properly parry one of Reynald's attacks and restart their own offensive.
These trades continued for nearly a full minute until, instead of blocking, Fenris started copying Reynald and swaying out of the cane’s reach. With less need to block, Fenris could attack much more frequently—but for the veteran Reynald, this simply gave him more opportunities to counterattack. The ebb of offense and defense accelerated from probing, extended chains of attacks into a relentless volley of counters strung together one after the other.
The next development came only twelve seconds later. Reynald leaned back to avoid Fenris’s fist, as he had been doing up until this point, and was forced to raise his cane to block for the first time as Fenris swung his shield, gripping it by its edge to extend his reach.
This goddamn freak…!
Fenris was undoubtedly an amateur—his movements lacked the refinement that comes from proper training—but a normal person wouldn't just use their shield like that.
As far as Reynald could tell, Fenris hadn't even planned that little trick; as soon as the thought entered his head, he went through with it without hesitation. There was not a single thought of the risks—only the instinctive understanding that he could win if worked.
A genuine smile—more like a snarl—came to Reynald’s face.
It had been years since Reynald had gotten to fight someone—and for the first one since then to be against someone like this… It really motivated him.
Reynald swung with a left hook while Fenris was still recovering from their own attack; without his shield, Fenris was forced to sway back to dodge the blow.
As this happened, Reynald flipped his cane around and used the handle to hook Fenris’s leg and lift him into the air—
“Ah.” Fenris said, suddenly floating.
—before grabbing Fenris’s face and slamming their head into the ground.
“... C-call the healer!” Menez shouted.
