FYWAM CH 4
- Jan 21
- 7 min read
Chapter 4
• ────── ✦ ────── •
A Goal You Must Achieve
The next day, Calliope headed to Dora's smithy. Dora, who used to be a member of a successful mercenary group, had settled in this town with her husband.
Her husband's parents lived here, and whenever she drank,
"Settling in this village was the stupidest decision of my life!"
To put it bluntly, Baron Hubert is a terrible ruler of the manor, who does not do the slightest bit for the manor, does not lower the tax rate, filing their own stomachs while his own people starve.
The people were reluctant to speak ill of Baron Hubert in front of Calliope, but Dora didn't hesitate to speak her mind. Calliope didn't stop her, everything she said was true, and she herself had too many regrets about the Baron to defend him.
“Hello, Dora.”
“You’re here?”
When she arrived at the smithy, Dora and the workers were moving a large box. Calliope stood up from her seat offering to help but Dora waved her hand.
“Stop. You'll hurt yourself. You're strong, but not strong enough to move this.”
“Isn’t that the spearhead that the neighbouring village requested?”
“Yes. It seems the number of demons appearing has increased, and they wanted it done quickly.”
Calliope averted her eyes from Dora's words. Monsters often appeared in the forests of the frontier estates. Fortunately, no monsters had yet appeared in this village, but news of monster sightings in nearby villages was increasing. She understood the reason. Seven years from now, the Demon King would be resurrected after five hundred years.
“So, you don’t have any work today?”
“Since you’re here, let’s practice with the sword.”
“Why would I need to use the sword?”
“The number of demons is increasing. Your house is on the outskirts, you’ll never know.”
“Well, okay.”
Dora taught Calliope bits and pieces of the techniques she had used in her time with the mercenaries in the name of self-defense. Calliope pretended not to like it, but she was more than eager to learn. The more means of protecting oneself, the better.
After loading all the boxes onto the wagon heading to the next village, Dora took Calliope to the village’s open space. As soon as they arrived at the open space, Calliope picked up a crude wooden sword carved from a thick branch. The wooden sword, which was as long as Calliope’s arm, was something Dora had personally carved for Calliope.
“If my husband were alive, he could have taught me more about the sword in a more thorough manner. I only know how to use the sword for survival.”
“You were a mercenary, right? What did you use instead of a sword?”
“I used a mace.”
“A mace? That hammer-like thing?”
“It's different from a hammer.”
“It looks good on you.”
“Sometimes I use an axe.”
“I thought you were supposed to swing an axe to chop firewood.”
“And because of that, now it’s easy to chop off a person’s head with an axe.”
“What? Maybe if it's the head of a small animal, but wouldn't it be difficult if it’s a human’s head?”
Calliope smiled and took her stance. Dora uncrossed her arms and lowered her posture. This is how the sword training Dora describes was always handled. After being taught just a few basic stances on how to hold and swing a sword, she had never received any substantial instruction since then.
It would just end if she hit Dora with the wooden sword or if her stamina ran out. She has not managed to hit her even once. Calliope immediately sprang off the ground and charged at Dora.
“Well, it doesn't seem like you lack talent.”
Dora said, dodging Calliope's wooden sword with ease. She always said that, even though she never even grazed Dora's collar, let alone hit her. Calliope didn't stop; she just turned and swung the wooden sword at Dora again.
“If I did have talent, I would’ve had beaten you long ago!”
“No, this is fine after a year. Compared to the new recruits who joined the mercenary group, you have potential.”
“You're not a swordsmanship genius, are you?”
“Yes, I’m not.”
Dora moved to avoid Calliope's trajectory to the point of nearly overexerting herself. Whenever it seemed like she was about to hit her, Dora was already standing somewhere else. Apparently, she wasn't bluffing when she said she'd made a name for herself as a mercenary.
Dora thought as she watched Calliope charging at her.
She is definitely not a genius, but if I teach her well, she could definitely secure her share. She’s smart like Ethiel and fortunately she doesn’t resemble her. Unlike Ethiel, Calliope is physically strong probably because she’d been helping out with work since she was young. Recently, she had gained more stamina because she’s been called out for hunting and other things.
Dora hoped that Calliope would be able to take good care of herself. Her white hair, fluttering with her swift movements, caught her eye. It was so white as if she were sick, but nevertheless, young Calliope is beautiful. It was also the reason Dora taught the child swordsmanship under the pretext of self-defense.
“In my opinion, there's just one thing you're lacking.”
Dora casually spoke to Calliope, who was starting to pant heavily.
“You work hard training, but you don't have a goal.”
Calliope, sweating, followed Dora in the open space where the cold wind was blowing. The sound of the wooden sword passing in front of her body was quite realistic. It was useful giving her an axe and making her chop wood.
“There’s no reason for you to swing your sword like you are about to die.”
Calliope was beginning to grow irritated with Dora's voice. She had been following her instructions to the best of her ability. What more was she supposed to do? As her vision blurred with sweat, she heard her voice again.
“Think of the goal you must achieve, and imagine the tip of your blade touching it.”
Dora spat out the words she used to teach new recruits in the Mercenary Corps without much expectation. Those who joined the mercenary organization at a young age naturally had stories.
But Calliope wasn’t like us. Growing up in a small secluded rural village, she didn’t have a great upbringing and her only story is the death of her mother.
Snapping back to the present, Dora's gaze fell on Calliope. Crimson eyes were rushing towards her. As she tried to avoid her as she usually did, Dora felt a strange sensation. The child was faster and closer than usual.
She tried to back away from the foreign feeling and the wooden sword. However, Calliope, who was much smaller than Dora, quickly stepped on her foot.
“Oh no!”
Dora quickly raised her arm to block Calliope’s wooden sword that was coming right in front of her.
Bam!
Startled by the loud impact and the sound it made, Calliope quickly stepped back.
Hoh, you've gotten a lot stronger.
Dora thought as she blocked the wooden sword, her numb arm shaking. Seeing Calliope retreated like a rabbit with wide eyes after being hit by the wooden sword she swung, she burst into laughter. The foreign feeling she had briefly felt had long since disappeared.
Was I mistaken?
“Are you okay?”
Dropping her wooden sword, Calliope quickly approached and examined Dora's forearm. Fortunately, it didn't seem like there was any problem with the bone due to the child's strength, but it felt numb and it seemed like it would bruise.
“Did you guess it right in the end?”
“No, is that the problem now? You’re hurt!”
“This kind of thing gets better with saliva.”
“Dora!”
“You nag just like your mom. Alright, since you got it right, today's training is over. I’ve got a big delivery deadline to meet, so maybe you should just stay home and rest this week.”
“You must go and get it treated!”
“Okay, okay.”
Calliope was staring blankly at Dora's back as she walked away with one hand in her pocket, and the other hand swinging loosely. Letting out a deep sigh, she picked up the wooden sword she had thrown. Fortunately, the wooden sword was not even made from the right kind of wood and was a bit soft from the moisture.
Caliope, exhausted, walked unsteadily. She momentarily lost her reason because of what Dora said.
“I got too excited.”
Calliope clicked her tongue. The only thing she could call her goal was her fiancé, who gave her everything, took everything from her, and disappeared, but in fact, there was someone else who should have been the point of her sword right now.
“There's someone I need to deal with as soon as I get back to the capital.”
One of the hardships she would surely face when she returns to the marquessate is her closest enemy.
The man who had a significant influence in driving her mother out of the marquessate, isolated her as a child from the family with groundless malice and who insisted on breaking up his marriage with his fiancé, Isaac.
Detron Anastas.
He was the uncle of the current marquess. A shameless old man who, after the previous marquess and his wife died due to an accident had been controlling his father, who inherited the title at a young age, and then settled down in the mansion.
I have no intentions of being taken lightly in this life.
Calliope had no intention of giving up anything in this life.
• ───────── ☽༓☾ ───────── •
The remaining days passed in the blink of an eye. Finally, the day for the marquess' servant to arrive had come.
She calmed her mind and faced the morning as normally as possible. She fetched water to wash, and made something that resembles a tasteless porridge by mixing a few pieces of dried meat with flour.
Calliope, with her belly full, looked at the broken window that had still not been repaired. The sun had already risen, but it snowed all through the dawn, making the sky cloudy.
It was a colour similar to the day her mother passed away.
Calliope sat on the straw bed, lost in thought. As the day came to return to the marquessate, she felt the reality of having travelled back in time.
From this day onwards, she would have to constantly calculate and manipulate the events that would come her way. First, dealing with Detron Anastas was the most urgent, but there were also other things that had to be done from afar and prepared in advance. Namely,
“How the hell are we supposed to subdue that damned demon lord? She muttered to herself as she fiddled with her hair that had grown long enough to reach her back.”
Others thought she had counted the days after her mother’s passing, but in fact, she counted each strand of her hair after realizing that Isaac, who had abandoned her, didn't return from the subjugation.
She had spent a year locked in her room, alternating between crying and fainting. Living a life where she couldn't die or truly live.


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