Sweet Reincarnation (WN) - Chapter 2 (1)

Chapter 2: Good news? The bad news? (1)

Editor: EndlessSkyRain

The noise of hooves clopped against the road.

A horse walked over the hard, trampled ground. On its back, rode a well-dressed man.

“What do you think about the territory you will inherit in the future, Pastry? You’ve never seen it before, but look at how big it is.”

In front of the man, seated a small child. A boy, who looked like a toddler, was supported by the man.

On each side of them was a field of brown wheat, somewhat charred.

“Toto-sama, there’s no bite in the wheat.”

(TL Note: Let’s consider the baby talk here okay guys? What he meant by no bite is that the wheat isn’t healthy enough or ‘energetic’ the precise word used.)

“Even a boy like you can understand that? Yes, the land is terribly sparse in our territory. It’s a long way to go, but it might cost the future generations a lot of trouble.”

The father chuckled bitterly.

His son’s innocent point was all too accurate.

“You don’t make anything that isn’t wheatgrass?”

“Nn? Other than wheat, it would be rye and oats. And maybe some vegetables from our family’s fields. I’m going to try to fertilize the land.”

“Sugar and fruit?”

“We can’t afford it. Even wheat didn’t grow so well before you were born. I heard there are things that grow wild in the south, but they don’t grow well in this part of the world.”

“So, the sweetest thing…”

“Okay, okay, next time I have to go to the capital again, I’ll buy you something to take home.”

The father stroked his son’s head and a son doing as he is told.

His son’s face was sad, but it turned to a look of determination.

“Then, I’ll turn this place into a land of sweets someday.”

“Ha-ha, it’s a good thing you can dream. Well, when you’re older, you’ll have this place to yourself.”

This was how the dream that the boy first told his parents began.

Some time when Pastry was three years old.

◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇ ◇

The sound of metal clashing against metal echoed.

“What’s the matter? It’s not like that!”

“Gulp. I’m not done yet!”

There were two men, relative to each other.

Both were holding a sword in their hands.

One of the two men who was fighting each other was a mature and great man. His physique was so toned that it was visible from the side. Lean muscle that would be more battle-specific rather than flaunting, gave him an intimidating look even over his clothes. The way he handled a sturdy-looking lump of iron as freely as his two hands was a masterful feat.

While the other one, he was a little young to be called a man.

His age was apparently only in the single digit. It would be just a matter of time before he could reach the double digits.

He swung his sword as hard as he could, sweating, not only on his forehead, but all over his body. The way his body often swam with the sword as he swung it was still in the process of development. Rather than using the sword, he was being used by the sword.

“You see, your grip is not as tight as it used to be. Grip it tighter.”

“Yes.”

“That’s right, good. That’s good. Hold it as if your hand were flying off and you wouldn’t let go. Letting go of your sword on the battlefield is the same as dying.”

“Yes.”

The two men crossed swords.

Baron Mortareon, the horseman of Mortareon, and his son Pastry Mir Mortareon.

They were in the middle of their daily swordsmanship training. This routine had been going on everyday ever since his son, Pastry, turned five years old. The boy was affectionately known as Pace.

The training started because of his own selfishness, but before long, it became a daily routine.

However, it was rare, even for him, to wield a sword at such an early age.

Even in this world where bandits appeared from time to time, demons roamed the streets and the winds of warfare blew strongly.

As far as the body was concerned, wielding a sword while he was still inexperienced was due to his father’s origins and philosophy. Also, it was largely due to the peculiarities of his son.

Another bruise grew on the boy’s body.

The sword was flung away while he was still on his frayed feet, and he was struck by a heavy blow to the ground.

Such training, which in peaceful times would have been called child abuse, was interrupted by a voice.

“General~. Oh general~. Are you there? Oh, there you are. I knew you’re here.”

“What’s the matter with you? I’m training my son.”

A man approached the two men wielding iron killing weapons, not seeming to care about them.

The man called Shitsu was a friend of the cavalry Baron Casserole Mir Mortareon, who still adored his son, for twenty years, and was also the squire’s chief of staff. He also held the title of head of the private army of the Mortareon territory. Basically, a confidant.

However, he only had two men in his private army corps.

Shitsu glanced at Pace with a smile on his face, and then called out to his father.

”General, it’s almost time for breakfast. I have some reports to make, so please go back to the office once you’re done.”

“I see. Alright. Pace, that’s it for today.”

The father slowly sheathed his sword as he talked.

The moment he settled the sword in place, his son slumped on the ground.

“Zee-hah, thank you very much.”

“Umu, you need to wipe your sweat off and go to your mother. If you make her wait, she’ll do the usual stuff again.”

“Eh, I need to hurry. Father, I’ll leave you then.”

A boy holding a sword bigger than his height; his father and Shitsu watched him run away with smiles in their eyes.

“That boy is getting pretty good at it too. Children progress so fast.”

“You’re right. He’s a quick learner, that son of mine. He has a way of working things out for himself just like a true master of his craft, and it makes perfect sense. I’m really looking forward to seeing him in the future.”

“There you go again, every time you are being like that, you look like an idiot. Don’t expect too much. Some say that a five-year-old is a genius, but after fifteen, he is just a man.”

“Pace may have made a name for himself with a sword by the time he’s fifteen though.”

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