I Will Be the Greatest Knight-Chapter 418: Breaking the Rules

While she certainly wasn’t breaking any specific rules, Irene knew she was breaking etiquette protocol. However, getting blatantly drunk also went against etiquette, so if she looked at it that way, sword practice wasn’t the worst she could be doing. Those she passed in the hall in passionate embraces spurred by alcohol were likely breaking more rules than her at that point.

With her justification, she pulled the leather gloves from her pocket and then lifted the lid on a cylinder-shaped wooden bin where she found the wooden swords they had used earlier in the day.

The practice dummies were close by, and she decided that was where she would take her frustration out in a bit. For now, it was merely nice to swing a sword and warm up her muscles.

Just like the apprentices did, she fell into a pattern of motions to ensure her shoulders and waist were all warmed up, and she wouldn’t suffer strain because of the cold outside. Soon enough, she was warm, and the winter weather wasn’t even a thought in her head.

In fact, she was having fun as a smile pulled at her lips. This was what she would rather be doing, no doubt.

She wondered what Felix had gotten up to, but there was also a small side of her that hoped he was with some beautiful woman and forgetting about the tragedies in his life, if only for one night. Otherwise, she would have invited him out to spar with her. However, each time she saw him, he was dancing with someone unexpected.

Irene lowered her sword, satisfied with the burning of her shoulders and feeling her heart moving faster in her chest as she pushed it harder. She wasn’t close to her limit, but she wanted to take out her frustrations on the practice dummies now.

Could she call it frustrations? Just what was going through her head?

The Commander had antagonized her all evening by simply having one dance and one conversation with her. She was dying to hear what else he was going to say.

"As if there is any hope for you," she whispered under her breath. Despite that, the small smile remained on her face.

Even if the scenarios were impossible, it was a little bit of fun to daydream.

As she lifted her sword, intending to take it out on the practice dummy full of hay, she nearly dropped her sword when the doors she originally exited out of slammed open and hit the wall beside them. Her mother rushed forward with her silvery skirts balled up in her fists as she approached her daughter.

Right away, Irene knew she had been caught doing what she wasn’t supposed to. She thought she had put up a satisfying enough performance to be left alone, but it seemed that wasn’t the case.

She braced herself for impact.

"What in God’s name are you doing out here, Irene?! Another event ruined because of your childish habits!"

Irene wanted to say that the last event she had ’ruined’ was when she was merely a child and stood up for herself in front of a visiting noble boy who dared try and bully her. Her mother had been just as furious then. It had been years since then.

All Irene could do was bow her head. It was best not to argue with her mother.

"Think about how you look, Irene! You’ve become so boyish it’s disgusting. And where is the dress?"

Irene’s head lifted. Her eyebrows lowered. Her mother’s voice seemed a bit different than usual, and the knight finally realized her mother was drunk. Perhaps she had gotten carried away in her own drinking that evening. How very unlike her mother to do that.

Despite her quiet observation, Irene managed to lift her gloved hand and point to the dress sitting on top of the wooden post that held a different practice dummy.

At that, Rochelle stalked forward and grabbed the dress, hugging it to her chest as she glared daggers at her daughter.

"I’m sorry, Mother," Irene responded, her voice wavering and having no other defense for herself.

She knew she was manly compared to other women. The only other woman who ever understood that was her grandmother, who had long since passed. How she missed feeling understood fully by another.

The thought made a lump form in her throat. Perhaps the alcohol had made her a bit too emotional. Maybe it was she who should have held back earlier.

The next words were just as biting. Rochelle didn’t seem satisfied yet with her verbal attack.

"Sorry doesn’t even begin to cover the shame that you keep bringing to this family!" she cried. "Your one duty as a woman is to find a man and bring forth children. One day you will see that this knight business is not—"

However, another had arrived at the practice yard, and just in time, it seemed.

"Rochelle!" Arthur shouted. "That’s more than enough."

At that, Rochelle shut her mouth and merely glared at her daughter. Soon enough, the former knight came with a shawl and wrapped up his wife’s revealed shoulders so she wouldn’t be cold. It was likely the alcohol made her believe she was warm even though it was far below freezing outside.

"She’s not even nineteen," Arthur explained to his wife, holding onto her shoulders as he spoke to her. "There’s more than enough time to worry about these things. If she never wants to get married, it’s none of my business."

Arthur cast his daughter an apologetic glance as he gently pushed Rochelle so that she would go back inside and they could settle in for the night. He felt relieved that no one else had heard that interaction. Rochelle certainly had too much to drink and would likely regret those words later.

Irene stood there with her head down, the sword having fallen from her hands, and she felt very small. She was grateful for her rescuer, but it didn’t heal the wounds her mother had opened up in her heart.

She knew that her appearance wasn’t good enough for much of anything, and it was solely her who had made herself that way. She could likely be beautiful like her mother if she put in the effort, but no, instead Irene decided to do something that caused her body to be irreversibly scarred. Her muscles made her look severe, and no man would ever look in her direction.

And yet, her idiotic brain decided to cling to someone anyway. More than that, it was her heart that clung to him and had become selfish with a little bit of attention.

Before she realized it, tears fell down her face, but she wiped them away quickly. They would freeze if she wasn’t careful.

However, another person pushed through the doors that her parents had only just exited the practice yard a short while before. At that, Irene’s eyes snapped up, but when she saw it was her Commander, she turned away.

"Commander," Irene greeted, trying to sound normal as if she hadn’t been affected by what had transpired. "What are you doing here?"

"You said you wanted to dance," he reminded her. "But when I was finished dancing with Lady Rose, you were nowhere to be found."

She hoped he couldn’t see her tears in the darkness. As subtly as she could, she wiped them away and bent down to pick up the wooden sword.

"I’m not wearing a dress anymore," she explained. "I would rather spar."

Irene couldn’t meet his eyes. She didn’t want to fall into his gaze and delude herself into thinking he was there to rescue her. It caused her to entirely miss his dark eyes that were, in fact, entirely full of concern.

Without hesitation, the Commander walked towards the bin full of wooden practice swords, and he retrieved one for himself. He glanced down at his outfit, realizing it likely wasn’t the best clothing for a spar, but he was concerned about other things far more than ruining clothing he would likely never wear again.

"Then let’s spar," he stated simply.

The show of good sportsmanship was weak, but the Commander didn’t take offense to it. However, it made him believe she wouldn’t come at him as full of fury as she did, and he was a bit surprised when their wooden blades clashed immediately.

Covering his surprise, he tried to strike her, but her speed was still one of her greatest assets as she dodged him by going left. With a small window of opportunity, Irene came at him with an overhead strike that she gave her all. It was one of her strongest moves, and her frustration about the evening was certainly showing.

It came out all at once, but in more ways than she expected. She couldn’t hold it back anymore as everything she was feeling that day, and the past few days, came to a head.

After he caught the weight of her downward blow with a grunt, they were locked in a stalemate for a moment. He clenched his jaw as he tried to push his sword upwards and get the upper hand. To his surprise, the strain on her face softened, and she dropped her sword.

Irene placed her gloved hands over her face, and tears came forth.

She felt a bit worthless, showing an awful side of herself to him yet again. There wasn’t a bit of her who wanted a true spar. She realized she was horrible again because all she wanted to do was take it out on him, and it wasn’t his fault.

His only fault was being so kind to her and never showing an unlikable side of himself.

Suddenly, she felt warmth as he also dropped his sword and immediately embraced her, silently willing that she let him be burdened by her for a moment.

It struck her that he must have heard everything her mother had said to her.