I Will Be the Greatest Knight-Chapter 250: Brick by Brick

Irene’s hatred of resting never ceased, but it didn’t mean that it became any more possible for her to pick up a sword and begin again.

There was no way for her to fight against her physical state. Her head was dizzy, her leg gave in far too easily. Even if she was simply hugged too tightly, it felt like her insides might fall out of her.

A few days before, she had removed the bandages and felt the slowly closing gash. The wrap wasn’t to stop bleeding but rather hold her together. She realized that perhaps she had worn a half-chemise too tightly, and the relaxing of her body felt awful.

She also ran her fingers over the wound while she had it open. She realized it was very likely that there would be a chip in her sternum for as long as she lived. She hoped it would never cause her problems.

There were a lot of moments of simply sitting there, staring out the window whenever her father or mother weren’t there to yell at her that she was wasting the warmth from the fire. Her room faced the eastern region, yet she still looked off into the distance as if she could see the battlefield from where she sat.

Never before would she have wanted to be cold with the others. It felt like a never-ending nightmare of how little sleep she got because of the frigid temperatures they faced. She was always shocked at how well the Hydrogian knights did, considering they weren’t used to winters so harsh.

Overall, she was simply in awe of how the knighthoods were working together now that she wasn’t out there. Surprisingly, they put down their prejudices in the faces of monsters. Even though they had a propensity for sticking to their own, just as the mages did, if there was an attack, they were all working for a common goal, and that was all that mattered.

She missed the environment so much. Feeling useful to the duchy was so important to her.

So many of her days were spent lamenting on the fact that she felt so damn useless. She hadn’t felt that way since she was taken out of her first life. freewёbn૦νeɭ.com

It wasn’t until at least a month into full-on winter that her father allowed her to sleep late, but then, after breakfast, he asked if she wanted to join him on the practice yard.

She was no longer walking with a crutch, but her ankle was still splinted so her foot wouldn’t move much when she walked.

As much as the urge struck her to ask, "What could I possibly do with a sword right now?" She ignored the thought and hobbled her way out as quickly as she possibly could.

Well, she was forced away from the door by her mother, who insisted she get into something much warmer.

When she was finally out in the yard and in front of her father and brother, she was given a practice sword and braced herself for whatever was to come.

As she raised her sword, there was somewhat of a somber feeling that took over her. It was like loving someone and not seeing them for a long time. There was a sense of completeness after being reunited with sword fighting.

She thought of all the times she had lifted a sword in the past month and how her body rejected even a simple movement, much less the weight of a metal blade.

Someone had even wrapped up Leif’s sword for her to keep, but she hadn’t gotten the courage to open it up and reminisce about her friend. It was taking a long time, but she was starting to realize just how wounded she was inside to out.

As much as she hated to admit that everyone was right when it came to her needing to rest, she was slowly realizing the importance of it.

At first, Arthur started off the sword practice so gently. Even though his muscular arms would move in a threatening way, he would always stop short and test where Irene’s blocking was at that point.

Her chest had mostly healed, and the shock of bracing herself wasn’t bad any longer. Her leg was what was giving her the most trouble by that point.

For a long time, Irene stood there, bracing herself for each impact since she wasn’t able to offer many strikes herself.

Her father offered her mostly downward strikes because that was what made sense because of their height difference. However, sometimes he would mix things up and surprise her. Those moments, she was more worried about her leg because it felt like her entire body tensed up when something caught her off guard.

By the time they were done with their short striking practice, Irene’s shoulders were burning, and she had to take off her outer layer because her overall body temperature was warmer than it had been during winter in a long time.

Arne flopped down onto the snow and crossed his arms.

"When are ya gonna be able to really fight?" he asked his sister. "This is boring."

Irene glared at her brother.

"Even with a broken leg, I could still take you down easily," she scoffed. "I am merely holding back so that I don’t prolong my return to the knighthood."

There were many such days like that where Arne and Irene would argue about her abilities. She had proven herself to an entire knighthood of men and boys, but her little brother, with less swordfighting experience than her, didn’t believe her.

With one last visit to the local healer, she was approved to remove the splints and start walking on her own, but carry a walking stick around just in case. There was certainly atrophy of the muscles on her leg, and walking was a little bit uncertain.

As winter crept closer and closer to its end, Irene began truly working herself.

The war wasn’t over yet, and the urge to return was eating away at her each time she wasn’t with the knights and other apprentices she had gotten so used to.

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