I'm a Immortal Tavernkeeper, But My S-Rank Daughter Doesn't Know That!

December was usually a fast month, mainly because it was the holiday season and the beginning of winter, but for Bel Selvarum the days became even faster because of training.

Every day he would wake up, train, get exhausted, break for lunch, train again, and then have no energy left for anything.

But he began to appreciate every second of those days because Victor was a demanding mentor and his lessons were invaluable.

One day, Bel was drenched in sweat, every muscle in his body aching, while Victor didn’t seem to be panting at all.

"That’s enough for today," Victor said, putting down his practice sword.

"I can keep going, Master!" Bel exclaimed, holding the sword with both hands.

Victor just looked back and said:

"Rest is also part of training. Respect your own body’s limits, otherwise you might get sick."

Bel nodded and took a deep breath to control his rapid breathing. He watched Victor walk away, always calm, toward the coat he had left hanging on a nearby fence. Plucking himself up, Bel called out to Victor.

"Master, wait."

Victor stopped and turned, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.

"Yes?"

"I... I just wanted to thank you," Bel began, feeling the words slip out as he tried to find the right tone. "You’ve helped me so much, and I know you don’t have to. You don’t get anything in return, but you still take the time to train me."

Victor smiled a little, but remained silent, allowing Bel to continue.

"I have a riding competition the day after tomorrow. I didn’t tell you before because I didn’t think I could pass, even if I tried, but now I believe I can, and it wouldn’t be happening if it wasn’t for you."

"You have shown determination, Bel. The will to learn and improve. That’s the most important thing."

Bel felt a wave of emotions wash over him. He couldn’t explain whether these emotions were surfacing now because he was so tired, or because he had kept his frustration to himself for so long, masking it with pride and tantrums.

Bel lowered his head to hide the tears that filled his eyes.

"You know, Master, I decided to become a knight because of my father," he said, his voice trembling slightly. "He was a knight, one of the best, according to everyone who knew him."

"Bel Selvarum First, an exceptional knight indeed. He could wield a claymore with one hand."

At that moment, Bel raised his head in surprise. "You knew him?"

"Yes, on one of the many escorts I did for Luisa. I didn’t like party halls, and neither did he, so we talked a lot about our adventures." Victor said, but, in reality, he was always on guard for Luisa and couldn’t talk much, and Bel Selvarum First was the one who did most of the talking.

Young Bel clenched his empty right fist. "He died fighting the barbarians in the south when I was very young. I’ve only heard a few stories about him and I know he was incredible..."

Victor approached with a gentle expression. "You want to honor his memory," he said, more than asked.

"Yes. After he died, my family went through some hard times. My mother did the best she could, but my father was always the rock of the house, even when he didn’t come home for weeks at a time, so it became too much for her to carry. I knew I had to do something, be someone, to help. That’s why I decided to follow in my father’s footsteps. However, I’m still not strong enough to go to the Dojo of the Mountains and that’s why I’m in Klento. I want to stay here until I can call myself a knight."

Victor put a comforting hand on Bel’s shoulder. "Your determination is admirable, Bel. Your father would be proud."

Bel felt the tears finally start to run down his face, but he blinked quickly, trying to keep his composure. "Thank you, master."

Victor patted Bel on the shoulder before grabbing his cloak and getting dressed. "Rest today and tomorrow, Bel. Be ready for your test."

Bel watched Victor walk away as he pulled the long cloak over his clothes.

"Master, are you going out?" he asked as the sky took on the golden and orange hues of dusk. "It’s almost dusk."

"I’m going to see a tailor friend to have one of my clothes mended."

"But, master, why don’t you ask one servant of the mansion to do it? It would be quicker and you wouldn’t have to leave at this hour."

Victor laughed quietly as he walked on. "I promised this tailor that I wouldn’t let anyone else alter or repair the clothes he made for me. He’s an old friend and I like to keep my promises."

Bel nodded. "I understand, Master. Take care and thank you again for everything."

Victor nodded and went on his way. Once outside the mansion, he muttered to himself:

"Luckily, Bel didn’t notice that I was lying. The truth is that I want to ask Aron to make a light armor for Bel. I want to give it to him at the end of his training."

Victor walked the streets of downtown Klento for the first time when the market stalls were already being dismantled and a few passersby crossed his path.

With the onset of night, most of the city had lost the euphoria of carts and carriages going up and down.

As he made his way to Aron, the tailor, Victor’s thoughts turned to him. He knew that Bel, as a member of the Selvarum family, could get any kind of armor he wanted on the market, so the ideal gift would be light armor that would suit Bel’s agile fighting style.

As they approached Aron’s tailor shop, Victor noticed how quiet the street was. Only a few people were passing by on the other side of the street.

At the front of the shop, Victor looked in the spotlessly clean window and didn’t see Aron, but he went in anyway. Victor opened the door slowly, the bell above him ringing a single sharp note that echoed through the empty room.

Everything seemed to be in place: the mannequins displayed elegant outfits and the rolls of fabric were organized on the shelves, but the silence was deafening.

"Aron?" called Victor, his voice echoing off the walls of the shop.

No answer came.

Victor frowned and moved cautiously through the narrow main hall, his eyes scanning every corner. As he approached the counter, a strong metallic smell hit his nostrils. It was blood.