The Noble Lady Without Magic Aims to Become an Adventurer! - Chapter 8

Levain-sensei entered the room carrying an armful of books and dropped them onto the table with a resounding thud.

On our first day, we listened as Sensei explained the structure of the lessons before diving straight into coursework.

Unsurprisingly, our academic skills were… abysmal. After lunch, we shifted to physical training.

“Stamina is the foundation,” Sensei began. “You both have more than most, but there’s no such thing as too much stamina. Now, run.”

Following his orders, we ran laps around the garden for an hour. By the end, I was utterly exhausted. But that wasn’t the end—next came practicing basic sword forms.

Reco had been teaching us since childhood, so I managed well enough. Fars, however, had learned sloppily and was subjected to intense correction by Sensei. His instructions were far stricter than Reco’s.

Practical lessons in magic followed a similar pattern.

Sensei emphasized the importance of fundamentals, so we spent much of our time practicing magical circulation. Thanks to years of training since childhood, I had no issues. Fars, on the other hand, had been doing it half-heartedly and struggled quite a bit.

Sensei explained that increasing one’s magic reserves expanded the range of spells one could cast, motivating both of us to work harder.

One day, I mustered the courage to ask Sensei a question that had been on my mind.

“Sensei, is my magical power low?”

“To know for certain, I’d need proper equipment, but compared to high-ranking nobles, yes, it’s on the lower side.”

Hearing this confirmed was a bit of a shock, though it wasn’t unexpected. I had always suspected my magical reserves were smaller than Fars’. Still, compared to the days when I thought I had no magic at all, I felt a certain sense of gratitude.

As for Fars, Sensei mentioned that his magical power was exceptionally high for a commoner—comparable to that of upper nobility.

For the next six months, we worked hard under Sensei’s guidance, focusing on academic studies and practical basics. Although I had worried about the academic side, it progressed smoothly.
Still, there was so much to memorize that it became routine for Fars and me to read books before bed as part of our homework.

Fars struggled with academics at first, but Violeta often reminded him, “You’re just a servant, but you’re being given the chance to study for the academy. Make sure you take this seriously.” Over time, he matured and became more disciplined, even if it wasn’t his strong suit.

In practical skills, Fars excelled far more than I did. His approach seemed instinctual, picking up sword techniques and magic quickly. His range of spells expanded significantly, and his specialty became offensive magic.

As for me, I considered my swordsmanship decent. I could use a variety of magic attributes, but my low reserves limited me to smaller spells. Sensei decided I should focus on perfecting the precision of basic spells.

I couldn’t help but feel a little envious of Fars.

One unexpected addition to our training was dance. Despite our efforts, both Fars and I spent most of the time stepping on each other’s feet, shouting and bickering.

Even Sensei could only manage a wry smile at our clumsy attempts.

Since we didn’t have a piano at home, I had wondered how we’d practice. That’s when Hubert retrieved an old cello from storage and volunteered to play for us. Truly, he was a capable steward.
During dance lessons, Violeta sat quietly, watching us, while Hubert played music, Sensei provided instruction, and Fars and I continued our battle of missteps.

We often ended up arguing, but the shared laughter made it feel like a cherished family moment. I suspected Fars felt the same way.

Time passed, and a year later, Sensei suddenly announced, “Starting today, we’ll begin field training!”
Fars and I were bewildered, tilting our heads in confusion.
Sensei had apparently discussed this with Hubert and Violeta beforehand, as Violeta had already prepared travel gear for us.

With our belongings in hand, Fars and I boarded the village’s shared carriage with Sensei.

“Sensei, where are we going?” I asked, unable to hide my excitement—it was my first carriage ride since arriving in the village.

“We’re heading to the guild in the neighboring town. Now that you’re twelve, it’s time to issue your guild cards.”

Fars and I widened our eyes in surprise and excitement.
“Really?! I’ve always wanted a guild card!”
“Me too! I can’t wait!”

The mere mention of guild cards sent us into a frenzy of chatter. Sensei, though exasperated, listened patiently.

“Listen, before you register at the guild,” Sensei began, “your official occupation will be swordsman. Understood? Especially you, Maroa.”

Fars and I nodded solemnly.
Swordsmen, as the name implies, are those who use swords to hunt monsters. Magicians specialize in spell-based magic, while healers focus exclusively on recovery magic. People often choose their profession based on their strengths, but it’s common to name oneself as one sees fit.

“Also, you don’t have to use your real names. Most nobles register with aliases,” Sensei added.

“Why’s that, Sensei?” I asked.
“While commoners often keep their names for recognition when applying as knights or soldiers in the capital, nobles tend to look down on adventurers. Many see adventurers as glorified handymen, which affects their reputation.

“Since most adventurers are commoners, nobles dislike being associated with them. Even knights or nobles who hunt monsters as a hobby often register under aliases. At the guild, I’m known as Allen.”

“That sounds like a hassle. I think I’m lucky to be a commoner,” Fars said with a grin.

After half an hour of jostling in the carriage, we arrived at the neighboring town’s guild.

While waiting behind Sensei, who was speaking with the receptionist, Fars was called up first.

“What’s your name?”

“Fars.”
“And your chosen profession?”

“I’ll be registering as a swordsman.”

“Can you use magic?”

“I can use a little offensive magic, but I’m not good at healing.”

“Got it. Place your hand on this crystal to register your magic. If you lose your card, it can be reissued.”

Fars placed his hand on the crystal, which emitted a faint glow. The receptionist retrieved a card from beneath the crystal and handed it to him.

“Here you go. Don’t lose it—many adventurers wear theirs on necklaces.”

Next, it was my turn.

“What’s your name?”

“Roa.”

“And your chosen profession?”

“Swordsman, please.”

“A female swordsman? That’s rare. Can you use magic?”
“I don’t have any magic power.”

“Got it. Place your hand on this stone slab instead.”
Following the receptionist’s instructions, I placed my hand on the slab. They muttered an incantation, and I felt a brief warmth before it was done.

“Here’s your card.”

“Why was it different from Fars’ process?”

“Fars registered with his unique magical signature. Since you don’t have magic, we registered your identity using our own magic. It’s a method specifically for those without magic.”
I was amazed by the ingenuity of the process.