Chapter 86
Chapter 86
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 86
Chapter Title: Triumph Over the Holy Knight
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“Count Winslow has arrived!”
Puuuu!
The horn trumpet blared long and loud.
Following that, a middle-aged man clad in a purple robe adorned with golden tassels rode into the arena on a pure white steed, escorted by nobles and knights.
He was the one to whom all those seated around the arena removed their hats and bowed their heads in respect—Count Winslow himself.
“Count.”
“We greet you, Count.”
Count Winslow ascended the high dais reserved for high-ranking nobles, acknowledging the greetings of those already present as he took the seat of honor.
Eugene watched Count Winslow and his entourage from afar.
“Wow! Talk about exuding nobility. Look at that robe. Is that fine silk from the looms? The kind the seniors talked about? Eek!? How many rings is that guy wearing?”
Eugene let Mirian’s voice, dripping with envy, flow in one ear and out the other as he keenly observed the count and his group.
Even from quite a distance, the vampire’s eyesight allowed him to count the freckles on their faces.
‘Are those his children around him? Quite a few, too.’
From boys in their early to mid-teens who still looked childish, to young men in their mid-twenties wearing haughty expressions.
The three sons and two daughters, dressed in fine clothes and adorned extravagantly, all exuded an atmosphere remarkably similar to Count Winslow’s.
And their gazes were all fixed on the knights who had been assigned quarters in the castle.
“Some of the heirs have already forged connections with Holy Knights or knights from prestigious houses. That’s actually why we kept the renowned knights in the castle.”
Lanslo spoke up casually, noticing Eugene’s gaze.
“I see. Then why are you here? Your comrades are over there.”
Eugene nodded toward the cluster of territorial knights under the count’s family.
“Strictly speaking, they’re not my comrades. The Golden Moon Knights and the territorial knights don’t get along all that well.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes. Those over there are vassals of the count’s family. They’ve built various relationships with the direct heirs. But the Golden Moon Knights are the count’s personal guard, so we answer only to him. Well, less like orders and more like requests.”
“Hmm.”
It struck Eugene as a highly unusual system.
“So, you’re the only Golden Moon Knight participating in the knight tournament?”
“That’s right. We’d have had two or three enter if it weren’t for the Holy Knights, but because of them, I’m the only one doing the mock battles.”
“That must grate on you.”
“They’re pretty furious. We’re passing up a chance to make a name for ourselves because of uninvited guests who weren’t even summoned.”
“And you? Don’t you want to compete in the joust or sword tournament?”
“I don’t much like showing off my skills in front of crowds.”
Eugene was a bit surprised.
In his view, knights without exception were obsessed with gaining fame. And for a knight, that was a value to pursue as a matter of course.
“I prefer real combat. To be honest, jousts and sword tournaments? They’re just circus acts to me.”
“Well, I feel much the same. But this time, it’s necessary, so here I am.”
“As I thought. I figured Sir Eugene would understand.”
Lanslo grinned. Mirian, perched on Eugene’s shoulder, let out an admiring squeak at the smile.
“Wow. Not quite as handsome as Master, but this guy’s got looks?”
“......”
Unable to converse with Mirian in front of Lanslo, Eugene agreed inwardly.
But then, Lanslo looked intrigued as he spoke up.
“I’ve been meaning to ask—where did you get that chatty spirit?”
“Eek!?”
“......!”
Mirian and Eugene were both startled.
Regardless, Lanslo kept his eyes fixed on Eugene’s shoulder rather than Eugene himself and continued.
“An Undine? How unusual.”
“......You can see it?”
“Hahaha. I’d have been offended if you’d denied it. Yes, I can see it.”
“Eek! Eeeeeek!”
Shocked, Mirian shrieked and hid behind Eugene’s back.
“Ah, no need to think it strange. My grandfather was an elf, so I can see spirits too.”
“Ah, got it.”
That made sense. It also explained why, among all the knights he’d met, Lanslo was by far the most refined-looking.
“There were several reasons I said you weren’t an ordinary fellow, Sir Eugene. Naturally, that Undine was one of them. As you know, it’s not common for humans to contract with spirits.”
“I see.”
“Heh.”
Lanslo couldn’t help but chuckle at Eugene’s reaction.
Anyone would grow wary if an important secret was exposed, yet here was this straightforward response.
‘Truly a man of broad horizons.’
Impressed anew by Eugene, Lanslo shifted his gaze.
“It’s about to start now. Good luck, then, Sir Eugene.”
Clank.
Eugene raised his visor, gripped Silion’s reins, and began walking.
“It’s a circus act, but I’ll still give it my all.”
“Hahaha......”
Lanslo’s clear laughter echoed behind him.
* * *
The joust was fierce.
They’d only held five matches so far, yet there were already two serious casualties.
Even harsher was the fact that both were free knights who had entered the joust despite their poor circumstances.
In jousts, the victor could demand ransom from the loser equivalent to their armor and horse, so those without money had no choice but to lose everything.
“Polsen! Polsen!”
“Sir Mitren! Over here!”
“Magnificent! Baylor!”
But the crowd mostly showered cheers and praise on the victors, ignoring the losers who departed in disgrace alongside their weeping squires.
It was a brutally harsh reality, but in a knight tournament that mimicked real war on a smaller scale, it was only natural.
Puuuuuu!
“The next match iiiis!”
Following the horn, the flamboyantly dressed announcer raised his voice with exaggerated gestures.
“The shining Holy Knight of Borsia! Setrang de the Deimos faaaamily!”
Wooooooh!!!
At the first appearance of a long-rumored Holy Knight, the crowd’s roar pierced the heavens.
Holy Knights were exceedingly rare to see in person.
Deimos appeared on horseback, wearing plate mail overlaid with an extra shoulder guard for jousting.
With a helmet adorned by the black feathers symbolizing a Holy Knight, Deimos cut a figure befitting his renowned fame.
“His opponent iiiis!”
As the announcer shouted, the crowd’s eyes turned to the opposite side.
Seeing Eugene in pitch-black plate mail with no extra shoulder or chest guards for jousting, their eyes went wide.
“Huh? The armor looks top-quality, but can it withstand the impact like that?”
“Tsk tsk. Looks like some clueless young knight joined just to chase fame.”
“He’ll lose that armor if he fails.”
Hearing the crowd as he listened, Deimos smirked coldly from within his helmet.
“So you’re the one, infidel. In the name of the gods, I’ll cripple you halfway. And your horse and armor will be offered to the church.”
As Deimos muttered, his comrades were also eyeing Eugene.
“Nothing special jumps out at first glance. Just that the armor is premium quality.”
Iod’s words, laced with greed for Eugene’s plate mail, drew a slow nod from Dirhit.
“Indeed. But tournaments like this sometimes see knights with hidden secret techniques emerge. I hope he’s not one of them.”
“Haha! Does anyone doubt Sir Deimos is the strongest among our sect brothers? And his lance work ranks in the top three. Unless there’s magic on that infidel’s armor, Sir Deimos can’t lose.”
“Hmm.”
Dirhit nodded in agreement, but his eyes remained sharply fixed on Eugene.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
The large drum beat three times, and the two knights, about fifty meters apart, spurred their horses forward.
Jousts usually started at thirty meters or so, but they had widened the distance for greater speed and excitement.
Thududududu!
“What!?”
“......!”
Iod and Dirhit watching the match were stunned. Not just them—every self-proclaimed knight reacted similarly.
Compared to Deimos’s mount, Eugene’s warhorse Silion was far too fast.
Thututututu!
Fifteen meters, ten meters, five meters.
The gap closed in an instant, and just as the knights’ 2.5-meter wooden lances were about to clash!
Hiiihiin!
“Guh!?”
Deimos’s horse suddenly reared up on its forelegs, throwing his lance tip off course.
It was due to the bloodlust Eugene had instinctively unleashed, but unfortunately, no one but Deimos and his horse knew the truth.
Crack!
Eugene’s wooden lance then struck precisely under Deimos’s helmet, shattering into splinters as designed to do on impact.
Ooooooh......!
The crowd erupted as Deimos, struck squarely on the jaw, tumbled from his saddle.
Not just unhorsed—he was flung several meters backward before crashing down.
Thud!
Deimos hit the ground with a heavy impact and didn’t move.
“Hurry!”
“Quickly!”
Waiting servants rushed to Deimos.
Moments later, the judge, wearing a grim expression, crossed his arms into an ‘X’ and shook his head vigorously.
“Gasp!”
“N-No way!”
At the first such signal of the day, the nobles in the VIP seats watching the tournament recoiled in shock.
The first death had occurred.
“Th-the winner iiiis Sir Yaan of the Eugene House!”
Uwaaaaaah!!!
A massive roar swept through the arena like a storm.
Clop, clop, clop.
Eugene halted Silion and removed his helmet.
“Sir Eugene!”
“Magnificent! Woo!”
“Sir! Sir Eugene!”
Passing through the cheering crowd, Eugene’s gaze stopped on the two Holy Knights standing there in a daze.
“......!”
Even from afar, Dirhit realized Eugene was looking at him and glared back.
He could read Eugene’s lip movements.
‘You’re next.’
Without speaking aloud, Eugene mouthed the words, then tugged Silion’s reins.
Clop, clop, clop.
“I’ll kill you! You bastard! I’ll kill youuu!”
Amid the crowd’s fervent cheers, another Holy Knight bellowed, but Eugene paid it no mind.
No Holy Knight would leave Count Winslow’s territory alive anyway.
* * *
“Fine joust, Sir Eugene.”
Seen up close, Count Winslow had the stern face befitting a great noble.
“To receive such praise for my modest skill is embarrassing. I’m satisfied if you enjoyed the show, Count.”
“What a humble knight. Aida, the laurel wreath for Sir Eugene.”
“Yes.”
The youngest-looking among Count Winslow’s children, a shy girl, rose and hung the laurel wreath on Eugene’s spare wooden lance.
“Eek! That tiny brat of a girl! Just a kid and already spreading her legs, eyeing our master with lustful eyes! Shoo! Shoo!”
Mirian threw a fit.
But it wasn’t just Aida—all the count’s children were eyeing Eugene with heated gazes.
A powerhouse who could unhorse a Holy Knight in a single clash was exceedingly rare, and any noble would covet such a talent.
(To be continued)