Chapter 87
Chapter 87
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 87
Chapter Title: Unfortunate Accidents
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“The recommendation letter praised you so highly. It certainly lives up to the reputation.”
“You flatter me. My skills are still lacking, which led to that unfortunate accident. I apologize to you, my lord.”
Eugene bowed his head deeply, putting on an impeccable performance despite feeling no remorse for the earl—or the deceased Demos.
“Don’t worry too much about Sir Demos meeting an untimely end and going to the Lord’s side.”
“Pardon?”
Winslon Earl spoke to Eugene, who cautiously lifted his face, his expression stern.
“It’s unprecedented for holy knights to enter a knightly tournament. That’s why everyone signed waivers agreeing not to hold the host family or opposing knights responsible for deaths or serious injuries.”
“Ah, I see.”
Eugene’s heart leaped with joy, but he didn’t let it show.
Doesn’t that mean it’s fine to kill Yung Dirhit and the rest of the holy knights?
The earl’s expression suggested he had anticipated this and prepared accordingly.
‘Essender was one thing, but these great nobles all seem to harbor a few serpents in their bosoms.’
“Then, I’ll take my leave to prepare for the next match.”
“Very well.”
The dignified earl clapped, and the nobles in the VIP seats followed suit.
“Luke. Gather it up.”
“Yes! Master!”
Luke, his face flushed with excitement, dashed toward the men carrying Demos’s body.
There seemed to be a brief scuffle, but soon Luke returned with a disappointed look.
“The other holy knights wouldn’t let me have the armor or sword... but they gave me this instead.”
Eugene checked the leather pouch Luke held out, suppressing his regret as he pocketed it.
“Three hundred silver coins isn’t bad.”
He had craved the holy knight’s gear infused with holy power far more than money, but there was no helping it.
And.
‘The last one to die won’t have any money to pay anyway.’
Eugene’s gaze turned icy cold as he met the eyes of the holy knights glaring at him like predators.
The holy knight hunt was only just beginning.
* * *
Having claimed victory in his first match, Eugene fought just once more before advancing straight to the finals.
Incredibly, all the other competitors who had witnessed his two bouts forfeited.
For knights driven by ambition for fame and a thirst for victory, it was an utterly unprecedented situation.
But in another sense, it was entirely natural.
After all, Sir Lucius—the second-favored contender—had fallen in a single clash, just like Demos.
Sir Lucius’s pathetic sight, stripped of his horse and armor, lying unconscious in his undergarments for nearly thirty minutes, was enough to convince the rest to forfeit.
In any case, after just two matches, Eugene reached the finals, where he faced a mercenary captain.
“Uahaha! Sir Knight! Looks like luck got you this far! My lance, Palacio’s, destroys even fortune itself...!”
The arrogant mercenary captain, who had been boastfully rambling, fell from his horse after one lance strike and met an unlucky end, trampled by his horse’s rear hoof.
“The chaaampion of the mounted lance tournament iiiis! Yaaaan Eugene!”
The announcer’s bombastic call ignited an explosion of cheers from the crowd.
Following long-standing tradition, as Eugene slowly circled the arena on horseback, dozens of flower crowns flew toward him.
Most landed nearby, but a lucky few caught perfectly on his lance shaft.
Recalling Galpredic’s advice, Eugene nodded slightly toward those who had thrown them, expressing his thanks.
“Ahh!”
“How graceful...”
To put it kindly, he had a ruggedly masculine look—or more accurately, a downright ferocious one.
Yet Eugene’s exquisitely handsome features were enough to captivate women of all classes and ages.
“Kiek! Kieek! Get lost, you wenches! Don’t throw yourselves at my lord! He’s mine! MIIIINE!”
Ignoring Mirian, who had switched from spirit of desire to spirit of jealousy and was babbling nonsense, Eugene rode toward the platform where Winslon Earl and the VIPs sat.
“Splendid match, champion!”
The earl praised Eugene loudly, feigning excitement.
‘His heartbeat is steady.’
If there had been a contest for acting, Winslon Earl would surely have been the champion.
Eugene let the earl’s praise flow in one ear and out the other.
Once the earl’s lengthy, empty flattery ended, Ranslo sidled up beside Eugene.
“Kiek!”
Frightened, Mirian voluntarily dove into the leather pouch.
“You’ve had a hard day, sir. Thanks to you, we got quite the show.”
“A show?”
“Indeed. I’ve never seen the holy knights that furious.”
According to Ranslo, Yung Dirhit and his comrades had retrieved Demos’s body and returned to the castle early.
“I heard them vow to kill you over twenty times. They’ll come at it in earnest tomorrow.”
“I see.”
Ranslo chuckled at Eugene’s impassive response.
“No need to worry at all. But just in case... tomorrow?”
To the question laden with implications, Eugene brushed past him with a quiet reply, just as he had that morning.
“For some reason, I have a feeling there’ll be a lot of unfortunate accidents at this tournament. Or rather, for holy knights who long to return to the Lord’s embrace awake or asleep, it might even be fortunate.”
“Khuk!”
Ranslo couldn’t help but snicker. The more he watched, the more this man’s peculiar charm captivated him.
* * *
“I’ll kill him! That heretic scum!”
Holy knight Iod smashed the inn’s furniture and decorations, bellowing at the top of his lungs. The terrified servants and attendants didn’t dare enter.
Dirhit stroked his chin, lost in thought as he watched his comrade, then muttered.
“Something’s off.”
“You feel it too, sir!?”
Iod, panting heavily, whipped his face toward Dirhit.
“That bastard definitely used evil sorcery. How else would Demos’s horse have panicked out of nowhere?”
“Seems that way. Especially that sensation...”
Dirhit recalled the moment just before Eugene and Demos clashed.
Right before Demos’s horse startled, he had felt an eerie chill.
A bizarre aura unlike that of labyrinth monsters.
It was an energy only holy knights, trained over years in the church and steeped in holy power, could detect.
“Sir Iod. That man, Yan Eugene... he might not even be human.”
“What? You serious?”
Yung Dirhit was renowned among the church’s young holy knights for his deep faith.
Moreover, his instincts were sharp; he had sniffed out monsters and undead without relying on holy power more than once.
“Just in case, when you face him in tomorrow’s sword tournament, you should use the Evil Destroyer.”
“Hmm! If you say so, sir, it must be true.”
Iod nodded and picked up not the sword at his belt, but a longsword propped against his luggage in the corner of the room.
“With this, even a scratch will show right away!”
A special longsword with a radial inscription on the pommel and prayer verses engraved in silver on the blade.
The holy knights’ blade for facing monsters and undead: the Evil Destroyer.
Anything harboring a mana stone or having died once would react unmistakably to this sword.
“Right. And if he turns out to be an evil being, we can use it to pressure Winslon Earl. Avenge Demos and claim a great feat.”
“Excellent!”
Shing.
In the reflection of the holy blade, Iod’s eyes gleamed with an un-knightly bloodlust.
* * *
Clang! Thwack!
“Guh!”
The metallic clash, impact, and groan echoed in quick succession.
“What a mess. Who were the knights who trained you? Were they going easy because you’re a girl? Or because of your father?”
“Absolutely not! Ack!”
Selena, grabbed by the collar and dangling, shouted back, her face quickly turning beet red.
Galpredic clicked his tongue lightly and released her.
Of course, not gently.
“Ugh!”
Tossed aside like a sack of trash, Selena rubbed her throat as she stood.
“With skills like that, you want to be master’s squire? No, you even turned that down?”
“Th-that’s...”
“Even Slave Number One is far stronger than you. And he’s only a few years older, yet brimming with combat experience. You?”
“......”
If earlier her breath had caught from choking, now shame flushed Selena’s face crimson.
Galpredic hadn’t made her spar naked, but his words cut as sharply as his swordsmanship.
She had cried more from his biting critiques than from the pain of blows.
What infuriated her most was that she couldn’t retort.
Because every word rang true.
“You think labyrinth monsters or battlefield foes will go easy like your family’s knights? ‘Oh dear knight, sir~ You look tired, shall we rest a bit?~ Oh, you’re injured?~ Here, have a mana crystal before we fight~ Like that?”
“Training too hard? The regimen you’re getting is what this body endured at eleven or twelve. You admitting you’re weaker than I was then?”
“Never maintained gear? What’s a squire for if you can’t even care for master’s armor? Good at knitting? What? Can’t do that either?”
“I’ll give you a chance. Want to be a knight? Stay. Want to be a lady? Go back to your aunt’s castle right now. Practice swordplay as a hobby, like always.”
She felt like she was going mad. Each of the savage knight’s words stabbed her vitals.
She also realized just how much the castle knights had babied her.
‘A frog in a well.’
Even Galpredic seemed unmatched among the castle knights, yet he hadn’t been knighted.
And she, who couldn’t even parry one of his strikes, had thought she’d be knighted in a year or two.
She wanted to crawl into a rat hole.
Yet amid the shame, Selena strangely felt unburdened.
The first step was the hardest; once acknowledged, new horizons opened.
‘Still, how strong must Sir Eugene be?’
The question prompted her to cautiously ask Galpredic.
“Master. Sir Eugene is strong, right?”
“Strong? Immensely.”
“How much? Do you know Sir Entailer? How does he compare?”
Sir Entailer was one of the previous generation’s famed knights, the ogre slayer, and Selena’s favorite.
He featured in countless legendary tales, a staple in bards’ repertoires.
“Entailer? Who’s that?”
“Y-you know, Wolfslaughter? The legend of the wolf-slayer who felled an ogre with it...”
Sensing her expectations dashed, Selena trailed off in disappointment.
“Wolfslaughter? That’s master’s sword.”
“Yes. Y-yes!?”
Galpredic shrugged at his wide-eyed squire.
“Master’s sword. Quite a fine blade; master was pleased with it. Whoever this Sir Entailer was, he must’ve been decent?”
“......”
The cherished blade of her most admired knight now belonged to Eugene.
Selena stood speechless, mouth agape.
* * *
“That’s it!”
On the second day of the knight tournament, during the sword matches, the earl’s direct retainers and vassals were struck with shock.
Eugene’s shortsword sliced through chain mail like fresh bread—and they all knew that blade well.
“W-Wolfslaughter!”
“How is Sir Entailer’s famed sword in that knight’s hands!?”
“Was he Sir Fairchild’s knight?”
The nobles of the earldom couldn’t hide their astonishment at seeing the legendary sword return to the main house after twenty years.
Winslon Earl’s face lit with a satisfied smile at their reactions.
He reconsidered his evaluation of his eldest son-in-law, married for lineage ties but otherwise unimpressive.
Contact had been sparse after marriage, and when a letter suddenly recommended some backwater knight, he’d wondered.
But discreet rumors proved intriguing, so he’d sent the man to the tournament—and this exceeded all expectations.
‘My son-in-law has an eye for talent.’
As the earl watched contentedly, Wolfslaughter snapped an opponent’s blade in two.
It then traced a ghostly arc, lodging precisely between the foe’s helmet and armor.
“Oho!”
Witnessing power and skill fused with a house-renowned blade in breathtaking swordplay, the earl forgot decorum and shot to his feet.
“Magnificent! Truly magnificent! A knight worthy of Wolfslaughter and Sir Entailer’s honor! The reincarnation of Sir Entailer himself! Hahaha!”
At the rare effusive praise from the earl, the nobles’ eyes widened in realization.
If this ‘black knight’ shone in the mock battle two days hence, a new direct-vassal knighted personally by the earl might emerge for the first time in ages.
(To be continued in the next installment)