Chapter 215
Chapter 215
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 215
Chapter Title: Provoking the Royal Knights
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To be frank.
If the opponent hadn't been an Imperial Knight, I would've started by smashing the back of his head while he was eating.
But as Sharl and Hector said, this is the Imperial Capital, and the opponent is from the Royal Knights.
No matter how reckless I am, I can't pick a fight without justification.
Just like how this guy deliberately found an excuse to break Hector's arm...
The best approach for me is to maneuver things so he snaps and challenges me to a duel.
"Ha..."
Molbius made an incredulous face and shook his head.
He didn't look all that angry, strangely enough.
Is he surprisingly disciplined? From what Sharl told me about his speech patterns, that doesn't seem right either.
'Maybe it's because of my appearance.'
That could be it.
Since I look like a young punk with no dry blood on my head yet, he's showing a bit more patience even with the blatant provocation.
Of course, there are ways around it.
I just need to keep scraping at him until he flips out. Just as I was about to open my mouth again...
"Wait a minute! Haha."
A knight who had been sitting next to him jumped in with a cheeky smile.
"I don't know which family you're from, but you seem a bit too worked up. Calm down first."
He was a middle-aged man, around forty.
His friendly face and expression stood out. He was dressed as a knight, but he didn't carry an air of authority.
I looked at the honest-looking man and spoke in a polite tone.
"Step aside, mister."
"Hey, don't be so harsh."
Cheeky laughter.
If you put it nicely, he was unpretentious; if not, he came off as tacky.
Faces like that don't come from noble families.
'A commoner origin?'
That means he's the type who can laugh off ordinary insults.
The problem was that Molbius, perhaps because this guy was his senior, took his eyes off me and went back to eating.
'Hmm.'
I'd heard the Royal Knights operated outside the regular knight order rules.
Looks like they had their own internal code.
In that case, I'd have to change tactics.
"Fine. Come to think of it, we haven't introduced ourselves yet. You first?"
"I'm Fabian. I'm a member of the Royal Knights, same as my friend here. And you?"
"Ruan Bednicker."
"Ah... The Golden Fairy."
Fabian nodded as if it made sense, and a faint sneer crossed Molbius's face.
"Bednicker? Indeed, they say the Iron-Blooded Duke's youngest has a flashy appearance, just like the rumors. You don't resemble your brother at all. I see. So you've come for revenge on your brother's behalf."
"Revenge? We're not that tight-knit. We've got an agreement: each cleans up their own shit."
At my sudden analogy, the knights eating around us all set down their utensils at once.
'Sorry about that, folks.'
Since I'd come here to start trouble, I couldn't apologize openly and just bowed my head inwardly.
Molbius, still wearing that sneer, said,
"Then why are you here?"
"I heard you were badmouthing Bednicker swordsmanship, so I came to see just how great you are. Turns out it was a waste of time."
"Even Bednicker's provocation tactics are pathetic."
Molbius chuckled and lifted his glass.
"Normally, yeah. I'd put some effort into disciplining a brat like you, but unfortunately, I already got an earful from the Captain over yesterday's incident."
Captain?
Did he mean the head of the Royal Knights?
"From the looks of it, you're here to attend the award ceremony in place of the injured Hector Bednicker, but I can't have you ending up bedridden too before His Majesty's audience."
"What are you talking about?"
"It means I'm not falling for your lame provocations. Lucky for you. You've escaped the fate of broken arms."
"My manners and propriety aren't that weak."
"What's the use of manners in the face of pain."
Molbius, not catching my veiled threat, rambled on like that and returned to his meal.
The clinking of utensils and plates echoed faintly.
Did he think I was leaving?
The gazes from all around started fading one by one.
Instead of throwing a tantrum, I leaned back in my chair and observed the situation.
'It wasn't forced.'
Molbius's attention had genuinely shifted away from me.
I'd thought a kid who looks young would fall for a little prodding, but surprisingly, it wasn't easy.
So what now.
For some reason, even if I smashed my plate into his face, it felt like starting a fight here would be tough.
'As expected, insults and provocations are for guys who are good at them.'
For someone like me, with a gentle disposition that doesn't pick fights with others, it might've been impossible from the start.
...Maybe change direction a bit?
I mulled over Molbius's words and actions from earlier.
It wasn't a long conversation, but...
He wasn't the type to hide his emotions, so there had to be clues in those brief exchanges.
Tap, tap, tap. As I habitually drummed the table three times, something clicked.
This arrogant, self-centered bastard had at least shown some respect to this "Captain" guy.
Does he admire him?
'Let's test it.'
I organized my thoughts and opened my mouth.
"I used to admire knights quite a bit when I was young. But the knights in fairy tales never tolerated insults, yet you're different."
"A knight's scabbard is heavy. That's because it distinguishes when to draw the sword and when not to."
"So right now it's the latter? I see. Now I get it—the Royal Knights are just a bunch of cowards."
I deliberately let out a vile laugh, and suddenly the surroundings went quiet.
The guys who looked like Royal Knights were glaring at me.
Molbius's demeanor shifted slightly too. He'd finished chewing, but he wasn't moving his utensils anymore and was just staring me down.
"Ruan Bednicker."
Molbius spoke in a chilling tone.
"If you want to live long, watch your mouth. Our honor isn't light enough for the likes of you to spout off about."
"Bullshit."
Of course, a guy like me doesn't get intimidated by a voice laced with killing intent or an oppressive atmosphere.
If anything, watching their shameless attitude was starting to boil my blood.
"You pick a fight with someone here for an award, smash a perfectly fine arm, and now you're talking about honor? Even street mutts aren't as brazen as you. At least they run when caught stealing food. They know shame."
"You..."
"Hector was in a position where he had to endure the insult."
I continued in a calm tone.
"More than you are right now. But that idiot ended up drawing his sword anyway. Why do you think that was?"
No one answered.
By now, the surroundings had gone completely silent, not even the sound of utensils clattering.
No one was casually eating anymore.
I had no choice but to answer my own question.
"Because you crossed the line."
"What line."
"We all have one—me, you, anyone with a heart. People aren't idiots who avoid crossing it. Anyone can mock someone's dead parents, but no sane person does. Everyone instinctively knows what not to touch. And you lot touched it on purpose. So Hector was right to get angry."
"Heh heh."
A cheeky laugh interrupted.
It was Fabian.
"I get what you're trying to say, young master. But it's a bit emotional."
He was maintaining propriety, but somehow it felt subtly rude.
His tone was like a lecture.
"How many people live freely expressing their emotions? We all swallow humiliations, get used to insults, and become adults that way. It's the difference between humans and beasts. You'll come to realize it naturally after weathering a few storms in the world."
"Even if they insult your family, friends, or fiancée and heap shame on them?"
"If you must. Because a punch swung in emotion might feel good for a moment, but it'll come back as a boomerang you can't handle."
A cold sneer crossed Fabian's face.
"It's hard for you to understand. But most commoners live that way. Do you think they don't know anger? Sometimes they have to endure even when their hard-earned crops are seized."
"You're right."
"What?"
"Commoners can do that. They have to, or they die. But knights can't."
I spoke calmly in what seemed to be the knights' dining hall.
"You are the rage of the commoners. The ones who get angry in place of the weak, who speak for their furious voices. That's why the country gives you expensive money to buy weapons, eat elixirs, and train. But this? What is this? Pretending not to hear a mere young commander's provocation."
"The conversation's taking a weird turn. Your words are sophistry."
I grinned.
Truth be told, Fabian was right.
My argument was sophistry. Didn't matter. Debates like this aren't my strong suit anyway.
The important thing is I'd achieved my original goal.
Scratching at their nerves.
I even clapped as I continued.
"When the people find out the prestigious Royal Knights of the Imperial Family are such cowards, they'll be bitterly disappointed."
Was that the trigger?
Kiiing-!
A strange metallic sound rang out.
Mana had infused Molbius's dining knife.
From his expression, it wasn't intentional—probably manifested unconsciously from anger.
I shifted my gaze to Molbius's plate beyond the knife.
"Don't like beans? Knights sure are picky eaters."
I grinned and spun the fork in my hand once in my palm.
"A fork?"
"When did he..."
Fabian and Molbius narrowed their eyes simultaneously.
"Hands are faster than eyes, as they say. If you hate duels, let's do this instead. From now on, I'll take the beans from your table. If I get them all in one minute, I win. If even one remains, you win."
"Ha. What kind of ridiculous—"
"I'll accept."
"Molbius!"
Fabian glared reproachfully, but Molbius said coldly,
"Any problem? It's not a duel—just a bet. No one gets hurt."
"..."
"You saw it. He's persistent. Better to crush him like this—it's the quickest way."
"...Hoo. Damn it."
Fabian muttered a curse that didn't suit him and pressed his eyes.
"No helping it. Then I'll judge the bet."
"Sure."
I shrugged, aimed my fork at Molbius, and said,
"Starting?"
As soon as I finished with "now," Molbius swung his knife.
Bluish mana churned along the blade—he clearly intended to slice my fork.
'Coming at me head-on?'
I welcomed such a direct clash.
I grinned and thrust my fork forward.
Kang...!
The moment the utensils clashed, Molbius's face stiffened. His knife was caught in the fork's prongs.
Molbius tried to pull back urgently, but his response was slow.
Fwoosh...!
I immediately circulated the Flame Arts of the Greatest, channeling heat into the fork.
Being metal, it conducted quickly, transferring to the touching knife in an instant.
"Urk...!"
Molbius dropped the knife from the sudden heat and immediately regretted it.
Kang!
I knocked the knife downward. It spun straight and stabbed into the table center.
As Molbius reached desperately for it, I threw my fork.
Puk!
It pierced the back of his hand, a drop of blood welling up. Molbius recoiled. In that instant, he was full of openings—and that was enough.
With no interference, I snatched the plate barehanded and dumped the beans into my mouth.
Gulp.
I prefer meat over veggies or grains, but the Imperial food made even the beans tasty.
"You... barehanded..."
Molbius clutched his pierced hand and glared.
"Why? There was no rule saying only forks."
"Ah..."
Fabian belatedly wore a "got owned" expression.
I burst out laughing.
"Hand okay? Sorry, my mistake. That's why you don't swing a knife like that on the table."
Grind.
The sound of teeth gnashing was vivid.
Molbius, eyes bulging as he stared, took a slow deep breath and spat out the words.
"...Fine. If you want to end up like Hector Bednicker that badly, I will."
Seeing his flushed face, I could guess what he'd say.
"Duel."
* * *
The Imperial Capital naturally had plenty of training grounds.
There was even one right in front of the dining hall—maybe the architect's consideration for post-meal exercise.
Quite a crowd had gathered at the training ground.
Nothing beats watching a fight for entertainment, so it made sense.
"You... what in the world...!"
I knew one of the spectators.
Sharl Rubieta.
He hadn't followed me to the knights' dining hall, so he'd grasped the situation late and was now unleashing a heated scolding.
"What are you doing?! The award ceremony is in less than an hour!"
"One hour."
It seemed ample at first glance, but since it was an audience with the Emperor, dressing alone would take at least several dozen minutes...
Factoring in travel time, we had less than ten minutes.
In other words.
"Plenty."
"Wha?! W-Wait—."
I brushed past the unusually talkative Sharl and stepped into the training ground.
Molbius was already in the center, prepared.
"Okay after eating? Moving right after a meal might cramp your side."
"You sure talk a lot even in this situation. Even now, if you..."
"Kneel, apologize for the insult, and I'll let it go?"
"..."
"Guess all you types say the same thing."
As I smiled, Molbius sighed.
He scanned my outfit head to toe and said,
"...I heard your specialty is fist arts, but that's not enough."
"Hm?"
"Take up a weapon. Your fists can't handle my sword."
"Hmm. Fair enough..."
I nodded, but for a different reason.
Somehow, Molbius had seemed insufficient with just manners and propriety alone.
"Fine. I'll bring out my new weapon this time."
"New weapon?"
"Yeah."
I pointed to my right leg and said,
"Rejoice. It's the debut of 'Concept'."