A Not-So-Good Arm Wrestling Match (1)
1st Prince Estial. He sprang to his feet upon hearing his subordinate's report.
"Is that for real? You sure it's legit, no cap, irrefutable fact?"
"Yes, Your Highness. It's the straight-up truth, no ifs or buts."
"This is some next-level bullshit."
Estial's eyes bulged in disbelief at his subordinate's words. In the world of horse riding? Was this even something you could say out loud?
2nd Prince Int. That sly, cunning raccoon bastard had lost a battle of wits and ended up imprisoned for treason!
"......"
Estial rubbed his forehead with his hand.
2nd Prince Int. His younger brother, but no one to take lightly. He'd fallen for that guy's schemes a few times and gotten burned, so he knew better than anyone.
But? How the hell did a guy that smart end up locked in an underground dungeon?
From the report, there'd been a clash between knights late at night, which escalated from a kids' squabble into a full-blown adult brawl, leading to this mess.
"That said, he's not just some brainiac with no brawn......?"
Estial kept tilting his head, unable to believe it.
Int's personal martial prowess was predictably mediocre, but he had Director Desk, General Outdoor, and the thousand-strong Black Yack Knights under him—serious firepower. Not to mention the troops beneath them.
He'd been pondering how to absorb that force without losses when this bolt-from-the-blue news hit.
"Why the hell did Int lose to Roin of all people......?"
Estial crossed his arms.
Int, the genius strategist who controlled over 35% of the kingdom's forces. Beaten by Roin, who had jack shit to her name, and thrown in a dungeon? And his sentence was... just a month? Something smelled fishy.
"Smells like a bush full of pervy pubes."
"A sinister plot, Your Highness."
"Sure, I admit this Pink Dragon Knights crew or whatever has some chops, but that's just from the sports festival, right? No one knows how they'd fare in real war. And Int wouldn't tuck tail this easily. He's definitely hiding something."
Estial groaned, then shot to his feet.
"If you're curious, clash head-on and find out! That's life, oooh, that's a man!"
Deciding on the simple approach, Estial strapped on his sword, slung his bow, mounted his horse, and headed straight for the underground dungeon where Int was held.
* * *
It didn't take long for the two brothers, once rivals for the throne, to come face-to-face.
"Why are you here?"
Int in the dungeon looked worlds different from his old self. His head was a wild bomb of hair thick enough to hide a magpie's nest, his beard long and unkempt, and his eyes hollow and shadowed like he'd been wearing sunglasses nonstop. Overwhelmed by the dark aura, Estial stood there dumbfounded, at a loss for words.
Finally.
"H-Here. Provisions."
Estial shoved some army dumplings through the bars.
"You eating okay?"
"......"
Int, shackled in irons, chomped down on the dumplings greedily.
What happened to the guy obsessed with cleanliness bordering on OCD? Where'd that prickly, haughty pride go?
Estial eyed his one-year-younger brother up and down.
"......"
Int munched away, deeply engrossed in something. Papers plastered with tiny script. Tough stuff at a glance—diagrams, terrain maps, constellations everywhere, like he was devouring the entire world's knowledge.
Estial, the type who got motion sick from reading, swallowed a gag and barely managed to ask.
"What's all that?"
"......Secret documents."
Estial scowled at Int's curt reply.
At first, hearing Int was jailed, he'd just laughed his ass off. But seeing it firsthand? No laughs now, for multiple reasons. He'd come to mock, but the guy was dead serious.
Int's cell was piled high with what looked like important books and papers, forming a mountain range. He spotted General Outdoor and Director Desk bustling to carry and organize them.
"......What the hell are you scheming?"
Estial asked. Int didn't even turn around.
"Making info docs to hand over to Roin."
"What?"
"A dungeon's the perfect setup. Ironclad security."
"......Hah."
Estial couldn't believe his ears. The great Int admitting someone was above him? His superior, no less.
"Tsk tsk tsk. Guess your vessel's only that big after all."
Estial shook his head and clicked his tongue. Seeing his once-fiercest rival reduced to this wasn't pure joy. There was a bitter aftertaste.
"Now it'll be a solo show. Normalcy's in sight. Oooh, that's life, that's loneliness."
Estial muttered to himself and turned to leave.
Then.
Int, scribbling with his pen, stopped dead. He looked up with those dark eyes at Estial beyond the bars.
"Why are you in the cage?"
Estial halted and turned back to stare at Int inside.
"......? What're you talking about?"
Int continued flatly.
"Get out of the cage already."
"......You've finally lost it."
Int smirked.
"No. I'm not crazy. To me, it looks like you're the one in the cage, brother."
"......?"
"Drop the obsession with the throne."
"......Why should I?"
"You can't be king anyway."
"Why not?"
"Because Roin will."
"Don't pull that mind-game crap. I might actually buy it."
"Never played mind games."
Estial tsked at Int's response.
"Lost the brain battle and went nuts, huh."
"Lost the brawn battle too."
"And you're proud of losing?"
Int gave a dry smile.
"Losing to Roin might be something to brag about someday. Just fighting her for the throne in the same era."
"......No clue what you're babbling."
"Father's will didn't name you anyway."
"What the hell!?"
Then.
Int stood and approached the bars, facing Estial. Their gazes locked.
"Bow out gracefully before you get dog-walked. Last advice from your little bro. Me? I can say I lost on brains and no one laughs. You? Strip the muscle, what's left?"
"Hmph! Like I'd lose? Ridiculous......"
"Don't make it hard on Roin."
"......You've gone full siscon. Wasn't like you before."
Estial saw no point in more talk and stormed out of the dungeon.
"......Gotta hold the coronation ASAP."
He pondered when he'd become king as he walked. With Int gone, no one could block the eldest son.
Or so he thought. But one thorn nagged him: Roin and her Pink Dragon Knights.
Hotse and Unicef. Those two women who'd soloed hundreds of knights kept sticking in his mind.
"Well, what can five people do......?"
Lost in thought, Estial heard noise ahead. At the Red Bulls Knights' barracks.
As he entered camp, sentries saluted thunderously.
"What's going on?"
"W-Well......"
The knight pointed sheepishly beyond the fence.
Estial looked... and his eyes went wide.
"Wh-Why the hell is that guy here!?"
A boy head-to-toe in pink clothes. Armor, sword—all pink. Cliche had dropped by the Red Bulls Knights. With his dimwitted crew in tow.
Major Caffeine stood before them, looking troubled.
Cliche waved dismissively.
"No chit-chat with small fry. Get your musclehead boss."
"Insult my lord again and no mercy."
"Never specified your lord, did I?"
"Hmph! Who else is a musclehead here if not our lord!?"
"......You're the one dissing your own boss hardest."
Caffeine, out of retorts, smacked his lips. Then Estial bellowed.
"Hey! What's this!?"
Cliche glanced over.
"Oh! Musclehead himself. This'll speed things up."
Not waiting for Estial to approach, Cliche cut to the chase.
"Roin's gonna be queen......"
"Bullshit! No agreement."
Estial didn't wait either.
But Cliche didn't flinch, finishing coolly.
"Not asking agreement. Notifying."
A vein like a viper popped on Estial's forehead.
"The king must be strong! Charge at the front like Father said! Retreat at the rear! What can Roin do!?"
Estial drew his sword and roared. Crimson aura billowed from the blade.
Sword Master! Liquid aura, mid-level mastery! Knight commander tier! Power to crush any nation!
Cliche stared blankly.
"So if Roin beats you with raw strength, you'll concede?"
Here we go again. Roin behind him rubbed her forehead.
BAM!
Estial slammed his sword into the ground. Earth cracked with a boom. He growled like a beast.
"Obviously."
"Deal."
Cliche crossed his arms.
Estial glared at Roin like he wanted to devour her. Poised to charge.
"Right now?"
"Sure, but you not suggesting we hack away like barbarians, right? Us noble royals?"
"......Then?"
"No casualties, so light arm wrestling?"
Estial looked baffled.
"......Arm wrestling for the throne? You messing with me?"
"Or brawl us fair and square."
Cliche grinned.
"Heh~~heheheh~~"
"Hohoho."
Hotse and Unicef laughed behind.
"......Mm."
Estial swallowed a groan. Not a bad bet. Losing arm wrestling to Roin? Absurd.
"Just us two, right? Me and Roin. Alone."
"Stressing 'alone' hard. Siscon?"
"......Accepted."
Two vipers now on Estial's forehead.
Soon, a massive stone arm-wrestling table was set.
Estial stripped his upper shirt, slamming his arm down. Insane muscles on full display.
"Ooooh!"
Cheers from some knights.
His forearm thick as a log.
"How to beat that!"
Roin poked Cliche's side, pouting.
Cliche eyed her like what're you saying.
"You can't win that?"
"Of course not!"
"Huh. Thought you'd win easy......"
Then AlphaGo stepped up.
"Beep boop! In these worlds, muscle lumps are weakest. Frail beauties hit harder."
"What world you from! This one's realistic! Look at that muscle mass! Estial oppa's muscles alone weigh more than me!"
Roin wailed. Cliche looked troubled too.
Then Diablo from behind advanced.
"Kekeke. Listen well, and you'll surpass 'all two-legged things in this world.' But their hearts? No guarantees......"
"What? Do something quick."
Cliche prodded. Diablo grabbed Roin's arm briefly.
"Fine weather day. Muddy night. No evil! Holy cleanse light!"
As Diablo chanted, the sealed black flame dragon from her left arm shifted to Roin's.
Grrrrumble!
The pitch-black flame dragon settled into Roin's left arm. Her left side felt warmly dipped in hot water.
"......This okay?"
Roin asked uneasily, but Cliche said nothing. Estial was whining.
"Hurry up!"
"Now."
Cliche hoisted Roin to the table.
Thud!
Estial and Roin gripped hands. A Red Bulls knight as ref bound them tight with rope.
Roin's hand looked like a tiny biscuit in Estial's pot-lid palm.
"Be-gin!"
Cliche signaled start.
At once, "Hah-!"
Estial poured full power, twisting.
He saw it: Roin's body tilting over.
Easy win.
Victory certain.
But?
Estial spotted Major Caffeine, mouth agape. Weird part: he was upside down in a handstand.
"......Major Caffeine. Why upside down?"
Caffeine replied awkwardly.
"Forgive my impertinence, Your Highness...... but you're currently face-planted...... no, buried headfirst."