Dragon Tournament Team Battle (8)
That was a different story if there was evidence.
Owen nodded, and Alania began her explanation in a low voice.
"First, take a look at her hair color."
"It's just ordinary brown, isn't it?"
"Look closer. It's a wig. If you examine it carefully, you can see a few real strands poking out."
Upon inspection, it was exactly as Alania had said.
Owen, who knew nothing about women's wigs, hadn't even considered it until she pointed it out.
Whether it had slipped while wearing it or come loose during movement, those few strands had caught his eye.
"...Bright crimson."
A groan-like sound escaped his lips.
Bright crimson hair was a unique trait passed down exclusively through the imperial family.
There were rumors that one of the imperial ancestors wasn't human, but the exact reason remained unknown.
What was certain, however, was that the color grew more vivid in direct descendants.
"We can't be sure based on hair color alone."
"I figured you'd say that. Take a look at this, Sir Leire."
Alania drew a dagger from her waist and showed it to him.
It was an ornate and beautiful piece.
"What's this got to do with anything?"
"Touch it with your finger."
As she requested, he placed his finger on the dagger, feeling a faint vibration.
It pulsed periodically, like sending a signal.
The tremor was so subtle that one wouldn't notice without touching it directly like this.
"What is this?"
"It's an item tied to a tragic chapter in imperial history."
Alania gave a brief explanation: it was a dagger invented to hunt down hidden imperial bloodlines and execute them.
Some emperor had created it to eliminate his fugitive siblings.
"How did you come by such a thing?"
"His Imperial Highness gave it to me."
Owen didn't ask why.
He knew the imperial succession was in utter chaos right now.
"If Sir Ventra is correct, the odds of her being imperial blood are high."
"Exactly. I'm pretty much convinced. But why is an imperial here of all places?"
"That's the question."
The betting odds no longer mattered to them.
All their attention was now fixed on this sudden imperial bombshell.
"Let's watch carefully for now."
"Yes."
The mysterious imperial was intently studying the posted results of the Third Dragon Stable team's match.
It was a highly detailed bulletin for those who hadn't watched, describing who fought how, and what had happened.
After poring over it for a while, she headed to the tax collector handing out payouts—and shocked the two watchers.
She received not gold or silver coins, but a promissory note.
"She must have won big."
"That means she bet big too... Yeah, she really seems imperial. Sir Ventra."
Promissory notes were issued only for amounts too large to carry in gold bars.
They were enchanted against forgery, but due to costs, only for sums above a certain threshold.
"Her identity's getting more intriguing. Looks like she bet on us too."
"Let's follow her. Sir Ventra."
Tailing someone wasn't something a knight like Owen relished.
But he couldn't just let it slide.
Putting everything else aside, the two discreetly trailed the imperial.
Her footsteps were remarkably light.
She tucked the note into her bosom and glanced around, seemingly enjoying the city's festival.
The problem was the massive crowds making it hard to keep up.
"This throng of people!"
Suddenly, cries of free bread and meat being distributed drew a surge of people.
Owen and Alania struggled not to get swept away, but in the end, they lost sight of the imperial.
"Where'd she go?"
"This way, I think..."
Heading in the most likely direction, they hit a fork.
In the end, Owen and Alania decided to split up and search.
"Contact me if you find out anything. Sir Leire."
"Understood."
After parting with Alania, Owen took the right path.
This road led uphill to the district where the city's elite resided. Straight ahead lay the inner castle and the duke's palace.
Normally, guards would be posted at key points, but now everyone was mingling and wandering about.
As Owen lamented not spotting the imperial, he caught a glimpse of her back.
"Ah."
This time, determined not to lose her, he closed in tightly.
The imperial kept climbing the hillside path, higher and higher.
They passed many grand mansions; the duke's inner castle loomed close ahead.
She veered behind a nearby quiet cathedral.
There were a few stone tombs there.
All resting places of great figures.
The imperial glanced around, then stopped before a massive tombstone.
Owen watched from hiding.
The tombstone wasn't just a slab with writing; it was shaped like a building, complete with windows, decorations, and columns.
She began manipulating it this way and that.
Then, something astonishing happened.
Grind.
A grinding of stone, and the door at the front of the building-shaped tombstone swung open.
It was small enough that one had to crouch to enter, but she slipped inside familiarly and shut the door.
"What the hell?"
Vanishing before his eyes like a magic trick, Owen was momentarily stunned. Then he recalled a rumor.
Most paths to the underground tombs were sealed, but some passages might remain.
...Suspicious.
Bris's underground tombs were a hotbed of crime and shady dealings.
This unidentified imperial heading there amplified Owen's curiosity.
His deep grudge against the emperor naturally fired him up about imperial matters.
I'll follow.
He couldn't let her slip away now.
Owen quietly approached the tombstone and replicated the sequence he'd spied.
His excellent memory made it easy.
Grind.
A pitch-black entrance revealed itself.
Rough stairs descended into darkness.
Chilly air wafted up, brushing his tense cheeks.
Owen descended cautiously.
After a while, faint light appeared ahead.
Likely the imperial walking first.
Owen muffled his steps and hurried after.
He soon spotted her silhouette.
How far does this go?
Owen suspected it reached the inner castle.
What the...?
No matter how he puzzled it out, the situation made no sense.
Then, the end came into view.
A massive iron door ahead; the imperial rummaged in her bosom and produced a large key.
Unlike before, this one required a key.
Once she entered, he couldn't follow.
Owen's dilemma deepened.
At that moment, she inserted the key but removed her robe, holding it in hand.
She must have been hot.
But when the clothing beneath was revealed, Owen's eyes widened from his hiding spot.
Huh?
Incredibly, under the robe, she wore a maid's uniform.
Undoubtedly the attire of servants in the Surpuk Duke's palace.
Owen couldn't fathom it.
Why was an imperial all the way out east, masquerading as a servant in the Surpuk Duke's palace?
Even the shrewd Owen couldn't judge how to react.
But it didn't look like good intentions.
Click.
While he hesitated, she turned the key and opened the door.
I have to catch her.
In the end, Owen lunged forward.
He hadn't seen her face due to the mask, and letting her vanish among the duke's countless servants would make finding her again impossible.
"Halt."
At Owen's command, the imperial flinched, dropped her torch, and turned.
Her eyes visible through the mask's slits brimmed with shock.
A man bursting from the darkness would startle anyone.
"Who are you?"
She tried to sound calm, but her voice trembled faintly.
Owen positioned himself right in front of her.
"I am Owen Leire, knight in service to His Grace the Surpuk Duke."
"Ah..."
"Who might you be, sneaking through such a passage? It seems to lead to the inner castle."
She bit her lip slightly, clearly embarrassed.
"None of your business."
Her voice was startlingly feminine.
Yet it carried a youthful timbre.
"I am a knight serving His Grace. I can't ignore suspicious behavior near the inner castle."
"Ugh..."
"Remove your mask at once. I must confirm your identity."
"Back off!"
She showed no intention of cooperating.
Owen decided to force it.
He yanked the mask off, and since it was tied, the wig came with it.
At the same time, bright crimson hair cascaded down like a waterfall.
But what shocked him most was her face.
Still youthful, around Owen's age, she was a beauty that could topple nations.
Even Owen, who had seen countless beauties in his past life, gasped and froze for a moment.
Soon, the beautiful girl's face twisted.
"Such rudeness!"
She swung to slap Owen's cheek.
Owen had no intention of taking it; he caught her left wrist with his left hand and slammed her shoulder against the wall with his right.
Thud!
Roughly pinned, the imperial girl grimaced.
Her eyes gazing at Owen swirled with bewilderment, fear, and surprise.
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Then, one overwhelming emotion surfaced on her face.
Shame.
For some reason, she flushed deeply with profound embarrassment.
Owen stared at the girl with golden eyes, feeling a vague sense of familiarity.
But nothing came to mind.
"Sir Leire. I thought you honorable, but you're no better than a thug."
Even at her sharp tone, Owen remained composed.
"I nearly took a slap from someone as suspicious as you. This is positively polite."
Owen intended to bind her immediately, but there was one thing he didn't know.
The girl was quite adept at magic.
Poof!
Suddenly, a small flame erupted.
Not large, but exploding right in his face, it was effective.
The sudden blaze in the dark blinded him momentarily, and agony shot through his shin.
She had kicked him with all her might.
"Gah!"
As Owen flinched, the girl bolted at full speed.
But in her panic, she forgot to lock the door behind her.
"Damn it."
A few seconds later, when his vision cleared faintly, Owen gave chase.
With no more torches, he kept bumping into walls in chaos.
Meanwhile, the girl fled swiftly through the dark, clearly familiar with the place.
The gap between them didn't close easily.
Yet despite the disadvantage, Owen eventually caught up.
The path ended in a dead end.
In the final moment, Owen tackled her from behind, and they tumbled together.
"Kyaa!"
With the girl's scream, the world spun wildly.
He felt the wall sliding away, and then Owen and the girl rolled into some room together.
"Ugh!"
Owen lay sprawled on the floor after the rough roll. The girl was atop him, overlapping.
A soft pressure pressed against his entire body.
Chasing and chased, they had pushed through the corridor's end secret door and tumbled inside.
Owen, still holding the girl, surveyed the surroundings.
It was a wine cellar.
An underground room filled with countless wine bottles.
Why here of all places?
But the real surprise was just beginning.
Someone who heard the commotion from one corner appeared, wine bottle in hand.
Owen locked eyes with him.
"Your Grace..."
It was the Surpuk Duke.
He had come to select wine from his private cellar and stumbled upon this bizarre scene.
"Hmmm..."
After a brief contemplation, he calmly set the bottle aside and drew his sword from his waist.
The blade gleamed sharply in the torchlight on the wall.
"Owen. Explain yourself. Why you look like that."
"Your Grace. I can explain fully."
"Oh, you had better. No ordinary explanation will make me accept why you're assaulting my adopted daughter."
"Pardon? Adopted daughter?"
"Toppling a girl not yet wed. Go on, then."
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