Chapter 8
Chapter 8
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 8
Chapter Title: Ulstro Kingdom - Martial Tournament (2)
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"Kinda disappointing."
"Huh?"
"Nothing."
"Tch, everyone says it's nothing."
The duel, which had dragged on for over twenty minutes, finally came to an end.
As expected, the glory of victory belonged to Etilene. If Valdes's final move had landed, things might have turned out differently, but it failed in the end, and he lost. A strange sense of regret lingered.
"You've avenged the Profilene Marquis's grudge."
"Pardon? ...Heh, indeed."
A slightly delayed response.
Wondering what was going on, he glanced at the queen, only to find her staring at Valdes with an odd look in her eyes.
'Huh?'
He couldn't quite make it out, but her expression was a tangled mix of wistfulness, surprise, longing, bewilderment, and various other emotions. Even the queen seemed interested in Valdes. It left him feeling oddly unsettled for no reason.
"Your Majesty?"
"Ah, yes. We should head down."
The proper award ceremony and knighting would take place the next day. However, it was a time-honored tradition—though not strictly formal—for the queen to descend to the arena personally and commend the champion and runner-up for their efforts.
Mercedes followed behind the queen alongside Marie.
She stole a glance at her younger sister standing beside her. Marie seemed oddly downcast, disappointed that Valdes hadn't won. It appeared she hadn't noticed the queen's interest in him.
'If she had, she'd be on pins and needles.'
Just like she was now.
They reached the arena floor in no time. Etilene and Valdes were waiting there, each down on one knee.
"You both have done well. I'm sure it took grueling training and trials to reach this stage. I hope you'll use that strength to protect our Ulstro Kingdom."
"Yes, Your Majesty!"
"Heh, then first, Etilene Profilene. You already hold a knight's title. So instead, you may choose one of three options: a barony, a letter of recommendation, or a fine set of arms. What would you like?"
The queen's question to Etilene was practically rhetorical—the answer was a foregone conclusion.
"I would like the letter of recommendation."
A barony or quality gear could be obtained through the Profilene family's influence. But a personal recommendation from the queen herself was another matter entirely.
It would open doors to any of the kingdom's three great knight orders with just a simple evaluation.
"Heh, it reminds me of that incident at the last banquet. You must be hoping to join the Pedro Knight Order, right? I'll speak to the knight commander on your behalf."
"Your grace humbles me, Your Majesty!"
Once her business with Etilene was concluded, the queen turned to Valdes.
"Now, next is the runner-up, Valdes. Do you wish to be knighted?"
It was a perfunctory question.
This tournament was all about earning honor above all else, but no non-knight who reached the round of sixteen would ever turn down the chance to become one.
Even as a freelance knight-for-hire, the treatment and benefits would be far superior. It was only natural.
"No, Your Majesty."
"Heh, as expected... Pardon?"
But Valdes's answer was a refusal.
The crowd around him—and even the stands—began to murmur. Those who had been cheering for him moments ago now jeered and hurled insults.
"Th-then, what is it you desire?"
Valdes paused for a moment before slowly opening his mouth.
"...I am a half-demon, abandoned without knowing which parent was the demon. I grew up an orphan until luck led me to learn the sword under a retired mercenary. After my master passed, I became a sellsword and wandered many places, but discrimination against half-breeds was everywhere."
"......"
His voice wasn't particularly loud. But his calm yet captivating words spread through the arena.
Before they knew it, the arena had fallen silent.
"I entered this tournament to become the vanguard who overcomes that discrimination. There will be those who hate seeing a half-demon like me as runner-up in a tournament honoring the Hero. I will prove it: even a half-breed—or a full demon—if they love this country with all their heart, then they are Ulstroians."
"Well, now."
A gasp of admiration escaped the queen's lips, and Valdes raised his head.
This was a situation where he shouldn't normally speak, but no one stopped him or blamed him.
"Make me a squire of the Pedro Knight Order. I will earn my knighthood through my own strength and prove myself to all."
Waaaaaa!!!
Wooooooo!!!
'What a pain in the ass.'
That was what he thought as he descended from the arena.
It couldn't be helped.
He had to play the part of a mid-teen mercenary boy right now. Holding back against these greenhorns—who he'd kill in one strike at full strength—was no easy task. One slip, and if even a hint of his true power showed, it'd be a disaster.
No, more precisely, it was holding back his swordsmanship that was tough.
Strength and stamina could be limited to a degree with magic seals. But swordsmanship didn't work that way. Nor did his preternatural insight that spotted every gaping hole in these rookies' defenses.
It had been the same just moments ago.
Dragging out a fierce fight against an idiot who would've crumpled if he just swung his blade close? If the demons he'd slain back in his hero days saw that, they'd clutch their necks in shock.
'Gotta be more careful today.'
The previous three days had been easier. Just stall a bit, land a light tap, and down they'd go.
But the round of sixteen matches were one at a time, drawing every eye in the crowd.
Instead of returning to the waiting area, Valdes lingered at the arena's edge, watching the other contestants.
'Etilene Profilene. House Profilene... It was only a count's family back then.'
He remembered her as a promising young man.
Only a year older than him, yet he'd looked up to "Hero Pedro" with eyes full of admiration. And this was his daughter.
'Huh?'
Come to think of it, he'd heard the guy had a kid back then. Two years old, if memory served.
'Whoa, so she's twenty now? Time flies.'
The flow of time hit him anew.
While he'd regressed to infancy and grown for eighteen years, his contemporaries from Hero Pedro's era had aged into middle age. Now, as Valdes, he was peers with their kids.
'And the same goes for them.'
Queen Beatrice de Ulstro.
First Princess Mercedes Ulstro.
Second Princess Marie Ulstro.
The young married woman had become a mature beauty, the little girl and newborn babe now blossoming into young women.
'Feels kinda weird.'
At that moment, he felt an intense gaze. Not from the ordinary crowd.
'Over there...'
He looked up.
Sure enough.
The royal balcony. Mercedes and Marie were staring down at him.
All three bore royal duties and schedules, so the queen and Mercedes had only attended the final day, while Marie—with a bit more free time—had watched for two days up to yesterday.
'Opportunity.'
He didn't know why they were looking, but he wasn't fool enough to waste it.
He cast a subtle charm spell on himself. It made his smile irresistibly attractive and sowed subtle mental confusion in onlookers.
Anything stronger risked feeling off or detection by other mages. This level was perfect.
He smiled.
The kind that would make viewers see a bright, boyish grin. He'd practiced it a few times, so it was easy.
The two princesses' faces flushed red.
"That smi..."
His physical limits muffled the sound, but he imagined they let out something like that.
He wiped the smile away and turned back to the arena.
Staring too long could be seen as lese-majeste. Smiles worked best in fleeting glimpses, and so did charm magic.
There was another reason, too.
'That crazy bitch...'
Grit.
The queen of this land, seated before them.
Beatrice.
He didn't want to look at her. No, he couldn't.
Keep staring, and he'd charge over and deck her right then and there.
'She must've been in on it. No, she's one of the ringleaders.'
He was certain.
Beatrice and he shared a relationship of love and hate. The love was all on her side, though.
To put it simply, Beatrice liked him. Or rather, Hero Pedro.
Anyone hearing this would think it bizarre.
She'd been a married woman back then.
That's why, when alone, he always called her a crazy bitch.
"I love you, Sir Pedro. Make me happy."
When Beatrice confessed, she was pregnant with Marie. Confessing to another man while carrying her husband's child? He wondered if she'd lost her mind from some wartime head injury.
"I'm sorry, Princess. I can't make you happy. Besides, you're a married woman, aren't you?"
"Don't worry about that. It'll be resolved soon enough."
"...Pardon?"
Two days later, he heard her husband had fallen in battle. The next day, her husband's entire house was massacred.
Chills ran down his spine.
He investigated Beatrice and her husband privately afterward. Knowing the outcome made piecing it together simple.
Their political marriage had little love to begin with.
For that reason—or some other scheme—Beatrice had deliberately led her husband and his ducal house to ruin. Double-checking turned up no other conclusion.
She confessed to Pedro several more times after, but he refused each one.
When he rejected her final confession, Beatrice said:
"...You'll regret this, Hero. You know how much envy surrounds you, don't you? Holding my hand was your last chance... Let's be husband and wife in our next lives. Farewell, my love."
He ignored her.
He knew about the envy well enough and had preparations just in case.
...Though he got taken down in the end anyway.
'Tch. Thinking about the past just pisses me off more.'
He didn't hate the queen herself per se, but he had to admit her beauty was top-tier. And the two princesses she bore were just as stunning. If they were ugly, he might've reconsidered, but beauties like them? No plans to scrap the scheme.
As he pondered subduing all three mother and daughters, three matches wrapped up, and his turn came again.
"Pleased to meet ya! Name's Jinjaru Nadmira! The man who's gonna claim victory's glory!"
"...Likewise."
'What the hell is this moron?'
Honestly, it was a mystery how he'd made it this far. Probably just lucky draws. He dragged it out for about two minutes before putting him down.
"Damn, misjudged the control a bit."
He muttered while wiping the sweat—or rather, water—trickling down his cheek.
There were limits to restraining swordsmanship. So he'd used magic to restrict his physical abilities. Even so, his stamina didn't drop dangerously low.
But he needed to look like he'd fought a brutal battle to justify only reaching runner-up.
His solution: fake sweat with water magic. Creating beads of water on his skin without detection? He was confident. No one would suspect it was just water.
He plopped down on the ground at the edge.
Now, only four remained, including him.
To maintain fairness among such skilled contenders, a brief rest was granted before the semifinals.
This opponent was a halberd-wielding mercenary. A cut above the nobles he'd faced in the quarters. He burned quite a bit of energy crafting a close win.
The short break ended, and the long-awaited final began.
The announcer finished introducing both sides, and he slowly ascended.
'Huh?'
For some reason...
Etilene was glaring at him fiercely.
'Does she have some grudge against demons?'
As he pondered the inexplicable hostility, she spoke.
"How dare a lowly mercenary lock eyes with Princess Mercedes and flash a smile... Just like the trash you are."
"...Pardon?"
She must've seen him looking at the balcony. But she'd been in her match—strange.
"Tch. Why is Princess Mercedes wasting her gaze on a half-demon like you? I'll show her how pathetic your skills really are."
She spat her piece and donned her helm.
'Ha.'
Now he understood why she hated him so much.
Etilene clearly idolized Mercedes. The way she meticulously used name and title every time? Devotion incarnate.
'Maybe I should fuck her too.'
Conquering the royal trio would take time. Toying with their circle in the meantime didn't sound bad.
Judging by her personality on display, she'd definitely apply to the Pedro Knight Order.
Lewd thoughts bubbled up, curving his lips into a smile.