The Marriage Tournament (2)

"Choosing a bride by awakened ability, not by family...?"

"That's right."

I rested my chin on my hand and smiled.

"No lineage, no beauty required. Only the awakened ability."

"But my lord, you must at least take a lady befitting the dignity of a ducal house..."

"A woman raised soft in an inner chamber couldn't survive this position anyway."

My mother had been assassinated the moment I was born, and my father had fallen unconscious fighting in the Demon Realm. There was no guarantee I wouldn't follow in their footsteps.

What I needed wasn't some lucky darling born into a noble house by the grace of good fortune, but a partner I could trust to have my back. Wasn't that the whole point of a political marriage, in the end?

"How will you judge whose awakened ability is the best?"

"Post a proclamation across the duchy. Announce that a martial tournament will be held to select a bride."

Lily's mouth fell wide open.

"My lord... a tournament to choose a bride? I have never once heard of such a thing. The other way around, perhaps, a few times."

"Everything has a first time."

I'd heard of something similar in my past life. The murim held tournaments at the drop of a hat to rank their fighters, and martial artists of high standing enjoyed a considerable advantage in the marriage market.

"And what if you end up matched with someone truly dreadful? A ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠woman with no refinement, and an absolutely hideous face?"

"You're the one who said I wasn't picking a lover, Lily."

Lily heaved a deep sigh.

"Very well... You've always been the sort that no one can stop once you dig your heels in, ever since you were little."

I smiled faintly and took a sip of my herb drink.

A few days later, the proclamation announcing a tournament to find a bride was posted all across the territory. At the bottom of the notice, the following words were written:

The posted notice sent shockwaves through the entire duchy. Before long, female awakened ones of every stripe began flocking in from all corners of the realm.

"You're going to marry the winner of a tournament?"

That was Uncle Ruka's reaction to my request that he forge a weapon to award as the prize.

"Quite an unconventional move for a new Duke's first decree."

"I haven't signed the register of succession yet."

"You'll have to become Duke first if you want to shove that lunatic idea of yours through. Unless you want to watch the old fogeys on the legal advisory council tear their beards out."

Ruka snorted, evidently amused by his own joke.

"I'll consider it."

I had already been handling the Duke's duties for nearly three years, and people treated me as the Duke in all but name.

So becoming Duke wouldn't change much for me personally. And if I couldn't become one, there'd be nothing to mourn.

Still, with my father not yet awake, I found myself reluctant to take the title.

There were things that needed to be settled before I became Duke.

After parting with Ruka, I visited the tower where Chris was imprisoned.

Treason was, by law, a grave crime punishable by death regardless of rank or station. But Chris had been spared the executioner because he was the Duke's son, and he was locked in a tower rather than the dungeon because he was my kin.

"You sanctimonious bastard!"

Chris hurled the book he was holding to the floor. Even this tremendous privilege apparently left him feeling no gratitude — the moment he saw my face, he picked a fight.

"Father should have known you were more venomous than Mabel."

"Good to see you too, Chris."

Since kind words deserve kind answers — or in this case, the reverse — I replied in kind, with casual rudeness.

"Get over here! Come out here and fight me like a man!"

He howled like a beast and slammed his fists against the bars. But the cage was protected by a ward I had poured my heart and soul into crafting.

"Want out?"

I looked into Chris's pitch-black eyes and asked.

"I hold the power of pardon. If you tell me one thing, and tell it true, I'll give your release serious consideration."

Chris said nothing, only breathing hard through his nose.

"It was you who killed my mother, Ophelia Rain — wasn't it?"

The official cause of my mother's death was poisoning. As the world knew it, my mother's body temperature had plummeted during childbirth because of my 'awakened ability,' and she had passed away.

But the testimony of Thalia and my other close aides told a different story. My mother had been poisoned by a venom with no known antidote, and her body had already been gravely weakened before the birth.

The possibility that I might be the wretched son who killed his own mother had pressed down on my heart like a lead weight all my life. But if I could bring the whole truth of this matter into the open—

"Hahaha......"

Chris covered his face and laughed, then

"Are you completely out of your mind?"

pressed a finger to his temple and twirled it in circles.

"You were born a bastard who killed your own mother. Whether you become Duke or king, that fact will never change."

"...I see."

I laughed along with him.

"I'm the bastard who'll become Duke, and you're a traitor."

I turned and left the cell. Chris screamed at the back of my head.

"Hey! Get back here! Where do you think you're going!"

There was, in truth, a simple solution to this problem. I could have Shaka dig through Chris's mind. In the backlash of having his psyche torn apart, Chris would live out the rest of his days crippled — but who would care about that?

...No.

I shook my head and scattered the thought. Tempting as it was, I didn't want to become the hypocrite he called me. If I'd cripple a man just to satisfy my own curiosity, I might as well take down my shingle as a Daoist.

A date was set for the tournament. Exactly thirty days from now, on the feast day of Saint ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Rocand. I summoned Thalia to the ducal residence to discuss the finer details.

Thalia had overcome her inner demons and become the duchy's second official Grand Master. And even after that, she remained devoted to our family. A Grand Master could have asked the Emperor for a title and lands of her own, if she'd wanted.

"The most important matter is safety."

Thalia spoke in a grave tone.

"If Bishop Colin lends his aid, that matter will be settled."

"I imagine so."

As long as a life wasn't completely severed, holy magic could restore it readily enough. That was why knights never held back in even the most brutal training.

"Second is the judging. We need clear ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠criteria for who wins and who loses, or there will be grumbling afterward."

"If you serve as judge, there will be no grumbling."

Ever since the Defense of Andrassi, Thalia had become, in name and in fact, the living symbol of the duchy's might. Who would dare quibble with a Grand Master's ruling?

"Understood. I will see it done."

Having already organized the Frost Knights' recruitment trials, the remaining minor details were resolved in short order.

"My lord."

Thalia stopped at the office door, halfway out, and said my name quietly.

"What is it?"

"You don't need to do this, my lord."

She hesitated, uncharacteristically.

"If the duchy lacks for strength, we will simply strive harder. I do not wish to see you enter a marriage you do not want."

"This marriage is what I want."

Truly.

"So don't worry. It's nothing so terrible."

I flashed her my most reassuring smile.

In my past life and in this one, I had been born into families that could hardly be called ideal.

Perhaps that was why I held no illusions about marriage. It was my fate to make a political match regardless — so why not extract the maximum benefit from it?

Why everyone around me found that so regrettable, I couldn't say.

Just recently, Colin had come to nag me as well. About how sacred the bond of husband and wife was, about how sublime a thing love was, and so on.

Colin rarely spoke a harsh word to me, so I did give the matter some genuine thought. But nothing changed. The woman who would be mistress of Esterzy could not afford to surrender her life easily to an assassin or a demon.

After Thalia departed, Lily announced a visitor.

"Count Purterkey and his daughter, Lady Isabelle Purterkey, my lord."

Count Purterkey was a chief vassal of the Esterzy Duchy; when the Defense of Andrassi had broken out, he had sent some two thousand troops.

His loyalty, in other words, was a proven quantity.

Soon a portly man entered the office, leading a freckled teenage girl by the hand.

"I trust you have been in good health, my lord."

"Welcome, Count Purterkey. And this is..."

The girl grasped the hem of her dress and dipped into an elegant curtsy.

"Hello, Lord Iden! My name is Isabelle Purterkey!"

...This bodes ill.

"I have long wished to make the introduction, but my lord and I have both been so dreadfully busy that no time could be found."

"So I've heard. It's good to see mother and daughter together like this."

The Count chuckled good-naturedly.

"I know she's my own daughter, but the child truly possesses a remarkable awakened ability. It's only that her gentle nature balks at harming others, so she... has never taken up a weapon in her life. It gnaws at her father's heart, I assure you."

"Is there anything to gnaw about? The borders of your county can't be peaceful enough that a sword in your daughter's hand would be unwelcome."

"She refuses to develop a God-given talent, and that is a father's sorrow. With someone to give her a gentle push, she could become quite the sight."

Count Purterkey smiled as if to say, you understand, don't you? He was asking me to skip the tournament and take his daughter as my bride outright.

"I understand your circumstances. May your daughter's talent bloom."

When I brushed off his appeal, his expression turned anxious.

"My lord... you see—"

I cut him off.

For the record, my taste runs to women born with a nature for harming others."

"...I beg your pardon?"

"Good day to you, Count."

The Count tried to press his case further, but Isabelle dragged her father out by the arm. Once they were gone, I called for Lily and gave her firm instructions.

"Refuse every request for an audience with the nobility until the day of the tournament."

If I'd wanted this kind of petitioning, I should have thrown a ball — why bother with a tournament at all? What I needed wasn't a glittering family name. I needed a second Thalia.

Someone who could help me bring the Demon ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Duke Ragnor to his knees. Someone who could hold the holy city even if my father and I were both absent.

The month slipped past in a blur. As the feast of Rocand drew near, the holy city grew louder by the day, as if every woman warrior in the world had resolved to gather in one place.

At last, on the day of the tournament, Thalia came to report the registration results.

"Opening preparations are complete."

"Good work, Thalia."

"This is the participant roster."

She handed me a thick dossier.

"The total number who have declared their intent to propose to you is four thousand and forty-three."

"...Did you misread 443?"

Thalia repeated the number in her flat, deadpan voice, enunciating every syllable.

"Four thousand and forty-three is correct."

I pressed my hand to my forehead.

Maybe what I should have announced wasn't a tournament, but the founding of a knight order.