The Festival of the Sword
In the distance, a carriage laden with cargo passed through the castle gates, rolling out of Lurie. It was scheduled to stop in the middle of a nearby forest, where, during a brief moment of the coachman's careless distraction, Rika would make her escape from the wooden crate. I glanced sideways at Carmel and spoke.
"I kept my promise, Mother."
"No, it is too early to tell," she replied. "Not until I see with my own eyes that Rika is truly free."
"But you watched her board the carriage with your own eyes, didn't you, Mother? Since the carriage has just departed, my promise to 'send her out of Lurie' has already been kept."
Carmel shot me a displeased look. "That wasn't the only condition. The agreement was to set her free, was it not? Who is to say you won't simply lock her up in some other dungeon?"
How suspicious. Well, in a sense, her suspicions were entirely correct. Of course, I had no intention of physically confining Rika as Carmel feared. But my agreement with Carmel ended at releasing her. What happened next was entirely up to Rika's own will. Perhaps she would break the shackles of the Hypnotic Incense through sheer force of spirit and return to Carmel's side. Of course, the odds of such a cliché, shonen-manga-style development actually happening were practically zero.
"I have no intention of breaking our promise so blatantly," I said, offering a gentle smile. "Isn't mutual trust the most important thing between us? After all, we are bound to make many more 'deals' in the future."
Even at the sight of my smile—clear and innocent as a summer sky—dark clouds gathered over Carmel's face. Perhaps the word 'deal' had reminded her of her recent humiliation.
"Do you honestly expect me to believe that?"
Carmel spat those cold words before turning on her heel and retreating inside. Perhaps it was because of the report I had received from Sinia yesterday, but her reaction felt less like mere petulance and more like she was actively preparing something.
Wilter Grave...
In the original novel, he was a noble, upright knight. Far from participating in Carmel's villainy, he had been swiftly purged alongside Filgret. Why was a man like him acting this way now?
My experiences so far had proven that the characters in this world aligned with their novel counterparts. Yet, there was a critical blind spot: the details left unwritten in the original text remained entirely in the dark. Just like Filgret's bizarre, obsessive loyalty and his almost inhumanly sharp sense of smell.
Wilter Grave had been written out of the story very early on. Consequently, I knew next to nothing about his true personality. In a way, he was far more troublesome than the six great noble families, whose schemes and patterns of conspiracy I could easily predict.
His official title was the Captain of the Royal Guard Direct Division. While Filgret's Royal Guard was tasked with the close, personal protection of the royal family, Wilter's Direct Division controlled the entry and exit points of the palace and managed the overall security of Lurie.
Grave... Come to think of it, isn't the Commander of the Capital Defense also a Grave?
Alen Grave. If my memory served me correctly, he and Wilter were father and son. Although Wilter was the only one who had made contact with Carmel, it was only logical to assume the father was complicit as well.
If both the Direct Division and the Capital Defense Force turned against us, it would pose a catastrophic threat. My small contingent of guards would never be able to hold them off. Yet, a direct coup seemed highly improbable. A rebellion that drew steel against the King without a shred of justification could never succeed. Even if they managed to seize the palace, they would be crushed within days by the royal armies marching in from the rest of the kingdom.
Above all, Carmel had no reason to attempt such a thing. Her status was that of Queen Consort; if Pehart ceased to be King, she would be stripped of all her power. A coup was a useless endeavor for her. Furthermore, the Grave family was renowned for its unwavering loyalty to the crown. Had they been even slightly untrustworthy, they would never have been entrusted with positions so vital to the royal family's safety.
Hmm. I still don't have enough pieces of the puzzle. I lacked the necessary information to make a definitive judgment. Still, with Carmel pulling the strings, it was bound to be something insidious. I stared at the fluttering banner of the Capital Defense Force in the distance for a moment before turning back toward the castle interior.
"Wilter Grave... Do you mean Captain Wilter of the Direct Division, Your Highness?"
"Yes. What kind of man is he? Tell me your honest impression of him, Filgret."
Filgret tilted his head slightly, clearly puzzled by my sudden interest in the man. However, true to his disciplined nature, he refrained from prying and answered directly.
"Captain Wilter is an exceptional knight. His swordsmanship and leadership are beyond reproach. He executes his duties as a commander flawlessly, and he commands deep respect from his subordinates."
Filgret's assessment aligned perfectly with the brief descriptions in the novel. But it was his darker, hidden side that I wanted to uncover.
"Surely even a man like Wilter must harbor some grievances. Have you heard anything of the sort, Filgret? Perhaps he has a rivalry with someone, or harbors some hidden ambition?"
Filgret's eyes betrayed a deep curiosity as to why I was focusing so intently on Wilter. I had no intention of revealing Wilter's secret rendezvous with Carmel just yet, though I suspected Filgret might have already deduced something was amiss.
"Grievances... It is nothing of great import, but there is indeed someone with whom he frequently clashes."
His words made me want to snap my fingers in triumph. "And who might that be?"
"Myself, Your Highness."
Sometimes, I found Filgret's manner of speaking incredibly difficult to follow. You were just showering him with praise a moment ago. I thought you two got along.
"Would you care to elaborate?"
"To be precise, he occasionally directs rather provocative remarks toward me. It has never escalated to an outright conflict, but a certain degree of posturing is a regular occurrence between us."
Hearing this, my perception of Wilter shifted. It seemed he wasn't quite the straight-laced, model knight I had envisioned. On paper, the Direct Division and the Royal Guard operated under separate chains of command, and Wilter and Filgret held equal rank. However, there was an unspoken consensus that the Royal Guard, by virtue of their proximity to the royal family, held a more prestigious status. Given that dynamic, a bit of friction was only natural.
"But it is not a deep-seated grudge, correct?"
"Indeed, Your Highness."
If that was the case, this rivalry might have nothing to do with his current plotting. In the end, I had gained no major breakthrough—only a slightly clearer outline of Wilter's character. I pressed Filgret for more details regarding Wilter and the Grave family, but none of the information yielded anything of significance.
The following day, during the regular council meeting.
After various matters of state had been deliberated and resolved, only the final agenda item remained. King Pehart cleared his throat before addressing the assembly.
"Now, for our final discussion of the day. A proposal has been brought forward to host the Festival of the Sword."
The Festival of the Sword?
One of the ministers immediately raised his hand to speak. "Your Majesty, by the Festival of the Sword... do you refer to the grand martial tournament that was discontinued seven years ago?"
"Indeed," Pehart replied. "A tournament where the knights of the Direct Division and the Royal Guard test their swordsmanship and tactical prowess against one another. It has been suggested that we revive this tradition."
The Festival of the Sword... The memory of such an event flickered within Princess Sera's mind. My gaze instantly locked onto Carmel. The Queen wore an elegant, serene smile as she spoke.
"I am entirely in favor," Carmel said smoothly. "Is it not a splendid opportunity to showcase the prowess of the knights who guard the royal family before the citizens of Lurie? Witnessing such a display will firmly engrave Your Majesty's absolute authority in the hearts of the people. I believe it is a most fitting event for these times."
In favor? Of course she is. There was no doubt that Carmel herself was the mastermind behind this proposal. In Princess Sera's memories, the festival from seven years ago was nothing but a faint, blurry impression. It made sense; the original, peace-loving Princess Sera would never have found joy in such violent displays of martial competition.
The Festival of the Sword was a sacred rite passed down from antiquity. Even now, when it had evolved into a structured tournament rather than a bloodbath, its traditional authority remained absolute. Crucially, whichever faction emerged victorious—be it the Royal Guard or the Direct Division—their commander would be granted the right to absorb the defeated faction under their direct command.
This was precisely what Carmel and Wilter were aiming for. If Wilter had indeed allied himself with Carmel, and if he were to win the Festival of the Sword, both the Direct Division and the Royal Guard would fall entirely under Carmel's control. My ability to utilize Filgret's military power would be severely crippled.
Had she caught on during the events surrounding Filgret's recent leave, or perhaps from the security arrangements at the Red Flower Palace? Carmel had likely realized that Filgret was cooperating with me. Thus, she had devised this scheme to strip him of his authority. Honestly, even for a medieval kingdom, this was an absurdly backward way to manage military organizations. I felt a sudden urge to praise Pehart for having the good sense to keep such a ridiculous tradition suspended for the past seven years.
"Please wait, Your Majesty," I interjected, stepping forward. "Is there truly a need to revive the Festival of the Sword? Currently, both the Royal Guard and the Direct Division are performing their respective duties flawlessly. I fear that forcing them into competition may only sow unnecessary seeds of discord."
"Oh? Do you truly believe so?" Carmel chuckled softly. "The victor of the Festival of the Sword will prove their strength and tactical brilliance before the eyes of the Goddess herself. Is it not far more efficient to entrust greater responsibility and authority to those who have proven themselves most qualified, Princess Sera?"
Annoyingly, her argument carried a fair amount of weight. The surrounding ministers began to murmur in agreement.
"Mmm, indeed..."
"If anything, keeping it suspended for seven years was a disregard for our sacred traditions."
"The Festival of the Sword holds deep ritualistic significance. I, too, believe it is only right to resume it."
The tide had turned, and it was clear the decision was irreversible. It was impossible to find an argument strong enough to override centuries of tradition in this chamber. Pehart raised his hands, calling the room to order, and made his solemn declaration.
"Very well. Having heard the consensus of this council, I decree that the Festival of the Sword shall be revived. Deliver the command to both the Royal Guard and the Direct Division."
"Understood, Your Majesty."
"With that, today's council is adjourned."
With the King's final word, the assembly dispersed. Carmel swept out of the chamber, casting a triumphant, mocking smile in my direction, utterly convinced of her impending victory.