The Lucha Tournament
"Damn it, if only you'd join us, our team would be the strongest! We've all heard the rumors about you beating a bear to death with your bare hands. Surely you don't want to rot in a place like this forever! Why on earth won't you join?!"
"Yeah! Unless you plan on rotting here for the rest of your life, come with us!"
"If you enter the tournament with us, we'll give you half the prize money!"
Despite their passionate courtship, Ethan didn't offer much of a response. He simply served the men five mugs of beer and silently went back to preparing the food we had ordered.
To stop Ethan, who tried to slip back inside right after handing over the beers, the men had to order another roast chicken. As he set the chicken down and tried to make a swift exit once more, they hurriedly piled on more persuasive arguments to hold him back.
"Damn it, Ethan! Just close your eyes and do it this once. What reason do you have to refuse? If it's because of your sister, we can just give her some of the prize money..."
The card that one of them had just played was clearly a terrible choice. Ethan's face instantly hardened, and he glared at the speaker. Having only seen his stoic expression until now, the man swallowed hard at the sudden shift in Ethan's demeanor.
"I-Ethan, that's not what I meant..."
"Do not speak of my sister so lightly."
It was the longest and most threatening sentence he had uttered so far. Until Ethan disappeared back into the kitchen, the men kept their mouths shut, nervously watching his every move.
"It seems this Lucha Tournament is a contest to determine who is physically superior. A fighting tournament, perhaps?"
Interest sparked in Jing's eyes as he watched their conversation, where the power dynamic was glaringly obvious. Indeed, a combination of words like that was bound to pique the interest of a veteran of the battlefield like Duke Fides. A tournament to decide the winner through combat—how thrilling must that sound to someone whose greatest confidence lay in physical prowess?
"What makes you think so?"
"Well... all the men who walked in are quite well-built. Above all, that owner, Ethan, seems far too formidable to be wasting away as a mere tavern keeper."
"Doesn't it sound fun?"
Jing opened his mouth, looking ready to agree instantly, but then his expression stiffened and he shook his head.
"It is intriguing, but we have no time to waste on such things. For the sake of Tollin, who remains in the capital, we must destroy the holy relic as quickly as possible."
Perhaps unable to bring himself to smile when he thought of Tollin, who was likely enduring punishment in his stead back in the capital, he fell silent, his eyes fixed on the table.
I averted my gaze from him and stared toward the kitchen where Ethan had vanished.
"You said he's too good to be working in a restaurant."
At my confirmation, Jing rolled his eyes slightly as if in thought.
"I would have to taste the food first to say for sure. Perhaps he possesses an extraordinary talent for cooking."
If he could elicit such a generous assessment from Duke Fides, Ethan was undoubtedly a born fighter.
"What have you been staring at since earlier?"
Perhaps a wariness of strangers was a common trait among the villagers, because the attention of the men, who had looked ready to chase Ethan right into the kitchen, suddenly shifted to us.
"Yeah, I heard you whispering about Ethan. He's entering the Lucha with us, so don't go getting any ideas."
Or perhaps it was just caution toward potential future rivals.
"What is this Lucha Tournament that has you all so worked up?"
Seizing their hostility as an opportunity to start a conversation, Jing quickly asked.
Realizing we didn't even know what the Lucha Tournament was, they looked disappointed, yet visibly relieved. They had likely been quite wary after sizing up Jing and Ratel's builds.
"If you don't know, you don't need to. It has nothing to do with you."
The man who seemed the loudest and most active among the five waved his hand dismissively.
However, the man next to him, who had been watching Jing and Ratel with interest, nudged his arm and whispered in his ear. He was probably suggesting that if they couldn't persuade Ethan, they might as well try recruiting us.
Deciding there was some merit to the idea, the loud man cleared his throat and turned back to Jing.
"Well... it's a fighting tournament held in this village every year."
As the man spoke in a softened tone, Jing pressed on with his next question.
"You all seem quite desperate. Is the prize money really that grand?"
"The prize money is one thing, but what everyone is really after is the prize itself."
The man's eyes gleamed as he lowered his voice.
"The winner gets to receive a blessing from the temple in Limis, a city just over the mountain. With that, a mercenary's future is paved in gold."
"A blessing? From the temple?"
Jing's eyes widened at the unexpectedly generous prize.
"Exactly. It's worth risking your neck for, isn't it? In that sense, why don't you two join? You look like travelers, so entering the tournament with us wouldn't be a bad idea. It's not like you can enter with just the three of you anyway."
"How long has this tournament been running?"
Annoyed that Jing had ignored his proposal, the man frowned, but he answered honestly nonetheless.
"Well, at least over twenty years. Even Ethan's father..."
The man's explanation cut short. It was because of Ethan, who had emerged with his hands full of the food Ratel had ordered.
The man cleared his throat and turned completely away from us.
Without a word, Ethan set down the salmon dish, glazed carrots, and other items before us, then retreated back into the kitchen.
"How peculiar. For the temple to bestow a blessing upon commoners."
Jing muttered, picking up a piece of bread Ethan had left behind.
"Are you envious?"
My question seemed to displease him, as a crease formed between his brows. He likely thought I was testing him.
"It is not that. I simply found it strange."
I shrugged at Jing's stiff expression.
"I only meant you don't need to be envious. Because we are going to enter that tournament and win it."
"Excuse me?"
"The holy relic is inside that temple."
"What...?"
Jing dropped the bread he had just picked up.
"You tricked us."
Ratel, who had finished his meal at some point, spoke as he watched me tear off a piece of bread and dip it into the stew.
"I just omitted a few details."
But I had no regrets. If I had told them we needed to stop by this village to participate in a fighting tournament, Jing would have hesitated, loath to waste time, and I wouldn't have been able to stop Ratel from charging straight into the temple.
"If we have to go to the temple in Limis, there was no need to stop by this village in the first place."
I grabbed Ratel's arm just as he was about to kick back his chair and stand up.
"Sit down. Jing hasn't even finished his meal yet."
Ratel glanced at the plate still piled high with stew and bread, then slowly sat back down.
I let out a sigh and began to explain.
"Entering the temple with official permission is the safest way. We don't know exactly where the holy relic is."
"If you don't even know where it is, what is the point of keeping you alive?"
Ratel spoke to me, looking ready to draw his sword at any moment.
"All I know is what was described in the Red Book. Of course the exact location is hard to pin down. Besides, the book says it was hidden underground, but what if they moved it sometime over the last thousand years?"
"I don't care. We can just break in and search."
"If we just barge in and look for the relic, we'll be surrounded by knights in no time."
"I don't care about that either," Ratel replied.
Sure, you wouldn't.
"Well, I do. We need to minimize conflict."
Ratel scowled slightly.
"That is not for you to decide."
Was wanting to minimize violence really something to get this angry about? I let out a sigh at the stubbornness of the hero destined to save the world from impending doom, and spoke.
"We can't do that. If something goes wrong, we'll die."
"I don't die that easily."
Yeah, I know. I nodded.
"I know. But I will."
"..."
My utterly shameless response left him speechless.
"I have no weapons, I don't know how to fight, and I can't do anything. If we barge in there, of course I'll die. I can't fight temple knights."
"Your High... No, Lord Ran. Just to be absolutely sure, do you really not know swordsmanship, hand-to-hand combat, or... anything at all?"
At Jing's sudden intrusion into the conversation, both Ratel and I turned our gaze toward him. Jing's eyes were trembling. He looked deeply shocked.
"Didn't you say so yourself, Jing? That you would protect me first if anything happened."
When I spoke as if it were a given, Jing waved his hands in a fluster.
"No, of course I will do that, but... what I mean is, have you truly not received even the most basic training?"
I had learned a bit of kendo back in the modern world, but it wasn't exactly applicable in this realm, so I nodded.
"Nothing."
"No, surely you must have learned the basics. All members of the imperial family..."
"I was in a rather awkward position to meet those standards."
Probably, right? Looking back at the schedules Sein used to send up, there had never been anything related to physical training. Even in the original novel, there was never any mention of Ran mastering any specific techniques.
Jing stared at me with a solemn, pitying expression, as if at a loss for words. Although it was the original Ran Abaran who had suffered such neglect, not me, I had no reason to reject his sympathy. Especially if it made things easier to explain.
"So, for now, we must enter through legitimate means. There is no benefit to anyone if I, the only one who knows the contents of the Red Book, die. And it certainly wouldn't do us any favors if Dito realized that Jing or I were still alive because we caused a scene."
Neither Ratel nor Jing protested further. A quiet, uncomfortable meal continued for a while.
"...But to register for the tournament, wouldn't we have to go to the temple anyway?"
Jing was the first to break the silence. An anxious urge to enter the tournament immediately was written all over his face.
"Didn't those men just say so? We cannot participate with only three people. Since there is a party limit, going to the temple like this will be pointless."
"We can just grab anyone right now and ask them. Winning a tournament like that would be child's play for us."
Jing answered, sounding frustrated. But we couldn't do that. If we were just going to bring along any random person, there would have been no reason to seek out this tiny tavern in the first place. We had to enter the tournament with a specific individual. Following the original plot, alongside Ratel's first companion.
"I will go ask one of the men at the next table right now. I do not know how many more we need, but if Ratel and I offer to join, there will surely be those willing to abandon their original teams to team up with us."
It was just as Jing stood up, looking ready to drag one of the men over by force.
Slam! The tavern door burst open with a rough bang. Drawing everyone's eyes, someone hurriedly stepped inside.
A tall stature of nearly 180 centimeters, rich brown hair tied up high, and intelligent, gleaming brown eyes. There was absolutely no room for doubt as to whose blood ran in her veins.
The woman, who had rushed inside in a hurry, gasped and her eyes widened in surprise upon seeing the crowd gathered in the tavern.
"..."
The atmosphere instantly turned awkward. The villagers didn't offer so much as a greeting to the woman, who was clearly Ethan's flesh and blood, and she kept her head lowered, avoiding their gazes.
Unable to bear the silence, she turned toward the stairs. Moving to avoid the villagers' eyes as much as possible, she suddenly spotted us sitting in the corner, froze, and stared blankly at us.
"...Lia, go inside."
Seeing her frozen as if nailed to the floor, Ethan let out a low sigh and spoke as he stepped out of the kitchen. At the sound of his heavy sigh, the woman—Lia—finally seemed to snap out of it and hurriedly bolted toward the second floor.
Thud! Though she only made it about two steps before faceplanting onto the floor.