Chapter 100: The Tin Knight and the Martial Arts Tournament (7)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 100: The Tin Knight and the Martial Arts Tournament (7)
Wizards were the most recognized school of magic in the Empire.
No, in fact, the term ‘school’ felt insufficient.
This was because the very image of a ‘mage’ in the minds of ordinary people was that of a Wizard.
It was even common for the word ‘Wizard’ itself to be used synonymously with ‘mage.’
-Oh! You're a mage! Then you can cast Fireball, of course, right? What? You can't? Different school? Ah, you fucking fraud. Get the hell out!
It was an anecdote that starkly revealed the common person's image of a mage.
People assumed that a mage should naturally be able to hurl spheres of fire, create storms of ice, and slice enemies with blades of wind.
Alchemists, Enchantresses, and other schools different from Wizards tried to change public opinion, arguing that magic wasn't just about smashing things and killing people, but no one paid them any mind.
Of course, Necromancers, who were weak and had a terrible public reputation, had no say in the matter. (The one Necromancer who did have a voice wasn't interested in the topic.)
When Alchemists spoke of the basic elements that constitute living beings and matter, or how rearranging them could change properties and forms, people didn't really understand.
The charms and magic tools created by Enchantresses, who engraved runes or circuits onto objects, were powerful, but people thought the one wielding the magic sword was cooler than the one who made it.
In contrast, a Wizard's magic was extremely intuitive, its effects easy to understand, and spectacular.
It was faster and more powerful to just shoot a fireball and burn the opponent than to create a fire-breathing creature or enchant a sword with flame magic.
The Witch of the South was at the pinnacle of such Wizards, and Algind was her star pupil.
In other words.
“…I really don't want to fight her.”
If a ‘frail’(?) Necromancer were to face her head-on, her chances of winning couldn't be called high, not even as an empty compliment.
[The 'Tin Knight' says that he won't lose!]
Dorothea gazed placidly at the Tin Knight, who was eagerly promoting himself beside her.
Dorothea was well aware of the Tin Knight's combat prowess—he sliced up people, bandits (or ‘humanoid monsters,’ as the Tin Knight called them), actual magic beasts, golems, and giant trees. In short, he was good at slicing things up and bashing them with his shield.
Therefore, instead of chiding the Tin Knight, she let out a sigh.
“You might be able to, sure. But do you think she and I can hold out?”
Dorothea recalled the magic Algind had displayed at the end.
The casting time was extremely short, with no particular incantation or preparatory movements. At most, she had only extended her hand.
And yet, its power was extraordinary, enough to send two warriors armed with tower shields and heavy armor flying with a single blow, and to erase a mage and the fog he was creating without a trace.
“We won't survive if we take a direct hit. We might be able to block it if you stand in front, but that would just tie you down.”
“Isn't the short casting time just a guess? It's possible she was preparing the spell while she was standing still at the beginning, and it just wasn't obvious,” Sophia offered her theory. Dorothea didn't particularly deny it.
“That's possible. But we have to be prepared for the possibility that it's not the case.”
[The 'Tin Knight' asks if you have a plan!]
Dorothea shrugged and pointed to a large jar in the corner of the room.
Inside the jar was an oil with a peculiar scent, and a large log soaking in it.
“Looking at the tournament bracket, we'll face Algind in the finals. Until then, I'm going to make this into a staff. I won't have the capacity to help with anything else besides making brief appearances at the tournament, so try to stay quiet and out of trouble.”
The Tin Knight thought to himself. Whenever she says something like that, something is bound to happen.
*
“I see. Does that mean I won't be able to meet with Lady Dorothea?”
“Um, yes. She's holed up in her room with Miss Sophia, working on something, so she's barely leaving except for the tournament matches she has to attend.”
At Adelaide's reply, Lorentz Halder looked deeply regretful.
“Hah, then it can't be helped. I truly wanted to offer my personal apologies for the incident caused by our employee….”
[The 'Tin Knight' consoles him, saying she's probably already forgotten the incident even happened, so there's no need to worry!]
Naturally, Lorentz couldn't hear the Tin Knight's voice.
Watching the Tin Knight offer words of comfort, even though he must have known they couldn't be heard, Adel wondered. Was there some hidden meaning to his actions, or was he just doing it impulsively, without much thought?
'Probably the latter.'
She was a disciple with a truly excellent understanding of her master. Though it was a mystery how she could understand him and still hold him in such high regard.
Putting aside her analysis of the Tin Knight, Adelaide spoke.
“There will be a chance to meet after the tournament, so please don't be too discouraged.”
Adelaide couldn't claim to be an expert in economics, but she knew that the head of a major merchant company held a very busy position.
The head of an upper-mid-tier company in the Empire would typically have a seat heavier than that of most kingdom nobles.
For a person of such stature to come in person to apologize for the actions of a mere branch manager was, in itself, a display of the utmost sincerity.
Adel didn't want to treat such a person coldly.
And she believed Dorothea would feel the same.
“Hahaha.”
Perhaps it was because Adel's consideration was conveyed to him.
A warm spring breeze returned to Lorentz's face, which had been as damp as if soaked in a cold rain.
'It may be rude to say this, but she's a truly kind and good child.'
Through his own investigations, Lorentz had learned what had happened in the Friedel domain.
It wouldn't have been strange for her to resent the world and harbor malice after experiencing such things at a young age, so it was simply astonishing that she had retained such goodness and purity.
'Her status, her personality... she's the best possible candidate for a daughter-in-law. ...Should I test the waters?'
“I'm so relieved to hear you say that. When that boy Micks heard about what happened, he was so restless, insisting he had to apologize to you all. He was terribly disappointed that he couldn't come with me due to other commitments.”
“Ah, yes.”
A moment of silence passed. Tick, tock, tick, tock. The sound of a clock echoed.
Just as Adel's eyes began to waver, the Tin Knight spoke.
[The 'Tin Knight' says he's talking about that son of his they met before!]
“...Ah, ahh! That's right! Please tell your son not to worry about it either!”
Seeing Adel force a laugh, Lorentz Halder wept inwardly.
Oh, you poor son of mine. It's one thing to not be seen as a romantic prospect, but have you been forgotten entirely?
Just as Lorentz resolved to give up on his futile matchmaking scheme and instead win their favor through a barrage of bribes or flattery, an employee approached.
“Master Lorentz.”
One of the Halder Company's employees approached and whispered something in Lorentz's ear.
Lorentz's eyebrow twitched.
Adel tilted her head and asked.
“Is something wrong?”
“Hm. It's nothing serious. Just a customer causing a disturbance at the shop. You don't need to worry about it.”
Adel was about to accept his answer, but the Tin Knight spoke to her.
[The 'Tin Knight' points out that when people say things like that, it's never 'nothing serious'!]
[The 'Tin Knight' insists that in these situations, leaving it alone usually makes things worse, so it's better to intervene early!]
Adel hesitated for a moment.
She thought, 'If it were the Witch, she'd say that getting needlessly involved in other people's business will only make you tired.'
The Dorothea that Adel knew was an incredibly wise and clever woman.
The knowledge and common sense the black witch spoke of were usually correct in most cases. The only thing that didn't align with common sense was her peculiar fashion sense.
But. 'When the Knight says something like this, his side of the story usually turns out to be right.'
If asked whether to trust the ‘common sense’ of the Witch or the Knight, Adel would have chosen the Witch without hesitation.
But if asked whether to trust the ‘intuition’ of the Witch or the Knight, Adel would have gladly chosen the Knight.
The little lion had seen the Knight's intuition shatter the Witch's common sense several times.
Therefore, Adel spoke up.
“You don't have to spare us the details. If there's anything we can do to help, we will.”
“Hmm.”
Lorentz seemed taken aback for a moment, then spoke as if he had no other choice.
“Very well. Then, let's go together.”
*
A hubbub. A commotion.
A large crowd had gathered at the Halder Company's Thracus branch.
They weren't customers there to buy goods, however. They were more like spectators, drawn by the curiosity of a sudden disturbance.
And at the center of that disturbance was a group of young men.
CRASH!
“Aigoo, please calm down, my lords. You can't just smash everything like this.”
“How dare a nobody like you try to order us around!”
“He still hasn't learned his lesson!”
A rough kick shattered a display stand, sending the various products arranged on it tumbling to the floor.
After the young men had been trashing the store for some time, a man who had been quietly watching from behind them stepped forward.
“Enough.”
“Yes, my lord.”
The young men, all adorned in fine clothes and equipment that clearly marked them as nobles, bowed their heads in unison.
Accepting their greeting as if it were his due, the man—Maximilian Egir Haidern—spoke.
“The Halder Company, was it? I have heard the rumors about you. Under the pretext of strengthening the body and relieving fatigue, you sold suspicious, unverified drugs, did you not? I hear some even suffered heart strain or died from the side effects. They say you even associated with unsavory gangs and didn't hesitate to use violence. Truly the worst of the worst, base commoners who have thrown their morals and honor to the dogs.”
At Maximilian's words, the crowd watching the scene began to murmur.
A Halder Company employee answered in alarm.
“W-wait a moment, please! Honored guest, while the incident you speak of did indeed occur, it was the result of the former branch manager acting recklessly on his own! The current branch manager has been dismissed, compensation has been paid to the affected customers and their families, and the matter has been reported to the Lord of Thracus as we await punishment! We have done everything we can at the company level, so please, calm your anger and—”
“Nonsense!”
Maximilian rebuked the employee loudly.
“Is punishment something a sinner can choose to accept or refuse as they please? If you truly repent your sins, how can you spout such reckless words, claiming you cannot accept my punishment because you are already scheduled to be punished by another?”
“B-but.”
“I will not hear it! You speak of repentance and compensation, but isn't it obvious your true intention is to simply sweep this incident under the rug! Is it not so!”
“Hear, hear!”
“Get out, you wicked company!”
As if in response to Maximilian's words, shouts of agreement rose from the crowd.
They amounted to less than one percent of the total crowd, but Maximilian wore a satisfied expression as if everyone present agreed with him and declared:
“I, Maximilian Egir Haidern, declare this! If you truly repent your wrongdoing, do not try to escape the consequences with mere pennies! You must return all of the company's assets, earned through wicked schemes, to the people of this city!”
“Oh, ooooh!”
“Maximilian! Maximilian! Maximilian!”
At the mention of money, the spectators, who had been lukewarm until now, began to cheer enthusiastically one by one.
In contrast, the Halder Company employee looked like he was about to die.
Demanding more compensation because the current amount was insufficient was one thing, but the demand to distribute the company's entire fortune to the city was, by any measure, unreasonable.
Even if the Halder Company were to give up everything down to its foundations, the people wouldn't acknowledge their repentance; they would just be busy praising Maximilian.
The ulterior motive—You do the work, you take the loss, but I'll take the credit—was painfully obvious.
But he couldn't bring himself to utter a rebuttal.
There was the fact that several young men armed with swords were radiating killing intent, as if ready to cut him down at any moment, but even if he could subdue them with force, his opponent was a noble. And a tremendously high-ranking one at that.
For a mere temporary branch manager—no, even if Lorentz, the company head himself, were here, it was doubtful he could resolve the situation.
Looking down at the employee's face, twisted in despair, Maximilian opened his mouth.
“Now, if you understand, then immediately—Ugh!?”
But his words were cut short.
A reddish fruit had come flying at his face.
Maximilian reflexively swung his sword to block the fruit, but some of its juice splattered and stained his face.
“M-my lord?!”
Amidst the bewildered voices of his subordinates, Maximilian's face flushed with anger.
His furious gaze snapped in the direction the fruit had come from.
“Who was that! How dare you!”
There was no answer.
Instead, a mysterious shadow leaped up and landed on the roof of the Halder Company building.
Sturdy long boots. Leather armor designed for mobility. Bright, curly blonde hair. A small frame, and a two-handed sword just a little smaller than that frame.
And a mask covering the face.
The mysterious intruder looked down at Maximilian and said.
“Uh, um, ahem. Th-that's enough of your tyranny! I won't allow it!”
The citizens of Thracus, who not only watched the recent martial arts tournament but also chattered about it day in and day out, all had the same thought at once.
'......If you wanted to hide your identity, shouldn't you have covered up more than just your face??'