The Black Knight Swore to the Blind Saintess
I found myself in a bind.
"Is that really true?"
The tournament guide nodded.
"Yes, it is. From the round of sixteen onward, no participant may use their own equipment. You must use only the gear we provide."
Sieg, whom I'd only just met, was already wearing a look of worry on my behalf.
Meanwhile, the pig beastman who'd just finished humiliating the Princess and the Saintess lodged a protest with the guide.
"I say! Everyone here—except this fellow (he pointed at me)—has real combat experience. Our bodies are conditioned to the weapons and armor we've trained with our whole lives. What kind of rule is this, sprung on us without so much as a warning?"
The tournament guide gave a casual shrug.
"Any man worthy of the title Imperial Knight should be able to handle any weapon in any situation."
The pig beastman exploded.
"What kind of horseshit is—"
The guide cut him off.
"Those are the words of His Majesty the Emperor."
The pig went quiet for a moment, then opened his mouth again.
"...So we just pick our gear in the room next door?"
I slumped down into my seat in the waiting room and stared blankly at the Vibrating Dildo Spear in my hand. Seeing my slumped shoulders, Sieg spoke up carefully beside me.
"That's... quite a weapon you have there."
I fed mana into the spear.
Ziiiiiiing—
The participants nearby flinched in alarm.
"And this is the thing that wrung most of my opponents' surrenders out of them."
Since word had it that Sieg had earned his title of Count through merit, I couldn't let him lose face either.
"...A man of peace. I respect that."
Watching him strain to squeeze out compliments just to console me was almost painful to witness.
I switched off the dildo spear and changed the subject.
"So. I hear you accomplished something extraordinary in the war?"
"It was all thanks to you, Lord Castollini. I did as you told me and went to the Adventurers' Guild, and in the very first dungeon I entered, I drank some unknown potion and suddenly became incredibly strong..."
Sieg scratched his head, embarrassed.
So he'd stumbled into a fortuitous encounter.
"Hardly anything to do with me. It was your outstanding ability that carried the day, Count."
"Please, speak comfortably. Lord Castollini, you saved my life. If you hadn't helped me back then..."
Sieg seemed to choke up.
"The honor was entirely mine."
At that point, the pig beastman—who'd been hovering around Sieg in recognition of the war hero—sidled over. Unable to hold himself back, he threw out a question.
"My lord Count, what brings a man like you to compete in this tournament at all?"
The unspoken question was obvious: why would someone so absurdly strong show up here and break the whole balance of the competition?
Every participant's eyes turned toward me. It was the one question they'd all been dying to ask but hadn't dared.
"I didn't want to compete either, but His Majesty ordered me to..."
"Ah."
"Rest assured. His Majesty has said that if I take first place, the title will be granted to the runner-up."
"I see."
The pig beastman withdrew, and the other participants all wore expressions of grudging acceptance. Fair enough, then.
The guide called out.
"Those who have chosen your weapons and armor, please draw your numbers and proceed to your assigned spots!"
Another guide approached me.
"Lord Ian Castollini?"
"Yes."
"Please come choose your weapon."
I rose and gave Sieg a small nod of farewell.
"See you shortly."
"Yes, my lord."
As I stepped out of the room, I glanced at Sieg's status window.
To meet you again—it must be heaven's will that I repay my debt. How could I ever make this up to him?
[The Saintess's Bedroom]
Evangeline crossed her arms and let out a long lament.
"So these days he doesn't even treat me like a princess anymore—I'm just his personal sex slave. The moment our eyes meet, he's hard and throwing me onto the bed. This very morning, I told him to conserve his strength for the tournament, and he still couldn't help himself. Honestly."
She shook her head slowly.
'Which means he was with me this morning too...'
Emilia clasped her hands together, her face full of sympathy.
"Oh dear. That must be such a burden. I know exactly how you feel. Imagine what it was like for me, stuck on that deserted island with nothing else to do. Some days we went at it the entire time I was awake—right up until I fell asleep."
"Ahaha. Is that so?"
Evangeline struggled to keep her expression in check.
"And before that? He'd come to me at night and go until the sun came up. Don't get me wrong, I love what Ian does to me, but there are times it's almost too much."
Emilia said it with a shrug of her shoulders.
"R-right, of course. Ian really is..."
Evangeline, legs crossed, idly waggled her ankle in a show of composure she didn't feel.
'All day? I've never done it that long. Ian could probably go all day, but can a woman's body usually even keep up? No—enough. I need to start training my stamina. Today.'
Evangeline, who'd been gazing out the window lost in thought, stole a glance back at Emilia. The Saintess was wearing the smile of a victor.
'That smug little look. She thinks she won. It's pissing me off. Fine—I wasn't going to bring this up, but...'
Evangeline cleared her throat and spoke.
"Ahem. Holy Saintess. Does Ian, by any chance... do you from behind?"
"...I'm sorry, what?"
For an instant, Emilia froze as if struck by lightning.
"This end."
Evangeline pointed at her own backside with her hand.
"That..."
As Emilia hesitated, Evangeline puffed out her chest with a triumphant grin.
"Oh. You've never done it. What a relief. Lately Ian's been begging and begging me to let him do it that way. Honestly, we've only done it a few times and I'm already completely conditioned to his... equipment. It's becoming a real problem."
Clink.
Emilia set down her teacup. The smile vanished from her face.
'From behind? Is that even possible?'
Evangeline forced a strained, put-upon expression.
"Holy Saintess, whatever you do, never let Ian convince you to do it from behind."
"Wh-why not? Does it hurt a lot?"
Emilia was still more than willing to offer herself up if it made Ian happy.
Evangeline waved a hand lightly.
"No. Ian's so skilled at... training that it doesn't hurt at all. The problem is that once you've been broken in, sometimes it feels even better than the front. Like your whole body's been rewired. Since you haven't tried it, I suppose there's no explaining it to you."
She leaned back in her chair and savored her victory.
"I... see..."
Emilia's face fell.
Seeing that expression, Evangeline snapped back to her senses.
'Oh no!'
She'd only meant to bond over gossiping about Emilia and Ian—but blinded by rivalry, she'd gone and crushed the woman instead.
Evangeline hurriedly changed the subject.
"S-so, the Ministry of Women has been making a lot of noise lately. Saying they need to get rid of the Saintess."
The Ministry of Women claimed to champion the rights of the Empire's women, yet it did nothing of the sort. Its real business was openly checking any woman in the Empire who drew more attention—or commanded more respect—than the Empress herself.
"Well, that's hardly news."
Emilia gave a bittersweet smile.
She still longed to give up being the Saintess and simply live at Ian's side. But now that Ian had made miracles possible for her, she had no intention of stepping down in disgrace. Above all, her pride wouldn't allow her to be outranked, socially, by the rival sitting right in front of her—the Imperial Princess. She knew Ian wasn't the sort of man to favor one of them over the other, but her self-respect refused to concede an inch.
Evangeline spoke.
"When I become Empress, I'm abolishing the Ministry of Women first. Nothing but a useless waste of money. Utterly worthless, the lot of them."
The Ministry of Women was the creation of the First Prince's mother—the Empress—built purely so she could spend the imperial budget however she pleased.
"Then I should support Your Highness's ascension all the more."
The two women's eyes gleamed as they regarded each other.
Evangeline looked out the window—toward the arena.
"Ian entered the knight's tournament for our sake."
"I only pray he doesn't get hurt."
Emilia clasped her hands together as if in prayer, and Evangeline nodded.
"Yes. We've already received so much from Ian—he shouldn't have to strain himself on our account."
Emilia asked, "Is there anything we can do for him?"
Evangeline rose from her seat.
"Anything we can. And for starters, it's about time—I should go cheer him on at the tournament. Holy Saintess, is there a way for me to leave here?"
"I can send you back to where you came from with the ring, but if you're headed to the arena, why not come with me? As it happens, everyone from the cathedral has gone to watch the matches today—the place is completely empty."
Evangeline toyed with a strand of her hair.
"Like this?"
"There's a way."
Emilia smiled sweetly.
After choosing my equipment, I drew my lot.
"Lord Castollini, you are number four. You'll be competing in the second match."
Escorted by the tournament staff, I made my way to my place in the arena. Sixteen participants were seated in a row beneath the VIP stands. Across from us, a bracket was materializing on the great display board, rendered large enough for every spectator to see. An illusion spell, most likely.
Match 2
Dodoria Pigman ┐
Ian Castollini ┘
The second match's bracket was complete. A murmur rippled through the crowd.
"Who's this Ian Castollini supposed to be?"
"Isn't he the Dildo King?"
"Miracle he squeaked through the preliminaries with that ridiculous weapon, but honestly, this is where it ends."
"They say from the round of sixteen on, you can only fight with the real blades the organizers hand out. Sure, there's protective magic, but against Dodoria? I wouldn't bet against a death."
"Come now, everyone—place your bets on who advances to the semifinals!"
So gambling was running too.
I made my way to the participants' bench—where someone was already sitting in my assigned seat, number four. It was the gaunt, wiry man from the waiting room, the one who'd said he wanted to become the Saintess's knight. I tapped him on the shoulder.
"Hey. That's my seat."
He gave me an annoyed look.
"Just sit anywhere, surely."
The tournament staff stepped in.
"You must sit in your assigned seat."
"Tch."
He clicked his tongue at me and trudged off to seat number one. Apparently he was in the first match.
I sat down in my own place. And there, in seat number five beside me, sat the red-haired knight-woman I'd seen in the waiting room.
So this was why he'd coveted my seat. She had an agelessly youthful face that hardly belonged to a knight—and the beauty to match. Even a distinct air of aristocratic grace emanated from her.
She offered me a silent nod of greeting, and I returned a light bow of my head.
At that moment, the crowd around us surged to its feet like a wave. The Emperor and his retinue were filing into the VIP stands.
'So that's them.'
The First Prince and the Empress were visible as well.