Chapter 22 — Emperor

Upon the referee’s announcement, the first one who started moving was none other than Queen.

With nary a sound, Queen dashed towards his opponent, his feet seeming to lightly graze the ground as he propelled himself forwards. What seemed to be a small movement for Queen, however, rapidly accelerated his entire body.

“Ha—?!”

“What the hell is that?!”

The spectating knights could only gape and stare in wonderment.

Although Luka’s attack was fast, Queen’s movements were in a class of their own. As such, while the knights were surprised by the speed of the squires who had participated in the matches thus far, Queen’s movements amazed them on another level — specifically, that of what was humanly possible.

Even more astounding was that the amount of distance that Queen covered was by no means small.

In a normal swordplay tournament, participants typically closed the distance between them with a few steps before beginning their attack.

Queen, who had made the first move, was now dashing towards Persil with an almost horrifying speed and force.

Persil, however, dodged to the side, avoiding Queen’s assault.

If he had taken Queen’s dashing blow head on, the force and momentum may have very well sent him flying to the other side of the arena. Queen’s attack would have effortlessly connected with most of the squires present — but he was far from done.

Hypothetically speaking, the more famous squires, such as Luka and Gormus, would probably not have been done in with a single strike.

Although his first attack did not connect, Queen immediately kicked down upon the ground with his left foot, turning to the right at that same monstrous speed. At the very next moment, however, Queen slammed his right foot down, suddenly canceling out his right-bound inertia. Turning in mid-air, Queen effortlessly accelerated in a direction completely opposite to his previous bearings mere moments ago.

Like a flash of lightning, Queen bore down upon Persil from his flank.

To begin with, the opponent’s flank would typically not be exposed in a one-to-one duel. After all, both contestants would be facing each other at all times. Queen, however, was not bound by this rule — he had successfully flanked his opponent, primarily owing to his explosive speed and power.

With yet another seemingly impossible maneuver, Queen swung his blade at his target, the instrument moving with unbelievable speed and power. The spectators could only continue to stare and gasp, looking upon Queen’s movements with nothing short of disbelief.

Persil, however, maintained his cool, his cold eyes looking at Queen from behind the lenses of his glasses. With a calm movement, Persil once again dodged Queen’s onslaught.

However, Queen continued to press the attack. With a single step, he accelerated and struck from another direction. He showed no signs of stopping or slowing down.

Queen’s movements were like that of an animal’s — strong, fast, and unpredictable to the point where each rush and strike seemed to slice into the opponent’s perception of him. He would then place all of his momentum into his sword, before dealing his opponent a fatal strike that was too fast to defend against.

This series of maneuvers was the true nature of Queen’s attacks, the speed and power of his movements making it a truly terrifying technique.

Although something like this would usually have been a finishing strike of some sort, Queen’s blows were like rain — continuous and unrelenting. To make things worse, Queen did not launch his attacks from a stationary direction, but from a multitude of angles and directions as he continued his assault. All it took was a single mistake or miscalculation — that was enough to give Queen a chance to strike at his opponent’s back. Normally, this was not a technique that could be trivially guarded against.

This was why even famous squires such as Gormus and Luka were easily defeated.

Queen’s show of power on the day he transferred into the northern dormitory had been nothing short of a one-sided display.

It was perhaps fair to say that none in the royal knights were able to emulate Queen’s movements and attacks — at the very least, not a single squire was able to do so.

Queen was, for all intents and purposes, the strongest squire when it came to attacking capability. In fact, if one were to account for the kingdom’s knights as well, the only ones that had more attacking power than Queen were those who were well above the average.

“A-As expected, Queen is really something else...”

The squires could only look on in awe as they were once again reminded of Queen’s strength. The squires of the northern dormitory, in particular, seemed to collectively swallow their breaths as the match went on.

“But Persil’s really strong too. Did you see him block that strike just now...?”

It was as the squire said — in the last few moments, Persil had switched from dodging to blocking Queen’s blows.

With a deft movement of his blade, Persil deflected Queen’s blows to the left, and then to the right, all the while moving his body to counter Queen’s directional advantage. As Queen’s attacks continued, so did Persil’s defense — the bespectacled squire perfectly blocked the former’s blows, which seemed to strike from all directions at once.

Persil was, for his part, apparently famous for his defensive techniques ever since his first swordplay tournament.

The very fact that he could keep up with and defend against the lightning-like Queen was a testament to his power.

“That’s nothing! Okay, so he DID guard it, but only barely! He won’t be able to guard against Queen’s next blow... Not even if it’s the Persil we’re talking about! If he keeps defending, he’ll be given a warning and we’ll eventually win!”

The squire’s faces were filled with hope.

The squires, however, were deeply surprised that Persil could defend against Queen at all — they had no choice but to accept that Persil’s defensive techniques were the real deal.

However, as long as Queen kept up his assault, he could not possibly lose.

In addition, if the match continued in this fashion, Queen would eventually win by his opponent receiving warnings. To prevent this, Persil had to attack one way or another, and Queen would surely use this chance to strike — thereby sealing the victory.

Persil, focusing on blocking Queen’s attacks, barely deflected them with each strike. This was, however, the exact scene that the spectators had continued to stare at, even as time continued to pass.

Although time-based warnings were decided by the referee, the exchange between Queen and Persil had continued on for far more than a minute — a warning could now be given at any moment.

The expressions of the northern dormitory’s squires were suitably cheerful, as they were convinced of their impending victory.

However, amongst them, one squire alone did not have such an expression — said squire being Gormus.

“This... is bad...”

Persil was issued a warning shortly after the match had begun.

The justification for this was simple — he had been unable to attack for the entire duration of Queen’s attacks.

“Yeah! Go get him Queen!”

“Keep it up!”

The squires of the northern dormitory cheered loudly, convinced that victory was now firmly in their grasp.

To win, Persil could not rely on defense alone — he had to attack Queen, or suffer the consequences.

Any more warnings issued would result in Persil’s loss — in addition to any draws or losses now defaulting to a loss due to said warning. If anything, the situation seemed to strongly be in Queen’s favor — or so the squires thought.

With the referee’s next announcement, the match begun anew.

Queen accelerated once more, dashing towards his opponent while unleashing a series of rapid, intense strikes. There was, however, a single difference in the way Persil responded — to be precise, he was now swinging his sword against Queen after deflecting his blows.

“He’s attacking because he received a warning!”

“If he keeps this up, there’s bound to be an opening! Queen’s going to seal the deal!”

To the squires of the northern dormitory, this was nothing short of a good turn of events.

However, the situation was, in fact, very different. The reason why Persil was able to start attacking was not because he had decided to move onto offense — but because Queen was starting to slow down.

The only squires who noticed this were those who were particularly skilled themselves — notably, Gormus and others like him.

Queen had indeed begun to slow down. As time passed, the amount of strikes Persil managed to squeeze into the gap between defending against Queen’s attacks increased — first a strike, then two, before his stance fully changed into one of offense. Seeing this, Queen immediately retreated, placing a considerable distance between the two contestants.

Persil, however, did not give chase, instead opting to speak, his voice calm and soft.

“It is as I suspected...”

Persil’s calm gaze was a sharp contrast to Queen’s almost twisted expression — the latter was covered in sweat, his breathing punctuated with irregular gasps.

Seeing this, Persil merely continued speaking in his calm, emotionless voice.

“I have been thinking about it for some time. In matches against you, any opponent would fall in a minute or less. The reason for that is simple — no one can withstand your attacks for that long. However, was that really true? Of course, that is undeniably part of the reason. In the end, I concluded that you had a reason to end your matches within a minute... That was my deduction.”

Persil’s pitch-black eyes continued to scrutinize Queen from behind his glasses.

“About a minute into the match, your speed had fallen to approximately 95% of what it had been. Around the time the warning was issued, it had fallen to about 90%... And then 80% as the match resumed. In other words, that weapon-like speed of yours will only dull with the passing of time, perhaps due to you employing such explosive technique and power with an average build. It would unfortunately seem like stamina is your biggest weakness — you are unable to sustain your attack and assaults in an extended battle.”

As if to confirm Persil’s analysis, Queen’s only response was to continue panting where he stood.

With that, however, Persil took a small step forwards.

“Kuh...!”

Accelerating once more, Queen dashed towards his opponent. His blow, however, was promptly blocked by Persil, who did not seem to employ as much strength as the two blades clashed.

“It has fallen by another 2%. It would seem that your stamina does not recover very quickly. No, perhaps you have to expend quite a bit more energy to even move...?”

The one who backed off from their clash was Queen.

Lowering his stance as he widened the distance between them, Queen could only stare at Persil. He was unable to hide the panic and doubt in his gaze.

Even the rowdy squires of the northern dormitory had noticed the irregularities at this point, slowly stopping their cheers.

Gormus, who had noticed this from the start, watched on with a sour expression.

In reality, Gormus and a few other skilled squires had realized that stamina was Queen’s biggest weakness.

Queen’s rank and results in running were markedly low. Although Queen possessed such explosive power, he did not fare well in other training regimens either.

In addition, the almost unreasonable power he had displayed while sparring had convinced most of the squires that Queen was good at what he did.

However, to a select few, including Gormus and Heslow, Queen’s weakness was apparent — namely that Queen’s body would not be able to keep up with the techniques and power he employed.

With that being said, it wasn’t exactly easy to exploit this weakness — after all, his opponent would have to defend against Queen’s attacks for a full minute.

Although Gormus and the others had attempted to do this, Queen’s common-sense-defying rapid attacks were seemingly impossible to defend against.

“Hmph. Yet another crazy one has showed up...”

Persil, however, had achieved this — to be precise, he had defended against Queen’s flurry of attacks, which had felled many a lesser opponent.

Gormus, realizing that Persil was even stronger than the rumors had made him out to be, found himself at a loss for words.

Warnings and the like no longer mattered — the one who was in trouble now was Queen. Persil, who had deflected and defended against a minute of Queen’s strikes, was a formidable opponent. To make things worse, Queen now had to fight him for another twenty minutes — assuming he had the stamina to do so.

With a pained expression on his face, Queen dramatically lowered his stance, thrusting his sword towards Persil. Compared to his usual attacks, it was a thrust with decidedly less power, but one that was aimed at striking the opponent’s blind spot — a technique that Queen occasionally employed.

With an almost beast-like, lower stance, Queen accelerated once more, maneuvering to Persil’s back before swinging his sword upwards — a perfect sneak attack.

However, as if he had expected it, Persil abruptly turned, narrowly dodging Queen’s strike, sweeping his own blade up in a counterattack as he did so.

Rolling backwards in a sudden snap movement, Queen narrowly avoided Persil’s strike.

“It is pointless. I have memorized your attack patterns.”

“Memorized...?” Finishing his animal-like retreat roll, Queen promptly stood up, answering Persil with a question.

“It is as I said. When I first saw your fully-powered attacks, I realized that it was statistically impossible to defend against. Regardless of the area that I had focused my defense on, there was a 40% chance that I would have been unable to defend against that particular blow. As such, I had memorized 78 of your attack patterns in preparation for the match. Your movements before your attack, such as the posture of your first strike, the movement of your shoulders, the direction of your gaze... All of these factors allow me to perfectly predict your next attack. From this alone, the 40% risk factor has been successfully reduced to 10%, as you have seen.”

Persil’s words were nothing short of unbelievable. To begin with, even Queen himself had never thought of his attack patterns as something that could be quantified with numbers.

Persil, however, merely continued his calm analysis with his dark eyes fixated upon Queen.

“Your friends and compatriots were not the only ones who conducted surveillance and scouting. Over the five months that I spent with you in the eastern dormitory and the three weeks before the tournament, I have been observing and analyzing you. You are indeed strong — preparations had to be made to ensure a guaranteed victory.”

Persil had prepared himself for this moment — for the day where he would face Queen, long before the tournament was announced.

Queen desperately continued to attack.

However, none of his blows reached Persil. Even Queen’s full-powered attacks from the start of the match had been successfully guarded against. Queen, who had expended most of his stamina, could not hope to pierce Persil’s defenses.

Even the spectators felt a sense of despair permeate their being.

“Emperor...” A lone voice rose from the stands of the northern dormitory squires.

“Emperor...?” Another voice rose in response.

“It’s his nickname... That guy... in addition to being impossibly good at defense, he’s also strong in his own right... Rumor has it that no one has managed to beat him in any mock battles. But then... in tournaments, this all changes. He perfectly formulates a strategy against his opponent, perfectly executes it, and then wins without compromise. Even Rigel and Luka could not do anything against him in last year’s finals matches. Ever since his debut three years ago, no one has defeated Persil in a duel... That’s why he’s called that. Persil, the Emperor...”

At the other end of the squire’s gazes stood Queen, standing in the middle of the arena, his breathing raspy and short. No matter how he attacked Persil, his attacks were defended against. However, his expression was not one of someone who had given up.

From this, one point was apparent — although Queen was still in the fight, he was unable to find a way to win against his opponent.

Persil simply started advancing upon Queen, his stoic expression unchanging.

“It has been three minutes since the start of the match. Your abilities are 70% of what they were at your peak. Everything is within data parameters. In this situation, the chance of your attacks breaking my percent is 0%. In other words, Queen, you have no chance of securing a victory in this match,” said the dark-eyed “emperor,” adjusting his glasses as he announced his deductions to Queen.

To the spectators, the sight before them was tantamount to despair itself.

Queen, who had been panting and out of breath since the match resumed; Persil, who did not seem tired in the slightest.

With his face not betraying a single shred of emotion, Persil struck out against Queen, raining blow after blow onto his opponent as he struggled to block each one. In a short span of time, their roles had been reversed.

Large droplets of sweat formed on Queen’s dark skin.

Queen, however, refused to give up, continuing to attack where he could, all the while wearing a pained expression on his face.

However, the squires of the northern dormitory had already started giving in to despair — after all, there did not seem to be any way Queen could win.

Queen’s weapon, namely his explosive power and attacks, was now nowhere to be seen.

As the match went on, Queen’s speed continued to fall, now matching Persil’s.

His remaining strength was now directed to evasive maneuvers — Queen was somehow managing to hang on.

Persil’s technique, which had managed to defend against Queen’s full-powered attacks for a minute, now formed a shield that Queen had no hopes of piercing.

Even in this situation, however, Queen continued to stare straight at his opponent, his gaze never wavering.

He was already out of stamina. The very act of breathing itself hurt. His body no longer moved as he had willed it to, and yet—

(I won’t lose... I don’t want to lose... Everyone worked so hard to hand the torch to me...!)

No sound rose from Queen’s throat. Only raspy breaths.

Even so, Queen continued to repeat those words over and over again in his heart.

Queen had originally transferred over to the northern dormitory in hopes of winning in a duel with Heath, who was the 18th Knight’s squire.

That dream had, eventually, disappeared in a relatively strange way.

Even so, Queen did not regret transferring — his memories of his days at the northern dormitory were filled with joy.

His parents, having passed away in an unfortunate accident when Queen was only ten, caused him to inherit their social position at an impossibly young age. However, Queen was far too young to take care of himself.

As a result, Master Zeiness, who happened to be Queen’s distant relative, took him in, training him in various martial arts in the process.

Although the time he had spent with Master Zeiness and his fellow disciples were filled with warm memories, everyone present was older than he was, so Queen had no experience with others of his age.

Even after he had entered the eastern dormitory, Queen realized that each squire had their own personal agenda. This was further exacerbated by the fact that a wall of sorts existed between selected tournament members and the other squires — Queen made no friends there.

However, the squires at the northern dormitory had accepted him as one of their own, often going out on excursions together, in addition to getting caught up in one silly thing or another.

Those days were filled with happiness.

For a moment, the image of a blonde-haired girl slowly surfaced in Queen’s mind.

The situation was hopeless. Even Queen himself knew this.

If he somehow won this match, everyone in the northern dormitory would be happy — and this was why Queen continued to defend against Persil’s attacks. Even if his chances at victory were close to zero, he would not give up.

Persil, for his part, maintained a perfect defense as he continued to attack Queen.

Although he was famous as a defensive contestant, Persil’s attacks were by no means weak — his strikes could easily defeat the likes of Rigel and Luka.

Queen, who continued to defend against Persil’s blade, actually possessed impressive defensive technique himself. After all, he had been taught by the strongest swordsman in Orstoll since he was ten — Queen’s technique wasn’t to be taken lightly either. While Queen had used up much of his stamina on his full-power attacks, he was more than capable of holding out against Persil while maintaining some semblance of offense.

At the same time, however, the teachings of Master Zeiness resurfaced in Queen’s mind. At one point, Master Zeiness had observed that Queen would have a high chance of losing against an opponent in his current state should he be unable to defeat them in a minute or less — and that he should not give up even if this were the case.

Just as Master Zeiness had taught him, Queen continued holding on. He would hold on for as long as he possibly could.

At that moment, Persil did something he had not done up until this point, transitioning from merely attacking to an offensive advance. Up until now, Persil had kept Queen at arm’s length even while he was attacking, if only to ensure a safe and perfect victory by staying at a distance where Queen’s sword could not reach him.

“It is time to end this.”

Saying so, Persil took yet another step forward, closing the distance between them. He intended to finish the match then and there.

Queen, however, had something else in mind, kicking down on the ground and accelerating, his speed close to what it had been when he was at his prime.

Even the spectators opened their eyes wide.

“Wha...!”

“He still has some stamina left...?!”

Frankly speaking, Queen was at his limit. Any more than this, and he would collapse — he had been saving his strength for this moment, hoping to unleash one last attack at the right time.

Just as his opponent shifts to defense, he would utilize his last bits of stamina to launch a high-speed attack, catching them unawares.

This was the final technique that his master had taught him — the final technique to use in the event of him being unable to defeat his opponent in one minute.

However —

Queen’s final attack swept through the air, missing its target.

Persil, who avoided the attack without as much as losing his balance, did not appear the slightest bit surprised as he watched on — almost as if he had predicted what Queen would do.

“As I suspected. You would attempt to draw me in by pretending to be more tired than you really were... and then conserve strength for one final attack. It is as I predicted.”

Persil adopted an attacking stance, drawing his wooden sword from his waist in a strong sideways arc.

“Guh!”

Drawing on the last vestiges of his stamina, Queen held out his own sword to block the blow.

With a dull thud, Queen’s body was sent flying, hitting the ground rolling some distance away.

However, Queen stood up once more, readying his sword.

“However, I did not expect that you would still continue to fight. Tell me, Queen. Why do you still fight?”

Queen did not answer. His breath was more rugged than ever, and he had used his final tactic. Although he had somehow managed to block Persil’s counter, he no longer had any other tricks up his sleeve.

The spectators on the stands seemed to share Queen’s pain — their hearts were collectively plunged into the depths of despair.

(Won’t give up...? Why...?)

Between his aching muscles and clouded mind, Queen did not manage to come up with an answer. It seemed like he could lose the match at any moment.

(Even if that’s how it is... I won’t just lose here...!)

Queen, readying his sword, lowered and steadied his stance once more.

This was truly the last of his strength — he had nothing left for dodging or defense. However, the distance between them was far too great — it was insufficient for a sudden, quick attack. Queen’s stance was one of desperation — it was his last stand.

To Queen, however, this was a much better alternative to endlessly defending and eventually losing.

At this point, both Persil and Queen knew that the next attack was truly the very last one of the match. Persil readied himself, adopting a countering stance.

The distance between them was five meters.

Queen, readying his final attack, begun accelerating, running over those five meters. However, he could not muster the speed to do what he needed to do. He was already at his physical and mental limits.

“N... No...! Queen...!”

The squires of the northern dormitory could only watch on, their gasps and words tinged with despair and defeat.

If Queen continued moving forward, Persil would catch him with a simple counter and everything would end.

At that moment, a voice rang out —

“Queen! Do your best!”

The source of the voice was a blonde-haired squire of a somewhat small build, who seemed to be cheering for Queen.

Fie, having finally sat through the last parts of Heslow’s lecture, had finally returned to the arena.

As if he could not believe his eyes, Queen turned to look in the direction of the voice — but only for a single moment.

“Don’t lose to him, Queen!!”

When Queen returned his gaze to his opponent, his body once again began accelerating.

Persil, for his part, was a little surprised. With Queen’s stamina at its limits, his final charge should not have achieved more than about 50% of his initial speed. As such, Persil assumed that it would be easy to defend against such a blow. The match would have ended then and there.

However, Queen’s body seemed to continue accelerating as he headed for Persil.

(This... It is equivalent to the speed he started the match with... It is simple, then. I will defend against it like I did at the start...)

Persil, who had been surprised for a second, immediately began his mental calculations once more.

It was not unreasonable for Persil to be surprised — after all, Queen had somehow managed to achieve his initial speeds after all this time. However, even if he could not counter an attack at that speed, he could defend against it. Queen, having used the last of his stamina, would surely be unable to guard against any subsequent attacks. It was a perfect calculation.

There was no room for mistakes or overestimation.

Persil recalled his opponent’s attack patterns once more, taking a defensive stance.

In that moment, however, Queen vanished.

(... What?!)

Persil’s surprise at this was very much real. His emotionless eyes, which usually regarded his opponent calmly behind his spectacles, was now opened wide in disbelief.

Persil had completely lost track of Queen. He immediately turned around — it was something uncharacteristic for him, a movement caused by pure instinct.

He was there —

Queen was there.

Persil, who had lost all traces of his defensive stance, became aware of Queen’s gaze — now seemingly recovered and very much alive.

His feet, pounding upon the ground, caused him to accelerate at an even faster speed — to Persil, it seemed like Queen would disappear if he so much as rubbed his eyes.

(He’s faster than he was before the match began...! I have... no data on this...!!)

Before Persil could raise his sword and complete his defensive stance, Queen’s blade was already past that point. It thrust into Persil’s body with the force of a cyclone.

For a while, the two stood, their backs against each other, unmoving. The spectator stands froze, and the entire arena fell quiet.

A few seconds later, Persil’s body collapsed and hit the ground.

“Th-The winner of this match is... Queen!!”

The referee’s announcement was drowned out by the cheers of the crowd.

Amidst it all, Queen stood, unable to process what had just happened.

(I didn’t think I could win...)

Persil was strong. He possessed a high level of defensive techniques and barely had any gaps in his defense. In addition, he had obtained information on Queen, and formulated various strategies to win.

Turning his exhausted body around, Queen came face to face with Persil, who was holding his side as he stood up. He had been struck by Queen’s attack head-on and was swaying where he stood.

Panicking, Queen motioned to support him, but was stopped by Persil, motioning with a raised hand.

“No, I am fine. I can walk on my own. Are you not tired as well?”

Although he had received such a ferocious attack, Persil remained calm, instead questioning Queen.

“More importantly... allow me to ask you a question. At that point, you were physically and mentally exhausted. You were at your limit. Why, then, were you able to move in such a way?”

Queen’s last riposte — it was faster than any series of actions he had taken in this match.

With such a question posed to him, Queen could not help but think. And then...

Queen’s face promptly turned red, and he started fidgeting, acting in an increasingly suspicious way.

“Eh...? Uh... no... well... that is... it’s... something...”

Persil could only look upon his fellow squire with a curious gaze, not understanding Queen’s behavior.

“Queeeeeeeen!”

Someone had flown into his body — it was a face that even Persil knew. To be precise, it was the face of the vanguard who had led the northern dormitory’s side — a young squire by the name of Heath.

Having somehow alighted from the spectator stands once more, Fie had flown into Queen, holding him tight as she cheered.

“Queen! That was so cooooool! You did so weeeeeell!!”

“H-Heath...?!”

Her small hands ran through Queen’s sweat-drenched hair. Although Queen’s face started becoming even more red, Fie, who was touched and overcome by his victory, did not seem to notice.

(S-Soft...! Also, she smells good...!)

Beleaguered from his match, Queen was desperately trying not to fall over, swaying this way and that for various reasons. Fie, however, did not notice this and continued ruffling Queen’s hair.

It did not take long for the other squires of the northern dormitory to rush down from the stands, surrounding the pair.

“Queen! You were awesome!”

“You did so well maaaan! Queeeeen!!!”

“You’re the hero of the day, Queen!”

One by one, Queen’s fellow squires piled onto him, their weight adding onto his burden.

Queen, unable to bear the weight any longer, promptly fell over with the other squires piling up over him. It was worth noting, however, that Fie had made a hasty retreat, narrowly escaping from the dogpile of squires on the arena grounds.

The squires, emotionally worn out from witnessing the match, hugged him, shook his hand, and slapped him on the back — but throughout all this, Queen looked very much content and happy.

Watching from the sidelines, Persil adjusted his glasses as he always did.

“I see. The strength of the bond between you and your comrades... Indeed, I did not calculate or plan for that.”

As he spoke, the formerly emotionless Persil allowed the corner of his lips to curl up, smiling quietly as he left the arena.

Back at the eastern dormitory’s spectator stands, however, Carnegis could only gape, staring at the match results in disbelief.

“No...! This is impossible... How can it come to this...!”

Due to the fact that a previous match had ended in a draw, Queen’s victory translated into the northern dormitory’s win.

In the end, the eastern dormitory had lost... even with the elite members at its disposal. Even with the harsh, specifically-tailored training regimen that was designed to perfectly defeat the northern dormitory’s contestants.

Carnegis could only look on in a daze, his eyes moving from the overjoyed squires of the northern dormitory to the silhouette of the returning Persil.

“I was going to win here... Win thrice in a row and win back my youth...! Ugh...!”

“Did you really think such selfish thoughts and actions would make your dream come true? There was never any way that could have worked. Actually, even if it did work out, there would be much left to be desired.”

The voice that Carnegis heard as he was holding his head in despair seemed to be one of an older woman — but one that was oddly familiar.

Turning around in surprise, Carnegis could only stare at the sight of Trokko and the woman standing before him. Upon recognizing her, however, Carnegis exclaimed loudly once more, unable to contain his bewilderment.

“E-Elizabetta!!”

The woman in question seemed to be in her late thirties, with a head full of long, flaxen hair. Although Elizabetta’s age did show on her features, she was still very much a beautiful woman, and was no doubt dazzling in her younger days. She was dressed in all-white clothing — a rare style for a woman.

Standing absolutely still, she stared at Carnegis, her cold gaze carrying a slight tinge of anger.

“Wh-What are you doing here? Why are you here?!”

“I divorced my husband last year and returned to Orstoll about half a year ago. I now work for His Majesty the King as a member of Orstoll’s medical institution, having received a personal invitation.”

Carnegis, upon witnessing Elizabetta’s casually delivered statement, immediately turned to Trokko.

“Trokko! Y-You knew?! Why didn’t you say anything to me?!”

“Oh, but I did. I tried to, quite a few times. But then, this year, all you could tell me was, ‘I will not speak to any members of the northern dormitory until the duel is over!’ Don’t you remember?”

Carnegis could only stand still, rooted to the spot. He had, in fact, said those words. Those very exact words.

Abruptly turning to Carnegis, Elizabetta spoke, her voice loud and clear.

“After I had returned, you said nothing to me — not even bothering to contact me. If anything, I thought you had long forgotten about me. And yet, here I am, discovering that you still hold such a grudge about what happened decades ago, and now you are involving children in your schemes...”

“N-No! It’s not like that, Elizabetta!”

“What do you mean by ‘no’? That’s exactly what it is!”

“It... It’s true...”

Elizabetta wasn’t wrong. In fact, it was exactly as she described.

Carnegis’ face began turning a slow shade of pale as Elizabetta’s exasperated stare drilled into him, beads of sweat beginning to flow down his back. Slowly, Carnegis’ shoulders slumped.

Trokko, who had been silent all this time, continued his explanation, his voice carrying a slight hint of pity.

“The trouble began when you split up with Elizabetta, didn’t it? It was since then that you started undertaking actions that were plainly driven by hatred towards the northern dormitory. I thought you would eventually recover, but year after year, you just seemed to get worse. Although those around you, and even myself, advised you of the error of your ways, you found some way to justify your actions. I’m sorry, but Elizabetta wasn’t the only one I reported this to. The knight-captains have been informed as well.”

“I-Is that so...”

Although Carnegis had become even paler from the revelations, he slowly nodded.

As if to deal the finishing blow, Elizabetta spoke once more.

“Sir Carnegis. It seems like you have become quite the pathetic knight, after all this time. What happened this time was truly disappointing. It seems like I have misjudged you. I hope you find it in yourself to apologize to all those that you have inconvenienced. As for me, I do not even wish to see your face — I will be taking my leave.”

With that, Elizabetta turned, motioning to leave.

Carnegis, panicking, tried to stop her.

“W-Wait! Elizabetta!”

As if forgetting something, Elizabetta turned, facing Carnegis once more.

“Which reminds me... There is something I intended to say after returning to Orstoll. Seventeen years ago, you suffered three consecutive losses. However, your spirit and efforts were admirable. I was a fool back then — young and childish. I reprimanded you for losing, and I apologize for that.”

“E-Elizabetta...” Carnegis’ eyes opened wide, disbelief written all over his face.

However, Elizabetta’s eyes were cold.

“But look at you now. What have you been doing? Your actions are pathetic. Truly. Goodbye.”

And with that, Elizabetta turned, walking away from the stands rapidly.

“E-ELIZABETTAAAAAAAAAAA!”

Carnegis’ wail echoed throughout the tournament grounds, his outstretched hand grasping nothing but thin air.

“For unfairly modifying dormitory assignments due to personal grudges... For manipulating and creating a scenario in which the eastern dormitory would be at an advantage during the inter-dormitory duel... I have caused all of you much suffering. I apologize with all of my being!”

Carnegis genuflected in front of Fie and the others, who had been preparing to leave after the tournament. His heavily gelled hair touched the ground as he lowered his head. Although a fair amount of gel had been applied to his hair, it was now somewhat messy.

“I have to apologize too. I did not take the situation seriously because Carnegis was a friend. I am responsible for what led to this unreasonable escalation and state of affairs. Carnegis and I have caused all of you much trouble. We apologize.”

Trokko joined his friend, adopting a similar pose with his head touching the ground.

Fie and the other squires could not help but panic at the sight of this.

“W-We’re not in trouble at all! Right! Right?!”

“Y-Yeah! I mean, those eastern dormitory guys sure pissed us off when they came and said all that, but it was just a spat!”

“It is pretty common, isn’t it? Trash-talking your opponent and all that.”

“I am completely satisfied with my dormitory assignment.”

To be honest, the squires were not fond of the likes of Rigel or Luka at all, but could not bring themselves to say anything at the sight of the apologetic Carnegis and Trokko. They kept their complaints to themselves.

“I’m sorry... all of you... I am so, so sorry...” Upon hearing the squires’ gentle words, Carnegis, unable to keep his feelings in check any longer, began crying with his forehead still on the arena grounds.

From a distance, the group looked like they were having fun and celebrating, but the current mood was heavy — whatever had possessed and driven Carnegis in his schemes had clearly left him.

Although Carnegis was responsible for the entire chain of events, Fie and the rest did not feel like it was severe enough to be apologized for in this fashion.

They had fun at the event, and did not really know how to respond to the scene laid out before them.

In their confusion, the squires of the northern dormitory looked at each other, then eventually nodded collectively.

“Please raise your head, Sir Carnegis.”

“We really enjoy our time at the northern dormitory!”

“I’ve made friends, and I enjoy every single day!”

“That’s why we’re grateful to Sir Trokko for recruiting us... and we don’t bear any grudges against you either, Sir Carnegis.”

“So... you haven’t really done anything bad at all.”

At those words, Carnegis finally raised his head.

His face, tear-streaked, seemed to compliment his now intensely messy hair.

“Y-You guys...”

Carnegis, apparently too moved to say any more, could only listen as Trokko calmly spoke in his stead.

“Although I do not show my face often due to my workload, I am very glad that all of you have decided to join the Royal Knights, and subsequently the northern dormitory. Thank you. As for Carnegis and myself... we will be punished for our actions and inactions. While I do know what will become of us, we hope that we can one day accompany you and enrich your lives as squires once more. Well then, let’s get going, Carnegis.”

“Yes... Let us go.”

With those words, Trokko and Carnegis were gone, fading into the crowds.

As Fie and her group left the arena grounds, they were confronted by the squires of the eastern dormitory, albeit without Carnegis in tow. They all had somewhat relaxed, good-natured expressions — perhaps this was how they had originally been, without the incitements and misguided directions of Sir Carnegis.

Running a hand through his hair, Luka adopted yet another condescending pose.

“I won’t deny that we lost to you all this time. But, who would have known? It was a big learning experience for me. I’m glad we fought. I’ll be back for our revenge match next year, though.”

Although Luka’s condescending and somewhat annoying tone of voice was still present, he no longer invaded the personal spaces of those he spoke with, nor did he put his hands on anyone’s chin.

In particular, Luka seemed to avoid Fie, apparently having been traumatized from his experience.

“Well, I AM a genius either way. But I guess I’ve been working in the wrong direction. I’ll be back next year after some hard work... And I’ll show you the true power of a genius!”

Rigel was confident, as usual, still touting himself as a genius.

However, neither of them carried ridicule in their words, a stark contrast to their earlier attitudes.

The squires of both dormitories, no longer feeling the rivalry they felt during the tournament, started to mingle, speaking with each other about various topics.

Although they were rivals over the course of the tournament, many of them hailed from the same dojos, or were from similar levels of aristocracy.

Fie, who did not have any connections with the Orstoll-born squires, decided to approach her previous opponent instead.

“W-Wait! Y-You there... Could you p-please keep your distance...?” Luka waved his arms comically, trying to illustrate a two-meter distance between him and Fie.

Fie however, disregarded his gestures, moving closer with each step. Although Luka attempted to intimidate Fie with his condescending-as-usual laughter, sweat was dripping down the back of his neck.

Fie chasing Luka around in circles would eventually become a highlight of the day.

Kerio and Remie, standing a considerable distance away from the crowds, faced each other as they spoke.

“You’ve won this time. If I am selected as a duel member next year, let’s settle our fight then and there.”

“Yes! I’ll train hard to face you head on next year!”

The two squires nodded.

In another corner were Persil and Queen.

“Queen. You have showed your strength, and the power of the bonds between you and your friends. I will account for this with revised strategies and a new training regimen. Let us fight again sometime in the future.”

“Y-Yeah...”

Upon hearing Persil speak of bonds, Queen blushed once more, nodding as he acknowledged Persil’s words.

For a while, the squires of both dormitories spoke — barring two, who seemed to be running in circles. Eventually, the two groups went their separate ways, and Fie and her friends walked back to their dormitory.

They were in high spirits — the tournament was won, and it seemed like the squires of the eastern dormitory were not so bad after all. Although Fie was filled with satisfaction, she seemed to recall a particularly unsatisfying detail as she recalled the events of the day.

“Come to think of it... I didn’t really see your matches! I wanted to spectate everyone’s matches...”

Fie had, after all, been listening to yet another lecture from Heslow, and by the time she had returned, Queen and Persil were already well into their match. She had decided to cheer where she stood, and was disappointed that the match immediately ended after that.

“I’ve heard that both Gormus and Remie’s matches were cool! If only I had seen them...”

“Well, my match was too straightforward. There was no need to watch.”

“I’m happy you would say that even though my match was a draw!”

Gormus spoke with confidence evident in his hard features, while Remie simply smiled.

“Oh, but I saw Queen’s final attack, too! That was so cool, Queen! Did you hear my cheering?” asked Fie, raising her head to look at Queen, who had been walking next to her all this time.

“Ah... uh... well... yeah.”

Fie, however, did not seem bothered.

“It’s fine if you didn’t hear it! Everyone else was cheering for you too.”

“No... I heard it! I definitely heard it!”

“Really?”

“Yeah...”

Fie could not help but smile at Queen’s furious nodding.

“Well. That’s good, then!”

Although Fie was unable to spectate most of her friend’s matches, it would appear that she had managed to cheer one of them on — and that was enough for her.

However, Fie could not help but take note of how easily embarrassed Queen was. After all, he had performed very well — Fie felt that Queen should be proud of that fact.

With that thought in mind, Fie continued walking, only to see a familiar figure in the distance.

Fie wasted no time running towards the figure.

“Captain Yore! Did you see my match?”

Although Yore had been in the stands all this time, Fie did not think much of her question, running towards her platoon captain in joy.

“Yes, of course. Although you lost in a duel setting, it was an admirable effort at breaking your opponent’s defenses. It would be wise to fully understand the rules before coming up with a strategy next time, however,” Yore said as he placed a single hand on Fie’s head, ruffling her hair in praise.

Surprised, Fie opened her eyes wide, but quickly allowed the praise to wash over her being.

“Heh heh!”

Announcing that he still had work to do, Fie parted ways with Yore, returning to her group with a light jog.

“Ah. You should have met Captain Yore too, Queen! Sorry, I didn’t think about that...”

“No, it’s fine.” Queen shook his head at Fie’s words.

Although Queen had been obsessed with meeting Yore some time ago, this no longer appeared to be the case. Even so, Fie made a mental note to arrange a meeting between the two.

However, Fie did not understand the rambunctious atmosphere that was currently in the air — although they were happy from winning the tournament, this appeared to be something else altogether.

Apparently, Sir Trokko had given Gormus a small sum of money so that the squires could all celebrate.

“Wah! I’m looking forward to it! Queen, you’re coming too, right?”

“Yes.”

It had been more than half a year since Queen had transferred in — he was more or less already an irreplaceable member of the northern dormitory.

The dormitory canteen’s staff had apparently been informed that the squires were going out, so there were no issues with that night’s culinary arrangements. And so, Fie and the squires of the northern dormitory enjoyed a fun-filled night at the downtown district.

Carnegis and Trokko, for their punishment, were assigned to a six-month long expedition, along with having their salary reduced. However, upon the petition and overall opinion of the other knights and squires, their punishment was reduced to a four-month expedition instead.

Amongst the members who organized the petition were also those who had graduated from the northern dormitory in the past. It would seem like the two were well-respected amongst the squires, now knights, who had graduated from their dormitories.

It was perhaps worth noting that amongst the other names in the petition were some familiar entries — specifically, the names of Fie and the rest of her friends.