Chapter 64 - 2
"Wow, this is amazing!"
Anna, dressed in a chic yet luxurious gown that was a far cry from her usual attire, let out a cry of delight. She showed no signs of fatigue, looking as energetic and happy as ever, as if she hadn't spent the previous day running all over the city.
In contrast, the two men were utterly exhausted.
The plan Anna and Joe had concocted to enjoy the first day of the New Festival Month in Sears to the fullest was formidable.
First, with Evans as their guide, they thoroughly enjoyed the dance at the Main Temple of Light. Ritz, who had rarely set foot in a temple before, found the New Festival Month dance, performed in a beautifully designed temple with a light motif, to be a spectacular sight.
After parting with Evans, who still had work to do, they left the temple and strolled through the market's New Festival Month sale. Being showered with celebratory words from the thronging crowds and shouting them back in turn was a common sight during the festival in this city.
After plenty of eating, drinking, and dancing, they watched the fireworks at the port, fish and chips in hand. By this time, the colorful crowds overflowing onto the main street were intoxicated with barrels of liquor and cheerful music. The whole of Sears was so lively it seemed as if the entire city was drunk.
It'd be a disaster if the enemy attacked at a time like this, Ritz thought in a corner of his mind, but considering half the army was on duty, it wasn't worth worrying about.
In the end, he felt as if he had paid for all the times he'd neglected Anna in that single first day of the New Festival Month. He had been roped into the dance carnival of the ecstatic common folk and dragged along to every single event they could find.
Anna and Joe seemed to have had the time of their lives, still buzzing with excitement on the way home, but Ritz, unable to find his usual pace at all, was completely exhausted. Though he looked young, his mind was of the same generation as Edward's, and keeping up with young people—especially girls—was quite taxing.
Apparently, it was the same for Franz. From the halfway point, he had stared blankly ahead, muttering, I want to go home… I want to go home… like a mantra, but the two excited girls never noticed.
Besides, there was no way they could leave two young women alone in a city teeming with tipsy, celebrating adults. In the end, Ritz and Franz had served as their escorts through sheer willpower.
And now, it was the second day of the New Festival Month.
They had returned home after a night of revelry that lasted until the wee hours, and today had arrived in what felt like a blink, with no real memory of sleeping or not sleeping.
Peeking past Anna, Ritz saw Franz with distinct dark circles under his eyes, staring down at the venue with an openly sullen expression. Then again, maybe he was sleeping with his eyes open.
Compared to him, Ritz, who had more stamina and was only mentally drained, probably looked a little better off.
Oblivious to the state of the men, Anna gazed at the venue with a relaxed and confident smile.
With light makeup on and her bright red hair, which fell over a fur shawl, tied up cutely, she looked mature and fresh. She didn't look her actual age of thirty, but more like she was in her late teens. It seemed Anna was actually quite beautiful.
Ritz realized for the first time that her baby face might have been why she'd always looked so young. But that was only until she opened her mouth. The moment she spoke, her impression instantly became much younger, and she was back to being the usual Anna.
"Look, look! It's so moving!"
Deeply moved, Anna's eyes welled with tears, but her cheer was instantly drowned out by the resounding music and the beautiful New Year's celebratory dance.
"Hey, isn't it amazing! Are you watching?"
Anna excitedly poked Franz, who had been watching the celebratory dance in silence beside her. With an annoyed look on his face, Franz still nodded back at her.
"As expected of the heart of the kingdom."
Though Franz muttered it with a sullen attitude, he actually seemed impressed. Ritz could tell, no matter how stubborn an attitude he put on.
Wisdom comes with age… That phrase might have been made for me. If someone else said it, he'd get angry and retort, Are you calling me old? but he was convinced of it himself.
Even the sullen Franz couldn't wear just any old thing today; he was dressed in that tailored crown prince's uniform. Clad in high-class formal wear, he looked surprisingly good in it.
If Ritz had said out loud, As expected of a rich merchant's son, he would have surely been decked.
Ritz himself was also clad today in the brilliant, white-based formal attire befitting the Supreme Commander of the Yuresla Kingdom Army. This was the second time he'd worn this uniform, the first being the day he entered the Royal Capital.
His hair was still dyed a gray close to white, and he wore his monocle and beard. It had been just over a month since he'd come to this city, and he was already used to this getup. There was even the faint beginnings of a mark on his nose from the monocle, which had felt strange at first.
Sighing, he looked at his wards, who were still enjoying the New Year's festival with sparkling eyes. If it moved them this much, then it was worth bringing them.
On the second day of the New Festival Month, Ritz's party was seated in the royal box—a corner of the grandest and most luxurious open-air amphitheater in the capital—along with the royal family and the kingdom's dignitaries. They were there to celebrate the festival with the citizens.
The royal box wasn't just any ordinary seating. It was best described as a stone-built, roofed viewing platform on the east side of the amphitheater.
The New Year's Festival began with a New Year's prayer by the head priest and priests of the Main Temple of Light, followed by a congratulatory address from the king, speeches from the ambassadors of various countries, and then performances from each nation. These performances included songs and dances, which served to liven up the start of the festival.
After that came congratulatory speeches from envoys from the cities and temples of the Yuresla Kingdom. There were a few familiar faces among them, but from where the three of them were sitting, they couldn't call out to them.
The only one who noticed them and gave a slight nod was Hellebore, the former commander of the Royal Capital Defense Corps in Faldina and the current lord of the Faldina Autonomous Region, but even that small gesture was somehow gratifying.
The event concluded with the kingdom's national dance troupe performing a dance depicting the myth of the kingdom's founding. It featured the unicorn from Yuresla's crest, as well as Ritz's own kind, who were now holed up in their special autonomous region.
The Clan of Light in the dance was so fantastical, so ethereal and beautiful, that he almost burst out laughing as he secretly recalled the differences between them and his father and himself. The spirit race imagined by the human race was so ephemeral and lovely, but the actual Clan of Light was just another race of people.
True, their appearances were as mystical and beautiful as in the dance, and their lifespans were far longer than humans'. Their ability to command spirits was also on another level. But Ritz knew from personal experience that this reclusive race possessed the same kinds of twisted hearts as humans.
After the hour-long epic dance concluded to thunderous applause, the open-air theater began to change its appearance in a flurry of activity for the next event.
The theater was a large, mortar-shaped amphitheater, and the wide central stage had apparently been used as an arena in ancient times. Though it was rarely used as an arena now, there was one day a year when it was used for its original purpose.
And that was the second day of the New Festival Month… which was today.
While the preparations were underway, the occupants of the royal box took a short break. A curtain was drawn to shield them from the general populace, and several people left their seats for food and rest.
"How are you, Anna? Are you enjoying yourself?"
A mature woman sitting to Ritz's right asked cheerfully. She must have been bored while waiting for the arena to be prepared.
A silver tiara, intricately woven, cast a soft glow upon her rich, flaxen hair. Her bright amethyst eyes, matching her lively tone, looked straight at Anna.
"Yes, I am, Your Majesty the Queen."
Seeing Anna turn back with a smile, the woman—Queen Patricia of Yuresla—smiled serenely. It was hard to believe she would be sixty in two years; she was so youthful.
"I'm so glad you're enjoying it. That dress is absolutely lovely, too."
"Thank you. I'm so happy to hear that."
Anna's words about being surprised were spot on; when Ritz and Franz saw Anna in her changed attire today, they were struck speechless by the transformation. It was a world of difference from her usual attire, which could be described charitably as simple, or uncharitably as plain and rustic.
After a moment of silence, Franz had carelessly remarked, "Fine clothes make the man," earning him a pout from Anna. As for Ritz, after a moment of stunned silence, he was reminded for the first time in a long while that Anna was, in fact, a woman.
He had rarely ever thought of Anna in terms of gender, but as the saying went, women could transform themselves. If even Anna could look like this, he wondered just how much the women called beauties transformed themselves.
"Girls are just wonderful, aren't they? So cute. It was worth choosing it for you."
Patricia gazed at Anna, entranced. She had apparently always wanted a daughter. She said she had longed for a life of picking out clothes and going shopping with a daughter.
Unfortunately, she was blessed with only one son, and on top of that, her only grandchild was also a boy, so her dream had never come true until now.
The Queen said she was now happily fulfilling that long-suppressed dream with Anna. Unfortunately, she lamented that her position made shopping impossible. Unlike her husband, Patricia didn't wander around the city as she pleased.
"But that dress on the far right was cute, too, wasn't it?"
"It was, wasn't it? That's what I was thinking, too. Oh, I wonder if we could have it brought here now? Oh, and that shawl on the far left…"
Unable to bear it any longer, Ritz interjected as Patricia and Anna chattered away like a storm with him in the middle.
"You're being loud. Have some consideration for the guy stuck between you."
Patricia shot a light glare at Ritz, who had spoken in a low voice, and replied in a similarly low voice.
"How arrogant. In your current state, you don't even register in my eyes."
"Huh?"
Ritz was speechless, not understanding what she meant.
"Take a look in the mirror. Goodness, that getup of yours is just so scruffy."
At Patricia's blunt words, Ritz was at a loss. He couldn't really argue with her calling his disguise scruffy.
After all, he thought so himself.
Seeing Ritz's expression, Patricia, as if certain of her victory, didn't let up her assault, continuing in a low yet confident voice that those around them couldn't hear.
"You're one of the spirit race, aren't you?"
"Yes, but…"
"I had hoped to see you having grown into the same handsome young man you were back then, not a day older. You were quite good-looking in those days, I hate to admit."
With a theatrical sigh, Patricia glanced sideways at Ritz. A pain, like an old wound being gently prodded, shot through his chest, and he instinctively looked away, but Patricia continued, unfazed.
"So what's with this look? White hair and a fake beard! Honestly, you're such a disappointment."
Feeling a little hurt by her tone, which was a mix of exasperation and genuine disappointment, he still made a point of retorting. He had never been one to take things lying down, not even back then.
"I have my reasons, you know."
Patricia snorted at the flustered Ritz. A playful, teasing glint flickered in her slightly narrowed amethyst eyes.
"Oh? And what reasons might those be?"
"W-Well… you know, it's… that…"
"'That'? What's 'that'? In the end, it's just you running away, isn't it?"
"Ugh…"
Patricia, whom he had known since before the civil war, was also his first love. Patricia knew that too, and they had even had verbal spars about it in the past.
Of course, Ritz always lost those verbal battles, ending up either angry and sulking into silence or running away. In his absence, she had considerably sharpened the barbs and wit of her words.
"I'll hear any rebuttal you have. Go on, speak up."
Edward, who had been quietly observing the two at first, stepped in between them with a wry smile. It had always been Edward's job to step in during arguments between Ritz and Patricia.
"Patty, Ritz, that's enough."
At Edward's words, he shut his mouth like a scolded child. It was amusing to see Patricia right in front of him shutting her mouth with the exact same expression. Come to think of it, someone had once told them they were two peas in a pod.
"You're being careless, Patty. Not everyone here knows Ritz's true form, and we have no intention of telling them. So you absolutely cannot let it slip. You understand that, don't you?"
Patricia, who had been so spirited until now, shrugged her shoulders when confronted with sound logic.
"I know."
"You too, Ritz. You were the one who decided to wear that disguise, weren't you? Don't make a fuss over every little thing Patty says."
"Yeah, yeah."
Edward looked at the two of them and sighed. He was probably thinking how childish they were for their age. Ritz refrained from pointing out that Edward was the same.
In fact, only a few people here knew what Ritz looked like without his disguise. King Edward, of course, Queen Patricia, Crown Prince Gerald, Prime Minister Shasta, Chamberlain O'Connor, First Platoon Leader of the Kingdom Army Inspectorate Department Kenny Fort, and Ritz's two companions.
The regular army commanders, the head of the Royal Guard, and the chiefs of various administrative departments, with whom he wasn't yet closely acquainted, were not aware of Ritz's true face.
A secret shared by many is no longer a secret. That was why Ritz had instructed them never to reveal his true form to anyone other than this small circle of people.
Beside Edward sat a gentle-looking young man in his early thirties, watching the two now-silent individuals with a soft gaze. With beautiful golden hair inherited from his father and bright violet eyes that strongly resembled his mother's, his name was Gerald. He was the one and only Crown Prince of the Yuresla Kingdom.
Patricia had told Ritz herself that she'd had a difficult birth with him, and it had left her unable to have more children. It sounded like a tragic story, but according to her, Compared to my mother, who died right after giving birth to me in a difficult labor, the fact that I'm alive and well is a blessing. That was her take on it.
He had inherited the name of his father, a hero of the civil war, but his personality was gentler than anyone else in his family. It was rumored where his gentleness came from, when both his parents were hailed as heroes.
Edward had told him his swordsmanship was decent, but otherwise unremarkable. His preference for history books and paintings over martial arts also set him far apart from his parents.
In a peaceful era, he would likely become a good king who understood both history and politics well, ruling over a peaceful nation.
He married young, but his quiet and gentle wife, a perfect match for him, was frail. She fell ill soon after giving birth to their son and was taken to the heavens. Patricia, who had been overjoyed to finally have a daughter-in-law, and Gerald's grief at the time were said to have been immense.
Gerald's son was twelve years old. He wasn't here now. According to rumors in the royal castle, it was this grandson who had strongly inherited the personalities of the current king and queen, who were so great they had become legends.
But Ritz didn't actually know this grandson well. He had sat with him at a meal once, but they hadn't met since.
Today, he had insisted on watching the arena from the front row with the Royal Guard and was apparently in a different section from the royal box. Edward seemed concerned, saying, Perhaps because he's still young, he's a bit stubborn and has a tendency to be overly proud of his lineage.
"Ritz, what're you drinking?"
Anna's words brought him back to his senses. Thanks to O'Connor's consideration, a small amount of alcohol was being served. Following Edward and Patricia's lead, who were drinking champagne, Ritz also picked up a glass of champagne.
The venue had completely changed its appearance. Before his eyes, the stage that had been used for performances and speeches was quickly cleared away, and in its place, the Royal Guard now formed a circle around the arena.
"Why are the soldiers standing guard?"
He answered Anna's question.
"Two reasons. First, it looks good, don't you think?"
"Yeah."
The Royal Guard's uniform was dark blue, unlike the dark brown of the kingdom army. It was adorned with gold decorations. Because they often appeared in flashy ceremonies to guard the royal family, their uniforms were like this. So when they were arranged at equal intervals around the arena like this, it looked neat and was effective in maintaining the king's dignity.
"By the way, most of the regular army wears dark brown uniforms. Kenny's is dark brown, right?"
"Yeah. But the style is different, isn't it?"
"Inspectors are special. Also, the king's personal bodyguards, the Praetorian Guard, wear black with long coats."
"I see."
He continued speaking to a deeply convinced Anna.
"The other reason the Royal Guard is there is for protection. So that if anything happens, they can all immediately defend."
Most of the participants in the arena were soldiers. But there were also people who had no connection to the military at all. If there was a participant who posed a threat to the royal family, they were positioned to deal with it on the spot.
"Hmm. You know a lot, Ritz."
Anna seemed impressed. He was a minister of this country, after all, so it was only natural for him to know this much.
With the atmosphere and mood rekindled, the main event of the day began.
It was a tournament-style martial arts competition where those confident in their skills would fight one-on-one, and the strongest would emerge victorious. The last one standing would have one wish granted by the king.
Of course, wishes that would harm the state, wishes for personal revenge, or unreasonable requests like demanding an extremely large sum of money were not permitted. In the first place, the participants of this martial arts competition were all people who placed more importance on winning honor for themselves than on having a wish granted by the king. There was almost no one who would make an outrageous wish.
Any citizen of the kingdom had the right to participate, but the martial arts level of the participants was high, and very few ordinary citizens made it to the main tournament. The ones who remained were almost always soldiers.
Even so, this martial arts competition was extremely popular, and the open-air amphitheater was already filled with spectating citizens. Evans and Joe should be among them, but there was no way to find them.
As the crowd grew, people carrying boxes to sell food and drinks began to busily move in and out of the venue. You could see them raising their voices to be heard over the clamoring audience.
"Man, I wish I could watch from over there."
He grumbled, but he knew it wasn't possible. He could see Franz and Anna giving small nods in response to his muttering.
For common folk with simple tastes, there were simple pleasures. The taste of a cheap sausage eaten in the stands. The feeling of cold ale going down your throat amidst the heat of the crowd. The comfortable environment where you could cross your legs, rest your chin on your hand, and watch intently…
As the three of them were vaguely lost in their own daydreams, a trumpet blew bravely, and the warriors participating in today's competition entered the arena.
Today's participants were the fourteen who had won the preliminary rounds.
Three were women, and the rest seemed to be men. There appeared to be some spirit users among them, too. You could tell from their equipment. And one of the men was short, already clad in armor, and not showing his face.
Once the trumpets and cheers died down, Edward slowly stood up. A cheer praising the king erupted in the arena.
"He really acts like a king…"
Ritz's quiet mutter amidst the great cheer was not heard by anyone. Edward's sonorous voice echoed in his ears from close by.
"Warriors gathered for the New Festival Month Martial Arts Tournament, give your all and carve your names into the history of this arena. Fight without fear and seize glory with your own hands. To the one who remains standing, honor shall be given, and your wish shall be granted."
After Edward's short but powerful declaration, another great cheer arose, and the matches finally began.
For fourteen people to become one, a total of thirteen matches would be held. The first round had seven matches, the second had three, the semi-finals had two, and then the final. One lucky person in the second round would get a bye and advance to the third.
Watching all of these battles was apparently an annual tradition for the king and his dignitaries. Ritz, who wanted to quickly shed this disguise, escape, and head out into the city, was nonetheless intrigued by the combat, his own area of expertise. If this had been a series of greetings from foreign dignitaries, he would have slipped away during the last break.
The matches lasted about ten minutes each, and at most, around twenty. Since all the participants were skilled, the matches were never decided in an instant, and it was rare for them to become long-drawn-out affairs.
"My unit will take the prize this year."
"Oh no, we won't lose this year."
Far behind them, Ritz could hear the commander-in-chief of the kingdom's regular army and the commander-in-chief of the kingdom's defense forces talking cheerfully, glasses in hand.
It wasn't just these two; apparently, a heated battle unfolded between the commanders-in-chief every year at this tournament. For them, this competition might have the significance of an inter-departmental army tournament. Indeed, in this era without war, this tournament was a good test of strength for soldiers who wanted to test their daily training.
This time, as always, most of the participants were affiliated with the military, but there was one person fighting a lone battle. The cheers came mostly from the spectators; there was no sign of him being supported by the soldiers.
That person was the smallest man, the one in armor who wouldn't even show his face. He had luckily gotten a bye in the second round, and that small person was now competing in the third.
"Hey Ed, who's the short guy?"
Ritz asked Edward in a loud voice so as not to be drowned out by the roaring cheers.
"Hold on. Shasta, do you have the participant list?"
He asked Shasta, who was sitting two seats to his left, and received a piece of paper.
"This is the list of participants for this year's main tournament."
Edward didn't even glance at the paper and handed it directly to Ritz. For Edward, who was completely used to this annual event, the participants probably held no interest.
Ritz gave a wry smile at a certain name on the sheet, which listed the first-round matchups, participant names, brief histories, and affiliations.
By coincidence, there was someone with an incredible name. It was a combination of Edward's uncle's name, 'Greig,' and the surname of the supreme commander from forty years ago whom Ritz called 'the old man,' 'Morgan.'
According to the list, on which Shasta had meticulously recorded wins and losses, that person with the incredible name was apparently that small individual.
At that moment, a roar of cheers erupted from the venue. When he looked up from the paper, the small person was raising both hands in response to the cheers. It seemed he had won. Glancing behind him, he saw the defense department commander slump his shoulders in disappointment. That meant that small person had impressively advanced against a military opponent.
He had won this much, yet why did he still not show his face? That piqued Ritz's interest.
"Interesting."
That person won the semi-finals as well and finally stood on the stage for the final match. Glancing sideways, his eyes met Anna's.
"Hey, hey, Ritz, who are you rooting for?"
Anna asked innocently.
"Who are you rooting for, Anna?"
He threw the question right back at her, and Anna replied with a bright smile.
"The little guy! Because his opponent is big and looks strong."
"Yeah. Me too."
While they were talking, the final match began.
When the small Greig Morgan faced the large and skilled soldier from the kingdom's regular army, it looked like an adult and a child. But Greig Morgan was fast enough to cover for that.
His sword technique was good, too. It was rough around the edges, but his skill was obvious to anyone.
As Ritz watched the match, he gradually began to notice that Greig Morgan's swordsmanship resembled someone's.
Though immature, his movements were elegant and without openings, seemingly relaxed yet swift… If he trained and his movements became more defined…
Ritz discreetly glanced over at Edward and saw that Edward was staring intently at Greig Morgan, as if trying to burn a hole through him.
So Edward had noticed. And one seat beyond him, Shasta also turned to look at Ritz with a surprised expression. He had noticed, too.
"You've got to be kidding…"
Greig Morgan's swordsmanship, his movements, were exactly like Edward's in his youth.
"Ritz, let me see that list again."