Chapter 65 - 3
The moment Edward reached out his hand toward Ritz, the entire venue erupted in a roar. The three of them reflexively looked at the arena.
The sword had vanished from the regular army soldier's hand and was lying on the ground behind him. It had been knocked away by the small Greig Morgan.
"The winner is Greig Morgan!"
At the declaration of the Royal Guard commander serving as the judge, the venue erupted. The man with swordsmanship identical to Edward's had won.
At that moment, Patricia, who had been sitting next to Ritz, stood up and shouted.
"You did it! As expected of you, Greig!"
"Huh?"
Ritz, Edward, Shasta, and Gerald, who turned around in surprise, were left speechless by Patricia's next words.
"As expected of my grandson!"
When he took off his helmet, the venue fell silent for a moment. What appeared was shining flaxen hair, just like the queen's, and beautiful light blue eyes like the clear surface of water, just like the king's. He had an atmosphere very similar to Edward's.
It was none other than Crown Prince Gerald's son, the king's grandson, Prince Greig, age twelve.
The cheers that had filled the venue were instantly replaced by a different kind of roar.
"Long live His Highness Prince Greig!"
But Greig, being celebrated by the crowd, kept his eyes fixed on Edward and Gerald, waiting for his father's and grandfather's words like a child expecting a scolding.
It was Gerald who let out a deep sigh.
"Father, Mother, my apologies. Greig has done something outrageous again…"
As Gerald's shoulders slumped, Patricia laughed nonchalantly.
"Why are you apologizing, Jerry? Greig is old enough now. It's fine for him to take responsibility for his own actions. Right, Edy?"
Patricia, who had been stunned, smiled bewitchingly at Edward, holding a fan to her lips.
"You knew, Patty?"
"Yes, of course I knew."
"Then why didn't you stop him?"
"It's a grandmother's duty to listen to her grandson's troubles. I listened and gave him my approval."
At Patricia's bright, completely unapologetic smile, Edward gave a wry grin. When she was this brazen, there was no way to pursue the matter.
"You're a handful."
"Oh? Is there a rule that says royalty can't participate in this tournament?"
Caught off guard, Edward fell silent for a moment before letting out a small sigh.
"…You're right, there isn't. This is unexpected."
With a wry smile, Edward slowly stood up. The spectators, who had been cheering at the top of their lungs, saw him and quietly sat down in their seats.
"The winner has been decided. But the one who should bestow the prize has won it himself. Will my beloved citizens allow this?"
At Edward's playful words, the venue erupted in laughter, praising the king. Edward's popularity in Sears was abnormally high. With this, Greig was officially granted the honor of being the winner and the right to have his wish granted.
Once it quieted down again, Edward bestowed the honor upon the kneeling Greig.
"My grandson, Greig, I grant you the honor of being the Warrior of the New Festival Month. Well done on your victory."
"I am most grateful."
Greig accepted the commemorative sword from the commander of the Royal Guard's castle security battalion and showed a momentarily embarrassed expression to the commander, who seemed to be an acquaintance. Then he knelt again and bowed his head before Edward. As his grandson remained motionless, Edward asked him.
"Now, Greig, why did you enter this tournament without telling me or the Crown Prince?"
At that, Greig looked up as if he had been waiting for the question. His eyes were sparkling.
"To have my wish granted, Your Majesty."
"And what is your wish?"
As soon as Edward's words ended, Greig shot a sharp glare at a single point. And there stood Ritz.
"…Me?"
Ritz muttered in a low voice. Had he done something to earn the prince's enmity? He couldn't think of anything at all.
"With all due respect, Your Majesty, I do not yet know the minister who stands there. I have heard much from His Majesty the King, the Prime Minister, and Her Highness the Queen, and I have studied my history properly, so I am aware that said minister is His Majesty's right-hand man. However, I cannot be told to respect a man who suddenly appeared just because he is a minister."
After saying all that in a rush with a still-childish tone, Greig glared fixedly at Ritz again.
"Greig, does that mean you do not trust my judgment?"
At Edward's cheerful and direct words, Greig shook his head vigorously, as if to say it was unthinkable, and then his cheeks flushed at his own childish action. In that respect, he was still a boy.
"No, Your Majesty. To me, the minister's past achievements are the same as old tales. I wish to understand and acknowledge a person with my own eyes. According to the history books, the minister is quite a skilled swordsman…"
He was starting to get an idea of what Greig wanted. Ritz let out a breath and glanced at the sword at his seat. Today, he wasn't carrying the cheap one he took when going out for a drink or a night on the town; of course, he had brought his own weapon, a greatsword.
"Your Majesty, I wish for you to grant me a one-on-one match with the minister. Here, in this place, with the citizens as witnesses."
At Greig's clear declaration, the venue fell silent.
A duel between the prince and the minister… It was unprecedented.
Everyone fell silent, perhaps wondering if this would lead to an internal division in the kingdom. For this country, which had not experienced a war with an external enemy for a long time, civil war was the most terrifying thing.
But what broke the heavy silence was Edward's hearty laughter. It wasn't an act; Edward was laughing with genuine amusement.
"He has a point."
Suppressing his laughter, Edward turned to look at Ritz.
"What will you do, Minister?"
Being put on the spot like this in front of this large crowd, Ritz had only one option. He stood up, removed the cloak from his formal attire, and took his greatsword in hand.
"Greig, I permit your match with the minister. Is that acceptable, Minister?"
Edward's eyes, looking at Ritz with great dignity, were laughing. If the crowd weren't here, he'd probably be saying something like, Go play with him for a bit, and roaring with laughter.
To be honest, he had never taken off this disguise in front of Greig. He had underestimated him because he was still just a boy. Glancing over, he saw that Patricia, who had apparently known the whole situation, was enjoying his predicament. The way she was laughing while hiding her face with a fan so the populace wouldn't see was rather cunning.
"You set me up, Patty…"
He muttered in a low voice, and as if she heard, Patricia returned a bright smile.
"'Set you up'? What an awful thing to say. Ho ho ho ho…"
Shasta, the lone voice of reason, let out a deep sigh and then fell silent with a worried look on his face. He must have been at a loss for words.
"Ritz, are you going?"
He looked over and saw Anna asking cheerfully. Ritz lowered his voice so those around couldn't hear and answered in a murmur.
"I've been called out, so I have to go, don't I?"
"Think you can win?"
"Like I'd lose to a greenhorn."
"I see~ Good luck, then."
Next to Anna, who was waving cheerfully, Franz just gave a slight shrug in Ritz's direction. If he were to put it into words, it would probably be something like, Being a minister sure is tough. Neither of them felt any sense of crisis in this situation.
Even though they had only traveled together for a few months, they were already used to being caught up in situations like this. As for Ritz, he didn't feel any sense of crisis either; he just didn't want to stand out. So why did things always turn out like this…?
"Minister, are you prepared?"
At Edward's question, Ritz bowed deeply and answered.
"…As Your Majesty wishes…"
Ritz kept his head down so the crowd wouldn't hear and complained to Edward, who had come over and clapped him on the shoulder.
"Ed, you'll pay for this later."
"I'm old now, I can't remember that long."
"You old geezer."
And so, Ritz ended up having to draw his sword in front of a huge crowd right at the start of the New Festival Month.
Taking a back route from the royal box and descending into the arena under the curious gazes of the people, Ritz sighed at the ridiculousness of the situation.
The people's gazes were undoubtedly focused solely on Ritz, and it was painful. That was only natural; to the populace, Prince Greig was a familiar face, while Ritz was a mysterious man who had suddenly appeared recently.
Honestly, he had tried to keep a low profile in this disguise, but this ruined everything.
However, regardless of Ritz's feelings, Greig directed his gaze straight at him. His dignified attitude, his confidence. Though he was only twelve, his eyes had a good gleam, one that could see things clearly.
Royal qualities—he had inherited them well.
"I am not like my father. I will not respect someone just because I am told to, just because they suddenly appeared."
With that declaration, his face as he glared at Ritz bore a striking resemblance to Edward. He resembled Edward more than his own father, Gerald.
"I have heard from my grandfather that you are a swordsman of remarkable skill. He even said that if you fought seriously, you would be an unbeatable opponent. But I do not believe it."
Greig pointed the sword in his hand straight at Ritz.
"Therefore, I request a match!"
Ritz bowed deeply.
"I shall be your opponent, Your Highness."
As soon as he finished speaking, Ritz drew his greatsword from its sheath and took his stance. Greig also took his stance. As if that was the signal, the Royal Guard who had been acting as the judge announced the start of the match to the two of them.
"Your Highness, whenever you are ready."
At Ritz's relaxed words, Greig's brow furrowed in slight annoyance, but he immediately charged forward.
Greig aimed for a single first strike. With a swift movement, the tip of his sword was thrust toward Ritz. It conveyed his seriousness.
Without dodging the strike or moving his body like his previous opponents had, Ritz easily blocked Greig's sword with his greatsword.
The impact he felt on the greatsword was indeed a bit heavy, but from Ritz's perspective, it was ultimately a training sword, and his fighting style had weaknesses. That sword was one of technique alone, unaccustomed to real battle.
From what he'd seen of the previous matches, Greig's strength lay in the unpredictable attacks he could launch from his height difference, taking advantage of his small, still-growing body, and his speed.
In contrast, Ritz's sword was one of power, skill, and practical experience from having survived numerous life-or-death battles.
"Kuh…"
Greig, who had been pushing with force, lost his balance slightly. Ritz had momentarily pulled back his greatsword. Not missing that instant, Ritz swung his greatsword horizontally and easily repelled Greig.
Thrown off by the feint, Greig stumbled a few steps and caught himself. He seemed bewildered by Ritz's movements, which were subtly different from the soldiers he had faced so far.
"Is something the matter, Your Highness?"
The confident remark thrown at Greig as he regained his posture made the previously self-assured prince flush with irritation.
"Nothing's the matter! That was just a warm-up!"
He easily fell for the provocation… He was still a twelve-year-old boy, so it couldn't be helped. He probably didn't realize that his own attacks were becoming full of openings because of it.
Greig repeatedly launched various sword attacks at Ritz. But without even swinging his greatsword in response, Ritz lightly dodged the sword at the last possible moment. The sound of the sword tip cutting through the air, hyu, showed Greig's speed, but even that was slow from Ritz's point of view.
Perhaps realizing that Ritz was doing it on purpose, Greig swung his sword even more frantically.
"Why do you run!?"
Frustrated that his attacks weren't connecting at all, Greig finally shouted, panting. Not a shred of composure remained.
"I'm not one for wasted movements."
Finally, Ritz readied his greatsword, but he only used it to lightly parry all of the attacks. Greig was the only one who was out of breath; Ritz was completely calm.
"Why don't you attack!?"
Greig, who had distanced himself to catch his breath for a moment, shouted at Ritz again.
"Because you've left me no opening to do so, Your Highness."
But that was a lie. To be honest, for Ritz, this match was a simple one that would end the moment he landed a single blow.
The reason he didn't was simply that this Greig was so desperate that he felt like teaching him a little something.
"You mock me!"
Letting his emotions get the better of him, Greig recklessly attacked Ritz. Ritz parried and deflected the blows with minimal movement.
The silent populace and the spectating soldiers. Only the metallic clash of sword against sword dominated the arena.
The reason he had been able to win the tournament was likely because most of the participants were young soldiers. Ironically, the majority of this country's soldiers had never known real combat.
Having only faced such opponents, Greig, who could only unleash by-the-book sword techniques from the front, had no chance of winning.
In this peaceful era, the only units that could constantly gain practical experience were probably the Kingdom Army Inspectorate Department and the Kingdom Army Military Police. But no one from either of those two units had participated in this tournament.
Both of these units held a slightly different position within the military, so they rarely participated in events like this.
Still, what a carefree era it was, when only the units that maintained peace and public order gained practical experience.
"I will land at least one blow!"
As Greig thrust his swift sword at Ritz with a desperate look, Ritz created a fleeting opening. It was a trick Ritz often used when he wanted to manipulate his opponent.
Franz, who had fallen for it once before, would probably notice it from his seat above. But Greig, who should have been more skilled in swordsmanship than Franz, fell for it.
His weakness of having only learned honorable swordsmanship had been exposed.
He aimed for the hilt of Ritz's readied greatsword. He probably thought that if he could land a blow on Ritz's hand there, he could make him drop his sword.
But it was a perfectly calculated move. Instead of dodging sideways, Ritz quickly dropped to one knee right in front of Greig, who was aiming for his arm, and thrust the pommel of his greatsword toward him.
"Damn it!"
By the time he realized Ritz's intention, it was too late. Greig felt a tremendous impact on the armor covering his stomach.
"Ugh…"
But Greig's tenacity kept him from falling to the ground. In his fading consciousness from the pain, the sword he had swung luckily knocked Ritz's monocle flying.
Reflecting the sunlight, the monocle sparkled as it flew high into the air and fell.
"Oops, my bad."
As Ritz muttered that, he saw Greig's eyes widen in a start. It seemed that seeing him up close, he had realized. That Ritz was using a disguise and only appeared old, but was actually still quite young.
"The winner is His Excellency, Minister Alster!"
At the voice of the Royal Guard commander who had served as the judge, the populace, who had been watching the fight in silence until now, broke into a clamor and cheers.
Ritz went over to Greig and offered him a hand. Greig, who was rubbing his sore stomach but had finally managed to sit up, slapped Ritz's hand away.
He had probably never experienced a complete defeat before. That's why he couldn't forgive himself for losing in such a pathetic way.
Ritz dropped to his knee to meet the gaze of the sulking, seated Greig, dropped the formal language, and spoke to the downcast boy in his usual tone.
The crowd was cheering and couldn't hear them.
"Your sword style isn't bad, you know."
At the cheerful tone, Greig looked up as if jolted. His eyes were wide, as if he were seeing something strange. What he saw was probably the image of a man of indeterminate age with only white hair and a beard. Ritz had intentionally dropped his previously stiff expression.
"But there's something you're missing."
As Ritz spoke while still crouched, Greig puffed out his cheeks.
"Is it age? Are you trying to say I'm still a child?"
It's that kind of thing that makes you a child… Ritz resisted the urge to say it and continued.
"It's not about age. What you're missing isn't technique or anything like that. When I met Ed, he certainly had it. But you don't have it now."
Greig started to open his mouth to argue, but then he fell silent without retorting. He must not have understood the meaning of the words directed at him.
"The match is over. When a hand is offered, you should accept the gesture… except in a real battle, that is."
With that, Ritz grabbed Greig's hand and pulled him up with one arm, staging a handshake regardless of the boy's will. The crowd, completely unaware of their exchange, roared with excitement.
Ritz patted the shoulder of the sullenly averted Greig, picked up the greatsword's sheath, and sheathed his sword.
He had wondered how things would turn out for a moment, but he was glad it ended safely. Muttering that to himself, Ritz started walking toward the royal box.