Please Vote for Your Knight! Chapter 6

“Knights of the Empire, choose your knight!”

In the central square of the capital stood a broadcasting tower.

On its enormous screen, a man was shouting those very words.

His name was David Vertier.

Known as the Knight of Knights, he was said to choose death over dishonor.

But right now—

“I, David, also need your vote. I trust that you will give me your support.”

He was begging, having thrown both honor and dignity out the window.

His face wore a smile as he desperately tried to conceal his humiliation.

He’s even more charming like this.

Edith watched with satisfaction as she read the words scrolling beneath the screen.

To prevent fraudulent voting, you must register your identification card with a broadcasting tower before casting your vote. Identification cards can be issued at any local government office at any time.

She had used David to test the broadcasting tower.

And she was also promoting the issuance of identification cards, which had been progressing at a snail’s pace.

Kill two birds with one stone!

The identification card was a system Edith herself had proposed.

It was essentially an ID card that any citizen of the Empire could easily obtain.

Yet very few people had actually bothered to get one.

We need identification cards to keep track of the population and improve the system.

That was why she had decided to make use of David Vertier’s influence.

Please let this work.

That was when—

“Your Highness truly is a cruel woman.”

Edith frost.

Dimitri was staring at her with a horrified expression.

“Do you remember what Duke David Vertier said when he filmed that video?”

“Oh, that?”

Wasn’t it something like this?

“Th-this humiliating thing…! I absolutely cannot do it. I-I would rather bite off my own tongue than say such words!”

“But Sir David was the one who said he would gladly accept the price for his wrongdoing.”

“You should have let him bite his tongue.”

Wouldn’t that have been even more cruel?

Knights really do think strangely.

Still, thanks to David sacrificing himself to film the promotional video, the number of people applying to participate in Cartamen was steadily increasing.

Choosing David as the face of the campaign was an excellent decision.

Edith opened her evaluation notebook.

Name: David Vertier
Aliases: Duke of Vertier, Knight of Knights, The Last Knight, etc….
Hand-to-hand Combat: —
Weapon Skills: A (Swordsmanship)
Magic: —
Chivalry: A
Intelligence: A
Traits: Surprisingly obedient when asked to do something.

Edith snickered as she looked at the Traits section.

I wonder how far Duke David Vertier, who can do just about everything, will make it in the competition.

But perhaps being too perfect would make things boring.

Should I create some hardships for him on purpose?

Something humiliating might work well.

Edith closed her notebook, still pondering.

Now it was time to persuade the final candidate.

“Who is the final candidate we are visiting?”

Dimitri happened to ask at that moment.

Even after recruiting David, they had personally met with and persuaded several other candidates.

Some succeeded, and some failed.

And now, there was only one candidate left to convince.

“The final candidate is really, really difficult. He’s someone who seems like he would never participate in Cartamen. So I’ll need your help.”

“Who could possibly be so difficult that Your Highness would say that?”

Edith looked at Dimitri and smiled sweetly.

“Sir Dimitri. It’s you.”

His mournful expression instantly stiffened.

Once he recovered from the shock, he vigorously shook his head.

“Th-that’s ridiculous. If a traitor like me participates, people will end up hating Cartamen as well.”

Edith wiped the smile from her face and stared intently at the flustered Dimitri.

“You’re not a traitor.”

Dimitri flinched.

“You were the one who opened the gates of the Imperial Palace during the revolution.”

“I merely sided with the winning side after I realized which way the battle was going. It was nothing more than the act of a turncoat.”

“You were also the secret agent who fed information about the tyrant Beauvoir to the revolutionary army.”

Dimitri’s red eyes widened.

“H-how did you…!”

“Did you really think my father and I wouldn’t investigate? Ever since you were dragged into the Blood Duel, you pretended to be on the tyrant’s side while secretly working to help the revolution.”

Dimitri lowered his head.

“…So that’s why you brought me on as your bodyguard. You knew everything and deceived me.”

“I found the truth.”

Edith held out her hand to him.

“Participate in Cartamen. You deserve the chance to challenge for the title of The Eques.”

Dimitri stared silently at Edith’s hand before shaking his head.

“I killed countless knights under the excuse of helping the revolution.”

“You were forced into it. You had no choice.”

“The outcome doesn’t change.”

Dimitri’s voice was heavy.

“I don’t deserve to become an Eques. I deserve to live the rest of my life being condemned. So please, withdraw your offer.”

“If you participate in Cartamen and reclaim your honor, and if you reveal the truth, that will be your atonement to the comrades who died by your hand.”

Edith looked straight into Dimitri’s eyes.

“Do you want them to remain nothing more than people who died a pointless death at the hands of a traitor? Or do you want them to be remembered as those who made a noble sacrifice for an Eques?”

Dimitri stared blankly at Edith, unable to find the words to answer.

But his tightly sealed lips remained closed.

 

***

 

Thanks to David, the number of Cartamen applicants had risen to around a thousand.

Of those applicants, half who passed the initial screening were invited for preliminary interviews.

“Even someone of low birth dreams of Cartamen for their entire life if they know how to wield a sword. If I can’t achieve it in this lifetime, then there’s no point in living.”
— Killian Grouchy

“I want to show my family. I want to show them that I can do it, too. That I’m allowed to dream, too.”
— Maurice Arnaud

“My master once told me that the moment I grasped a sword, the first thing I should look toward was Cartamen. It is my ultimate dream as well.”
— Pierre Simon

Every one of them desperately wanted to participate in Cartamen.

I mustn’t forget this desperation. I’ll do everything I can to bring Cartamen back to life.

Edith made a solemn vow to herself.

At last, invitations to the first competition were sent out to the carefully selected final 100 contestants.

The first competition would be an admission evaluation.

Since it was an individual assessment, contestants were encouraged to show off their skills to the fullest.

• Event: Whack-a-Mole.
• Personal weapons permitted.
• Warhorses prohibited.

Whack-a-Mole was a basic training exercise for novice knights.

Just as the name suggested, contestants had to destroy low-grade mechanical puppets shaped like moles that popped out of the ground.

It was a moderate-difficulty evaluation that gave contestants a good opportunity to demonstrate the martial skills they had prepared.

Then nobles who have trained consistently, or those who have trained under a particular faction, will have an advantage.

Kusto thought so as he entered the capital’s colosseum, the venue for the evaluation.

But wouldn’t that be too predictable?

The evaluation was clearly disadvantageous for Kusto, who was obviously a former slave and had never received proper martial training.

There’s no way Her Highness would have used her power to pardon me just to let me be eliminated as a disposable contestant in the very first evaluation.

There had to be something more.

Kusto furrowed his brow.

Then, powerful music began playing throughout the arena.

The sound alone was enough to make his chest swell with pride, and Kusto’s eyes widened.

“Hey, this is—!”

A contestant passing by suddenly shouted to his companion.

“It’s the victory anthem dedicated to the First Eques!”

“Whoa, no wonder I felt my blood pumping the moment I heard it.”

A victory anthem.

She’s trying to motivate everyone before the competition even begins.

Whoever had planned this understood very well how an environment could influence people.

I don’t know whose idea it was, but it seems to be working.

The contestants’ faces were already slightly flushed with excitement.

Kusto entered the colosseum.

At the center of the arena was a stage that looked like a maze, while the spectator seats were divided into two sections facing each other.

Only one side was occupied by the contestants.

This must be the waiting area.

Then was the opposite side where they would sit after being evaluated?

By the time Kusto entered, many contestants had already arrived.

Most of them were gathered in small groups according to their regions, factions, and other affiliations.

Kusto was about to sit wherever he pleased when he suddenly stopped.

There were numbers written on the seats.

From 100 all the way down to 1.

What kind of trick is this?

The interesting thing was that the contestants were clustered around the middle-numbered seats.

The lower rows, closer to number 100, were sparsely occupied. Meanwhile, seat number 1 at the very top already had an occupant.

Every now and then, contestants would challenge one another for seat number 1, but its occupant rarely changed.

After watching every challenger leave with a look of horror on their faces, Kusto casually chose seat number 62.

“Ah, someone already owns that seat.”

A man sitting there with his legs arrogantly crossed sneered.

He was number 63.

When Kusto tried to sit in seat 64, number 63 waved him off again.

“That one’s taken, too.”

“Seats have owners?”

“What? Why are you so damn curt?! Even a slave has an owner, so why wouldn’t a seat have one?”

The man snapped angrily.

Only then did Kusto realize that the man was staring at his right wrist.

He saw the slave brand.

Slavery was officially prohibited throughout the Empire.

Even so, there were still people like this man who discriminated against those who had once been slaves.

“Desperate for applicants or not, they actually let a slave bastard participate!”

The man deliberately shouted loud enough for everyone to hear.

Every gaze in the colosseum turned toward Kusto.

The recording orbs hidden throughout the arena did the same.

“If they hadn’t taken our weapons at the entrance, I’d have cut down a lowlife like you right here.”

They could still fight bare-handed even without weapons.

Kusto clenched his fist and showed it to him.

The man flinched.

Not worth my time.

Kusto gave a faint snort and moved farther away, taking seat number 57 instead.

He could hear the man shouting, “Sit behind me! I said sit at a higher number than mine!”

Kusto ignored him.

The people sitting around seat 57 gradually began edging away from Kusto.

So I’ve become a hated character right from the start.

Would he even be able to survive long enough to receive votes like this?

He was beginning to laugh bitterly at himself when a commotion broke out at the entrance.

“L-Look! He’s participating in Cartamen, too!”

“His Grace Duke David Vertier is here!”

The famous Knight of Knights, David Vertier, had arrived.

He graciously accepted the greetings of everyone who rushed over to introduce themselves.

Among them was even the man who had just tried to bully Kusto.

“His Grace Duke Vertier, do you remember me? I’m Count Moncho.”

Being that popular must be more exhausting than being hated.

Kusto watched David carefully.

Then their eyes met.

Following David’s gaze, everyone else turned to look in Kusto’s direction as well.

Damn it.

It was better not to get involved with someone that popular.

Kusto pretended not to notice and looked away.

But it was already too late.

“Your Grace, please don’t go over there. Some slaves have entered the competition.”

“Please come this way. We’ll escort you.”

“No, come over here, Your Grace.”

David gently waved them off and began walking somewhere.

Seat number 56.

Right beside Kusto.