Please Vote for Your Knight! Chapter 7

“I like this seat.”

David spoke as he looked at Kusto sitting beside him.

He had seen everything before entering.

He had seen Kusto being bullied simply because of his status.

In other words, this was David’s warning not to mistreat someone because of their social standing.

In the end, everyone had no choice but to keep their mouths shut.

Kusto, meanwhile, was bewildered.

“You really like this seat?”

“At least more than the others.”

David smiled as he answered.

Kusto flinched.

What kind of guy smiles at another man like that when he talks to him?

On top of that, he had deliberately chosen to sit beside Kusto, whom everyone else was avoiding.

Is he into weird things?

Suspicious, Kusto quickly looked David up and down.

Then their eyes met head-on.

Startled, Kusto immediately looked away, but it was already too late.

A soft chuckle came from beside him.

“My name is David Vertier. And you?”

Without looking at him, Kusto answered as though he had no interest.

“Kusto.”

David leaned slightly toward him.

Ignoring Kusto’s startled reaction, he whispered,

“There are recording orbs installed all over the arena.”

“?!”

At those words, Kusto carefully looked around.

Only then did he notice the recording orbs cleverly concealed throughout the arena.

The invitation did mention that recording orbs would be installed.

Every competition would be recorded.

The footage would be shown to the public and used for voting.

But the orbs had been installed so naturally that they blended into their surroundings, keeping the contestants from paying attention to them.

If people don’t pay attention to them, even their most provocative moments will be captured in full.

Edith was apparently going to edit the recorded footage before broadcasting it.

Is her video-editing technology really that advanced?

As far as Kusto knew, they could only do simple things like cutting down long footage.

Either way, the recording orbs had been installed so naturally that he had completely forgotten about their existence.

Count Moncho and the others had done the same.

Everyone except this strange man sitting beside him.

“I don’t know who she is, but I have to admit, she’s got a sharp eye.”

“You don’t know who she is?”

David sounded slightly surprised.

Kusto had spent his childhood as a slave and later his life scraping by as a mercenary. He had never had the time to keep up with famous people.

So he was used to hearing things like that.

But David’s next mutter caught him off guard.

“It’s been a long time since someone said something like that to me.”

“?”

Kusto shifted slightly farther away from David.

A commotion erupted at the entrance again a little while later.

“What the hell is that?”

“Why is that bastard here?”

“Wow. He’s seriously insane.”

“Where the hell did he lose his conscience?”

Hostile voices poured out from every direction.

Who is that guy, and why is everyone hating him, too?

He seemed almost as hated as a former slave.

Kusto raised his head and looked toward the entrance.

The contestants had gathered around a single man.

“Ah. Who the hell brought that bastard here?”

“There’s no way Her Highness invited him. He must have come because he wanted to.”

Everyone kept their distance, unable to bring themselves to approach him. All they could do was hurl insults from afar.

They want to curse him out, but they’re too scared to confront him head-on. He must be quite the fighter.

Then Kusto finally saw the man’s face.

He was a handsome man who looked like he had a tragic story behind him.

I don’t know who he is.

Kusto crossed his arms.

I wonder which of the two of us will end up being hated more.

A strange sense of competition began to bloom inside him.

The man paid no attention to the contestants’ vicious insults and walked over before taking a seat in the bottom row.

He was the Empire’s officially recognized traitor.

The tyrant’s dog.

Dimitri Cassel.

 

***

 

“Very well. I will participate in Cartamen for the sake of the honor of those who died by my hand.”

“Good decision, Sir Dimitri!”

“However, I have one condition.”

A few days earlier.

Dimitri had decided to participate in Cartamen after being persuaded by Princess Edith.

The joy that had made Edith look as though she could leap into the air was quickly replaced by a hint of anxiety.

As expected, the Princess had an uncanny ability to read the room.

“Please don’t reveal to the contestants or the people that I contributed to the revolution.”

“Why? If we tell them the truth, everyone will understand you and start liking you.”

“Do you really think they will believe it?”

“What?”

“Rather than believing me, they might think that Your Highness is simply protecting me. That would harm Cartamen.”

“……”

Dimitri had a point.

People had spent all this time cursing someone, only to learn that he had actually risked his life to participate in the revolution as a hero.

It would be difficult for them to accept.

Especially after all the things they had said while condemning him.

Of course, Dimitri was really just making excuses because he believed he had no right to be loved.

Still, it was a fairly convincing excuse.

“But we can’t hide the truth forever.”

“I know. When I feel the time has come to reveal it, I will tell them myself.”

“You really mean that? You’ll reveal the truth someday?”

“As a knight, I swear upon my life to Your Highness.”

Number 100.

As Dimitri sat in the seat bearing the very last number, he recalled the conversation he had shared with Edith.

Just then, Edith stepped onto the platform installed opposite the waiting seats.

“Whoa.”

“Is the Princess really coming out herself?”

The waiting area buzzed with excitement.

Unless they were high-ranking nobles, most people rarely had the opportunity to see a Princess in person.

Moreover, Edith was famous as the genius alchemist who had played a major role in bringing down the tyrant.

She did not immediately sit in the chair prepared for her on the platform.

Instead, she turned to face the waiting contestants.

“Welcome, everyone. I’m Edith Lafayette, and I’ll be your host for Cartamen.”

“Whoa!”

“First, allow me to introduce the judges.”

Three women stepped onto the platform.

The waiting area erupted into whispers.

“Who are they? Who dares to judge our faction?”

“Wait. Could those women really be…!”

“Unbelievable! Are those really the legendary ‘knights’?!”

Even those who had been speaking arrogantly became humble the moment they realized who the judges were.

Kusto frowned.

‘Who are they this time?’

He had absolutely no idea.

Noticing Kusto’s confusion, David leaned slightly toward him and whispered,

“They’re the Valkyria.”

“!”

The Valkyria!

Even Kusto, who had little interest in what was going on in the world, had heard that name before.

The Valkyria was an imperial knight order composed entirely of women.

When the tyrant held the Blood Duel, he never allowed the Valkyria to participate.

He had underestimated their military prowess.

In fact, the Valkyria had not been particularly famous until then.

That was precisely why they survived.

But they had not celebrated their survival.

Instead, they were among the first to seek out the current emperor and persuade him to overthrow the tyrant.

In other words, they were heroes of the revolution.

After demonstrating their abilities during the revolution, the Valkyria’s honor and reputation soared as well.

“I’m Amont Vekes, commander of the Valkyria. I’m not expecting much, but I hope you’ll all do your best.”

The woman with long red hair tied tightly into a single ponytail spoke first.

A woman with short black hair and wolf-like blue eyes followed.

“I’m Ines Parto, vice commander.”

That was all she said.

Finally, a woman with a short golden bob stepped forward, her crimson eyes sparkling.

“I’m Mila Pond. I’m just one of the Valkyria knights. So work hard, everyone, and make sure you don’t get yourself scolded by the commander and vice commander!”

Unlike the first two, her voice was lively and cheerful.

Yet her words carried the sharpest sting of all.

Once the judges took their seats, Edith called out,

“Now, the entrance evaluation begins! Number One, get ready!”

Soon, contestant number one retrieved his weapon—a whip—and stepped onto the stage.

And thus began a game of ‘Whack-a-Mole’ in a way no one had expected.

 

***

 

Whack-a-Mole.

It was a basic training exercise in which participants destroyed low-grade mechanical puppets shaped like moles that popped out of the ground.

If there were no mechanical puppets available, the game could even be played with simple obstacles, so many apprentice knights experienced it during their early training.

That was why everyone thought the same thing.

They would use the excuse of catching moles to show off the martial arts they had prepared.

But that was only because they didn’t know that the real ‘moles’ were the participants themselves.

The maze was a simple structure made of brick walls.

At first glance, it seemed like passing through would be easy enough as long as they could deal with the moles that appeared without warning.

“Gyaaaah!”

That is, if not for the sudden traps and obstacles.

Contestant number 55 was attempting to impale a puppet with a curved spear that looked more decorative than practical when he suddenly screamed and collapsed.

A spherical obstacle had suddenly come flying out of nowhere.

“Whew… I dodged it!”

Number 55 proudly got back to his feet after barely avoiding it.

At that very moment, the ball that had flown past him rebounded and came flying back.

It slammed directly into the back of his head.

“Ugh!”

Number 55 collapsed with a stupid look on his face.

It was Count Moncho.

He had actually switched seats just so he could sit ahead of Kusto.

But all that had accomplished was hastening Count Moncho’s downfall.

A moment later, a thick, rod-shaped obstacle shot out of the wall and passed harmlessly over the fallen count.

“Beep?”

A mechanical mole poked its head out of a hole in the ground and tilted its head.

Count Moncho, however, had yet to catch even a single one.

The two judges sitting side by side and the moderator all sighed.

Only Mila remained as cheerful as ever.

“Wow, Princess! Even seeing it again, I think your idea is amazing! How did you turn Whack-a-Mole into a contestant-whacking game? Barely any of the participants have made it through properly, and we’re already at number fifty-five!”

“Well… that’s not exactly a good thing.”

Edith muttered with a troubled expression.

She had added the twist to weed out those who lacked actual skill but looked impressive because they had trained in the martial arts of a particular faction or region.

‘No, wait. Is this some kind of gathering of empty-headed show-offs?’

With just that one twist, everyone was revealing how shallow their skills really were.

Edith sighed as she looked at the banner floating in the air between the waiting area and the judges’ seats.

It was a device that displayed each participant’s face and basic information so everyone could see them.

Every time a new banner descended, her disappointment only grew.

“So far, the only one who really caught our attention was that young-looking participant wielding a greatsword, right?”

“The fisherman who used a net as his weapon was unusual too.”

Commander Amont and Commander Ines spoke with dry sarcasm.

Mila chimed in as well.

“Contestant number one was really impressive. I got my hopes up because of him.”

Contestant number one had wielded his whip as freely as if it were an extension of his own fingers.

The moles had cried out, “Beep! Beep!” as they fell helplessly before him.

But after that, the great downfall had begun.

Meanwhile, attendants dragged the fallen Count Moncho over to the judges’ platform.

Perhaps realizing that he was finished, he hurriedly spoke with a bright-red face.

“I-I hadn’t properly warmed up yet! It was just a little mistake!”

“Then you should be warmed up by now, right? Why don’t you go back and try again?”

Amont said.

Count Moncho’s face instantly turned pale.

“N-Now isn’t quite the right time. I’m not mentally prepared yet… If you could give me another chance later…”

Amont’s eyes turned cold.

“How about tomorrow? Will you be ready then? Or the day after? A month? A year? When exactly will you be ready?”

Count Moncho could only open and close his mouth without saying a word.

Honestly, he didn’t want to go back.

He was terrified.

Ines asked with an exasperated look,

“Why did you enter this competition?”

“I-I was taught that any noble who understands honor ought to dream of becoming a knight!”

His voice was unusually loud, as though he had prepared that answer in advance.

“You want to become a knight?”

“Y-Yes! Yes! I’ve never seen a more magnificent profession!”

Ines let out a derisive chuckle.

“If it weren’t magnificent, you wouldn’t become a knight?”

“Y-Yes! Ah, no! Th-That’s not what I meant…”

Mila added,

“Being a knight isn’t something you do simply because it looks cool. In reality, you’ll get injured all over your body every day, and you’ll spend most of your life drenched in sweat.”

“You don’t even seem to know what a knight is in the first place.”

“Have you actually trained properly?”

The criticism continued, and Count Moncho’s face grew redder and redder.

The judges no longer even bothered to offer advice and began discussing his grade instead.

“How many idiots has that been already?”

“I heard Count Moncho actually entered Cartamen because he was drowning in debt and wanted the prize money.”

“Still, he is a prominent figure in high society. We should be generous with his grade.”

A moment later, Edith announced the result.

“After deliberation by the judges, Count Moncho’s grade is…”