Chapter 43

That night, even though he must have been tired and sleepy, Sir Percival came to my room with two mugs, wearing his pajamas.

We sat side by side on the sofa, sipping the chamomile tea that had become a regular part of our routine, and Sir Percival began to recount his childhood once again.

"I really feel sorry for having scared you. Prince Frey was abroad until a year ago... and even after he returned, he was mainly in charge of diplomatic relations, so there was no time to introduce you. Well, I also thought it would be better to introduce you after things had settled down a bit..."

"Um... are you friends, then?"

He seemed to be quite close to Prince Frey, calling him by his name, but he kept referring to him as a childhood friend, so I decided to ask for clarification.

Taking a sip of the chamomile tea, which had dissolved the sweetness of the honey, Sir Percival cast his gaze into the distance, as if in thought.

"Friends... not really. If I may say something a bit overconfident... he sees me as a rival."

"Your Highness's... rival?"

"Yes. When I was young, I was quite chubby, and while I was good at studies, I wasn't very fast or athletic, and my appearance wasn't particularly appealing. I could endure it because it was part of the family's training and upbringing, but I wasn't spared from criticism. However, once I joined the Knights, it was the second phase of physical training. I slimmed down and grew taller than Prince Frey. From then on, he started to challenge me in various ways, or rather, to provoke me."

"...With all due respect, isn't that quite a nuisance?"

Sir Percival had spoken of the Prince as being wise and intelligent, but I frowned, wondering if that was really the case. Seeing my expression, Sir Percival laughed, finding it amusing.

"It's fine because no one else is affected. Besides, he doesn't put pressure on me or anything. I find it endearing that he keeps challenging me even after being thoroughly defeated. After all, a king who is only protected is not ideal. However, as his bodyguard, I intend to make him realize that he is not a match for me in swordsmanship... well, that's what this upcoming martial arts tournament is about. However, the Prince, who has excelled in politics and has a deep understanding of foreign affairs, is indeed quite competent. Considering that he is a young man of the same age as me among the seasoned nobles, I think he is wise and intelligent. So far, I haven't heard any stories of him yelling at people or abusing his power."

Hearing that, I do think he is indeed wise and intelligent.

Perhaps the emotional aspect of being looked down upon as a child and then being protected by the very person who looked down on him has not been well-developed. If I consider that he is trying to come to terms with this by challenging and losing to Sir Percival within a range that Sir Percival does not reject, without lashing out at others...

If the royal family were perfect, all nobles could be viscounts. But since they are not, there are powerful nobles, and if the title of Captain of the Royal Guard comes with a rank higher than a count, it would upset the balance of the aristocratic society.

And now, Sir Percival is about to defeat the Crown Prince in front of the King, Queen, and a large audience. Winning a fight against someone you are supposed to protect... in a way, it might be a necessary ability for the Captain of the Royal Guard. In a crisis, a guard who doesn't follow orders in combat would be unreliable.

"However, this time, his joke has gone a bit too far, so I will have my revenge in my own way. I won't tarnish Sir Percival's honor, so please don't worry."

"...I heard you're planning something with your mother, but you're keeping it a secret from me?"

"Yes... when the day is set, I'll let you know. You can come and watch if you like."

"...Not to help?"

I drank about half of the warmed mug and looked at Sir Percival with a full smile.

"Women have their own way of fighting."

Upon hearing this, Sir Percival covered his eyes and looked up at the ceiling. It was his usual brain freeze. Concerned, I placed my mug on the table and then put Sir Percival's mug down as well, gently holding his free hand with both of mine.