Chapter 55

"Mimosa, are you drinking your tea properly? It seems like you’ve been watching the matches the whole time."

"Ah, yes... I will drink. I don’t want to collapse. It’s just that... everyone’s fighting style is so intense."

Even though they are all members of the same guard, each one has a different stance and fighting style. Sir Percival ended his match in an instant, but the matches between evenly matched opponents lasted a full five minutes, with swords clashing, making me watch in suspense.

Even though the blades are blunted, the thought of fists and swords coming toward one’s neck or face sends a chill down my spine, yet the participants seem to focus solely on their opponents, as if they have suppressed all fear.

Perhaps because it’s a tournament, I can see that they treat each other with respect after the matches, which is why I’ve been watching with bated breath.

Encouraged by my stepmother, I drank the cold iced tea, which had completely melted, and nibbled on a biscuit.

While doing so, the next match, the last of the first round, came up—Prince Frey’s turn.

"Ah... Your Highness."

"Yes, based on the previous matches, Percival will likely be exempt from the second round. The matches were decided in an instant, and he didn’t receive a single attack. You see, there are 15 matches in the first round, and the criteria for exemption from the second round are based on the first-round matches... Of course, being exempt is advantageous because it conserves physical and mental energy. How will the Prince decide his match?"

"...Yes."

He said he would go all out against Sir Percival. From what my stepmother has said, Sir Percival must have known this and went for a quick win.

The Prince will surely do the same. He would want to gain any advantage he can. It’s only now that I realize the matches from the beginning to the end are all fought with full strength.

"I’m sure the Prince will have a wonderful match. But, Mimosa..."

"I’m watching Sir Percival."

"Hehe, that’s right. Yes... we can only watch, but watching is important, I think."

"Stepmother...?"

My stepmother, looking a bit distant, murmured to herself. She seems a bit off today.

"Come, the last match of the first round. Let’s watch it together."

"Yes."

Thus, Prince Frey walked from the right side, and his opponent, a knight, walked from the left, both wearing the same armor, heading to the center.

The sun was high in the sky. It seems the first round will end in the morning.

Prince Frey held his sword with both hands, angling it diagonally in front of him.

His opponent held his sword with both hands straight ahead, standing with his feet apart in a wide stance.

When the referee’s voice rang out, I expected them to close the distance quickly, but Prince Frey changed the angle of his sword to reflect the sunlight into his opponent’s eyes.

Taking advantage of the momentary pause as his opponent was caught off guard, he closed the distance in an instant. As he passed by, he did something that knocked his opponent’s sword out of his hand and struck his torso, causing him to fall. He then passed behind his opponent and sheathed his sword.

It was even faster than Sir Percival. The referee’s voice lagged behind the quick resolution.

"Winner! Prince Frey!"

The crowd erupted in cheers. Even to a layperson, it was clear that Prince Frey would be exempt from the second round.

All I can do is watch his burning silver hair, visible as he removes his helmet, while feeling a surge of anxiety.