Ch. 170
Look at these men, eyes sparkling already.
Enk, Gale, and Chad were practically vibrating with excitement, itching to move.
Lox and Ash, on the other hand, looked increasingly uncomfortable—probably because they actually ‘knew’ the man in question.
Rovenin was distantly related to Ash, after all.
I’d heard before that the only prince with real talent for swordsmanship was the second prince, Epiros—no surprise, since his mother had been a royal knight.
And of course, the emperor didn’t sit idle after discovering that talent.
He gathered the best masters of the empire and polished his son’s skills to brilliance.
Typical diamond spoon energy. The story of how the emperor gave Rovenin Fedri to Epiros as a “friend” was practically legendary.
“Oh, my son’s good at swordsmanship? Here, have a friend.”
And ‘that’ “friend” was none other than Rovenin Fedri—the heir to a ducal house, future duke, and the greatest sword genius on the continent.
Rumors spread that the emperor had already chosen Epiros as heir, and because I attended a noble academy, I had to sit through endless “political lecture” classes about it.
‘Damn it, these overachievers can’t even breathe without making history.’
Ash had earned the jealousy of the empress and all her sons—thanks to the emperor’s blatant favoritism.
Great affection breeds great envy.
“Ash? What do you think?”
“Why bother asking! Any swordsman would want to see that! It’s the kind of event you never get twice in a lifetime, right, Ash?”
I turned toward him, half expecting his “face explosion” disease again—but this time he looked composed, if quieter than usual.
I thought he’d flinch at the topic, but no.
“It’s certainly rare.”
He was calm—more so by the second.
Apparently, that “red face” condition didn’t strike at random.
“Rare? It’s historic! You’ll have something to brag about to your grandkids!”
“Pfft! Listen to Enk. Grandkids? You need to get married first.”
“No, start with dating.”
“You bastards—shut up! I’ll handle my own life!”
Even to a non-swordsman like me, it did sound like a match no warrior could miss.
A duel between Sword Masters—barely a handful existed across the entire Elan Union.
While the others grew livelier, Ash simply nodded once and turned to the merchant.
“When is the duel scheduled?”
The merchant lifted his brows dramatically, as if unveiling a prized treasure.
“Exactly one month from now—on the night of the red full moon.”
“Perfect timing.”
“If we stay on schedule, we’ll make it!”
“Let’s go, Ash!”
That night, both the blue and red moons hung in the sky. Once every three months, one would disappear entirely; on rarer nights like this, both were full.
“Haha! You young ones are full of fire. If you’ve already got tickets, you should go! Femmington’s packed with people paying extra just to board a ship—everyone’s desperate to see that fight with their own eyes.”
The merchant’s words were tempting, but Ash firmly shook his head.
“Sorry, but I’m not interested.”
“What?!”
“I think it’s too barbaric. A duel should be sacred—not turned into entertainment. We shouldn’t support that kind of spectacle.”
“Well… that’s true…”
“But I still want to see it…”
Enk and Gale deflated like children denied sweets.
But I knew Ash’s real reason—meeting someone he knew while hiding his identity would be… inconvenient.
Of course he’d rather avoid it.
“Then let’s vote! Majority rules!”
“Yeah! I’m in!”
Enk’s shout was immediately joined by Gale’s enthusiastic nod.
Both turned to Chad for backup. Chad, however, tended to side with Ash no matter what.
“Well… I ‘do’ want to see it, but if Ash says no… maybe he’s right. I’ll go neutral.”
“You idiot! If Ash told you to die, would you?!”
“Every time I go against him, it ends badly. Still, I’d like to see it.”
“I’m against it,” Lox cut in firmly. “We’re going to Heidrike for something far more important. Let’s not lose sight of that.”
So the division was clear.
“Can’t we just stop by after finding the cup? We’d still have time!”
“And what if finding it takes longer than expected?”
“Ugh, you people are hopeless!”
“I told you, this isn’t a vacation.”
Two against two, with one abstention.
Which meant all eyes turned to me—the deciding vote—just as I was stealing meat from Ash’s bowl.
I set it back down slowly.
“Oh, we’re asking ‘me’ now?”
“Of course! You’re part of the group!”
“Please, Geenie!”
“What’s your vote?”
Ah. So the final say was mine.
I took my time pretending to think.
I understood Ash’s reasoning. I understood Lox’s. The duel was violent, meaningless, and irrelevant to our true goal.
But…
“I’m in.”
The two supporters cheered so loudly it nearly rattled the firewood.
Ash sighed deeply, turning to me with faint reproach.
“I didn’t take you for the type who enjoys fights.”
“I don’t.”
But watching ‘him’ lose? That, I’ll enjoy.
The enemy of my enemy is my ally, after all.
I’d be cheering for Count Trenpe. If I could see Rovenin Fedri smashed into paste, I’d wave glowsticks for it.
“So it’s decided then?”
“Yes… apparently.”
“You all seem to get along well. Reminds me of my younger days. Thanks for sharing your fire—I’ll take my leave.”
“Thank you for the news. Oh, before you go—did you run into any bandits? Any dangerous paths we should avoid?”
Sharing information like that was second nature to travelers—news, warnings, gossip, anything.
“You must be new to this route. It’s safe now. The bandits were wiped out.”
“Really? That’s new. I heard this road was always full of them.”
“It used to be. But Duke Fedri’s boy passed through not long ago—cut down every last one he met. And this time, he came again and finished off the rest. The survivors all fled past Daniz. It’ll be safe for a while.”
Oh, that lunatic. Cutting people up like that—how savage.
When ‘I’ kill people, it’s justice. When others do, it’s cruelty!
“Apparently, bandits don’t even touch red-haired loners anymore. Red dye’s selling like crazy thanks to him!”
“I didn’t know that.”
“Now old folks, women, even kids are dyeing their hair red to look like him.”
…Why are you looking at me like that?
“I was just thinking—a girl like you, with those fierce eyes, would look great with red hair—”
“What did you just—! Mmph!”
“Hahaha, what’s gotten into her?”
Before I could lunge at the merchant, Ash grabbed me with lightning reflexes and clamped a hand over my mouth.
Fast reflexes, that one.
“…Was she about to curse me?”
“No, sir. She doesn’t bite—er, she doesn’t swear.”
“She’s growling right now.”
I don’t bite!
…I just ‘sometimes kill’!
Who told you to say I’d look good in red hair!
I bit Ash’s palm hard, but he didn’t even flinch.
How is that not hurting?!
Fine! I won’t kill him, just—let go!
I squirmed, trying to break free from his absurdly steady grip.
“You’d better keep moving,” Ash told the merchant calmly. “It’s getting dangerous here.”
“Y-yes… quite the fierce young lady.”
“Mrff—!”
Let! Me! Go!
He endured my biting, blocked my headbutt, and still didn’t budge. Damn it, I needed a new plan.
“Well, I’ll be off then. May the goddess bless your journey.”
“Yes, please hurry—”
“Run,” Lox muttered under his breath.
“Ah! Wait—take this.”
The merchant started rummaging through his bag.
I froze mid-struggle. Free gifts? Maybe I’d spare him.
“It’s a bit defective, couldn’t sell it anyway. Take it.”
Since Ash was busy holding me back, Lox accepted it instead.
A small plaster figurine—poorly made, barely recognizable.
“It’s a miniature statue of Saint Crowell! Pray to it, and your wishes—”
With a quick lick to Ash’s palm, I slipped free, snatched the statue, and hurled it straight into the fire.
“Trash!”
The statue shattered, scattering pieces in the flames—like my dignity.
“G-good heavens! What have you done?!”
“Who gave you permission to sell that! Don’t sell it! I’ll destroy them all! That cart—don’t tell me it’s full of these!”
“Geenie!”
Ash recovered quickly from the shock of being licked and caught me again just as I was about to torch the merchant’s wagon.
“I’m so sorry! She’s… not well-trained!”
“Don’t let that woman loose!”
“I’ll never forgive this! Let me go! I won’t rest until every one of those is ash! Saint Crowell, my ass!”
“Calm down! Here, here—have another drumstick!”
Grrr… does he think I can be pacified that easily? I’m not some animal!
“Two drumsticks?”
“…You really think you can buy me off with—oh, fine.”
“You’re saying that while holding both in your hands.”
“Consider yourself lucky.”
I’m a rational being, full of grace and class.
Forgiveness is a virtue, after all.
Out of four drumsticks, he gave me three. If that’s not true love, what is?
“I’ll let it slide ‘this’ time!”
Out of respect for his sincerity, I sat back down.
The hated statue continued to burn in the fire.