TRHK Chapter 15

He was, admittedly, more handsome in the light. Dark eyebrows like the Count's, brown hair swept back—elegant enough on the surface. Whether the contents matched the packaging was another question entirely. Having spent every day looking at Kahron's particular category of beauty, other men's good looks had stopped registering properly.

...That aside, why did he keep staring like that?

Worried that Joel's peculiar fixation would draw the Count and Countess's attention, I hastily gathered the used plates and glasses and tried to slip out of the hall.

"The wandering knight, was it?"

Joel said it loudly, walking this way. Which rather ruined the plan.

I stopped and turned. Joel's unfriendly gaze moved between me and Kahron. Hwirozen and the other knights stared, wide-eyed.

"What's your name?"

Joel was reasonably built, but compared to Kahron, who was tall even among knights, there was simply no contest. Joel stepped close, then—seeming to realize how small this made him look—retreated a few steps. He did it with a scowl, as if even the realization was its own offense.

"......"

Kahron, a fresh glass in one hand courtesy of a passing servant, looked down at Joel with blank, unhurried regard.

The silence stretched. Hwirozen, hidden from Joel's line of sight, thumped Kahron in the side. Thwack. Kahron's brow furrowed slightly, and he spoke.

"Kahron."

"A commoner, then."

"Yes."

Not a commoner, technically—he was of noble birth. But titles were irrelevant to a Sword Master, and irrelevant to this moment. Even the Count, who had no idea what Kahron actually was, had reportedly offered him a formal title based on skill alone not long ago. Kahron had apparently declined.

"My father spoke highly of your swordwork. Not that I doubt my father's word, but... it's different from seeing it for oneself. How about showing me what you've got?"

A somewhat overbearing suggestion. No—a command, dressed as a suggestion. The words said show me your skill, but the hostility underneath was impossible to miss.

The air chilled. The Count and Countess and their attendants, who had been talking on the other side of the hall, were beginning to drift their attention over one by one. Hwirozen stepped in to manage the situation.

"Ha ha ha, did you hear that, Kahron? Looks like you're in for some special training starting today! In that case, my lord Joel, perhaps in three days we could arrange a demonstration of his—"

"No. Right now."

"...Pardon? But he's had quite a bit to drink—"

"A knight who can't perform when drunk isn't much of a knight. That's my view, at any rate."

It was obvious nonsense. I checked the other knights' faces. I wasn't alone in thinking so. The Count and Countess were frowning but hadn't sent a servant to intervene—apparently content, for now, to watch.

Joel raised his voice with bright, cheerful energy.

"Come, then—who'll take on this wandering knight? Proud knights of House Courtner—as many as you like, step forward!"

It was calculated to prick their pride, to bait their competitive instincts. And as many as you like—what exactly was he trying to do to someone who'd been drinking? I suppressed a strong urge to throw the plate in my hand directly at Joel.

"We'll do it."

A familiar-looking knight stepped forward with a group of companions. The one who had cornered me in the corridor to inform me my hair smelled nice. Joel greeted this with great enthusiasm.

"Oh, brave knights have answered the call!"

So the ones not volunteering were cowards, presumably.

Landale arrived belatedly, face gone rigid. Even Hwirozen, normally impossible to rattle, looked thoroughly uncomfortable.

But the ones who had already decided simply continued, as though it had all been arranged in advance.

"If you'll follow us to the training grounds, my lord Joel. We'll escort you."

"Good. The knights of this house never disappoint."

Joel and the knights swept off toward the training grounds. Landale followed, attempting to say something, but Kahron extended his glass-holding hand and Landale took it reflexively. He looked at the glass. He looked at Kahron. He frowned.

"Don't get any ideas. Impressive as you are, that's when you're sober."

"He's right. Listen to the commander. No one would blame you for refusing."

After Hwirozen, Seyron—who had been watching anxiously from the side—slipped in his own addition.

"Kahron, didn't you just drink ten glasses? We'll explain to my lord Joel—go back to your quarters and rest."

Seyron's voice, free of its usual stuttering—he never stuttered with anyone but me—carried something that sounded like genuine worry. Kahron looked at them for a moment with an odd expression.

"Sir Kahron! Please hurry! My lord Joel is waiting!"

A squire was calling from a distance, visibly agitated. At that, the odd expression cleared from Kahron's face. The usual indifference returned. He left the hall without a word.

No one left in that room thought he was going to his quarters. Neither did I. I set the plates down on the nearest table and went after him.

"Kahron!"

He stopped when I grabbed his arm, eyes dropping to me with a now what? expression.

The protagonist of 〈The Sword God's Adventure〉 had achieved it through extraordinary suffering—an ability that surpassed every limit of what a human being could become. In this world, someone who reached that level was called a Sword Master. Kahron had become one in childhood, which meant he wasn't going to fumble a duel because he'd been drinking. The honest concern wasn't the alcohol. It was the Madness, which could come for him at any time, without warning.

Still. Ten glasses was ten glasses, and the worry was there regardless. I should have gathered sobering herbs from the forest when I had the chance. I hadn't imagined anything like this happening.

"Can you win?"

That was what certainty mixed with worry produced, apparently. I looked at him more intently than I had in a long time. If he seemed uncertain, I was going to drag him to his room. Hide him until the party ended. Whether that was actually feasible I had no idea.

"What will you give me if I win?"

His sulky expression was gone. In its place was a smile, sweet and sudden. Oh no. When he smiled like that it was dangerous—my brain knew this, issued the relevant warning—but between the situation and the smile itself I found myself fumbling.

"Wh-what do I have to give you?"

He was the one doing the fighting—why was I being made to offer something? The absurdity lasted about half a second before the fear arrived: what if he decided to lose on purpose if I said no? My mouth opened and closed without producing anything useful.

As far as I knew, knights used real blades even in training. This wasn't training. The image of Kahron badly wounded at the end of a duel made my head go strange and distant.

"Fine. Yes. I'll do it."

I had no idea what I'd just agreed to. I nodded anyway. Kahron, apparently satisfied, walked off with the unhurried ease of a well-fed predator.

"Don't get hurt anywhere!"

I shouted after him.

I had never seen the training grounds this crowded. Since it was Joel Courtner stirring up trouble at his own welcome party, apparently no one could bring themselves to stop it—the servants, the Count and Countess, the retainers, all of them had made their way out.

Kahron and his opponents stood facing each other within a ring of watching people. The knight who had volunteered first was short and slight, but the others were solidly built.

Five in total. Kahron, alone, against all of them.

Joel, who had brought things to this state, smiled with studied innocence.

"It's a friendly match, so there's no need to fight to the death. But a duel is a duel—if blood gets drawn, that can't be helped."

...That little— The tone of someone looking forward to blood. Several of the knights around me frowned. So did I.

"I thought the young lord might have grown up a little at the academy. Apparently not. Commander."

Hwirozen shook his head slightly and whispered to Landale. I was standing just in front of them, close enough to hear that Landale didn't answer.

Whether or not Kahron knew I was anxious—and if he did, he almost certainly didn't care—there was a faint smile at the corner of his mouth.

...Was he actually drunk?

The Count and Countess had already settled into chairs arranged in the shade, watching.

"You didn't run," Joel said, with his persistently unpleasant smile. "You're a brave knight."

He said it to Kahron. I badly wanted to do something about that mouth.

Had any of this been in the original novel? I went over my memories again. Nothing.

'The original... isn't anymore.'

My existence alone had already bent it out of shape. I wasn't going to fall for Joel. I was going to cure Kahron's Madness before the wandering healer ever arrived. Situations like this were going to keep coming—unpredictable, unscripted. I bit my lip anxiously. I'd bitten it hard enough to draw blood before, just like this, and here I was doing it again.

Then Kahron smiled back at Joel.

I wasn't the only one who made an involuntary sound every time that happened—little sharp intakes of breath all around me, the reaction of people who have just seen something extraordinary and possibly dangerous.

The knights' reaction was somewhat different.

"...That's ominous. Commander," Hwirozen whispered from behind, his tone thoroughly uneasy.

"You said blood could be drawn."

Kahron said it. Joel nodded promptly.

"Of course. It's a duel between knights—blood is inevitable!"

"Then there'll be no punishment?"

"What punishment for something so minor."

"If the Knight Commander also agrees, I'll be glad to take part in the duel."

Being suddenly mentioned, Knight Commander Landale's frown deepened further. He looked about as pleased with this situation as I was. Joel, apparently surprised by the condition, immediately turned.

"Landale! It seems this wandering knight trusts you. He appears to distrust my word alone—hurry up and give your agreement. Everyone's waiting."

Joel wanted this particular exchange over quickly. He wanted to put the knights—Kahron, specifically—into a bloody fight.

Called by the son of his lord, Landale stepped forward a few paces. He fixed Kahron with a look. The look was not friendly.

"I agree."