WeTried Translations
Translator: Hydrogen B
Editor: Hydrogen B
Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried
Chapter 173: The Red Banquet (12)
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Kyle swept his gaze around the room.
Everyone in the banquet hall was watching his mouth. The moderates, the hardliners, the neutrals, even the priests of the church. Not a single person was exempt.
A friendly duel between knights.
It was a common occurrence. Knights crossing swords at gatherings like this to build camaraderie was nothing unusual. It also made for an entertaining spectacle, so there was no reason to refuse. For unknown knights, it was even a perfect opportunity to make a name for themselves.
But the situation was different now.
The war caused by the Empire's sudden invasion had yet to end. With everyone watching to see who would draw a sword first, the reason for such a provocative challenge was obvious. They either meant to crush our side's morale or gauge our strength in advance.
Refuse, or accept.
“It doesn't seem like you're very interested.”
In the center of the banquet hall, now so quiet that even breathing could be heard, the disappointed voice of the Russel knight rang out beneath the vast chandelier.
“You needn't think of it as something so difficult. This happens all the time, doesn't it? It's only entertainment. We can lighten the mood, build some friendship through a duel, and give everyone gathered here something to watch.”
He spread both arms wide, including the hand holding his sword. The eyes fixed on Kyle naturally shifted to the Russel knight. Bathed in everyone's attention, the knight smiled with satisfaction and looked back at Kyle.
“But if you truly dislike the idea, there is nothing to be done.”
“...”
“I had hoped to cross swords with His Grace's knight, but that is unfortunate. It doesn't seem anyone else wishes to step forward, so I'll look forward to another chance to duel you. There will always be another opportunity.”
The Russel knight let out an exaggerated sigh and lowered his raised arms. Disappointed groans immediately rose from around the hall.
“Is that it?”
“I heard the Grand Duke's knight was incredible. Was it all just a rumor?”
“What else could he do? We just watched a duel like that with our own eyes. Of course he'd lose his nerve. Better this than boldly stepping out and humiliating himself.”
“He looks just as young as that Russel knight, though...”
“His Grace has lost quite a bit of face.”
“But we can't force someone who doesn't want to fight, can we?”
The silent hall became noisy in an instant. Amid the murmurs spreading in every direction, Kyle calmly surveyed the room.
The number of people in the banquet hall. The strength of the knights brought by the moderate and hardliner nobles. The positions of the kings of Valone and Rustin, along with Russel and Selaine. Even the condition of the guards outside.
As Kyle swiftly assessed everything, one knight caught his eye.
Not the young Russel knight provoking him from directly ahead, but a middle-aged man who had been quietly watching him for some time. The man had remained by Philip, the King of Russel, without moving. Unlike the young knight, whose emotions were plain to see, his eyes showed no trace of agitation.
The Commander of the Royal Knights?
No, if my guess is right...
For the briefest moment, Kyle's gaze met the man's in midair. Kyle quickly turned his head.
Adrian stood there, staring straight at him with a stiff expression.
What will you do?
Do as you please. The outcome won't change anyway.
Their lips moved for an instant, then closed. No sound was made, but it wasn't difficult to understand what they meant. Kyle looked away from Adrian and turned to Godfrey, who stood not far away. With his arms folded, Godfrey gave no sign that he intended to interfere, as if leaving the matter entirely to Kyle.
Is it almost time?
“Thank you all for watching until the end. I shall now...”
The young Russel knight gave a crisp bow and was about to step back.
Then the sound of footsteps suddenly cut through the banquet hall.
The Russel knight raised his head a beat too late. Kyle had already walked into the center of the hall.
“Uh, ah...?”
“Move.”
Kyle spoke curtly.
The Valone knight who had lost earlier stammered and stepped back. Kyle gripped the plain live blade embedded in the floor with a reverse grip. When he pulled it free, it came out with a sharp crack, and exclamations burst out around him.
“Does this mean my assumption was correct?”
The Russel knight straightened, and the corner of his mouth curled upward.
“Yes.”
“Hahaha! I knew you'd respond like this. As fellow knights, wouldn't it be rude to retreat after receiving a challenge?”
He burst into laughter. A sincere smile hung on his lips. As the Russel knight readied his sword and took his stance, a large oval space formed around him and Kyle as though it had always been there. The hardliner nobles watched with desperate expressions, while the moderate nobles glared at Kyle as if they wanted to tear him apart.
“Ah, come to think of it, we haven't introduced ourselves. My name is Thibaut Rocher. And yours, sir?”
Thibaut asked as he spun the live blade prepared for the duel.
“Kane Abello.”
“Sir Kane... Good. Though we'll have to see whether your skill lives up to your reputation as His Grace's knight.”
He stepped forward.
Kyle glanced once at the edge of the dueling sword in his hand, then raised his head. Thibaut was slowly circling along the edge of the crowd surrounding them. Maintaining the distance between them, Kyle began moving at an equally leisurely pace.
“The duel ends when one side surrenders or bleeds. Only Body Reinforcement is allowed. Is that acceptable?”
“Whatever you prefer.”
“Such confidence. You're completely different from before.”
“Have you ever killed someone?”
“A person?”
After circling each other for a while, Thibaut tilted his head before letting out a small laugh.
“I am a formally appointed knight. Whether I like it or not, I must stain my hands with blood for the lord to whom I swore loyalty. Wouldn't it be stranger if I'd never killed anyone?”
“Yet you didn't participate in the war.”
“Excuse me?”
“In the end, you only cowered safely in the rear. You struggled to catch your master's eye, but it seems things didn't go as you wished. Were you unqualified to aspire to the Celestial Knights?”
“What are you...”
Thibaut frowned at the incomprehensible words.
At that moment, Kyle's sword, which had been circling the center of the banquet hall in time with Thibaut's steps, shot forward like a ray of light.
Clang!
The instant Sword Light flashed, a sharp metallic crash rang out. The murmuring crowd fell silent as if cold water had been poured over them.
Kyle was already right in front of Thibaut, his sword thrust forward. Thibaut barely blocked it, and his expression twisted far more sharply than before.
“You...”
“I'm curious too. Just how deeply have you people infiltrated?”
That ended the conversation.
Kyle angled their crossed blades and broke Thibaut's balance. Startled by the sudden strike, Thibaut's body rapidly crumpled. Kyle didn't miss the opening.
Prisia.
The moment he murmured inwardly, the Progenitor Dragon's pure, destructive mana raced through his body. His senses expanded, and his five senses stretched outward.
Unlike when he had first awakened Prisia's mana after losing to Cassius Mortein, he could now handle it as naturally as if it were part of his own body.
Kyle relentlessly pressed the knight before him.
Slashing, thrusting, pulling, breaking his stance.
They were all exceedingly simple movements, but they were anything but simple for Thibaut to defend against. Sharp metallic clangs rang out one after another, and Thibaut's face grew increasingly twisted with humiliation.
“This can't be...”
“Was the Grand Duke's knight really this strong?”
“Isn't he just playing with him?”
“The situation is the complete opposite of before. I had roughly expected it from the moment the Grand Duke personally brought along a face none of us had seen before...”
The other spectators were no different.
It was nothing like the earlier duel with the defeated Valone knight. Now, it was the Russel knight desperately fighting not to fall. Kyle, on the other hand, pressed him just enough, deliberately giving him brief moments to recover his footing.
“It's over.”
Someone muttered quietly.
As those words suggested, it didn't take long for the outcome to be decided.
Clang!
One final, resounding metallic crash echoed through the hall. Like the Valone knight before him, Thibaut's sword flew helplessly through the air before rolling across the floor. Having lost his balance, he dropped to the floor without realizing it.
When he came to his senses, Kyle was standing over him with his sword pointed down at him.
“Ah...”
Thibaut let out a blank sound. Kyle stared at his face with lifeless eyes.
Once the sound of swords clashing vanished, the vast banquet hall sank into silence. The moderate nobles watching wore viciously twisted expressions. In contrast, smiles spread across the hardliner nobles' faces.
Among the silent kings, only the Grand Duke looked out at the darkened scenery outside.
“You are... incredible.”
After a moment, Thibaut finally spoke as he blankly looked down at his hand.
“I had heard that His Grace's knight was among the finest in the Federation. It seems that wasn't merely a rumor.”
“...”
“I was shortsighted. I've gained much today. I've learned a lesson from you. Then, I'll take my leave.”
Thibaut lightly pushed aside the blade at his throat and tried to rise.
Kyle pressed down on his shoulder and brought his mouth close to Thibaut's ear.
“You're an Imperial.”
The shoulder Kyle gripped with his left hand trembled.
It was a tiny tremor, but Kyle clearly read Thibaut's agitation in that moment.
“Did you think changing your accent would fool me?”
“What... are you saying...?”
“Kyle Baldrick.”
Thibaut's eyes widened as if they would split apart.
“That's my real name.”
Kyle pulled his mouth away from Thibaut's ear and drove the sword in his hand straight into his heart.
Thibaut's eyes flew open at the unexpected strike. Unbelieving shock filled them as he struggled to deny reality.
How?
How could this...
Thibaut's thoughts did not continue for long.
Kyle gave the hilt of the embedded sword one full twist. Bright red blood streamed from the torn flesh. Thibaut's head dropped on its own, and he vomited a bucketful of blood.
“Uh...?”
“What are you doing...?”
“Ahhhhh!”
A noblewoman in the corner of the banquet hall let out a horrified scream.
That was the beginning. Agitation spread in every direction. Standing in the middle of the chaos, Kyle pulled the sword free by its hilt. The young Russel knight with a pierced heart collapsed limply onto the floor.
“He killed a knight who surrendered...?”
“That's impossible.”
“You said it was a friendly duel! What is going on?!”
“Why would the Grand Duke's knight...?”
“Guards! What are you doing? Arrest him now!”
The banquet hall became pandemonium in an instant.
The Calorf knights who had been waiting in case of danger drew their swords and were about to approach Kyle.
“Stop.”
A powerful old man's low voice stopped them.
Godfrey stood in their way, holding a sword no one knew where he had obtained, extended at his side. Its broad blade reflected the chandelier's brilliant light, gleaming like starlight.
The Calorf knights turned toward Godfrey with confused expressions.
“Sir Godfrey...?”
“I'm sorry, but don't move. I don't wish to kill you.”
Shing, shing, shing, shing!
The moment the old knight finished speaking, swords were drawn all around them. They belonged to knights of both the moderates and the hardliners.
The quick-witted neutral nobles cautiously backed away. Only those who had yet to grasp the situation trembled as they looked around.
“Sir Godfrey? What is the meaning of this?”
Even Felbric Chergar, the chairman, was no exception.
“Please understand, Chairman. This was necessary.”
“How could...”
“Weren't you already expecting this? That we have come too far to turn back now?”
Godfrey gave Kyle a brief glance before looking toward the enormous doors at the far end of the banquet hall.
Everyone inside followed the old knight's gaze toward the doors.
Creak.
The tightly shut doors were slowly opening.
The Calorf knight who had been guarding the corridor lay sprawled on the floor beyond them, eyes rolled back and unconscious.
Past him, eight men strolled in without hurry.
Wrapped in black cloaks, each of them held a sword that shone like a star, its blade dripping with bright red blood.
“Kyle!”
Hermann, at the front, threw Yurian's sword to Kyle.
Those near the doors instinctively stumbled backward. Kyle caught the sword without turning around.
Tap.
Warmth wrapped around his left hand.
Kyle drove the dueling sword in his right hand into the floor without hesitation. Then he fastened the sword Hermann had just handed him at his waist. As he pulled the hilt, the blade came free with a familiar scrape.
“The Knights of Ash.”
Eight knights in black cloaks stood behind Kyle.
The star iron, fully drawn from its sheath, shone brilliantly in Kyle's right hand. After looking around the room once, Kyle spoke calmly.
“This is an order. Don't let a single one escape.”
Footnotes:
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