The Genius Knight of a Fallen Race - Chapter 34

WeTried Translations

Translator/Editor: Chen

◈ The Genius Knight of a Fallen Race ◈

Chapter 34: Battlefield of Glory

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Among the Arman Alliance, Libert was the nation where jousting was most popular, but Pendia was not far behind.

After all, it was the most martial of the five kingdoms, a land that revered strength and adored knights.

The people of Pendia loved jousting tournaments immensely, as shown by the fact that Roden knew the name of Fional, the record winner of jousting tournaments in neighboring Libert.

For that reason, the jousting tournament held in Hasra, the capital, was the largest festival of the year apart from a few major national events.

People passionately debated who would win this year's tournament and wagered a day's wages on it.

“Hmm?”

Baron Rabayan, the Royal Household's second-ranking steward and manager of this highly anticipated event, frowned at an application form.

Something as trivial as a knight's application should have been handled well below Baron Rabayan's level.

“What on earth is this that they brought it to me...?”

As Baron Rabayan read the form, Baron Rabayan quickly understood why the subordinates had brought it.

Shan of House Barendil. Born in Libert. Knighted by Princess Serin of Pendia. Black hair, green eyes. An Alto.

‘An Alto knight?’

Baron Rabayan barely had time to question the absurdity of it before contacting the records office and checking the knight registry.

There really was a knight registered under that name.

Baron Rabayan immediately summoned the officials from the records office and berated them.

“Why wasn't such an important matter reported?”

“M-My apologies. Princess Serin told us there was no need to mention the knighting of a mere knight to those above us...”

After hearing that, Baron Rabayan no longer felt like scolding them. Baron Rabayan let out a quiet sigh and waved them away.

A low-ranking official could hardly defy a princess's “recommendation.”

Though Princess Serin held no official position, Princess Serin had earned the goodwill of the bureaucracy by identifying and reforming numerous unfair and absurd systems since childhood.

‘The princes will cause an uproar when they hear of this.’

When members of the royal family clashed, direct subordinates like Baron Rabayan were the ones caught in the middle.

Just thinking about being pulled in every direction made Baron Rabayan sigh.

Still, there was no regulation barring an Alto from competing, naturally because there had never been an Alto knight before. Baron Rabayan stamped the approval with a loud thud.

If Baron Rabayan was going to take the blame either way, it was better to follow the rules.

* * *

The jousting tournament was held in a historic gladiatorial arena built during the days of the Arman Empire.

The enormous stands, built to hold tens of thousands of people, rose in a circle around the arena.

In ancient times, this place had been called the Battlefield of Glory. It was famous for having hosted gladiatorial matches attended by the Emperor himself.

The seats, normally empty, were packed with spectators who had come to watch the jousting tournament.

“[Glory to the Goddess, loyalty to the royal family! We shall now begin Hasra's Royal Jousting Tournament!]”

The voice, amplified through a magic device, carried for hundreds of meters in every direction and drew thunderous cheers from the crowd.

“[Our first participant! Sir Darman of House Kalai, from the southern Kingdom of Luman! Knighted by Viscount Shuld, lord of Beo Island, this hero hunted the sirens of the southern sea and defeated the Black Moon pirates!]”

Sir Darman stepped into the arena and raised a hand in response to the cheers.

The announcer continued reading the names of participants emerging one by one from waiting rooms around the arena.

Then, for a moment, the announcer's expression clouded.

“[Ah, this is... Our twenty-eighth participant! Shan of House Barendil, from Libert! Knighted by Princess Serin of Pendia, he is a young hero who hunted the man-eating troll of Ovilos and a cockatrice in the Demon Realm! And he is also an Alto!]”

The crowd froze for an instant before erupting into cheers several times louder than before.

The person behind the much-rumored recent cockatrice hunt was competing?

Surely a knight would not be foolish enough to falsify accomplishments in a royal jousting tournament.

“He's smaller than I expected. I heard he was a gigantic man.”

“He looks like a child... No, looking at his face, he is a child.”

“That little brat hunted a cockatrice?”

“Come to think of it, I think I heard some nonsense about an Alto boy hunting one.”

“An Alto, a knight?! Does that make any sense?”

“Could he have lied about his status-”

Leaving aside religious issues, impersonating a knight was a serious matter.

As unrest quickly spread through the stands, Roden hurried over to the announcer.

“What exactly is going on?”

“His knighting by the princess as an Alto is written here in this letter of knighthood. Please confirm it.”

The announcer looked over the document Roden had prepared and let out a low groan.

It contained Shan's name, family name, coat of arms, and even his physical characteristics.

At the end was the seal of the Hasra Royal Family, verifying all of it.

After officials went back and forth to the VIP seats several times, the announcer shouted with the help of the magic device.

“[An announcement! Sir Shan of House Barendil is one of the Altos, and this matter has already received royal approval! Therefore, there are no grounds to disqualify him as a knight!]”

Old Faith spectators flooded the arena with protests, but the announcer steadily called the next participant's name.

In the meantime, Shan repeatedly lowered and raised the removable faceguard on his helmet, as required by the tournament rules.

It was a necessary safety measure, since fragments from broken lances could easily pierce his face.

As Shan looked around, his expression seemed overwhelmed, or perhaps excited.

“Whew, this is incredible...”

“If this matter hadn't been settled quickly, we might have been up there too, Sir Shan.”

Since they were among others, Roden, attending as Shan's squire, spoke respectfully.

Shan grimaced at the awkwardness of it, then turned his gaze back toward the crowd.

Thousands, tens of thousands of gazes filled with curiosity, delight, doubt, hostility, and even jealousy...

The heat of everyone looking in his direction was so intense that it almost felt like physical pressure.

“A cockatrice?”

“What nonsense.”

“An Alto, a knight?!”

The spectators were not the only ones looking at Shan and Roden.

The knights listening to the introductions nearby also stared at them with expressions of disbelief.

There was a limit to boasting. Shan looked like other sturdy knights could send him flying with a single shove, yet he supposedly killed a troll and a cockatrice?

And he was an Alto on top of that.

Unless the royal family were fools, they would not knight someone with fake accomplishments, but the story still seemed far too unrealistic.

“Is the armor all right? You haven't had much time to get used to it.”

“It’s fine. It isn't that uncomfortable. It must be really well made.”

“It was made by a plate armor master whose craft has been passed down in the capital for five generations.”

Shan nodded and looked down at the plate armor he wore.

This armor was a privilege granted only to those of knightly rank.

It protected every part of the body except the joints with steel plates, while its refined design and construction kept it from being much more uncomfortable than chainmail.

A properly made suit of plate armor cost more than an ordinary warhorse.

Since Shan had not finished growing yet, the thought that he would have to commission another suit once he got taller was enough to make him want to cry.

On top of that, the armor was protected by a fairly powerful defensive enchantment.

As Shan ran a hand over the softly glowing armor, he thought to himself.

‘I should thank Princess Serin when I see Princess Serin later.’

Originally, when the armor had been finished two days before the tournament, Shan went to the Magic Society. Yet all the enchanters had been booked solid, making it impossible to find one.

Other knights had already insisted that enchantment magic be placed on their own armor, so there was nothing to be done.

Then several mages suddenly led Shan upstairs in secret and enchanted the armor he had brought.

Naturally, it was because Princess Serin, a major patron of the Magic Society, had put in a word beforehand.

“Hmph, he at least dressed himself in brand-new armor.”

“Maybe the cockatrice smashed the one he used to wear?”

“Look at him. He must've poured magic into that armor!”

That was also why the other knights looked at Shan with a mixture of jealousy and contempt.

Unlike their armor, which bore clear traces of countless chaotic battles despite being carefully repaired and maintained, Shan's was gleaming as though it had never seen a fight.

Then the announcer's voice rang out from afar.

“[Our thirty-fifth participant! Sir Katra of House Dalik, from Londo Gorge! The young hero who hunted the banshee of Lanche Plain, the evil-spirit-possessed tiger of Corvan Village, and the man-eating troll of Ovilos has arrived!]”

“Wait, could it be?”

Hearing a familiar name and familiar accomplishments, Shan brightened. Roden nodded as well.

“I think that's Katra... I mean, I believe it is.”

As expected, the participant entering was Sir Katra, who had once hunted a troll alongside Shan.

The young squire standing beside Katra was also familiar.

The young knight, who had worn a solemn expression, looked around. When Katra spotted Shan, Katra brightened and approached.

“I thought it was someone with the same name, but it really is you! How did you end up here? Don't tell me you're already a knight?”

Judging by Katra's tone, Shan becoming an Alto knight was not especially surprising.

Katra was only shocked that Shan had become one in barely a year.

Happy to meet someone he knew after so long, Shan smiled back.

“Yes. Things just happened to work out.”

“Do you know that young fellow, Sir Katra?”

The person who suddenly joined the conversation was a middle-aged knight with a thick beard like Roden's.

The knight's build was not particularly sturdy, though, and the gaunt frame gave the knight a somewhat gloomy impression.

“Ah, Baron Ragol! It has been a long time. Yes. Shan here... Ah, you said you became a knight? I know Sir Shan. We hunted the troll in Ovilos City together before. I nearly died then, but Shan saved me.”

As Katra had said before, Katra openly revealed that Shan had saved Katra's life.

The other knights nearby looked bewildered by this honesty, which was unusual for a knight who lived and died by honor.

“Huh, he really did kill a troll?”

“And I heard that boy hunted a cockatrice too.”

Katra looked startled, as though having forgotten something, and asked.

“Right, I meant to ask earlier but forgot. You hunted a cockatrice? Is it true? That stone lizard?”

“Yes. I didn't kill it completely alone. I had some help.”

“It's hard to believe... Then again, you were skilled enough to fight a troll one-on-one before you had even awakened your Spirit. It would be ridiculous to doubt you. Still, I never heard that one had appeared.”

“I was in the Demon Realm until recently. I killed it there.”

“Did you bring its head back?”

“I left it in the garden of the house where I'm staying.”

“I would really like to see it. If it wouldn't be rude, could I ask for an invitation after today's tournament?”

Katra did not seem doubtful. Katra was genuinely curious about the cockatrice's head.

That was only natural. Even knights who searched for them might go decades without seeing one.

“Of course.”

“Thank you! Then I should get back to my place. Let's have a good match.”

After Sir Katra moved away with a word of encouragement, the looks the surrounding knights gave Shan gradually changed.

Before, they had looked at him as though asking what he could possibly have been thinking when he submitted such accomplishments.

Now, their looks held a different question.

Could it be true?

Roden realized it too and whispered so no one else could hear.

“What a shame.”

“Why?”

“If they had kept looking down on you, you could've gotten through the first round easily.”

“I just have to beat them with skill.”

If Shan needed to lure them into letting their guard down to win, he could not have dreamed of taking first place in the first place.

Roden smirked as though in agreement.

* * *

The announcer continued calling participants until more than eighty knights had gathered in the enormous arena.

After a count gave a speech of encouragement, the first match began soon after.

“[The first match will be between Sir Ron of House Kacha and Baron Garn! Goddess, please bless the victor!]”

“Win!”

“Finish them!”

Excited by the cheers ringing out from every direction, the horses snorted and stamped their hooves.

A moment later, the two knights set off from opposite ends and charged toward each other at full speed.

“Here they come, here they come, here they come!”

“Oooh!”

For several seconds, the two charged with long, blunt-tipped lances tucked tightly under their arms.

The moment they crossed paths, a tremendous crash rang across the vast arena, and one knight was thrown from the saddle.

“Ah!”

“No! Get up! Please!”

“My money...”

“Fantastic! I won! I won!”

Cheers and cries of despair came from the acquaintances of the two knights and gamblers who had wagered money on the match.

The fallen knight had fainted and was declared defeated. After receiving healing miracles from the priests waiting nearby, the knight opened their eyes again.

“I... I lost?”

“You fought well, my lord.”

“Urgh...”

The knight grimaced and groaned, apparently in pain from the lance strike to the chest.

While Roden checked the horse's condition as Shan's squire, Shan watched the match through the window as if entranced.

‘Wow...’

He had seen knights duel on battlefields in the past, and he had done something close to a joust with Fional, but this was his first time seeing such a tournament in person.

Watching it from so close, the force of it was even greater than he had imagined.

Was it because the knights could shut out everything around them and focus entirely on a one-on-one battle? Their immersion and concentration were on another level.

The cheers and cries rising from the stands whenever someone fell also stirred Shan's emotions.

Shan felt as though he could control the hearts of thousands, tens of thousands of people through this battle.

“Don't watch too closely.”

The knight across from Shan spoke quietly.

“Yes?”

“If you keep watching other people's matches, you'll get nervous and your body will stiffen. You'd be better off using that time to compose yourself. It's best to calm your emotions if you want to handle Spirit properly.”

The knight seemed to think Shan was frightened because he was so absorbed in the matches outside.

There was no mockery in the knight's voice. It sounded like sincere advice, so Shan nodded and sat down.

When he closed his eyes and focused his awareness inward, he realized that he was more excited than he had thought.

If he had competed immediately in that state, his control of Spirit would likely have been somewhat unnatural.

Not that it would have affected the outcome.

Just as Shan felt his mind settle, someone called his name from outside.

“[The next match will be Shan of House Barendil against Garn of House Pinuah!]”

Shan sprang to his feet, and the knight who had advised him across the room stood up as well.

They looked at each other awkwardly.

“Well, it seems we're first-round opponents...”

Shan thought for a moment about what to say, then gave a small bow.

“I hope we can have a good match.”

“Likewise.”

A short while later, Shan entered the arena, lowered his helmet's faceguard, and took a lance in one hand and a shield in the other.

Across from him, the knight who had advised him earlier made similar preparations.

Once they stood in their assigned positions, flags bearing the crests of House Barendil and House Pinuah crossed at the midpoint.

‘Get ready...’

As the flags rose, the two warhorses began charging toward each other.

Shan lowered his lance and recalled the advice Sir Darkal had once given him about jousting.

‘First, proper control of the lance and shield.’

Aiming a lance accurately at an opponent's head while riding a horse at full speed was never easy.

If he compromised and targeted the chest instead, the chance of the strike being blocked by a shield rose sharply. Even if it landed, it would be difficult to hit hard enough to unhorse his opponent.

At the same time, he had to defend accurately against the other knight's lance with his shield. Even three eyes would not have been enough.

For Shan, though, it was as simple as breathing.

He could wield different weapons in both hands. Thrusting a lance while defending at the same time was nothing special.

‘Second, controlling the warhorse.’

Unlike tournaments held in some regions, the jousting tournament in Hasra had no barrier separating the two knights.

That meant riders could suddenly turn their horse's head and swing around from an opponent's left to their right while charging.

Of course, anyone who completely lost their will to fight and fled would be disqualified by the referee.

The problem was that it was difficult to control a horse precisely when both hands held a lance and shield, leaving no hand free for the reins.

If the riders failed to read each other properly, their horses could sometimes collide.

If that happened, they would be lucky to escape with serious injuries. If they were unlucky, they could die.

The horses would die on the spot without question.

‘And third, the control of Spirit.’

In truth, this was the beginning and end of jousting, the most important factor.

Among skilled knights, lances and shields often collided. At the higher levels, victory was often decided by how much Spirit a knight could draw out at the moment of impact and how it was divided between offense and defense.

Holding the opposing intents of attack and defense in one's Spirit at the same time was a difficult technique to begin with. Most people focused on either offense or defense, and since it did not show on the surface, a knight could only rely on instinct and experience.

Would his opponent concentrate a large amount of Spirit into the lance and strike Shan's chest first to unhorse him?

Would the opponent focus Spirit into the shield to block Shan's lance, then strike Shan's head accurately with a small amount of Spirit?

Or would the knight divide it exactly in half, accept some of the impact, hope Shan focused on attacking, and strike at the same time?

Yet if Shan focused on that too much, he might neglect the basic handling of his lance and shield.

‘Which will it be...?’

Shan watched the knight charging at him and gradually divided Spirit between his lance and shield.

The important thing here was not to fill his lance with the intent to penetrate.

If he filled it with the intent to strike and sent his opponent flying, then a broken neck or crushed organs from the powerful impact would be an accident.

Deliberately filling the lance with the intent to penetrate and piercing through shield and armor, however, was considered one of the most cowardly methods of assassination.

At the moment of impact, Shan angled his shield to deflect his opponent's lance precisely. At the same time, he thrust his own lance against the knight's helmet and shoved the knight back.

Knowing the shield would not block it, Shan did not put much Spirit into his lance. Still, the overwhelming speed created as their horses crossed paths was enough to throw the knight from the saddle with a thunderous crash.

If Shan had concentrated all his Spirit into the lance, the knight's neck would have snapped, killing the knight instantly.

“Oh, he won!”

“The boy knight won!”

Cheers rose from all around at Shan's victory.

People naturally thrilled at the sight of the weak defeating the strong.

Shan was only around 160 centimeters tall, yet he had knocked down an adult man who was clearly half a head taller than him.

It was enough to stir catharsis.

That was separate from the fact that he was a lowly Alto.

When Shan returned to his place, Roden took the horse's reins and smiled.

“You fought well, Sir Shan.”

“Jousting is more fun than I expected.”

The difference between hearing about it and experiencing it himself was greater than Shan had expected.