Chapter 74: Victory (2)

The Alliance army returned to Valshard.

Maryrose organized a grand banquet to celebrate the victory. Those who courted her, intoxicated by the mood, offered her flowers, and some even went so far as to challenge each other to duels.

“Ah, youth is wonderful!”

Ragnar clapped delightedly, but Maryrose’s reaction was cold.

“Why doesn’t anyone ask for my opinion? I’m not the least bit interested, so if they want to fight with swords, go to the backyard.”

Leaving all that commotion behind, Yuri stepped out onto the balcony and gazed at the night view of Valshard.

Though it was a remote city on the plains, it still preserved traces of an ancient civilization, and maná-powered lanterns faintly lit the streets.

Below, townsfolk gathered, playing instruments and chatting cheerfully.

It was a good place to live.

“What are you doing?”

Maryrose approached. She smelled of alcohol and perfume.

“Just looking.”

“Mhm…”

Maryrose smiled as she swirled her wine glass.

“Pretty, isn’t it? Makes you want to live here?”

“I’ve heard fugitive peasants are flocking to Valshard.”

“That’s right. They say taxes are so high elsewhere it’s unlivable. Ah, there are hardly any people from Briol. Looks like they don’t have corrupt nobles over there.”

“Looks like they do, after all.”

“Hehe…”

Maryrose winked.

“Who knows?”

Yuri chuckled, with no intention of questioning her further, and turned back to the view.

Valshard’s magic circle was powerful. If she truly shut the gates, even the Empire would struggle to break through.

“Can I ask you a favor?”

“Tell me what it is first.”

“In the future…”

Yuri cleared his throat.

“If Briol ever falls into danger, take in our people.”

Maryrose’s eyes widened at those words. As if to check whether he was serious, she leaned in and studied him carefully, then looked in the direction he was facing.

“Hmm…”

Maryrose stroked her chin and tilted her head before replying.

“Alright.”

She didn’t ask a single question.

Yuri looked at her profile. The light from the hall behind softly outlined her face. Her pale nose and red lips stood out against the night sky.

“Mhm.”

Yuri responded immediately. And that was that.

Silence enveloped them, until Maryrose suddenly grabbed the edge of his clothes.

“Hey! If I agreed so naturally, shouldn’t you be asking why? Or what made me trust you? None of that?”

“If you said yes, what’s the point in asking?”

“Ah, this guy…!”

She had wanted to surprise him with a cold reply, but Yuri had surprised her instead. Maryrose laughed helplessly as she spun her wine glass several times.

“You’re younger than me, yet you seem older.”

Well, he actually was. But there was no reason to explain that.

Yuri laughed softly.

“Maybe it’s just that you’re a bit immature.”

“Is that so?”

“A bit.”

“Haa…”

Maryrose leaned on the railing and looked up at him.

“If you keep being so charming, I might seriously start flirting with you.”

“I’m charming?”

“You’ve been flaunting your charm since you were young.”

“That was without honorifics.”

“So what?”

She downed her wine in one gulp and turned around.

“Quit being all melancholic and get back in there!”

She was stronger than she looked. Yuri let himself be dragged back into the banquet hall.

As they opened the door, the chandelier’s light flickered over them. Yuri squinted at the brightness. Gradually, the interior scene came into view. Under the chandelier, the knights who had survived the war were celebrating and mingling.

“Wanna die?”

“And who do you think you are?”

Two knights who had argued over offering flowers to Maryrose were still facing off.

Maryrose put a hand to her forehead.

“They’re still at it?”

Normally someone would have stopped them, but since they were all swordsmen, no one intervened—rather, they watched with interest. Yuri tried to ignore the stupidity.

But the back of one of the knights looked familiar.

“Simon…”

Yuri couldn’t help but chuckle. That boy who used to be so timid seemed to have gained confidence after the war.

Maryrose asked,

“What should we do?”

“Leave him. If he wants to fight, he knows.”

“You’re not going to step in, even though he’s your subordinate?”

“He’s a knight. He has to handle himself.”

Just as Yuri was sitting down, it happened.

“Step outside.”

The knight facing Simon scowled.

“And who do you think you are? Think you can strut around just because you’re from Briol?”

“Do I need backing to beat you down?”

“I don’t care if you’re from Briol or wherever—you’ll be humiliated. I’m Amunson of Joachim.”

“I’m Simon of Briol.”

Yuri’s eyes, which had been idly watching his drink pour into a cup, snapped around.

He’d been about to dismiss the duel as a childish quarrel between two young knights, but Simon’s opponent turned out to be from Joachim. Political calculations quickly flooded his mind.

“Prince?”

Maryrose called, but Yuri ignored her and stepped forward.

“Sir Amunson.”

Yuri’s sudden intervention drew everyone’s attention. Both Simon and Amunson froze, and nobles from other countries raised their glasses with heightened excitement.

As he walked, Yuri glanced toward Joachim’s representatives. He locked eyes with Gonte Merchant, a knight he’d grown close to during the war.

He recalled their conversation:

— Our military strength has weakened. Joachim isn’t what it used to be.

— Really?

— Yes. The younger generations are incredibly weak…

At first, Yuri had thought him just an old-fashioned knight, but Gonte Merchant had spoken seriously, genuinely concerned for Joachim’s future.

Yuri also remembered the promise he made.

— Sir Gonte, when the war ends, I’ll invite Joachim’s knights to Briol. I’d like to offer a joint training program.

— You mean that? It’d really help the friendship between our nations.

It wasn’t an empty promise.

Yuri truly intended to support Joachim through training. As a mountainous nation, Joachim shared the Alloy range with the Empire.

In his past life, when the Empire began its expansion, Joachim had been the first to fall.

Had they not collapsed so quickly, and instead used their mountainous terrain to wage guerrilla resistance, they could’ve remained a constant threat to the Empire’s neck. If the enemy is the same, they can be friends.

“Sir Gonte!”

“Yes.”

Gonte jumped to his feet when he caught Yuri’s gaze.

“This man from Joachim has just insulted Briol.”

At that declaration, Amunson flinched.

“Excuse me? Me?”

Yuri ignored him and continued speaking to Gonte.

“He just said he’d disgrace us, whether we were from Briol or not.”

Though the comment had been aimed specifically at Simon, Yuri blew it up into a diplomatic incident between nations.

“How could we tolerate such an insult?! Don’t you agree?!”

And as Yuri raised his voice, other nations—who had nothing to do with the matter—started chiming in.

“He’s right!”

“Briol can’t let that slide!”

“Joachim is looking down on Briol!”

“If I were them, I wouldn’t tolerate it either!”

Since it wasn’t their business, they were more than happy to fan the flames. Amunson’s face, once fierce, turned pale. Even Simon looked at him with pity.

Yuri declared,

“Now that it’s come to this, let’s settle it with a duel between knights to determine which nation is superior.”

“Huh?”

“Simon and Amunson will fight. The losing country will send its knights and squires to the winner for training.”

Yuri guided the situation effortlessly, as if it were the natural course of things.

“I agree. A knight must have that kind of pride.”

Gonte backed the proposal. He seemed to carry some weight in Joachim, as no one contradicted him. Only Amunson’s face reddened in shame.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Maryrose asked in a low voice.

“I’ll explain later.”

Yuri had no time for chit-chat. He had to seize the opportunity before it slipped away.

Even though the Alliance had won, for him, that was only the beginning of a long journey.

“Let’s go down and hold the duel between Simon and Amunson. Let each country wager its pride—the loser will learn from the other.”

Yuri said this while looking more at the other nations than at Joachim. He knew the sentiment would catch on quickly.

At last, after all the commotion, the duel between Simon and Amunson was confirmed. All the knights at the banquet headed outside to witness the match.

Maryrose sighed.

“Seriously…”

Just as she said, the duel would take place in the backyard. It wasn’t very spacious.

Simon and Amunson stood facing each other at the center, while the others watched from among the bushes and flowers.

The most confused of all were the duelists themselves.

While they had considered fighting, neither had expected to become the center of attention.

“What’s he scheming now?”

Raymond asked with a grin. Yuri shrugged.

“It’ll be fine.”

“What if he loses?”

“Then we send our guys.”

Yuri didn’t mind. What mattered was forging bonds that would allow him to help Joachim build elite troops.

Still, he hoped they’d win.

“Hey, Simon.”

Yuri called. Simon approached hesitantly.

“Uh, Prince…”

“If you lose, you die.”

“What?”

“Did you drink a lot?”

“A bit…”

“So did the other guy.”

The conflict between Simon and Amunson hadn’t started over anything serious.

Maryrose was beautiful, and they were both drunk. A trivial combination that had brought them to this point.

“I’ll teach you a secret technique.”

“A secret technique?”

“A move that can’t be dodged if you don’t know it. It only works once.”

Yuri leaned in and whispered something in his ear.

Simon’s expression changed completely.

“You’re serious…?”

“Yes. Trust me and use it.”

“I’m concerned about Briol’s dignity, but…”

“Losing would be worse.”

Yuri had learned in his past life that sometimes honor was more important than life. But not just any kind of honor. The kind of honor in a situation like this wasn’t the one he valued.

“Know the difference between pride and honor.”

“Understood.”

Finally, Simon straightened his shoulders and stepped forward. Amunson was still there, his face tense. He seemed like the type to ignite just before a fight.

Both were drunk, so they were given wooden swords to avoid bloodshed.

The duel’s referee stepped forward.

“Both of you, come here…”

It was Graham.

Someone had suggested a referee was needed, and the name of Graham—an exemplary knight—had come up. Though it was questionable whether someone so upstanding was needed for a drunken brawl, Ragnar had pushed until he accepted.

“Don’t get too carried away. Just test your skill.”

“Yes.”

“Understood.”

“The match ends if one is incapacitated or yields.”

The duel didn’t require much explanation, as the rules were universal.

Graham looked into their eyes to confirm they were in their right mind, then stepped back.

“Begin!”

Amunson attacked first. He didn’t have refined technique, but his raw force was impressive. He was a natural fighter.

“That too is a form of talent.”

Simon kept retreating. Amunson roared as he launched blow after blow with his wooden sword.

Yuri watched Simon’s eyes. Though not much less skilled, Simon also didn’t have an edge.

It would be a tough fight. But if he used the secret technique Yuri had taught him, he’d win without trouble.

Yuri shouted.

“Simon!”

Despite the noise, Simon heard his voice clearly.

“Are you just going to keep retreating? Be the winner!”

Yuri wasn’t just referring to the duel’s outcome. He was encouraging Simon’s entire life—the bastard born and bullied by the legitimate heir, who had always lived cautiously.

Simon glanced at him and nodded.

He replied softly,

“Yes, Prince.”

To Simon, the Third Prince was the one who had changed his life. He would follow any order from him.

Simon raised his wooden sword.

It was time—Yuri’s secret technique was about to be unleashed.