Chapter 11: Unexpected Event

  The first day of the tournament arrived.

  I planned to participate as an anonymous fighter, wearing a closed helm to hide my identity and only reveal it at the very end of my run. The goal was to show the dukes and the people in general my true power.

  This kingdom needed a warrior king, not an intellectual politician. Especially with the dark times coming.

  The freestyle combat tournament drew a shit-ton of hopefuls, mostly peasants from the countryside, soldiers, and mercenaries looking to sign up with some lord.

  These events also doubled as military recruitment; nobles showed up with their military advisors and snapped up the most promising fighters. Every now and then, wandering knights joined the duels too.

  But unlike the peasants, they were more interested in competing in the jousts.

  “What number did you get, Alda?”

  My sister and I attended the token assignment as infiltrators. We wore dark hoods to cover our faces, and against all odds, nobody recognized us.

  I felt like a spy from a nineties movie. After all, a king rarely gets the chance to pull off stealth tactics like this.

  The draw took place in the armory courtyard, handled by knights in charge of administration. We lined up in a massive queue that stretched all the way to the wooden bridge serving as the main entrance to my residence.

  Luckily, we arrived early and barely waited.

  “There’s sure a lot of people around here.”

  To kill time during the wait, dozens of traveling performers and vendors set up around the line.

  I spotted a junk-food merchant selling hot dogs to the hungry competitors. Just as I thought, the “HOT-DOG” recipe was already spreading among the lowest classes.

  Combined with the advertising I’d do during the tournament, it would kick off a fast-food boom and help lift this economy.

  ?The hamburger plan is going to be a fucking success.?

  “I can’t wait to compete, brother. This is going to be fun.”

  Alda’s face looked super excited, but her smile wasn’t as bright as the night of the banquet when she danced herself exhausted with Sir Percival.

  “I can imagine. You probably want to impress Sir Percival with your skills.”

  My teasing made my precious sister blush. She turned her face away, mortified by the comment.

  “A-And you with Ingrid. I bet you’ll fight with one of her handkerchiefs tied to your arm.”

  “Maybe I will…”

  We stuck our tongues out at each other and laughed.

  Thanks to our disguises, nobody paid us much attention. To the other participants, we were just two siblings joking around before getting our turns.

  After waiting another hour, we finally got our assignments…

  Since there were so many competitors, they had to split us into blocks.

  “I got block F. That means I compete in two weeks. And you?”

  Alda didn’t look happy with her slot. She wanted to be in the opening to show off her skills right away.

  I couldn’t blame her.

  “Block Z…”

  Meanwhile, I got the final block.

  Of course, if I’d wanted, I could have rigged the order and put myself first. But that would ruin the surprise factor.

  Nobody except my inner circle knew about this crazy plan.

  “Aw, sorry for you, brother. You’ll have to fight at the very end.”

  “I was never good at raffles…”

  That was true.

  In my previous life, I never won a single prize. I sucked at gacha games and used to bitch on social media to vent my frustration. Even death didn’t cure the salt.

  “At least Sir Einar fights first! He got the opening bout in group A! Isn’t that awesome?”

  “Yeah. I’ve always wanted to see Sir Einar fight, but we’ve never watched him train. Our lessons with him were a real pain in the ass.”

  I closed my eyes and remembered the brutal classes from the War Master.

  We did reviews, memorization, miniature strategies, and other shit that just gave me headaches. Still, our training was almost over. Once crowned, Sir Einar would give my sister and me one final lesson to deem us capable “generals.”

  “Ugh, yeah. I don’t want to touch those steel parchments again for a long, long time.”

  My poor sister covered her face and, without delay, pointed with her left index finger toward the stands.

  “Anyway, Ulric, you’re the one who has to open the tournament. Got your speech ready?”

  “It’s locked and loaded.”

  I lied. Truth was, I had no idea I was supposed to inaugurate the freestyle combat tournament too. Since Gonzalo told me the nobility barely got involved in that celebration, I wrongly assumed my presence wasn’t needed until the jousts.

  Big fucking mistake.

  Luckily, my improvisation skills are pretty solid. Everything seemed to be going according to plan—until a guy dressed in black, hood like ours and a hidden sword under his clothes, appeared right in front of us.

  Alda didn’t go on the defensive.

  Neither did I.

  After all, this guy belonged to the secret police Mom set up. They were special agents for infiltration, espionage, and assassination.

  “Your Majesty, there’s an emergency,” the assassin whispered.

  “What’s up?”

  “Duke Manius has arrived at the palace and demands your presence…”

  Suddenly, time fucking stopped for me.

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  D-Duke Manius.

  The bastard who killed Sora and raped Mom, along with his disgusting brother, King Vlad II.

  “Is Vlad II with him?” I asked, trying to stay calm.

  “No, just him. Your Highness, I beg you to return to the castle immediately.”

  Why the fuck did Manius come to my coronation?

  Wasn’t he supposed to be fighting far from my borders?

  Goddamn it, my whole plan was about to go to shit. That miserable fucker’s presence was a low blow I wouldn’t recover from easily. Alda’s face, as pale as mine, told me she understood how fucked this was too.

  We were both about to face one of the people who’d hurt us the most.

  “Let’s go back.”

  That was all my sister said.

  On the way back, not a single word was spoken. If there was fear, anxiety, and grief inside us, we did everything possible to hide it.

  I changed into formal clothes with a chainmail shirt under the doublet. No surprises from my public enemy number one. The outfit was my usual red vest, black hose, and a ceremonial sword hanging from my leather belt.

  It wasn’t a war weapon, but it looked good and gave me royal status. In a pinch, though, I could draw the damn thing without issue; it was the equivalent of those gold-plated pistols.

  Useless on the battlefield, great for personal defense.

  An hour later, Alda and I arrived together at the throne room…

  We found Manius sitting on MY throne. Mom, Ingrid, and Yuka stood in front of the politician with different expressions. My precious best friend looked like shit.

  She was pale, her legs trembling, and from here I could see sweat beads running down her back.

  Yuka also seemed nervous around the foreign noble. But it was Mom who stepped in front of Manius to draw his attention away from the girls.

  Further back stood the dukes of Etrica, all silent and waiting. Manius’s presence was unwelcome in these lands, yet they were smart enough not to start a confrontation with him.

  Intelligence I unfortunately didn’t have.

  “Lord Ulric, how discourteous of you.”

  His disgusting voice almost made me tell him to go fuck his mother. The guy hadn’t changed a bit over the years: still burly, wearing a heraldic tabard, white hose, black shoes. The brown leather gloves didn’t match his personal insignia: an eagle devouring a blood-covered rat.

  The logo was crystal clear: we are hunters, not prey.

  “Your arrival has surprised me, Duke Manius.”

  Out of politeness and courtesy, I gave him a bow—which he didn’t return.

  “And your growth has surprised me. You’re ready to serve my brother now.”

  “To what do I owe the honor of your presence?”

  Manius stood up and walked a few steps until he was right in front of me. Even with my new age, he was still several centimeters taller.

  “The coronation ceremony is soon. I came so you don’t forget your duties.”

  “Oh, I see, Duke Manius. Aren’t your military talents needed in the war?”

  My informants updated me every three months on the hostilities against the Reich.

  If we had instant communication, my moves would be way more efficient. Unfortunately, I had to settle for that slow-ass info speed.

  “My brother will handle it. I’m here for you, Lord Ulric. We’ve seen some little actions that don’t please us—especially the excess of hunters on your borders.”

  Manius tried to intimidate me with a murderous glare.

  That would’ve made the child Ulric shit himself in fear.

  But not me.

  I was no longer that pathetic kid who couldn’t protect anyone.

  “There are a lot of rats eating the food, Duke Manius. Don’t tell me some peasants with bows scare the mighty army of Apolo?”

  “True, you’re just peasants. Stupid of me to think otherwise. In any case, my entourage is already settled.”

  Along with my soldiers and courtiers were Manius’s men—mostly warriors and ladies-in-waiting.

  All of them noteworthy, beautiful marriageable women who undoubtedly stole glances from my knights. All except that short-haired, skinny woman in such an ugly dress she could pass for a peasant.

  The same bitch who tripped Sora and caused her death.

  She stood there among the other ladies. Thanks to her natural ugliness—crooked nose, bulging eyes, messy hair—she definitely didn’t meet Mexican beauty standards, let alone Etrica’s.

  “Very well. My servants will show you to your chambers. I hope you enjoy the tournament and the banquets afterward, Duke Manius.”

  I wanted to end this reception. I urgently needed to rethink my plans.

  With Manius here, many of my moves had lost their validity.

  “Oh, I see my daughter has become a real whore, just like her mother.”

  At being named, Ingrid stepped back. Her eyes widened, and out of instinct, she curtsied.

  “F-Father, I-I…”

  I knew it.

  I knew it was too good to be true.

  Ingrid had changed over these years. She’d improved herself and become a high-caliber courtier.

  But deep down, the fear of her father still lived inside her.

  A trauma that doesn’t vanish easily. Maybe never completely.

  “What did you say? Where are your manners? You haven’t learned a thing in all these years. You’re still a pathetic little brat.”

  Manius wasn’t saying this to annoy Ingrid.

  No…

  This was real hatred. I could feel it just looking at him. The duke genuinely hated his daughter; his grudge went beyond appearances. Something about Ingrid repulsed Manius, but I didn’t dare ask why.

  Who was Ingrid Wall’s mother?

  Honestly, I never asked. It was a sensitive topic Mom shut down at a dinner: “We’ll never talk about it unless Ingrid wants to.”

  “I’m sorry, Father.”

  Ingrid took a deep breath and finally looked the noble straight in the eyes.

  “God, you’re so ugly… It’s a shame you didn’t inherit anything from me. At least you served to ruin Ulric’s alliances.”

  Mom stepped in front of Ingrid and bowed humbly.

  ?You don’t have to degrade yourself, Mom. Don’t do it…?

  I wanted to step forward, but Alda grabbed my arm and stopped any direct confrontation with Duke Manius.

  “I apologize, Lord Manius. I raised Ingrid as my own daughter. Any punishment she receives, I should receive instead—not her—until she is officially married.”

  “Then you’re a terrible mother.”

  Manius humiliated her again with his filthy mouth.

  I wanted to smash those lips and leave him on the floor.

  Fuck…

  Come on, Ulric, calm down. Breathe deep. Think happy thoughts to keep your cool. I tried to remember yesterday’s banquet, the smiles on my loved ones’ faces, the smell of hot food dancing around the hall with us.

  Joy, joy, joy…

  Calm and peace.

  “I apologize. Any mistake by my protégées falls solely on me.”

  Mom used herself as a shield again. I could see it in her eyes: iron determination that Alda and Ingrid wouldn’t be touched by that shameless prick.

  “Unfortunately for you, I’m not interested in used meat.”

  Manius shoved Mom aside and stepped right in front of Ingrid.

  “Disrespectful, disappointing, ugly, and weak. What a letdown. You deserve punishment!”

  No, no…

  Duke Manius raised his left fist, ready to strike.

  “Ah!”

  THUD.

  But the punch never reached Ingrid Wall’s cheek. It would never touch her again.

  “What the hell is this, Ulric…?”

  “Enough.”

  I stopped his punch with my left palm. The bastard sure knew how to throw a hit. I was one hundred percent sure he’d trained some form of boxing.

  He was going to knock Ingrid out…

  Too bad for him, I also knew how to give and take punches.

  “You dare interrupt a father’s punishment of his daughter?”

  Manius looked furious, frowning as he elegantly withdrew his fist. Immediately, his entourage of soldiers marched forward and surrounded us.

  My knights did the same, hands on their sword hilts, ready for any bloody outcome.

  Tension skyrocketed. Everyone froze. Alda hadn’t managed to stop me, Mom was still processing what happened, and Ingrid was simply in shock.

  “That’s not punishment, Duke Manius. You tried to hurt my family right in front of me. Did you expect me to stand there and do nothing? Do you think I’m a coward?”

  The dukes smiled at my words—I could see them from here. Every single one approved of what I did.

  And why wouldn’t they?

  We’d suffered abuse for years. What I did today was something those dukes had craved for decades.

  “Fine. I’ll give you credit for having balls, boy. But don’t let that little impulse go to your head. You’re a vassal. Don’t forget your place.”

  Duke Manius also calmed his excitement. He took one deep breath and focused on the hostile knights.

  “Lower your weapons. We didn’t come here to fight.”

  “Yes, Grand Duke.”

  The knights of Apolo and the Royal Guard returned to their positions. The danger of a slaughter was over.

  ?Well, Manius isn’t a complete dumb brute after all.?

  “I will show you courtesy and hospitality, Duke Manius—as long as you respect my house and my family.”

  I didn’t even use the word “castle” anymore. Our quarrel was personal, not political.

  We both knew it and acted accordingly.

  “Ingrid.”

  At hearing her name, Ingrid Wall gave a fearful little jump.

  “Y-Yes, Father…”

  “You’re a nuisance.”

  “I-I’m very sorry, Father.”

  Ingrid was still shaking with fear. On instinct, I took her hand and squeezed it gently.

  She was sweating buckets.

  I hadn’t seen poor Ingrid like this in years. In fact, her condition seemed worse than when she first arrived at the castle. Manius must have awakened a ton of painful memories in her.

  “Eva, Laura, come here.”

  Manius called two of his ladies-in-waiting. The ugly, skinny one who tripped Sora was named Eva—what a basic fucking name. Laura, on the other hand, had a very different build.

  She looked like an MMA fighter: broad shoulders, slim torso, small breasts, brown skin like any Latina from my old world, brown eyes, and a very refined face. Her movements, though, screamed high-level courtly training.

  They resembled Yuka’s and Ingrid’s.

  “Yes, Duke?”

  Laura spoke up.

  “Take my things and leave them in my room. I’ll go there shortly.”

  Without another word, the Duke turned his back on me and didn’t even say goodbye. The ultimate lack of courtesy, meaning only one thing: hostility.

  My own dukes didn’t address him either. Not even Duchess Sabrina, whose ties to Apolo were already bound by blood, wanted to risk her position in this dispute.

  “U-Ulric, I don’t feel well…”

  Ingrid closed her eyes, leaned her weight on me, and without warning, fainted in my arms.

  “Ingrid! Are you okay?”

  My voice didn’t reach her.

  Alda, Mom, and my own soldiers formed a circle around us to check the situation.

  Goddamn it!

  Looks like things are about to get a lot fucking harder from here on out…