TMKM 05

Chapter 5

Salt Castle rose majestically before them. Ivory-colored flags bearing white salt fluttered from the watchtowers that leaned out beyond the castle walls, while unfamiliar coats of arms lined the battlements below. They were most likely the marks of other noble powers who had come to visit.

The background cloth came in all kinds of colors—green, red, blue, yellow-brown—each helping to show the individuality of the families they represented. But regardless of the material, the designs embroidered on them were mostly made with gold and silver thread. The rows of splendid flags fluttering in the wind added to the grand atmosphere of the festival.

The moat around Salt Castle shared its water with the sea, flowing in a wide circle around the castle. Everyone was trying to cross the drawbridge. The people moved like schools of fish. Lanram and Sera were swept along with the crowd and passed through the castle gates.

Lanram looked up at the ceiling as she entered.

The bottom edge of the descending iron portcullis gleamed sharply. A chill ran through her at the thought that those sharp teeth could drop onto her head at any moment.

After several days of continuous festivities, there was little difference between the atmosphere inside and outside the castle. The place was crowded with people who had come all the way inside to set up stalls and call out to customers.

Anyone caught selling things without permission in an unauthorized area was likely to be dragged away, but people still did not stop trying to sell even one more thing.

The reason the peddlers could run so freely was that all the castle guards had been assigned to protecting the distinguished guests.

Lanram did not let herself get distracted by anything and went straight to her destination.

Before long, they arrived at a place filled with loud cheers.

The jousting tournament Lanram had been looking forward to was being held in the courtyard in front of Salt Castle.

The match was already in full swing, and the spectators were packed tightly together. All the good spots had already been taken.

“Weren’t we too late?”

“It’s actually better this way. All the mediocre people should have been eliminated by now.”

It was a contest where only the strong survived until the final victor was decided.

That merciless, irreversible rule was exactly what made a tournament so exciting.

When Lanram could barely see what was happening in front of her, a roar suddenly erupted from the stands.

Someone’s lance had broken, while another person’s remained intact.

Since neither rider had fallen from their horse, the person whose lance had broken had earned the point.

“It’s two to two. They’re tied. Now they have to decide who gets the final point.”

Someone nearby explained the situation to another spectator as if he were commentating on the match.

Lanram was desperate to see the scene with her own eyes.

While she peeked around from one spot to another because of her short height, Sera called her name and waved.

“Titch! Over here. Here!”

At last, the two women found an empty corner and claimed the secluded spot.

A large tent blocked about half of the arena, but it was still much better than staring at the backs of other people’s heads.

Just then, the final lance broke, bringing the previous match to an end.

A trumpet sounded briefly and loudly, signaling the beginning and end of the match.

I’ll make sure I don’t miss a single moment of the next one.

Lanram pressed herself against the wooden barrier that came up to her chin and waited for the next match with a pounding heart.

Then, from the opposite side of the arena, a knight appeared.

He was riding a chestnut horse dressed in white tack, and he wore brilliant white enamel armor.

“Garding Knight, Xylus Acof!”

When someone introduced him in a booming voice, an enormous cheer erupted from the stands.

It was somewhere between a scream and a cheer.

“Xylus! Xylus!”

“Kyaaah! Xylus!”

The women’s voices were especially loud and excited.

Then the sight of the approaching knight in dazzling white proved that it was not her imagination.

“Oh my goodness, Titch…”

Sera covered her mouth and whispered.

“I think I finally understand why you wanted to see this so badly.”

The knight removed his visor and waved to the crowd.

Sera stared at his face with a mesmerized look.

He seemed like the kind of man who enjoyed being watched. Otherwise, there would have been no reason for him to keep his head uncovered until he entered the center of the arena.

The man certainly had the looks to enjoy all that attention.

White skin, white hair, and a perfect smile that revealed his white teeth.

His face was more dazzling and eye-catching than any ornament surrounding him.

“He’s far too beautiful to waste away as a monk. Perhaps that’s exactly why he had to be offered to the Goddess.”

Sera murmured regretfully.

Garding Knights were men belonging to the Moon Mother worshipped by the followers of the Dusk Church. They were warriors of the Goddess who protected the peace of the daytime, when the moon had set.

Their dazzling white armor symbolized their sacred duty and pure spirit.

Lanram found it rather strange.

The people of Bigland carried both desire and jealousy toward beautiful men in equal measure. They worshipped them, but they also feared them.

Because of that, there was a custom of hurriedly sending second and third sons to monasteries if they were excessively beautiful.

It was also a way to prevent sons who were not the eldest from taking away a share of the family fortune.

I wonder whose will led that noble-looking man to become a monk.

Curious, Lanram rested her chin on the wooden barrier.

At that moment, someone shoved her elbow and barked at her.

“Don’t you dare stare at a sacred star with those black, filthy eyes!”

You impious heathen bitch…

The rest was muttered under the woman’s breath.

Lanram suddenly came to her senses and straightened herself.

An Endelian woman with sagging cheeks and a nasty expression was glaring at her.

Apparently, the woman had been so moved by the beautiful Garding Knight that she suddenly needed someone to direct her overflowing religious fervor toward.

Lanram’s mood immediately sank, but she did not show it and quietly moved away.

“Come over here, Titch.”

Sera realized what had happened and pulled her toward the left.

“What was that? Why did she suddenly start picking a fight…?”

Lanram answered her concerned friend with nothing more than a shrug.

“At least my hair is still intact today.”

Lanram truly was not that bothered.

Things like this happened far too often for her to take each one to heart.

Instead, she wanted to pay attention to something else.

For example, the opponent of that beautiful Garding Knight.

The man leading the event shouted in his characteristic booming voice.

“And now, answering the challenge, the Iron Horse, Chyroneia!”

At the same time, he raised the banner in his right hand high into the sky.

He was already holding a white flag in his left hand, while the newly raised flag was gray.

This time, the enormous cheer contained far more male voices.

Especially loud cheers and applause came from inside a nearby tent.

“Go show that pretty boy what steel tastes like!”

“Don’t you dare lose to some slick bastard like that!”

A man slapped the rider on the horse on the butt.

“Ah, I know, I know…”

The young man awkwardly fidgeted as he took hold of the reins.

His name was Chyroneia, and he was about to enter the match.

He was an eighteen-year-old rookie knight who had only just received his knighthood.

Unlike the other knights, Chyroneia had no experience in military campaigns, and this was his first time participating in a jousting tournament.

Yet, unexpectedly, he had been performing quite well.

“We’re already in the quarterfinals. Captain, why don’t you give him a few words of encouragement?”

The man who had slapped the young knight on the backside turned toward the inside of the tent as he spoke.

A man sat in a place where deep shadows covered everything.

He was a man who lived inside black iron armor that he wore as naturally as his own skin, ignoring the sunlight and feeding on darkness.

Nick Paroa, with his pockmarked face.

He was the lord of Loudhill, the captain who led the Iron Horse Knights, and to some, simply the young master of House Paroa.

But no matter what they called him, there was one thing that did not change.

He was the lord of all of them.

Encouragement?

The man looked out at the world indifferently from behind his rigid visor.

Everything seemed like nothing more than a childish game of soldiers to him.

Still, he knew that this seemingly trivial event held special meaning for a young knight like Chyroneia.

Talented young knights could make their names known in high noble society through jousting tournaments.

For a talented man from a poor or insignificant family, it was also a chance to rise in the world.

So the prize waiting for the winner included not only wealth and fame, but also an opportunity to rise into the ruling class.

Young bachelors with promising futures were usually filled with anticipation before a match, crushed beneath the weight of nervousness, or overwhelmed by both.

Chyroneia was closer to the latter.