“…What was that? Say it again.”

The Black Prince answered with the same shameless look.

“I leaked information to the Second Prince’s camp. Told them the Red-Eyed Devil was heading northwest.”

I stared straight into him.

“Why?”

“The Second Prince lacked knights to face the First. He desperately needed powerful warriors—so desperate he’d even hire wanted criminals. In such a state, it wasn’t hard to predict he’d try to recruit you at any cost.”

“And so?”

“While his attention was fixed on you, I could move freely. It worked. I struck without resistance.”

“…”

“To face the First Prince, I had to minimize friction. The fastest, most efficient way was to resolve things quickly with the Second. My strategy succeeded.”

“All that… for that reason alone?”

The Black Prince’s lips curved like a black tiger baring fangs.

“Why? Is there a problem?”

Crash!

The table between us toppled, rolling across the floor.

I had already seized his collar.

“You bastard…”

I would’ve been fine. Shushruta too—she could flee with her light steps.

But the knights?

They could’ve died. Or suffered wounds ending their days as swordsmen.

Sir Curtis might never have returned to command his order.

Walpole would’ve lost the chance to brag to his comrades.

Schneider would never have embraced his wife again.

And he laughs?

Anger twisted inside me until I laughed with him.

I grinned, glaring into him like I’d devour him whole.

“Oi, prince. You think this is funny?”

He laughed even with my fist clutching his throat.

“Why? Is there a problem?”

“There’s a problem, plenty. We nearly died, you son of a bitch.”

“So? Did anyone die?”

“…What?”

“I used the fastest, most efficient method. It worked. No one died. You all returned alive. Am I wrong?”

I blinked at him—then burst out laughing.

“Hahaha!”

Covering my face with one hand, I laughed, then suddenly smashed my fist into his.

Thud!

The Black Prince tumbled across the floor.

I glanced at the doorway, then nudged him with my boot.

“Well, look at that. Your men’ve learned discipline. Their lord gets punched and they don’t barge in. That’s progress.”

Blood dripped from his split lip, yet he still smiled.

“Heh.”

“What the hell are you smiling at?”

I kicked him in the gut.

He sprang up, fists swinging.

But not fast enough. I am heir to the Heavenly Demon’s talent.

I saw the line of his punch before it came.

I tilted my head aside, dodging, then drove my fist into his stomach.

“Gah!”

His body bent like a shrimp.

Yet he roared and charged like a raging bull.

“Urrraaaah!”

“This one’s insane.”

I leaned forward, bracing low.

Then slammed my elbow down on his back.

Thump!

“Urgh!”

But he clung to my waist, refusing to let go.

“Oh? Still hanging on?”

Wham! Wham!

I struck twice more, but gritting his teeth, he managed to grab my leg, worn weak from long days of riding.

“Ah, shit—”

“Yaaah!”

Crash!

He yanked me down, and together we rolled across the floor.

On top now, he seized my collar.

“So? Everyone came back unscathed, didn’t they? Nearly died? Don’t whine. I walk the edge of a blade every moment.”

“Edge of a blade, my ass. Princes walk carpets, not steel.”

“Silence.”

Thud!

His punch landed square.

Not bad. A man’s punch.

“You nearly died, so what? You returned alive. My call was right. I struck cleanly, absorbed my brother’s forces, and you came back with your knights. Where’s the flaw? Isn’t success all that matters?”

I grimaced.

“You idiot. That’s not what you say to a man who just came back from death’s door. Are you a lunatic? A psycho? You only see the result?”

“The world remembers only results. The process is forgotten. My decision was correct. I absorbed my brother’s power, and you returned. That is fact.”

“And if I hadn’t returned?”

“Then I would’ve been wrong. But you did. So I was right.”

“What the…?”

I stared up at him, dumbfounded.

A twisted bastard.

Yet, at the same time, utterly true to himself.

A man unwavering, walking his own path no matter what others said.

Like the mercenaries of Sherwood I once knew.

…I was starting to see why Count Stavanger wanted him on the throne.

The Heavenly Demon murmured,

[ You two are alike. ]

“What do you mean, alike?”

“What?”

“Not you.”

I shifted, lifting him slightly, sliding my knee between us.

Then I shoved him off.

Crash!

“Guh!”

He slammed against the wall, sprawling.

I dusted myself off, looking down at him, and muttered,

“…Pass.”

“What?”

Neither of us knew what had passed.

Didn’t matter.

I offered him a hand.

“The Black Prince is soft. You need to work out more.”

“…You’re just too strong.”

The Black Prince grabbed my arm and pulled himself up.

We walked back to our seats and sat down again.

My throat was parched, so I called toward the door.

“Anyone out there?”

A Black Knight’s heavy voice answered.

—What is it?

“Not you, dumbass. You gonna bring me a drink yourself?”

—…

A moment later, a servant’s clear voice came.

—Do you require something, sir?

“Bring something to drink. Cold.”

—Yes, sir.

The Black Prince rubbed his jaw where I’d hit him and grumbled.

“You could hold back a little when you strike. Ever heard of the royal body being sacred?”

“Nope. And that was me holding back.”

“…Brute.”

“Ha. Listen to our prince, sharp tongue and all. Real cheeky.”

As we traded barbs, a knock came at the door.

The Black Prince swept his hair back and said with dignity,

“Enter.”

“Oh look at you, pretending like a real prince, even putting on a voice.”

“Shut it.”

—Y-yes, sir, coming in.

The servant shuffled in nervously.

When he saw the state of the room and the prince’s bruised face, his eyes widened.

He tried hard to hide his shock—it was almost pitiful.

Still clutching his tray, he asked, “Um… where should I set this?”

Ah, right. The table was on the floor.

“Hey, Prince. Set the table up, will you? He can’t put it down otherwise.”

“You’re ordering a prince to pick up a table?”

“Well, who threw the damn thing?”

“You did.”

Grumbling, he hauled the table upright. The servant quickly set down the drinks and scurried out.

I picked up the glass before me and eyed it. Clear, crystal. I took a long sip.

“…Hm.”

I’d expected wine, but it was sweet and tangy grape juice. Cold, refreshing—better than wine, really.

Not bad at all.

Pouring myself another, I said, “So. How’s the Second Prince? If you sold me out, I hope you got your money’s worth.”

“Of course.”

The Black Prince replied with grape juice on his lips.

“I resolved things with my second brother through talks and absorbed his forces largely intact. Now only my eldest brother remains.”

He drained his glass, savoring the taste, then set it down with a thunk.

“I kept my word. What of you?”

I loosened my belt, pulled the scabbard free, and laid it heavy on the table.

“I am Ashuban. A man of my word.”

The Black Prince’s gaze lingered on the sword.

“This is…?”

“Ophosis’s Ninth Sword. The Crimson Blade, Vlad.”

I drew it slightly, letting the crimson gleam show.

“…Hm.”

He swallowed an admiring sound and nodded.

“You’ve kept the promise.”

“Right.”

“Then…”

He looked at me steadily.

I met his gaze, then inclined my head.

“Let’s continue our talk.”

A faint smile touched his lips.

“Gladly.”

After another gulp of grape juice, the Black Prince spoke.

“I’ll get straight to the point.”

“Please.”

“In ten days, the final battle against my eldest brother will be fought.”

“…So soon?”

I blinked. Things were moving faster than I’d thought.

“Why? Too soon for you?”

“No. Perfect timing.”

This bastard—shady-looking as he was, he handled affairs swiftly.

Now that I looked closer, the bags under his eyes were dark. He’d clearly been busy.

“The rules are simple. Each side sends ten knights to fight in order. The side whose champions stand last wins.”

“I see.”

I poured myself more juice, then asked, “Can I kill them?”

“There’s no rule against it… but avoid it if possible.”

“Why?”

“They’re valuable. I don’t yet know exactly who will be fielded, but they’ll all be men worth a hundred.”

I toyed with my cup.

“And the other side feels the same?”

“That, I cannot say.”

“Then it’s a tall order.”

“I won’t deny it.”

“Greedy bastard.”

I tossed back the juice and wiped my mouth.

“I’ll try.”

“That’s enough.”

He nodded.

“Have you chosen our lineup?”

“Mostly.”

“And who wields the demon blade? Already decided?”

“Decided.”

“Good.”

Efficient indeed.

His eyes drifted back to the sword.

“I heard there’s a trial to claim it. Was it difficult?”

I thought a moment, then shook my head.

“Not much. Just need a sound mind.”

“I see.”

“When will the investiture be? I should watch, in case it goes berserk.”

I remembered Ophosis’s worried face.

I wasn’t planning to keep the blade; I’d rather leave it with someone reliable before I left.

The Black Prince drained his cup, stood, and said,

“No point delaying. Shall we do it now?”

“Fine by me.”

I picked up Vlad from the table and followed him out.

(End of Chapter)

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