Chapter 1: Fortune Before the Tournament

  In my past life, I was never a lucky man.

  In every circumstance I faced, I always depended on my own ability to make a name for myself. Whether in school or in politics, chance never played in my favor—not even in my final moments.

  That’s precisely why I never left anything to luck.

  Every plan, idea, and decision I made was backed by theoretical reasoning that was very difficult to dismantle.

  Or at least, that was the rule I lived by…

  Until luck knocked on my door.

  I couldn’t explain it.

  It just happened.

  A month before the tournament, my heralds brought me news that was spreading rapidly among the common folk: a lone warrior had saved a mother and her child from bandits outside the city.

  That wasn’t unusual.

  Plenty of guards or mercenaries occasionally carried out acts like that and were well rewarded—whether with coins or a maid’s company at a tavern. Under my rule, no good deed was ever forgotten.

  What made this case different was the way he killed them.

  A witness—according to my herald—claimed that this mysterious swordsman was far too skilled to be a common mercenary. He moved like lightning and killed all four opponents without suffering a single wound.

  Peasants loved to exaggerate—especially when it came to their local heroes.

  At first, I paid no attention to the rumors.

  But everything changed when Sir Marte Hogan, Captain of the Royal Guard and my personal bodyguard, showed interest in this mysterious warrior.

  “There’s something about him that intrigues me,” he commented one night before dinner.

  “What is it? Don’t tell me you’re going to believe those stories.”

  “I don’t believe stories, Your Highness. But there’s a detail that has me curious. The rumors say he used a strange guard in combination with a buckler.”

  “You mean a small shield?”

  “Yes. In Etrica, that style isn’t common. Our shields are large and heavy. The fact that he used a light one—ideal for quick blocks—means he’s truly trained. A buckler requires a great deal of practice. It’s not something a thug can wield easily.”

  “I see. Very well. Tell my herald to bring the warrior directly to court. I want to meet him in person.”

  “As you command.”

  After delivering the orders, my bodyguard resumed his duties as captain and continued patrolling the palace grounds—a mostly ceremonial act.

  We finished dinner without incident.

  “Hey, brother, is it true you’re summoning the mysterious warrior tomorrow?” Alda didn’t waste time asking.

  My adorable older sister was no longer a child.

  Despite her unusual lifestyle, Alda had grown into a very attractive young lady by most men’s standards. For me, however, nothing had changed.

  She was my sister—and she would always be the dirty brat who used to beat me in tag. I would never see her as anything more than that.

  “That’s right. Do you want to come?”

  “Of course! It’s always good to meet powerful warriors.”

  “I’d like to attend as well, Ulric. I’m curious about him,” Ingrid added.

  The two teenage girls looked at me with puppy eyes, and I had no choice but to agree.

  “Fine. We’ll meet in the throne room at exactly five.”

  “Understood!”

  . . .

  I did not expect our supposed “hero” to look like that.

  The person who entered the throne room, escorted by palace guards and lower-ranking courtiers, was a young man only a few years older than me—around twenty, I guessed.

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  His expression was far from intimidating.

  On the contrary.

  He looked more like an “influencer” from my old world than a warrior.

  Still, one must never judge a book by its cover—something Sir Marte taught me from our very first lesson.

  “Greetings, warrior. May I know your name?” I didn’t want to intimidate him from a distance. He looked extremely nervous—perhaps too nervous for a man-at-arms. He bowed three times, then slapped his own cheeks to gather courage.

  “I-I am Percival, Your Royal Highness.”

  His soft, elegant voice, combined with blond hair, blue eyes, and fair skin, made him a true diamond in the rough.

  Too handsome.

  Too refined.

  And a warrior on top of that.

  If it weren’t for his absurdly timid personality, he would already belong to high nobility—or be serving as a contracted blade for wealthy merchants.

  “I’m told you accomplished an incredible feat, Percival. Is that true? You stand before the king—don’t you dare lie.”

  “I-I would never lie to you, Your Highness.”

  Ingrid crossed her arms beside me. Alda, meanwhile, raised one eyebrow in confusion. She had expected a muscular giant—not a slender, almost delicate-looking young man.

  His build made him look more like an artist than a fighter. Or so an amateur might think.

  In truth, he gave off a strange aura—like he was carefully watching the guards around him.

  “Then speak.”

  “A woman and her son were in danger, so I drew my sword to protect them. Y-You’ve implemented harsh reforms against criminals, haven’t you? You’re not angry about my actions… right?”

  “No. On the contrary—criminals deserve to die. I’m not here to punish or judge you. You may lower your guard. I am a man of honor, and I would never harm a guest.”

  I gave him a calm smile. He relaxed and sighed.

  “I would only do so in the hypothetical case that you harmed someone without my permission—but that won’t happen, will it?”

  “Of course not, Your Highness. I-I would never act dishonorably—especially before you.”

  “Good. We understand each other. Were you rewarded for your actions?”

  “No, sir. But seeing that woman and her son safe is reward enough for me.”

  His smile didn’t lie.

  It was pure—free of malice or cunning. It reminded me of my former self.

  I used to be like him.

  Innocent. Idealistic. Foolish.

  That’s why I got killed.

  “If the world ran on smiles, mercenaries wouldn’t exist. Listen—under my reign, everyone gets what they deserve. If you commit a crime, you lose a hand—or your life. But if you do something good, it’s my duty to reward you.”

  His expression shifted from fear to satisfaction.

  Honestly, I had little experience dealing with other kings. The only example I had in person was Vlad II—a piece of filth who shouldn’t be used as a standard for royalty.

  Was it strange for a sovereign to reward commoners?

  No idea.

  But I had no intention of being an ungrateful king.

  “Th-Thank you, Your Highness.”

  “To reward you, I need to know more about you.”

  Until now, Ingrid, Alda, and Sir Marte had remained silent. Their expressions shifted with the conversation. Alda still looked skeptical. Ingrid seemed to approve of the blond’s actions.

  Sir Marte looked deeply satisfied. His experience as a knight likely allowed him to see what we could not.

  “C-Certainly, Your Highness. I was born in a border village of Draco. I was orphaned when my parents died during a raid. I-I was just a baby—I don’t remember who they were or what they did. The entire village was destroyed. In the end, I was adopted by a wandering swordsman.”

  Percival paused to breathe.

  “Go on.”

  “Th-Thank you. W-Where was I? Ah, yes… I traveled with my master for eighteen years until he died of old age. I tried becoming a mercenary, but all the contracts came from the Kingdom of Apollo, and I had no desire to serve them. So I came to the capital to join the local guard. T-To get a hut to live in and… that.”

  “How old are you?”

  “T-Twenty, Your Highness.”

  “Good. I know how to reward you. Sir Marte—knight Percival.”

  Ingrid and Alda’s expressions were priceless. Their eyes widened in shock.

  But they didn’t compare to Percival’s stunned face.

  We practically turned off his brain.

  He almost fainted.

  “Y-Your Highness…”

  He made an inhuman effort to remain standing. The guards couldn’t help but chuckle softly. Sir Marte, however, did not treat it lightly. He unsheathed his sword and stepped forward.

  “Kneel, boy.”

  “Y-Yes…”

  Percival dropped to one knee awkwardly and lowered his head.

  This was the first knighting ceremony I had witnessed up close.

  “Do you swear to serve the kingdom with the blade of your sword?”

  “I swear.” Sir Marte touched the young man’s left shoulder with his blade.

  “Do you swear to protect the innocent until your last breath?”

  “I swear.” The blade moved to his right shoulder.

  “Do you swear to remain faithful to yourself and the ideals of knighthood?”

  “I swear.” The sword brushed his head without cutting him.

  Sir Marte offered his right hand and smiled.

  “Then rise, Sir Percival, knight of Etrica.”

  Tears filled the young man’s eyes.

  Being knighted by the Captain of the Royal Guard was an immense honor—perhaps undeserved in some eyes. But if anyone disagreed, they didn’t show it.

  “Th-Thank you, Your Highness! I-I will serve you for life—I swear it! I will be your loyal sword and fight your battles. My children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren—my entire house will always protect yours!”

  His gaze did not lie.

  There wasn’t a trace of falsehood in Sir Percival. Thanks to my training with Mother—and my old political experience—I could tell.

  Good. I’ve secured a loyal subject.

  Winning a warrior’s loyalty—especially one as pure as Sir Percival—was difficult.

  But rewards and goodwill were far more effective than intimidation. Many foolish nobles flaunted their status with arrogance, but instead of appearing powerful, they only made themselves look like idiots.

  A happy employee is a productive employee.

  The same rule of business administration applied in Etrica.

  “Congratulations on your promotion!” Alda was the first to speak. She stepped down from the dais and bowed politely. “I’m Alda, the king’s half-sister.”

  “I wish to congratulate you, Sir Percival.” Ingrid held the edges of her dress and inclined her head slightly. “My name is Ingrid. I am the king’s fiancée.”

  Unlike Alda, Ingrid did not step down. She maintained her elevated position, as protocol dictated. My dear sister had forgotten etiquette entirely in her excitement.

  “Meeting adjourned.”

  At my command, Ingrid finally descended the steps to stand before the newly appointed knight.

  While my two companions congratulated him, Sir Marte approached me silently—as silently as a man of his size could—and looked at me with curiosity.

  What do you plan to do with the boy?

  His eyes asked the question without words.

  “Don’t worry,” I thought.

  “I have a plan.”