Swordmaster of the Great Wall

-Waaaaaah!

To thunderous applause, the 64 contestants slowly entered the arena. Not long ago, countless competitors had perished during the preliminaries at this very place.

Now that spot was packed with innumerable spectators, all crowding in around the central cage.

Soon the contestants lined up on either side, facing each other. The fervor of the crowd directed toward them was palpable.

But in that feverish, blazing excitement—an excitement that should have made them happy—the contestants instead felt a growing sense of discomfort.

― Were they always this enthusiastic...?

Most of the audience was made up of commoners, or perhaps serfs from the domain.

Considering that gladiatorial tournaments were generally a sport for nobles, the current scene was, in a word, unusual.

― Kill! Kill!
― Start it already!

But on closer look, the crowd was not cheering for gladiatorial combat itself. It was the countless torrents of blood spilled during the preliminaries that had piqued their interest.

The Iceborn was not like the honor-bound tournaments, where participants made prearrangements and stopped without real harm to each other. Here, the overwhelming majority of matches ended with death.

The public did not want any sort of chivalric exchange:

"I have lost."

"You also fought well."

That was not what they were after.

Before their eyes, sixty-four contestants—what the crowd truly wanted was to see them driving swords into one another, dying right in front of them.

― Thud, thud.

And the man who understood the needs of the crowd best was now climbing onto the platform—a stage high enough to look out over the arena and its spectators at a glance. The crowd erupted in raucous cheers for him as well.

― Waaaaah! Konrad! Konrad!

Konrad.

Chief Watchman and Quartermaster. And more importantly, the very host of the Iceborn who had brought such fever to the masses.

Konrad, standing at the front, waved to the people. The handful of men following him kept their voices low.

"... I doubt I'll ever get used to this sight. I'd rather be fighting barbarians."

"Just wave your hand. It's work, after all."

"What's the point of cheers from ignorant fools who don't even know what the Watch does?"

"Joseph."

Konrad smiled faintly as he called out his name. At that, Joseph wiped the scowl from his face and followed along quietly.

Of course, Joseph also knew even without further explanation from Konrad. The Iceborn was not an end in itself, but rather a means of raising the Watch's renown.

Depending on this tournament's success or failure, new recruits would flood into the Watch.

But Joseph's discomfort didn't come from seeing the necessity for any of this, but rather from the detached, peaceful look on the faces of those gathered.

People who had no idea what it meant to battle the brutal cold of the North, to fight bloody battles against the barbarians. The sight of the crowds in the warmth and comfort of the empire, basking in and delighting over someone's death—it simply sickened him.

In any case, after a while, Konrad reached the stage. There, a large space for the guards and three decorated chairs were set up.

Konrad sat on the chair set on the edge. As soon as he did, the loud sound of a trombone echoed.

"Her Imperial Highness, the Countess of Heinkel, and Grand Duchess of Krupp, Katrin von Krupp will now enter."

Soon, the grand duke and grand duchess appeared in the arena. And the named grand duchess, Katrin, began her stride.

― Tsk, clack.

But the crowd's attention was not on Katrin. Instead, it was on the knights in golden armor following behind her—the 'Imperial Knights'. As they appeared, the buzz among the spectators grew.

"Unbelievable. Did they bring some northern barbarians here?"

"I'd believe it if you told me they were giants...."

The Imperial Knights' impressive regalia, their gilded armor, and especially their massive builds were all the talk. After all, the first emperor had set the standard for his personal guard: "Choose knights who can take on ten men at once."

Physical superiority was very much part of the deal.

Dressed in thick full plate over their natural bulk, it was only natural for the audience to think of northern barbarians.

Then, as they passed through the aisle:
"Step aside."

One of the Imperial Knights escorting Katrin spoke up. There was a peculiar pressure in his voice, resonating from the golden armor.

"Couldn't you just pass normally?"

But it wasn't the Imperial Knights who replied—it was the members of the Watch, Konrad's men who'd come up earlier.

Of course, if they'd just shifted slightly and stood shoulder to shoulder, there wouldn't have been a problem passing by. But the Imperial Knight's golden gauntlet flashed.

― Thud!

They shoved the Watch members standing on either side roughly out of the way. The gap in size, combined with the lighter leather armor of the Watch, meant that the Watchmen went flying like children.

― Flop.

The fallen Watchman sprang up at once and put his hand on his longsword.

"... You bastard!"

"Enough."

But it was Konrad who restrained them. He merely gave a slim smile to his furious men. They swallowed their anger and stepped back.

"Your Grace, Grand Duchess, they are simply uneducated louts. Please forgive them generously."

From behind, the grand duchess, who had watched all this unfold, spoke coolly.

"There were nearly more corpses to clean up, sir Konrad."

"Thank you for your understanding, Your Grace, Grand Duchess."

Despite the grand duchess's sarcasm, Konrad maintained his smile, gesturing politely to the seat reserved for her.

With that minor disturbance resolved and Konrad and the grand duchess seated, the steward spoke again.

"His Imperial Highness, the Duke of Krupp and Protector of the South, Grand Duke Heidrich von Krupp will now enter."

The grand duke strode up the stage flanked by his retainers. Unlike the earlier commotion, both the Watch and the Imperial Knights made way for him without hesitation.

Taking the center seat on the platform, the grand duke quietly raised his hand. The crowds erupted in even fiercer cheers.

― Waaaah!

At the grand duke's gesture, the 64 participants in the arena bowed toward the stage, then parted, leaving just two in the cage.

"The first match will be against Gauss von Schweik, Viscount of the Schweik family."

At the steward's call, one of the two remaining stepped forth. He crossed his shield and sword, bowing once more toward the stage.

He lowered his helmet and raised his sword at Erich.

― Gauss! Gauss!

He slicked back his oily hair. A young and handsome knight who'd held the title of viscount from an early age—the crowd's cheers were only natural.

― Waaaah!

The steward glanced at the audience, then continued.

"And the challenger, the third son of the Krupp grand ducal family—Erich von Krupp."

Erich, thus called, stepped forward and bowed lightly toward the platform. The three on the platform revealed different expressions. Soon Konrad spoke.

"Your Grace, Grand Duke, you seem to be in good spirits today."

"What makes you think so?"

"They say you are naturally stoic, but you seem pleased."

"Hm. Is that so?"

The grand duke let it pass, but the grand duchess's expression grew even more sour as she looked on.

But before they could make any proper introductions, the steward shouted at the top of his lungs.

The match had begun.

"Begin!"

The two contestants, surrounded by a sturdy iron cage, slowly closed the distance. Gauss lowered his helmet, raised his shield, and moved forward.

'A bit under Milon, I'd say.'

Watching Gauss approach, Erich remembered Milon's ironclad defense. If Gauss's stance was archetypal for knights, there was still a clear gap in execution here.

The way his shield floated, as if inviting attack. If Erich struck there, Gauss would certainly counterattack once he had blocked it. Nevertheless, Erich wore a thin smile as he swung at the shield Gauss presented.

― Klang!

From inside the young knight's helmet, you could almost feel his confident smirk. If he landed this strike, it would be over. His opponent, without shield or armor, could at best barely block. Gauss gripped his sword tighter.

"!!"

But in that instant, Gauss questioned his own eyes. Even though he had blocked the attack, his shield arm was now raised high. Naturally, with his balance broken, he could not strike with his other hand.

― Kragak!

"Ugh!"

Erich's second blow smashed into the side that should have been protected by the shield. The dull impact crept through the armor and into Gauss's body. He staggered backwards several steps.

Finally, he saw a long sword mark gouged into his shield. In a split second, Erich had buried his sword in the shield, breaking Gauss's posture and preventing a counterattack.

To make a fully armored knight lose his stance with a sword pinned into his shield—such monstrous strength made the knight swallow hard. How could he face such a foe?

But Erich did not give him any time to think about his next move.

― Klang! Klank! Klank!

The sound of metal striking metal rang out in the cage. The moment the cycle of blocking and countering broke down, the inexperienced knight could only flail, desperately trying to fend off the blows.

― Kwadeuk!

Under the relentless assault, the knight's armor bent and warped, and the shock reverberated through his bones.

"Gah!"

Without his armor, he would have died a hundred times over. Yet, in this dire situation, the knight swung his sword widely, forcing Erich back. Gasping for breath, he tore off his helmet.

― Thud!

Erich watched Gauss's action with intrigue. The knight was stripping off his armor mid-match.

"Wait a moment. You as well—if you're an honorable nobleman."

Gauss's face was now flushing red. Erich narrowed his eyes at the young knight's stubbornness.

'... I expected he'd just surrender by now.'

But there was something Erich had not accounted for. Had the bout truly been fought by knightly standards—shield against sword, armor against armor—would this knight have surrendered?

Instead, the pride-filled young knight had convinced himself that the weight of his own armor was the reason for his defeat.

― Wooooooo!

By now, cheers had turned to jeers from the stands. Erich quickly read the mood.

― Kwack!

With a dull thud to the head, Gauss collapsed face-first. Erich had closed the distance and reversed his sword grip.

"The winner! Erich von Krupp!"

Without any particular gesture, Erich left the ring. Gauss had left no impression on him. Yet as Erich stepped off the platform, he looked around. The person who should have been waiting for him was nowhere to be seen. Instead, a stranger in a steward's uniform stood waiting.

"... Who are you?"

"I am Victor. I have something to convey to you, young master."

"What is it?"

A sudden sense of foreboding crossed Erich's mind. The absence of the steward who had never left his side, and now another steward delivering a message.

Victor hesitated, then spoke at last.

"Steward Finn is badly injured. You should come with me at once."

"...."

Erich silently turned his gaze to the platform, eyes fixed on the grand duchess seated there. The grand duchess, too, returned a cold stare.

'... So it's begun.'

Now, for the first time since his return, Erich felt the certainty that the grand duchess had begun to scheme. Quietly suppressing his rising anger, he followed after Steward Victor.

-------------= Clacky's Corner -------------=
【ദ്ദി(⩌ᴗ⩌)】