When one thinks of a banquet, the first things that come to mind are the dazzling lights and the neatly laid-out, delicious-looking food.
However, the banquet in Baern was different from other banquets.
Crash!
“Waaaah!!!”
Instead of dazzling lights, blood splattered.
Instead of elegant laughter, loud guffaws rang out.
The smell of alcohol and meat filled the air.
The closing banquet of the gladiator tournament was a big event, a domain for the powerful, their very own arena.
“Fight! Fight more!!!”
“Hey, Walter! If this keeps up, you’ll fall out of the Big Ten!!!”
In the middle of the banquet hall, there was a ring.
There, a bearded man and another whose hair reached his waist were exchanging punches.
Sparks flew in their eyes.
It was exactly as Usher remembered.
‘This hasn’t changed.’
Baern was a city-state.
Outside the castle, there were numerous ancient ruins in the desert, a land rich in gold, but with ten large forces in such a narrow land, their power struggles were naturally intense.
The gladiator tournament often started with frequent fistfights as a result of their disputes.
Now, it had become a cultural norm.
Thus,
“This place is fun! Yeah, this is what a banquet should feel like!”
There was a reason Halia was excited.
She seemed eager to jump into the ring, her hips swaying.
But it was impossible. Halia played the role of a naive young lady who only hired expensive mercenaries.
Diego calmed her down.
Usher watched the central fight with Bersia and Gester.
Even amidst this, the eyes were on the blue sword.
Whispers echoed around.
“He’s divine.”
“Soon, a new name may be added to the Big Ten.”
“I wonder who’ll be eliminated. Windist? The Sun Tracker?”
These were voices speculating on a shift in power.
For those planning to leave after the event, it was amusing talk.
It was in the midst of this.
“I saw the match, well done, Blue Sword.”
A man approached.
He had short black hair, copper-colored skin, and a scar crossing his left eye, with a flame-shaped tattoo covering it.
At that moment, both Usher and Gester stiffened.
‘He’s here.’
The man was someone who could not be avoided in this place.
The man at the center of Baern’s rebellion, and the enemy of both of them.
“Don’t be on guard. I am someone who always welcomes new winds.”
He was Grost Hildon, the leader of the Lion’s Squad, the Sandstorm Mercenary Group.
There had been many rumors about Grost ever since Usher was a baby.
Here are a few representative ones.
A born powerhouse, an elegant fighter who did not match his brutal physique.
He became the leader of the best mercenary group, Sandstorm, at the age of 25, and he ran Sandstorm so effectively that it was placed at the top of the Big Ten.
As far as Usher remembered, that was the case.
He was the man who would shake hands and share difficult talks with the always boisterous and taciturn leader of Therbion.
Even when the mercenaries under him created havoc by targeting Therbion, Grost would always keep up appearances.
It was only later that Usher realized it was all a cover for his dark nature.
Especially when he led a rebellion, exterminated the Lion’s Squad, and replaced the king, his treacherous nature was all too clear.
Naturally, the look directed at him turned sharp.
What was the power he sought, that he was willing to cause turmoil in the entire city to acquire it?
The good news was that at least this current tension seemed to be perceived as a result of nervousness.
Grost’s appearance and words had that effect on everyone, not just Usher.
When he spoke, all the mercenaries in the Big Ten sealed their lips.
The one who spoke had all the attention.
It was a blatant display of his image among the city’s core personnel.
A tyrant. And evil.
Whether he was aware of it or not, he carried that image with him gracefully.
“The tournament was impressive. Where are you from? Who did you learn your swordsmanship from?”
The words were not directed at Usher.
What Grost was aiming for was Diego.
Clearly, Diego, being a complete and unrestricted first-class knight, had given the most impressive performance in the tournament.
It was obviously a line meant to recruit.
Diego nodded slightly, gently refusing.
“I learned from my master. I follow the young lady to repay the favor.”
“Master…”
Grost’s gaze shifted to Halia.
Halia stared at him, arms crossed, looking displeased.
“…Favor, loyalty. Things that do not benefit. You are not a very rational friend.”
“You don’t even know what gratitude is, you beast! You’re no better than a beast!”
Halia smirked, revealing her sharp canine tooth.
Her provocative tone caused some people to gulp nervously.
Halia was not intimidated.
Of course not. The only person she needed to fear in this world was her divine parent.
Grost frowned. Thankfully, nothing else transpired.
Halia’s youthful appearance often led others to dismiss her, but in other respects, she had the ability to make her opponents think that there was no need to be serious with a “child.”
Grost, seemingly not wishing to continue the conversation, scanned Diego and Usher.
Then, he froze when he saw Bersia, his body shuddering.
His brow furrowed. Usher’s heart tensed. Had he been noticed?
For a moment, he worried.
Bersia casually asked,
“Is something wrong?”
“…No, you just resemble someone I knew.”
Usher’s eyes narrowed.
It seemed like he still remembered his face.
But, as he grew, his appearance changed—he had dyed his hair to match Bersia’s, and there were many differences now compared to his younger self.
If one wasn’t someone who had been close to him, like Gester, there was no way to know his true identity.
Grost did not press further.
He turned and disappeared.
The cold sweat finally stopped.
A long breath escaped.
They all looked at each other.
Gester was glaring at Grost with bloodshot eyes.
Halia muttered softly.
“Just hang on. If it’s tonight, we’ll be able to find out anything.”
“Got it.”
Her response was playful, as if sticking to her concept.
Halia smiled contentedly.
The atmosphere began to calm down.
Grost had left the banquet hall.
Considering the events that followed, it turned out to be true.
Finally, the one watching them appeared—the crown prince of the current dynasty.
He was a man with light green hair and a frail impression.
He was different from what they had expected.
Instead of the image of a villainous child of a usurper who enjoyed cruel acts, he was quiet and timid, showing a lot of shy traits.
His greeting, with a somewhat awkward smile, even hinted at strange expectations.
“Ah, hello! I really enjoyed the match!”
If it were someone like this, wouldn’t it be easy to use him?
It was an unavoidable thought that crossed her mind.
Halia had already given a hint regarding him.
Bersia was displeased, but could not deny that the method would be effective.
Halia nudged Usher’s waist with her elbow.
Usher hesitated for a moment. Physical contact was harmless, as long as there wasn’t anything more, so perhaps talking it over would…
‘…Why am I even thinking about how to seduce men?’
A wave of self-doubt washed over him.
He squeezed his eyes shut and pushed the feeling away.
It was for the greater good.
He steadied himself and opened his eyes.
He was about to speak when something caught his attention.
“???
“Mi-Mila! The match was truly unfortunate! I watched it from beginning to end! Even though you lost, your resolve was truly admirable…”
The crown prince, blushing, beamed at Gester, who was crossdressing.
His voice, once crawling, was now filled with more vitality.
“Oh, oh hoho…?
“I’ve been a fan for so long! I hope you pursue your dreams with such a great mercenary group! I’m so happy to meet such amazing comrades…!”
Usher tightly closed his mouth.
Was it fan admiration? No, something about it felt…
“Doesn’t it seem like it?”
“……”
There was no way Usher didn’t understand what Bersia meant by “that.”
A swirl of complicated emotions surged in his mind.
No one in Baern, let alone the crown prince, would mistake Gester for a woman.
The prince knew Gester was a crossdresser, and yet he blushed like that.
‘…What a harmful dynasty.’
Indeed, the child of a traitor.
While personal feelings weren’t completely absent, it seemed unlikely that he would look favorably on him anytime soon.
Gester was flustered, a raspy sound slipping between his words.
Bersia just muttered quietly, as if intrigued.
“A child of the enemy who loves me. Isn’t it just so interesting?”
If only they weren’t both men, it might have been a little intriguing.