They had already cheered my victory and paid me every respect. I couldn't understand why they were suddenly spouting embarrassing nonsense about the Finest Knight in the North.

So I peered at their faces. Their eyes shifted from me to the Teuton knights and back again, over and over. Despite their darting eyes, the relief on their faces was unmistakable.

I chuckled. So that was why they were making such a fuss. They must have harbored more resentment than they let on toward the Teutons, who had so arrogantly looked down on the kingdom. Why else go to such lengths to rub it in?

"That's enough."

I waited until they had vented a little before putting a stop to the cheers.

"The contest is over. There is no need to remind them of their defeat."

Eli stared at me incredulously. His eyes seemed to ask whether I, who had endlessly toyed with an opponent whose will to fight was already broken, was in any position to say that.

As always, I blithely ignored his objections and glanced toward the Teutons.

Still unable to recover his senses, the Finest Knight in the West was all but dragged away by his subordinates. The remaining Teuton knights limped out of the training grounds after him, not one of them unscathed.

Only the Teuton princess remained. She regarded me with an unreadable look, then hastily bowed her head when our eyes met and disappeared from the training grounds.

"Let's head back."

I had no further business at the training grounds either, so I left.

* * *

I stayed to watch over Adelia's recovery, only returning to my bedchamber after the sun was fully up. By the time I woke, it was high in the sky.

Eli and Arwen came to see me shortly afterward.

"But what on earth made you show mercy?"

Eli looked utterly bewildered.

"I expected you to take off at least an arm, Your Highness."

Arwen said nothing, but seemed to agree.

"I humiliated him worse than death ever could. What does it matter if I didn't lop off some arm?"

Eli immediately countered my indifferent reply.

"That's precisely why I'm asking. Normally, you would have cut off an arm and humiliated him worse than death."

I started nodding without thinking, then frowned. Just what sort of person did he take me for?

"Even after the Warlord died, he was dismembered, and his severed head was hung on Winter Castle's wall. The Overlord met a gruesome end too, after groveling for mercy. Every enemy who faced you ended up like that. Surely you aren't going to deny it now?"

I was about to snap at him, but his words made sense despite myself. While I kept my mouth shut for lack of a retort, he asked again.

"What on earth possessed you to show mercy to the Teuton duke?"

Still frowning, I answered indifferently.

"If he'd tried even one cheap trick, I might have done just as you said."

I had stopped countless strikes at the last instant. Duke Duncan Seymour could have exploited that whenever he pleased. Yet he hadn't tried even once.

Had he ignored the strikes that would never touch him anyway and attacked me, perhaps the outcome might have changed. Instead, until his fighting spirit broke toward the end of our bout, he had stubbornly continued trading attacks and defenses with me.

Normally, I wouldn't have thought much of it. But Eli's desperate struggle earlier was still fresh in my mind. Watching the duke follow my blade hadn't felt so different from watching Eli stand his ground and parry blows imbued with Ring mana.

That was why I had left his limbs attached.

"What do you mean by..."

"Enough. Let's leave it at that."

But I would sooner die than tell Eli that. So I put on a stern face and ended the discussion there.

He still looked full of questions, but his eyes suddenly lit up, as though he had remembered another important matter.

"Hand it over, please."

"What?"

"No one else won more bouts than I did."

He lifted his chin and swaggered before me.

I glanced at Arwen, silently asking whether that nonsense was true.

"I won four times. Sir Quern also won four times. None of the others managed more than three. Among the Teutons, the Master whom Dame Adelia defeated won four times. And Young Lord Eli won five."

Her answer made him look even more pleased with himself.

I regarded him for a moment, then picked up the dwarven sword carefully stored in a corner of the room and offered it to him, scabbard and all.

"Huh?"

He stared at me blankly when I handed it over so readily. Apparently, he had expected me to hem and haw, reluctant to part with such a precious blade for his sake.

"Well? Take it. Don't you want it?"

"Who said I didn't?"

When I made a show of withdrawing the sword, he hastily reached out and snatched it from me. He made a ridiculous sight, clutching it in both arms as though I might take it back.

I watched him for a moment, then strolled to the chest full of dwarven arms and armor on the other side of the room. From it, I took another sword.

It was a stunning blade, with a roaring lion on its pommel. Another masterpiece among masterpieces, painstakingly forged by the Meisters.

After examining it from various angles, I smiled in satisfaction and approached Arwen.

"Arwen."

"Yes, Your Highness."

"Take this."

"Yes, Your Highness. Pardon?"

Arwen, who had been watching Eli with a faintly wistful expression, finally turned toward me. Her eyes widened at the precious sword in her hands.

"It's yours."

She gazed at its beauty as though spellbound, then belatedly shook her head.

"I neither won the most bouts, as Young Lord Eli did, nor performed any deed deserving of such a precious dwarven blade."

Looking overwhelmed by the honor, she repeatedly declined, insisting that someone unworthy could not accept such a treasure.

"I brought these swords to bestow upon the Silver Lions in the first place. Don't refuse."

I pointedly tapped the lion on the pommel with my fingertip. Her eyes grew round, but she still showed no sign of accepting it.

"Tsk."

Clicking my tongue, I bent down, unfastened her cherished sword from her waist, and positioned the Meister-forged blade in its place.

"Y-Your Highness! Wh-what are you doing?"

"Just hold still."

I stopped her from backing away in alarm and returned to my task, but it wasn't going as smoothly as I had expected.

"Adelia always does this for me. I've forgotten how to fasten a scabbard."

"Y-Your Highness! Why are you doing this? Please, take your hands away!"

As I struggled, Arwen kept trying to dissuade me, her face bright red.

"Stop talking. You're distracting me."

I ignored her protests and concentrated on fastening the sword at her waist.

"Ah, there we go."

Only after I had secured the new sword on the fidgeting Arwen did I straighten up.

"A perfect fit. Those dwarves really do have an eye for these things."

From scabbard to hilt, it suited her beautifully, as though it had always belonged to her.

"Y-Your Highness..."

I smiled in satisfaction at Arwen, who could only shuffle her feet, flushed and not daring to touch the sword, then glanced at Eli. He was dumbfounded by this unexpected turn of events.

At last, he shouted.

"I-I'm a Silver Lion too!"

His face was a picture of indignation. Apparently, he resented having fought nearly to death for his sword while someone else had hers personally fastened at her waist despite refusing it.

"You said they were for the kingdom's Silver Lions. Surely you have one for me as well?"

Trying to compose his expression as he watched for my reaction, Eli gulped. His eyes were riveted on the lion ornament specially crafted by the Meister.

"One per person," I replied indifferently.

"This one is a prize I earned in combat!"

"Yes, congratulations. You fought very well."

"S-surely that isn't all?"

"You've received praise and a sword. What more do you want?"

Eli protested that it wasn't fair.

"The giver decides."

At my shameless reply, he could only open and close his mouth.

"Y-Your Highness. Please, take it back while you still can."

Arwen finally found her voice to plead with me. Instead of answering her, I scolded Eli for making her uncomfortable. Concerned about Arwen, he could no longer protest and could only groan.

Only after I had enjoyed the sight to my heart's content did I bestow a Meister-forged sword specially made for the Silver Lions upon him too. Naturally, I took back the sword I had given him first.

When he indignantly demanded how I could take back a gift, I told him to stop pestering me. I would give him something else in place of the sword.

"Something else... Armor, perhaps?"

At my nod, he broke into a broad smile as though he hadn't just been throwing a fit. But it lasted only a moment before freezing on his face. Belatedly narrowing his eyes, he asked,

"You weren't planning to give that to all the Silver Lions too, were you?"

I didn't answer.

"Your Highness!"

He practically jumped up and down. He whined for ages. As though I wouldn't have taken care of him anyway.

He finally shut up only after I promised to get him a dwarven shield later as an additional gift.

Having finally silenced him, I asked Arwen why she had come to see me.

"Your Highness. The kingdom's command staff have been waiting for you to wake for quite some time."

* * *

I went straight to the council chamber. Grand Marshal Bielefeld, Maximilian, Siorin, and the rest of the kingdom's command staff were waiting for me.

"Your Highness."

"Brother."

Acknowledging their greetings, I settled into the seat at the head of the table.

"What are those Teutons up to?"

Siorin gave me a dispassionate report on their movements. Duncan Seymour Tudor had shut himself away in his lodgings, refusing all food and drink. The other knights were likewise occupied with recovering from the previous day's injuries.

"Only the Teuton princess has sent anyone out. She has inquired several times whether you are awake."

"Is she planning to complain about yesterday's bouts?"

This time, Maximilian answered.

"No. She sent word that she has no intention of expressing any grievance over yesterday's bouts, and that she accepts the outcome."

"Then why is she looking for me?"

Unless she intended to protest yesterday's events, there was no reason for the Teuton princess to seek me out now. Rather than approaching the kingdom, she should have been thinking of ways to recover from yesterday's defeat and counter our bargaining chip—the dwarven arms and armor.

After studying me for a moment, Maximilian spoke cautiously.

"When I sent someone to ask her business, she said it was a strictly personal matter."

"A personal matter?"

"The Teuton princess wishes to meet with you, Brother."

Grand Marshal Bielefeld added,

"Alone, if possible, she said."

"Alone?"

"Yes, Your Highness. Just the two of you, without any attendants."

I frowned at his words. Negotiations had broken down, and her country's duke was refusing food and drink after a crushing defeat. I couldn't understand why she would insist on a private audience with me. There was nothing for her to gain from meeting me under the circumstances.

While I tried to work out her intentions, the others offered their opinions.

"The way she looked at you yesterday was unusual, Brother. Perhaps seeing you fight like a lion stirred feelings for you..."

I let Maximilian's words go in one ear and out the other.

"Once you meet her, you will naturally discover what she is plotting."

At the outright hostility in Siorin's voice, I glanced at the grand marshal. He nodded.

"Meet her first."

After a moment's thought, I nodded too.

"Send someone to inform her that I have granted her a private audience. Tell her to meet me at my palace."

As they said, I would soon learn what that two-faced princess was plotting once we met.

I headed straight to my palace. The princess arrived not long afterward, having taken several times more care with her appearance than she had for the banquet. Her face was flushed like a girl in love.

"Ha."

An incredulous laugh escaped me. And here I had hoped she hadn't requested a private audience just to flaunt those paltry looks of hers—utterly useless as they were.