Inside the carriage, there was nothing for a ‘guardian knight’ to do.
Occasionally, the delegation warned of packs of wild dogs (though they were likely beastmen) that roamed outside the kingdom and engaged in robbery, but we didn’t even see the shadow of a bandit.
The only thing that threatened us was the terrifying illusion created by tree branches swaying in the wind blowing from afar.
“It’s boring.”
“Should I have brought some cards?”
“No need for that… It wouldn’t have been bad if I had.”
Until the walls of the Kingdom of Bers came into view, there wasn’t much we could do.
With a large procession of nearly five hundred people, there were just as many attendants, so ‘nobles’ like us had nothing proper to do.
They took care of meals on their own, and from time to time, they sent servants to ask if there was any discomfort…
They were clearly showing considerable consideration for the ‘prince,’ so I couldn’t complain in the carriage just because I was bored.
‘They say living sacrifices, but they don’t skimp on meals. That’s a relief…’
I heard everything while in the shaking carriage. The reason the Kingdom of Bers demanded beastmen from Mosul. And what they could do with them.
Garland’s ‘father,’ Tolland Hamilton, had forsaken the god Elon. Instead, he began worshiping a native god called Hokhma, passed down from the western lands long known as the ‘Black Lands.’
I don’t know exactly when he started serving the new god, but by worshiping the evil god and offering beastmen as living sacrifices to it, he was said to have reached the realm of swordmaster, which he could never attain in his lifetime.
It was hard to believe easily.
But the purple aura that Sir Garland said he saw, and the claim that he sliced through armored beastmen in one stroke to offer them as sacrifices to the evil god, were not lies.
…If so, there was one strange thing. After much thought, I decided to confide this to Sir Garland.
Perhaps because I thought this could lead to some way to defeat those who use the power of the evil god Hokhma even in the Kingdom of Bers.
“If the King of Mosul became a swordmaster, there’s one strange part.”
“…? What is that?”
I briefly stuck my face out the window to check the surroundings.
After excusing the delegation by saying Sir Garland was uncomfortable, there were no eavesdropping ears around us.
Still, I couldn’t be completely at ease, so I closed the window.
It would have been good if there was a mage… As a brute warrior-type character, there are many regrettable moments. If only I had an inventory or consumable items!
“That day, I was beside Sir Garland. I was close enough to reach out and touch your father… the King. However, he did not recognize me.”
“Not recognize… Isn’t that natural? You were wearing a helmet, with the visor down, so Father had no way of knowing who you were—”
“That’s not it. A swordmaster failed to notice another swordmaster right in front of him… That’s what I’m saying. Sir Garland, even I did not realize until you told me that Tolland Hamilton was a swordmaster.”
“Uh… Sorry, but Sir Paramir. I don’t understand what that means.”
“Ah.”
It was my mistake, thinking he would naturally know.
I felt the need to explain more kindly to Sir Garland, who was ashamed of his ignorance.
How terrifying it was that ‘nothing happened’ in my encounter with Tolland Hamilton and it just passed by.
“So… A swordmaster is basically a person who has transcended individual limits, the limits of their species. Whether human or beastman, it doesn’t matter. Becoming a swordmaster can be said to be crossing a certain realm—it’s not enough to express it that way.”
“The world you originally saw becomes visible farther and in more detail, sounds you couldn’t hear become audible… Escaping from mediocre use of internal mana, you can envelop mana around your sword or body to easily and quickly destroy opponents or targets. Do you know these things?”
“I didn’t know in such detail.”
“Anyway, becoming a swordmaster also means being reborn as a living combat weapon. It can be judged differently depending on the viewer’s perspective… but generally, that’s the case. Among the various changes gained when becoming a swordmaster that I mentioned earlier, there is one most important part that must not be missed.”
“What is that?”
“Mana detection.”
I drew my short dagger and raised a very small aura.
A faint blue light enveloped the dagger, so dim that it would be hard to know an aura was formed unless observed closely from nearby.
I confirmed that Sir Garland recognized it before releasing the aura and sheathing the dagger.
“What does this action mean…?”
“This confirms that in the procession lined up before and behind our carriage, there is at least no swordmaster.”
“…Ah!”
Now Sir Garland seemed to understand what I was trying to say.
He was so excited that he forgot he was in the carriage and tried to stand up, only to hit his head on the roof and crouch back down.
Ouch, that must hurt.
“Father didn’t recognize you, Sir Paramir, and you didn’t know Father was a swordmaster…! That’s what you meant!”
“Keep your voice down.”
Shhh…! Sir Garland, calming his excitement, cautiously opened his mouth.
“But… I still don’t understand your story. Swordmasters can recognize other swordmasters. Yet Father… and you didn’t recognize each other—I’m not sure if that’s something to consider so important.”
“This is important. You said the Kingdom of Bers does not believe in the god Elon. The realm Hamilton gained by borrowing the power of Hokhma, whatever evil god it is… might be different from what one achieves oneself…”
“No, it is definitely different. Your father may appear like a swordmaster on the outside and perform similar destructive acts, but essentially, he is not a swordmaster. This is a very important difference.”
I opened the window again and looked outside. Far away, below the hill, the high walls of the Kingdom of Bers began to appear.
I couldn’t know in detail, but it felt different from Mosul, which had felt cozy like home or hometown—something sinister and foul.
‘Perhaps I may have to kill the King of Bers.’
I didn’t say this to Garland. If, by any chance… something happened to the captain, Jasmine, or her child, I didn’t know how I would act.
***
“Come in! Welcome to my kingdom! Young Hamilton!”
“It is an honor to meet you, Your Majesty.”
“Now, now. No need to be so stiff. You probably don’t remember since you were young, but I remember you. You were this small… Such a cute child has now become a man! Tolland has every reason to be proud!”
The King of Bers, Red Stone, welcomed Garland as if he were his own son.
There was no prior notice; he was an uninvited guest sent unilaterally by the King of Mosul along with the delegation, almost like a notification, yet the treatment was top-class.
Incidentally, I, standing beside Garland as guardian knight and attendant, also received quite decent treatment.
But in the end, I had to follow everywhere as Sir Garland’s shadow, so there was no leisure to enjoy the hospitality.
“Ah, now I want to talk just between us… Haha, Garland. You really brought a loyal knight. Wouldn’t it be good to give him a day off?”
“I am grateful for your consideration. Pamir, go keep an eye on that beast. I’ll be with His Majesty, so don’t worry.”
“Understood.”
Time alone for the two of them. It was what I wanted.
Sir Garland nodded and waved his hand, acting as if showing consideration so that the guardian knight ‘Pamir’ could take a brief rest.
“I will guide you to the prepared room.”
“No. Before that, there is something to confirm. I need to check the slave entrusted to me by the prince.”
“…This way.”
She was a quiet and gloomy-looking woman. On the surface, it seemed like attaching a maid to guide so as not to get lost in the palace, but naturally, she was the king’s limb to monitor me.
“The prince’s beast is no ordinary slave. It’s a special one to appear in the colosseum. You wouldn’t have just dumped it anywhere, right?”
“Don’t worry.”
“Hmm.”
I acted as an ordinary knight, as confident as possible and sometimes revealing arrogance.
We passed through a long corridor. And after climbing and descending circular stairs for a while, we reached the secluded building where Surabar, receiving ‘special treatment,’ was imprisoned.
It seemed they deliberately circled the same place, likely out of pettiness or because there was something they didn’t want to show.
‘Royals.’
“Hm? Who are you… Ah, are you the prince from Mosul?”
“Wrong. I am Pamir. The prince’s guardian knight. Where is that beast? It is the prince’s property. If you’ve put it in a strange place, I won’t let it slide. We can’t have something capable of winning in the colosseum get injured.”
“Whoa… Calm down. I am Billy. I manage the gladiators participating in the colosseum. That fellow looked so special anyway. I can swear there’s nothing for Sir Pamir to worry about.”
“Guide me.”
“Sir Pamir. About mutual respect—”
“Keep wagging your tongue if you want to die.”
“This way, hehe…”
Acting as a ‘violent, narrow-minded, arrogant’ knight was easier than I thought. Rather, it was more comfortable than when dealing with people normally!
“The facilities are poor. Do you manage slaves in such a filthy place?”
“Though it looks like this, it’s not a bad place for fur-shedding things to live.”
“That… makes sense. Understood.”
My evaluation of it as a ‘filthy place’ was not just for the arrogant knight act.
The walls and ceiling were not painted separately.
Exposed bricks with crumbs falling off, and the floor had dry straw laid to somewhat block the chill rising from the ground.
The overall atmosphere was not a place fit for ‘people’ to live.
It was far inferior compared to the building where the King of Bers and other high officials were.
Dirty and cold air, plus live spiders lurking in the corner walls and ceiling—it was an environment where even a healthy person would soon fall ill and cough.
“How many people are here? Only beastmen in this place?”
I asked naturally. Billy bowed and scraped while explaining how this gladiator quarters operated.
“Ah, of course, there are a few servants like me to carry out His Majesty’s orders. But… mostly, it’s where beastman gladiators live among themselves.”
“I see.”
I obediently followed behind Billy.
Looking around, there was no one dangerous enough to require me to go all out or be on guard.
While passing through the corridor, in what seemed like a kitchen, emaciated beastman women with no energy were trimming vegetables, handling meat, and preparing meals.
They looked so lifeless that if you just touched them with a finger, they would collapse. It was appalling.
“Ah, those are all His Majesty’s property too. Ah, is there a wench you fancy? If so, I can offer one during your stay in the palace at my discretion…”
Disgusting words.
Embrace? Whom?
Those pitiful women?
But I was thoroughly acting as the ‘arrogant knight from Mosul.’
This immersion in the play, in the non-existent knight ‘Pamir,’ would greatly help prevent them from suspecting my true identity.
And this… was a great help in the current situation where I had to naturally ‘reject’ Billy’s disgusting words.
“No need. I don’t have a taste for hugging fur-shedding, skinny things. Where is the prince’s gladiator? Hurry and guide me.”
“Haha… I see. Understood.”
I said that, but I quickly scanned the women in the kitchen who looked like they were barely alive.
It was a repulsive and horrific sight, but at the same time, I felt relief.
At the fact that Jasmine was not among the women working there.
“This is the quarters where the warriors of our proud Kingdom of Bers’ arena live.”
Billy said. Creeeak… The door opened with the sound of rusty hinges.