Chapter 67
The Meddler (2)
Thud. Thud.
Heavy sounds echoed from the small training grounds attached to the mansion. The noise had been going on for thirty minutes straight, but everyone inside the mansion only glanced that way—they didn’t dare stop him.
Harold struck a practice scarecrow with a wooden sword normally used only to loosen up his body. When the sword finally snapped under the repeated impact, he simply brought a new one. One-sided beating like this wouldn’t help training and only strained his hand, but he did not stop.
‘There truly are many skilled fighters in the Empire. I didn’t expect to be eliminated before even reaching the semifinals.’
‘Of course. Imperial knights are famous across the continent.’
‘Still, it was good motivation. There aren’t many in the North who can rival me. And even then, since I’m a prince, they hold back their strength. It’s been so long since I’ve had a proper fight, I nearly forgot what it felt like.’
‘I don’t recall any group in the North trying to assassinate the prince. Why put in so much effort?’
‘Even so, I should at least have the strength to protect my future wife, don’t you think?’
Harold gritted his teeth and swung with every muscle in his body. With a heavy impact unlike before, the scarecrow finally tilted and fell backward.
‘Acting like you’re already betrothed to Retina, when nothing is even confirmed.’
He threw aside the wooden sword split into two. He hated everything about this. Ever since meeting Noden, images of the two together kept intruding into his mind.
Retina chatting affectionately with Noden… smiling the smile that used to be his alone… swearing her vows of engagement…
Every time he imagined it, rage erupted from deep in his gut.
‘I’ll win this tournament no matter what.’
As the Crown Prince, he had no interest in the prize. He could obtain anything he wanted from the Emperor without needing a tournament to win it. He never cared much about taking first place.
He only entered to test himself. Aside from Haint, there weren’t many chances to face strong knights sincerely, so he competed each year.
But this time was different. This time, he would win at all costs. Then he would demand a prize only the Emperor could grant—cancel all current political matchmaking, and allow him to marry Retina instead.
‘Once that happens, Prince Lagrace won’t dare covet her again.’
Harold wiped his gritty hands with a wet towel. Behind him lay the ruined scarecrow and broken swords, scattered messily.
“Clean it up.”
He passed the towel to the chief attendant waiting at the training ground entrance and ordered coldly. Invisible servants immediately hurried out to work. The chief attendant neatly folded the dusty towel over his arm and followed the prince’s long strides.
“Lady Helen Histing is here to see you. Shall I inform her you will receive her after your bath?”
Harold stopped abruptly. After every training session, he always bathed. The bathwater had already been heated and prepared.
“…No. I’ll go as I am.”
He turned and headed straight toward the parlor. Greeting a guest while covered in dust and sweat was a clear message—he didn’t intend to sit long with her.
“No need to look good for someone who comes without an appointment.”
He ran his hand roughly through his sweat-soaked hair. Helen Histing was waiting in the drawing room, having arrived when he was still beating the scarecrow. She had been throwing a tantrum at the maids until she heard the prince was coming—then quickly pretended to be ladylike.
“Your Highness!”
“What business do you have coming unannounced?”
Unlike Helen, who brightened the moment she saw him, Harold’s response was not just cold—it was cutting. He glanced at her heavily decorated appearance, as if she was heading to a banquet.
“Please don’t be so harsh. Her Majesty the Empress gave permission for this visit. Though… I was the one who asked.”
“What does my mansion have to do with the Empress’ permission?”
Harold’s irritation showed openly.
Among the candidates for Crown Princess, she was the one he disliked most. Acting as though she was already Crown Princess when nothing had been decided—he couldn’t stand it.
“I thought it would be nice to tie a handkerchief for Your Highness, since the semifinals are tomorrow…”
“Unnecessary. Take it back with you.”
“But last time, you tied a handkerchief—!”
“So? What does that have to do with you? Being a candidate doesn’t mean you’re my lover.”
Harold laughed scornfully. Helen clenched the rejected handkerchief in her fist. He tied a handkerchief from some unknown young lady in the preliminaries… but refuses mine? Jealousy burned.
“Then… you’re saying you already have a lover?”
“I don’t see why I owe you that answer. You should leave now. If you came only to deliver a handkerchief, then there’s no need to stay. As you can see, I feel rather dirty.”
His tone made it obvious he wasn’t talking about just his dusty body. Whether it was her presence or his clothes, he didn’t clarify—and didn’t care to.
Receiving a direct order to leave from the Crown Prince himself, Helen had no choice.
“Even if you do have a lover, I don’t mind. You’ll be marrying me anyway.”
She kept her smile even while being insulted. Once she became Crown Princess, she would eliminate his lover first thing—but until the engagement was official, she needed to show only her best side.
“I’ll leave this here then. It’s because I don’t want you getting hurt. I hope you’ll wear it.”
Helen placed the handkerchief on the table, clasped her hands, and walked out. The prince didn’t even offer a polite farewell. Outside the mansion gates, Helen’s refined expression twisted into fury.
I got rid of one woman, and now another annoying one appears.
Whoever the hidden lover was, she would find her—without fail.
That morning, the first semifinal ended with Tetten’s victory. He was a commoner, famous as a soldier of House Felix, up against the Crown Prince’s own escort knight. His win was practically expected.
The pavilion was loud with lingering excitement and shouts of gamblers dividing their bets. Yet no one left their seats. The massive arena was crammed full—even the box seats—because everyone was waiting for the real highlight:
The final semifinal.
“Whoever wins this one will take the championship, right?”
“Well, it’s Sir Haint versus His Highness. Whoever advances, Tetten will suffer.”
“Either way, the title has usually gone to Sir Haint or His Highness.”
If Tetten heard that, he might sulk—but nearly everyone considered this match the real final. Tetten likely thought the same. He was a great knight, but unlike Haint D’Nube—known as a lunatic obsessed with the sword—and Harold Luddenheim, who was just as bad, Tetten was a normal person.
“Lady Retina, who are you cheering for? Sir Haint, I presume?”
Retina, who was fidgeting with the handkerchief on her lap, lifted her head at the sudden question. She had wanted to give Harold another handkerchief as well, but couldn’t find Saht to deliver it. Ever since Helen bragged that she already gave the Crown Prince hers before the matches began, Retina couldn’t focus. She was terrified Harold might appear wearing Helen’s handkerchief.
“Lady Retina?”
“A-ah, sorry. What was the question?”
“Which knight are you cheering for? Probably Sir Haint?”
“Yes. I tied my handkerchief for my brother—to tell him to take it easy.”
Retina hid her handkerchief under the table as she answered. She remembered Haint whining that morning, begging her to tie one for him, and couldn’t help but laugh a little.
“Not ‘I hope you win,’ but ‘take it easy’?”
“If my brother fights the Crown Prince seriously, they’ll both get hurt. His Highness is reasonable, but my brother doesn’t understand the meaning of ‘holding back.’”
“Ahh, true…”
Cecile let out a knowing sigh. The others nodded as well.
Two battle-maniacs were about to clash. Rather than hoping one would win, everyone just hoped it wouldn’t end in blood.
“Still, isn’t Sir Haint more likely to win? Pardon me to His Highness, but I think Sir Haint will win again this year.”
“But doesn’t His Highness seem different this time? Usually he fights like, ‘Let’s see how far I can go~’ but this year he looks like he intends to win no matter what.”
“That’s true. The atmosphere felt different even in the preliminaries.”
Basil and Isabelle joined the discussion. Retina turned her attention back to the arena. She just hoped Harold wouldn’t push himself too hard and get injured.
‘I warned Haint to go easy, but he won’t listen anyway.’
Haint was a fool in everyday life, but dead serious in battle. Even if the Crown Prince was skilled, defeating someone who trained like he’d die if he didn’t move every day—beating Haint would not be easy.
“Ladies, it seems you’re having a delightful conversation. May I join you?”
A figure approached Retina.
