Chapter 81
“Veronia?”
At my words, Islin frowned slightly.
The name Veronia wasn’t a common one.
If it was the Veronia I knew…
“To think I’d meet an old friend here… Life really is strange.”
“Friend? I— I’m not worthy of such a title. How could someone like me call Your Highness a friend—”
“Hehe. Are you really going to keep acting like that? Do you know how many memories we share together?”
“Princess…”
“Well, if it’s inconvenient for you, then I won’t press it. But if you ever have the time, come visit me later. We can chat like old friends again.”
“……”
Princess Eaglen glanced at me out of the corner of her eye.
“How could I refuse, when it’s Your Highness’s command?”
“Fufu. Thank you, Ian.”
With a small smile, Eaglen turned and walked toward the high seats with her delegation.
…That smile somehow rubbed me the wrong way.
Of course it did—because there was a hint of satisfaction behind it.
As if she were saying, “Oh? So the great master doesn’t know who his servant really is?”
“…What’s going on here?”
“Th-that’s…”
Islin looked flustered—a rare sight for her.
Come to think of it, there had been signs.
Royalty rarely mingled with commoners—or even nobles—unless they were of high rank.
And yet, Islin had trembled in fear when facing Prince Gallen.
As if she’d known that damned prince personally for a long time.
“If you’re from the Veronia family… are you from that Veronia I’m thinking of?”
“…Yes, my lord.”
The House of Veronia.
They didn’t belong to any single kingdom.
If anything, they mainly operated within the Holy Kingdom.
And despite their lack of allegiance, they were an incredibly powerful house—so strong they didn’t need to belong to any nation.
It was said that their bloodline carried a natural affinity for magic, and that most Veronias possessed high magical ranks.
In fact, it wasn’t uncommon for the Tower of Magic to have at least one Veronia among its top graduates each year.
‘So that’s why her hair is silver, huh?’
The Veronias were known for their silky, silver hair.
Still, she wasn’t the only one in the world with that color.
And besides, she’d been part of a thief clan.
No one would expect a noble from the Veronia family to be working with thieves.
‘Wait a second…’
If she really was a Veronia, then didn’t that mean she might be connected to the main story’s protagonist?
“Islin.”
“I’m sorry, my lord. I didn’t mean to deceive—”
“Do you have any siblings?”
“Eh?”
“An older brother or sister?”
“N-no, I don’t.”
“Any close relatives, then?”
“T-the thing is… my branch of the family is quite distant. We’ve had almost no contact with the main Veronia family for years.”
“I see. Then you must’ve met the princess at the Academy of Magic.”
“…Yes.”
“And probably ran into Prince Gallen a few times there too.”
“…Yes.”
“Ha! I knew it.”
“…Huh?”
It felt like a heavy stone in my chest had just been lifted.
I’d always wondered why Islin seemed so terrified of Prince Gallen, but I hadn’t wanted to pry.
Now, everything made sense.
“…I’m truly sorry! Please, punish me for deceiving—”
“Enough. It’s not a big deal.”
“Ugh…”
“You probably didn’t want to say anything because you were ashamed that a Veronia was working in a thief clan. Then, as time went on, you lost the right moment to explain.”
“That’s… true.”
“Unless, of course, you’re actually a spy sent by the Veronia family to secretly keep tabs on me?”
“N-no! Of course not!”
“I’m right, aren’t I?”
“…Yes…”
“Then that’s all I need to know.”
‘If she doesn’t have siblings, then she’s not connected to him, at least.’
Having a retainer from the Veronia family was actually a good thing for me.
Their bloodline meant great magical potential.
“Islin, what’s your current magic rank?”
“Rank 4… sir.”
“Have you been training?”
“Not really, my lord…”
“Good. Then from now on, start training your magic alongside your other duties. If you need anything—resources, time, a mentor—just ask. I’ll provide it.”
“……”
“What? Is something wrong?”
“N-no! It’s just… I thought you might be angry…”
“Angry? Well… I am a little annoyed. If you’d told me sooner, I could’ve helped you raise your rank already.”
“……”
Her lips trembled slightly, and her eyes grew glossy.
“…Alright! Let’s get ready for the second round. Okay?”
“…Sniff…”
Seeing the normally cold and composed Islin like this left me completely unsure how to react.
“L-lord! Islin seems tired. May she take a short break?”
“Ah, yes, go ahead.”
Thankfully, Isbart stepped in to mediate, quickly leading Islin out of the arena.
Friana and I just stood there, silently watching them leave.
“…Huh.”
“The more I see you, my lord, the more fascinating you become.”
“In a good way, I hope?”
“Of course.”
“Click.”
Truthfully, Islin’s revelation wasn’t a small matter.
In this world, where social standing meant everything, hiding your family background was a grave offense.
Depending on who you hid it from, it could even be treated as a crime.
After all, she could’ve been a spy sent by another house.
But that wasn’t the case.
I was the one who’d recruited her from the thieves’ guild. And back then, House Impera was so insignificant that no one would bother sending a spy our way.
Honestly, she’d played a huge part in getting me to where I was now.
So what sense would it make to cast her out just for concealing her lineage?
That would be like cutting off my own limbs.
‘Besides, if she’s from a distant branch, she won’t have anything to do with the main story anyway.’
The Veronia family was divided into one main line and countless branches.
And the only one I was concerned about was the head of the main line—specifically, his daughter.
Because that girl… would one day become the fated partner of the protagonist, Dia Zenith.
‘Yeah. That kind of “fate” that turns into romance.’
If I somehow got involved with her—the heroine of the story—it’d be a mess.
I mean, not to brag, but this face of mine wasn’t half bad.
If she ended up falling for me instead of the protagonist…
‘Nah. That’s probably pushing it.’
Anyway, it was best to stay far, far away from that whole mess.
[The second round of the tournament will begin shortly! Spectators, please take your seats.]
“Oh, it’s starting.”
The announcement echoed through the arena.
The view from the high seats was excellent—you could see the entire field clearly, and the contestants were close enough to make out their faces.
If not for the protective barrier maintained by the court mages, I might’ve worried about stray attacks reaching us.
“Being powerful has its perks, huh.”
As I sat down, my eyes flicked toward the Isothera delegation.
Princess Eaglen happened to meet my gaze.
“……”
She glanced at me—likely remembering Islin running out earlier—then looked back toward the arena with a faint, knowing smirk.
[Opening the second round of the Grand Tournament—introducing contestant Shellang Decard!]
“Wooooaaah!”
Finally, the one I’d been waiting for appeared.
Shellang Decard.
From up here, I could see his face clearly.
At first glance, he looked… plain.
A rather average face, a loose, unremarkable build—nothing that stood out.
But the way he gripped the longsword at his waist, clad in a simple leather cuirass, showed real discipline.
“Hm. Definitely a first-timer.”
I racked my brain for any memory of him from the original story—but nothing.
“Do you recognize him?” I asked Friana.
“Hmm… No, I don’t think so.”
“Well, skill matters more than fame anyway.”
[And his opponent is—!]
“WAAAAAH!”
“Kyaaa!”
The crowd’s reaction was completely different this time.
And when I saw who his opponent was, I understood why.
“Mendis! Mendis!”
“Mendis Wisdom—Knight of House Wisdom!”
The opponent strutted out in a full suit of ornate plate armor, decorated with red and blue enamel—armor made more for show than for battle.
“He looks like a walking flower garden.”
“Yes, the Wisdom family is famous for armor crafting.”
“Ah, that explains it.”
At a tournament watched across the continent, it wasn’t uncommon for nobles to use it as a publicity stunt—like athletes with sponsors.
Every noble who fancied themselves a swordsman would want a set of armor like that.
“Still, it’s nothing compared to the ones made by Bronze Beard.”
“Of course not.”
They were built for entirely different purposes.
The armor Mendis wore was essentially the tuxedo of the battlefield.
“But compared to Decard’s leather armor, it does look sturdier.”
“Hmm…”
Fighting with an aura blade while wearing just leather armor seemed reckless.
Sure, it offered better mobility, but still…
‘He must be confident in his skill.’
I couldn’t help but feel excited to see how good he really was.
Just as my lips curled into a grin, the gong sounded to start the match.
DONG!
“Mendis! Mendis!”
The arena erupted in cheers for Mendis.
A handsome knight in shining armor versus a plain man in leather—an easy favorite.
But this wasn’t a popularity contest.
This was about swords.
Only skill would determine the victor.
—Clang!
They clashed, testing each other’s strength.
Mendis was no pushover.
Competing here meant he was at least sword rank 5.
When their blades met, red and blue auras collided violently.
‘Red aura, huh?’
Not all aura was blue.
Krod, for example, had a red aura too.
They said the color depended on one’s life experiences.
A red aura usually meant someone who’d endured blood and hardship.
“Hah!”
Mendis’s blue aura flared brightly as he pressed the attack, shouting dramatically for the audience’s benefit.
“……”
Decard seemed to falter—then suddenly moved.
Whack!
A sharp kick aimed at Mendis’s midsection.
Mendis blocked it with one leg, then leapt backward with a flashy backflip.
“Ooooh!”
He could’ve just taken a step back—but no, he had to do a full acrobatic show.
The crowd loved it.
“Ahhh!”
“He’s amazing!”
‘Yeah, amazing. Just die already.’
Tap!
Landing gracefully, Mendis raised his sword in a flourish—then, inexplicably, began talking mid-battle.
“Red aura, is it?”
“……?”
“How can a so-called knight wield something as vile as red aura instead of noble blue?”
“……”
“It means your soul is stained with blood and corruption!”
“……”
“I, Mendis Wisdom—the righteous knight of blue aura—will purge your evil!”
“……”
I blinked in disbelief.
So did Friana.
Everyone knew aura color had nothing to do with morality.
Red aura knights were rare, sure, but that didn’t mean they were evil.
Still, the audience—most of whom had only ever seen blue aura—ate it up.
“Ohh! So red aura means wickedness?”
“Wow, really? That’s crazy!”
“Mendis! Mendis!”
“Wooooo!”
“This is… yeah, I’m rooting for Decard.”
“Same.”
Showmanship was one thing—but this was just pathetic.
“Here I come!”
“……”
“Corrupted knight! My blade shall judge you!”
Mendis charged, his blue aura blazing like fire.
Whoosh!
A crescent of aura energy slashed toward Decard—
—but Decard didn’t move.
He didn’t even raise his sword.
Just stood there.
What was he—
Step.
Decard slid forward in one smooth motion, dodging the strike and closing the distance in an instant.
Then—
BAM!
A deafening crack filled the stadium—like a war drum splitting open.
It wasn’t the clash of blades.
It was the sound of Decard’s fist.
Connecting squarely with Mendis’s jaw.
Thud!
Mendis collapsed, his jaw twisted grotesquely to one side.
[M-match over! The winner—Shellang Decard! Shellang Decard!]
The crowd fell into stunned silence—then erupted again, this time in disbelief.
And I… couldn’t stop grinning.
