Helmut pondered how strong Darien's great-grandson could be. His heart fluttered with excitement. Even if Darien's son hadn't inherited his talent, perhaps the seed of talent had blossomed in the next generation. For the first time in a while, Helmut felt thrilled.
He hoped the descendant would be as strong as Darien had been, that Darien's lineage would continue to be powerful. This expectation went beyond mere competitive spirit; it was almost a demanding sense of duty that Darien's bloodline ought to be formidable.
A thought occurred to him: how would those who betrayed Darien view his great-grandson? It was widely known that Darien had disowned his son, but the powerful and wealthy dislike leaving uncertainties.
Even if Darien's great-grandson harbored no thoughts of revenge, as long as there was a non-zero chance he knew secrets, they would not rest easy.
Helmut had learned about politics at the academy. The lineage of the Sword Saint, merely symbolic, could be useful; now, a knight of Basor, a force to be reckoned with.
But those who had removed Darien, even setting aside the truth, would not welcome the emergence of a second Sword Saint.
'I'll have to watch.'
Helmut owed Darien. Even if it was for the despised son's offspring, if the talented great-grandson wielded Darien's swordsmanship, Darien wouldn't dislike it. Whether to reveal the truth or wait and see was his decision.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The next day, Helmut visited the mercenary guild early in the morning. Three thick volumes of hefty documents vanished into his cloak.
Having collected the documents, he returned to his lodging immediately.
The tournament would start tomorrow. He expected to pass the preliminaries without difficulty, but wandering around might invite unnecessary trouble.
What Helmut feared most in this country was not Darien's betrayers, but the possibility of committing murder in a fit of rage himself.
The scorching sun and the disrespect from the weak created a perfect storm.
Upon returning, Helmut spent the half-day practicing with his sword. Feeling hungry, he returned to his room to find Mihail sitting up in bed.
"You've been training with your sword again today, Hyde. You're very diligent. It's nice to see such dedication."
'Never seen such a weakling before.'
Mihail was the weakest human Helmut had encountered since leaving the Demonic Beast Forest. Mihail looked pale from lying down all day.
"So, can you manage to cheer?"
Sitting in the blazing tournament stands seemed a daunting ordeal for him.
"Oh, I'll be sitting in the shade, so it shouldn't be too hard. Thanks for worrying."
'Who said I was worried.'
Helmut knew when to keep quiet. However, Mihail seemed eager to continue the conversation.
"Did you come in to eat? I'm sorry, but I can't join you. My stomach can't handle food right now."
"No need to eat together."
"But it's lonely eating alone. I wanted to eat with you, Hyde."
Helmut gave Mihail a stern look. This was a first for him, being approached so gently and persistently.
The guys in the swordsmanship department spoke harshly, and even Areia and Sian didn't talk like this. It was ticklish, and while he found it bothersome to harshly dismiss Mihail, there was something uncomfortable about it.
'He's as good at making friends as Sian.'
"You can order whatever you want, like yesterday."
"Are you rich?"
"Of course."
Mihail replied lightly. Just as Helmut was about to feel 'annoyed' again, Mihail added,
"But money can't cure this body of mine."
A bitter smile crossed his face. Helmut wasn't good at comforting, even though he recognized the situation might call for it.
"Don't worry about it. I'm used to it."
Somehow, in front of him, Helmut found himself falling silent. There are many in the world worse off than Mihail, unable to dream of such luxurious accommodations.
Yet, Mihail had a way of drawing sympathy. His angelic appearance amplified those feelings.
'This is his weapon.'
Helmut instinctively realized it was a different, perhaps equally effective, weapon as threatening with a sword.
As initially thought, a new type indeed. It was also intriguing.
"Ah, Hyde, could you close the curtains? The sunlight is too harsh on my skin."
Approaching the window to draw the curtains, Helmut's gaze landed on a small object on a chair.
'A pendant?'
It looked familiar. Helmut remembered the pendant he kept in his pocket, a gift from his mother. Though not identical, this pendant bore a similar design.
"Oh, there it is. I must have left it there while looking outside.
It was too heavy. Could you hand it to me?"
The view outside included the courtyard where Helmut had been training. Mihail had been watching him, for quite some time, it seemed.
Without delving into that meaning, Helmut, albeit reluctantly considering it a part of their meal deal, picked up the pendant.
'To pick this up and then fall over, such a character.'
He handed the heavy gold pendant to Mihail, who was sitting on the bed.
"What's this?"
"A pendant my mother gave me."
Helmut flinched momentarily, which Mihail misinterpreted with a smile.
"Ah, you think it's childish for me to carry around my mother's gift, don't you? A pendant, of all things, which is quite useless."
Helmut didn't respond. If that was considered childish, then so was he. Mihail explained with a smile.
"In the eastern and western parts of the Empire, carrying a pendant given by one's mother has a special meaning."
"And what's that?"
"It's an old tale. There was once a famous knight in the Empire who, facing a war where death was a real possibility, went to battle. During the fierce fight, he was struck by an arrow in the chest. Though he thought he was done for, he survived because the pendant around his neck blocked the arrow. That pendant was a keepsake from his deceased mother."
His voice continued softly.
"The knight led the war to victory. The story spread, and it became a tradition for mothers to give pendants to their newborn children, especially among the nobility."
Helmut's pendant, then, was such an item. It meant he or his mother was from the eastern or western Empire. The same applied to Mihail.
"This is the pendant I received at birth. It's a very meaningful object."
Mihail opened the pendant, smiling. From Helmut's angle, its interior was not visible.
"It's said that a pendant received at birth can prevent one's death once. I've already cheated death several times. Perhaps this pendant played its part in one of those instances."
Although he didn't believe in the tale's effectiveness, Helmut felt if his pendant had saved his life, it was likely when he first fell into the Demonic Beast Forest.
"Maybe."
Responding, Helmut turned away. The newly learned facts, just like when he discovered the existence of Darien's great-grandson, momentarily unsettled him.
But soon, he calmed himself.
"I'm off to eat now."
His immediate concerns were tomorrow's preliminaries and appeasing his hunger.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The tournament grounds were bustling.
'No one here seems to be a threat to me.'
After scanning his surroundings, Helmut concluded as much, quite naturally. He had left his lodging early in the morning to participate in the preliminaries.
As it neared 10 AM, he was promptly at the tournament venue. Participants were checked in at the entrance, ensuring everyone present was there to compete.
The preliminary round boasted over a hundred participants. The process was simple: fight and win.
However, the procedure was slightly more complex. Participants were divided into four groups for the preliminaries, and through a series of tournaments, the final participants were selected. Including one or two from the loser's revival round, those who made it into the top ten earned their spot in the main competition.
Today, the first group underwent two rounds of battles. Participants were informed of their group assignment upon entry, so those in the first group participated, while others were free to watch or leave.
The main competition would consist of 32 participants. Twenty-two were filled by proven talents, and the rest were open to applicants from knight orders.
Usually, applicants were selected based on skill. If there were too many, they too had to compete in the preliminaries, though that rarely happened.
With a security deposit of 1,000 marks, not a small amount, reaching the main competition guaranteed the return of the deposit and additional prize money at each stage. But failing in the preliminaries meant losing the deposit.
Therefore, only those confident in their skills or indifferent to losing 1,000 marks participated in the preliminaries.
In a venue teeming with burly, sunburned men, Helmut stood out starkly.
This implied he was among the latter, wealthy enough to afford the loss.
Predictably, sneers came his way.
"Looks like someone's rich. Trying to gain some experience, are we?"
"Look at that sword and attire, reeks of money."
"That alone would fetch over 10,000 marks."
Mockery was acceptable. Helmut could tolerate that much. However, what followed was different.
He blocked an attempt to slap his buttock with his scabbard.
"Oh, quick on the uptake, aren't you?"
Helmut disliked being touched. His sword flashed out in an instant, pressing against the man's throat.
Helmut declared coldly,
"Pray you don't face me in the preliminaries."
His action alone was enough to justify dismembering them. Blood trickled from the man's neck as the sword barely touched him.
"What's this about?"
The man's expression froze as he stepped back. The atmosphere shifted significantly.
"Did you see how fast he drew his sword?"
"It was almost invisible!"
"Looks like this kid's not just for show."
The crowd gave Helmut a wide berth, their curiosity mingled with caution. No longer did they underestimate him.
Basor respected the strength of its warriors.
'If only they could recognize it at a glance.'
Perhaps expecting such discernment from these weaklings was asking too much.
Helmut absentmindedly looked up at the sky. The sun blazed down relentlessly. The heat was dizzying.
Soon, officials from the tournament's organizing committee made an announcement.
"We thank all participants for joining the Royal Tournament of Basor. The preliminaries will begin shortly. Please, conserve your energy and move to the tents to wait quietly for your turn."
Not mentioning the possibility of disqualification for fighting or taunting was quite characteristic of Basor.
Being in the shade was a relief. Despite the high temperatures, avoiding direct sunlight made it bearably warm.
Helmut, repeating his unfamiliar alias, Hyde, waited for his turn, which fortunately arrived quickly.
"Hyde! Please come up to the stage."