Before the war in the West had even begun, it had already fallen into a strange stalemate. Various countries surrounding the Barbarian Highlands sent envoys, and within just a few days, the capital had received several delegations. Their common request was for the imperial army to stand down, as many of their merchants had interests in Orford City. Some smaller nations had even recognized Orford City as a new independent state. Despite the military's push for war, the immense diplomatic pressure forced His Majesty the Emperor to order the western troops to refrain from taking any rash actions. Meanwhile, Orford City had amicably returned the goods that had been seized earlier, and anti-war sentiments began to rise among the common people and many nobles. It seemed that Theodorus's tactics were indeed effective.
On the other hand, strange military news was coming back from the West. A huge undead creature had appeared in the wilderness, and the Nagsis priest, leading all the magicians in his unit to eradicate it, suffered a total defeat. The court was shaken by such a tremendous loss even before the war had started. The military blamed the reckless ambition of the Ernie family's priest for the disaster, while the Ernie family accused General Sanders of poor command, especially since the death of the Prime Ministrer's son had prompted a strong push for a change in leadership. The military naturally would not easily agree, and daily court sessions became battlegrounds for both sides to argue.
In contrast, the Magic Academy remained relatively calm. Bishop Ronis, for once, took a rare public stance on political matters, advising the Emperor to withdraw the troops. He seemed displeased with the recently recommended Nagsis priest, and this time he neither appointed the Prime Ministrer's son nor accepted candidates suggested by military officials. Instead, he prepared to appoint an inconspicuous ordinary monk to lead the remaining priests after the death of the Nagsis priest. This approach was impartial and aligned with the bishop's usual style, leaving the ministers with no choice but to accept. It was said that this monk was chosen for his devout faith, having prayed for the deceased day in and day out, which earned him the bishop's favor.
During such extraordinary times, the selection competition for the Knights Templar still took place. Moreover, due to the fierce struggle for power, the significance of this competition was anything but ordinary.
Although the generals of the empire had control over the army, they never dared to act recklessly. The core military force of the empire, the Knights Templar, operated directly under the Emperor and the church, preventing these generals from overstepping. Although the Knights Templar consisted of fewer than a thousand members, each one possessed the combat power of a high-level swordsman. The dozens of magicians and priests within were among the best elites in the empire, their immense fighting power making tens of thousands of soldiers tremble in fear. Their high mobility and combat effectiveness allowed them to slice through ordinary armies with ease, as if a hot knife were cutting through butter.
The Knights Templar could only act under the joint orders of the Emperor and the Bishop, thus their opportunities to go into battle were rare. However, their status within the empire was exalted, and squad leaders were often assigned important roles within the army to hone their skills. For the Ernie family, this represented a shortcut to enter the military.
Selecting such an important force was, of course, extremely stringent. Every year, thousands of knights from all over the country participated, but only a handful would be selected. The key point was that the chief examiners were Roland, the leader of the Knights Templar, and Bishop Ronis. Although Captain Roland came from a military faction, his strictness, impartiality, and unwavering personal discipline were famously well-combined. Together with Bishop Ronis, who was often seen as conservative and rigid, they ensured that the empire's core strength remained unaffected by political influences. No matter which faction anyone belonged to, those who wished to join the Knights Templar had to pass rigorous examinations without exception.
The selection began on the first day with a variety of preliminary assessments: horsemanship, spear skills, chivalry, and faith, among others. Over a thousand candidates were quickly whittled down like washed sand in water during these rigorous tests, leaving only a few hundred elites. These survivors would then compete in the second day's martial arts contest for the final slots. The champion would receive the emblem of the Knights Templar personally bestowed by the Emperor, a tremendous honor for every knight and a stepping stone to advancement. Generally, the champion had the opportunity to become a squad leader, commanding dozens of members capable of leading an army of a thousand.
This martial arts competition had become a grand festival in the capital. High temporary stands were erected around several outdoor arenas to accommodate spectators, and even the Emperor would attend the finals.
The crowd in the square could not be described with mere numbers; it seemed like everyone in the capital had gathered there. Nobles and commoners alike eagerly discussed the upcoming competition. Betting odds had already been set. Based on each participant's past performance and evaluations by professionals, odds were assigned to each contestant, allowing supporters to express their enthusiasm through wagers.
The most popular candidate was a participant named Rodhart. This knight had passed all tests on the first day with excellent scores. According to seasoned observers, his skills and demeanor were the best among all contestants, making him the frontrunner for the championship.
Although the odds had dropped below one-to-one, bets continued to pour in to show support for him. The total amount wagered on him had already exceeded a thousand gold coins, a staggering figure that indicated immense backing.
Driven by such enthusiasm and significant sums, bettors had investigated every detail of this knight's background and experience. It was said that this exceptional steed had emerged from the Knight School of Alrasia, a land renowned for producing heroes and generals, which further elevated his noble lineage. Rumors had circulated among noble youth that this hero had single-handedly rescued Duke Murak's daughter from a group of large-eared monsters, a courageous act that bolstered confidence in his abilities. Although he had no distinguished family background and did not become a retainer of Duke Murak simply for saving his daughter, the duke's only act of gratitude was to enroll this commoner in the competition. Some even detected a dialect suggesting he came from a poor area near Airi. However, this humble origin, combined with his heroic rescue and current achievements, created an impressive narrative of an underdog rising to prominence, completely fulfilling the psychological needs of the ordinary public. The integrity of Bishop Ronis and the rigor of Captain Roland had always ensured the fairness of this selection competition. Thus, the astonishing bets on this potential first commoner champion stood out even more—unlike the glimmering but small coins from the wealthy, these bets were accumulated from the copper coins of the common people, piled high like a mountain. Just looking at them conveyed an overwhelming momentum.
The betting was about to close. The final bettor approached the betting booth, ostentatiously placing three silver coins in the box marked "Rodhart." This was a rare large bet. The bettor was a flamboyantly dressed young woman in a stylish off-the-shoulder dress, revealing her shoulders and a portion of her chest, making the surrounding men drool. Her already adorable face was overly made up. One couldn't blame her; it was likely an extension of her work habits and professional ethics. The young lady named Selena was quite a famous courtesan from the capital's largest brothel.
"Hey, beautiful lady, the odds have already dropped to six to one. Why are you still betting on this knight named Rodhart?" the betting worker called out.
"Because I like him," the pretty courtesan said, swaying her slender waist. "He's handsome, charismatic, and courageous, rising from poverty through hard work. That's a real hero. Compared to those nobles who rely on their family background and connections, pfft." She spat with vigor, a casual gesture that ladies of noble birth would never replicate.
Her words immediately drew cheers from the crowd around her.
With the support of the audience, the courtesan felt quite pleased. She threw a flirtatious glance at the wooden board bearing the name, as if it were the object of her affection. Cradling her face in her delicate hands, she said somewhat sadly, "I wonder when he will come looking for me."
"Well said! I'll make a note of the lady's pure feelings," the worker called out, ceremoniously writing in his notebook. "May our hero live up to expectations, and let us all win some drinking money. And may you, miss, gain both wealth and beauty, fulfilling your wishes."
This little performance drew raucous laughter from all the men nearby. "So, do you expect a free one from our hero?" "Heroes seem to be inexperienced; you might be in luck, remember to put in some effort!" "When will you give me a free one too? I'm a young man with ambition..."
Amidst the cheers, the courtesan proudly held her head high, leaving the stage while basking in the crowd's attention. As she passed by a young man who was smiling at her with crossed arms, she playfully pinched his arm. He chuckled and patted her head as if to encourage her. She continued her flamboyant stride into the throng.
With the lingering scent of the courtesan's perfume on his hands and the surrounding lewd comments about her, Asa felt as if he had returned to the taverns of his hometown. Now, he just needed to wait for all the formalities to be completed before heading west, using this last opportunity to watch Rodhart's competition.
As Asa walked toward Rodhart's lounge, he wanted to see how this hero, who had become the focus of public expectation, was preparing. If nothing unexpected happened, Rodhart should indeed win the championship. Asa had watched the various tests and competitions from the day before and realized that his friend seemed to be a natural knight.
Of course, it couldn't be said to be purely natural talent; his excellent performance was a result of his lifelong obsession with the dream of becoming a knight. When someone immerses their entire life in a single dream, the energy they invest and the achievements they gain are incomparable to those who rely on mere "effort" or "struggle."
The key was that he was no longer that child lost in dreams; his mental maturity and steadiness were a person's greatest wealth and strength. The grace and calmness of one's spirit allowed a person to fully realize their abilities. In Asa's eyes, Rodhart had already become quite strong.
The competitors' lounge was set up in a hotel on the outskirts of the square, surrounded by soldiers to ensure they could rest well, and ordinary people were not allowed inside. However, an officer recognized the esteemed monk favored by the bishop and immediately let him pass, politely asking if he was there to pray for the warriors.
Rodhart's room was at the very end of the top floor. As Asa climbed the stairs, he happened to see someone enter Rodhart's room, while a few guards stationed outside displayed a rough and vigilant demeanor. A few curious competitors tried to approach but were quickly shooed away by the guards.
This was not a place where anyone could enter casually, and these competing knights were not people who could be easily scolded. Asa felt curious. He glanced around, then walked to the end of the corridor. Taking advantage of the moment when no one was paying attention, he climbed out the window, scaling the outer wall a few times before slipping into the attic beneath the roof. The hotel was quite upscale and relatively new, and the wooden boards on the top floor were sturdy, allowing him to climb without making a sound. Like a gecko, he stealthily climbed over to Rodhart's room and peered through a gap in the wooden boards to see what was happening below.
A portly middle-aged man, dressed luxuriously, sat in a chair, exuding an air of authority despite lacking grace. He regarded the standing Rodhart with the same imposing gaze. This man was none other than the current Prime Ministrer, whom he had seen a few days ago at the Magic Academy.
"Those who think they can succeed solely based on their own intellect and ability are just foolish young people, seeing only their own narrow perspective. A truly intelligent person is one who recognizes and adapts to the circumstances," the Prime Ministrer stated, looking down from his seated position at Rodhart standing beside him. "I can tell you are a smart person. A truly intelligent person."
"Thank you for your praise, Your Excellency," Rodhart replied respectfully.
"I believe you can understand my words. Let me be straightforward with you: this championship is of no use to you. It will only be useful to those who truly hold power. Even if you receive the Emperor's commendation and have the support of those common folk, without a backer or any background, do you really think that someone of your humble origins, with no noble blood flowing through their veins, can smoothly rise in this ever-changing court? You cannot imagine how fierce the political struggles are in the court now. Someone like you, with no background, can only be pushed around by the tides of politics, a mere pawn. As long as we, the true power holders, are displeased, or if the political struggle demands it, you can easily be reduced back to a commoner or even lose your head," the Prime Ministrer warned, using a measured authority to convey the seriousness of the situation to this country bumpkin.
Rodhart remained silent. Asa felt that this was not mere alarmism; the situation indeed seemed dire.
The Prime Ministrer softened his tone, showing a magnanimous side. "I see that you are quite talented. However, personal talent is useless. Whether you want to join any faction, you must prove your loyalty and ability over time to have the opportunity for promotion. I am currently in need of capable individuals. As long as you slowly prove your talent and loyalty to me, there will surely be a day when you can truly rise. Do you understand what I am saying?"
Rodhart remained silent, and while Asa couldn't see his face, he could see the flickering of unease in the Prime Ministrer's otherwise composed expression.
After a while, Rodhart replied plainly but firmly, "I understand."
"Very good," the Prime Ministrer said, a satisfied expression on his face. "Listen carefully; there is now an opportunity for you to demonstrate your talent and loyalty. That is to give up this championship title, which is of no use to you. Your opponent in the finals will be a knight named Scottie. He is the standout in this competition, a top contender for the championship, and the crucial point is that he bears the noble blood of the Ernie family; he is my nephew. Do you understand my meaning?"
"I understand."
"The finals will take place on the large arena in the center. The third wooden board on the left side of the arena is a bit loose; if someone steps on it, it will sink slightly. Do you understand what I mean?"
"I understand."
"There will be many experts among the spectators, including Captain Roland, the Empire's foremost swordsman. The pretense must be convincing; everyone is bound to get hurt to some extent. However, with so many priests nearby, there shouldn't be any major issues. Do you understand?"
"I understand." The hero representing the people's dreams now seemed as docile as a little sheep before the Prime Ministrer's imposing presence.
"Good," the Prime Ministrer said, clearly pleased with the young man's understanding and sense of timing. He took a small pouch from his pocket and tossed it onto the table, producing a heavy sound. "Here are fifty gold coins. I will give you more once this matter is settled. And these coins are just the beginning; I appreciate young people like you who understand the situation, know the stakes, and are capable. I can assure you that as long as you work diligently, your future will not disappoint you. As long as you don't disappoint me now." The Prime Ministrer stood up, nodded, and walked out with an air of authority.
The door closed behind him, and Rodhart remained standing there, motionless. After a moment, he walked to the table, picked up the pouch left by the Prime Ministrer, weighed it in his hand, sighed contentedly, and took out a shiny gold coin, flicking it with his finger, which produced a pleasant sound.
Asa climbed out from the attic on the top floor and returned to the corridor, heading toward Rodhart's room. However, upon reaching the door, he scratched his head, realizing that this matter was originally Rodhart's own. How he chose to handle it was naturally his business, so Asa turned around and left the hotel.
Suddenly, Asa remembered the prostitute from earlier and couldn't help but feel regret for the three silver coins he had wagered. Even if her money was not blood money, it was at least sweat money.