Episode 55

Episode 55: The Festival of the Kingdom of Calus (1)

The next day at noon.

A special event was held to strengthen ties between the Empire and the Kingdom of Calus.

Despite its rather grand scale, the reason was simple.

It was all to honor the Empress of the Empire—in other words, Karssen had staged this entire festival purely to treat the Empress with respect.

“How can you just throw together a state event overnight with no planning whatsoever? This is ridiculous!”

Karssen’s secretary, Moritz, complained over and over. But Karssen didn’t even pretend to listen.

“Just send carrier birds to the clan leaders. Whoever can come will come.”

“I already did.”

“You think they’ll deliver well in the middle of the night?”

“Who knows? I’ve never seen a pigeon doze off before.”

“Still using birds in this day and age feels crude. Should we start training mages instead?”

“The witches and shamans would revolt. Besides, controlling those birds is basically thanks to them in the first place.”

“Shame, really.”

Despite being set up on a whim, the festival managed to look quite impressive even with the tight deadline.

In particular, the event grounds, thrown together in a single day, were a testament to the exhausting work of Moritz and countless officials.

“Good thing we just held that ritual recently. A national festival put together in one day… truly insane.”

Even so, the turnout from the people was high.

Despite sending the birds at dawn, crowds flocked to the capital.

The Calus Kingdom’s festival lasted from midday until late at night.

True to their rugged, boisterous northern character, they partied with impressive dedication.

Somehow a small market even sprang up.

Dancing and music filled the air in a festive mood.

The crowds spilling down every street and the lively songs created a vivid, colorful experience that was both foreign and fun.

There were all sorts of events at the festival.

But there was one event in particular that had everyone’s attention.

“It’s called the Trial of the Red Dragon.”

Moritz, sitting next to me, explained in a serious tone.

He hadn’t left my side all day under the pretext of guiding me through the festival.

There had actually been some friction when he first volunteered for that role.

It turned out Leonard and Cedric had been locked up.

When I found out and demanded an explanation, Moritz had gotten on his knees and begged for forgiveness.

He even offered to resign on the spot.

Faced with such an earnest apology, I’d begrudgingly let it go.

After that, though, Leonard and Cedric didn’t leave my side for even a moment.

“The Trial of the Red Dragon?”

I asked, and Moritz nodded.

“There’s a legend about a red dragon tied to the founding of the Calus Kingdom.”

“What kind of legend?”

“The first king of Calus supposedly stumbled upon an injured red dragon and, to help it heal, retrieved three sacred treasures.”

“What kind of treasures?”

“Well… something about a bell and the sea… ah, hell. I pulled an all-nighter and my mind’s blank.”

Moritz rubbed his eyes.

Honestly, given how bleary he looked, it was a miracle he was still upright.

Cedric stepped in to help.

“The details vary a bit from region to region, but there are some common elements.”

He held up three fingers.

“First, the golden bell hanging from the top of Heaven’s Gate at the end of the world. Second, the red banner retrieved from the mouth of the River of the Dead. And third, the Breath of the Deep hidden on the ocean floor.”

It sounded like something straight out of Greek or Roman mythology.

While Cedric explained, Moritz managed to rally enough to add details.

The first king had delivered those three treasures at the dragon’s request.

In return, the dragon had sworn to protect him and grant his wishes for the rest of his life.

Based on that myth, Calus had long held these “Trials of the Red Dragon” for important ceremonies.

Listening to them, I’d pictured something like a small-scale sporting event.

But the reality was far more intense than I’d expected.

“Waaaah!”

“Go for it!”

“Kill him!”

The roar of the crowd packed into the square was enough to make my head swim.

And among the competitors for this trial were two people I knew all too well.

Leonard and King Karssen.

“Your Highness! Look over here!”

“You’re so handsome today too!”

“Kyaa! He waved! Did you see? He waved at me!”

“What? No way—our eyes met!”

“Your Highness, we’ll be cheering for you!”

Karssen was unbelievably popular.

“Karssen!”

“Karssen!”

The crowd chanted his name in unison.

“The first contest is archery.”

The competitors entered a large arena.

“Ugh, such a pitiful number of entrants. If we’d had just a week more to prepare…”

Moritz, standing beside me, let out a groan.

Pitiful?

Over a hundred people were walking into the arena—it was anything but small-scale.

I was stunned by the sheer enthusiasm of the Calus crowd.

In the Empire, where dignity and refinement were prized, you’d never see anything like this.

Targets were set up at a staggering distance—fully 200 paces away.

At the center of each was a golden bell design.

The bell’s image was tiny.

Barely half the size of my palm.

They wanted them to hit that from double the distance of most competitions?

Would the arrows even make it that far?

But that wasn’t even the hardest part.

“Competitors must take thirty paces while firing all ten arrows before the bell rings ten times. That’s one arrow every three steps.”

You couldn’t even stand still to aim.

You had to move constantly while shooting.

Like some kind of archery master’s trial.

Was that even possible?

Apparently not for most people.

Competitor after competitor failed to land a single arrow.

The bells rang at a frantic pace.

Covering thirty paces in time meant practically sprinting.

Hitting such a tiny target under those conditions seemed absurd.

And yet—

“Waaaah!”

“He did it!”

“Two hits! He got two!”

A few of the local knights managed to pull it off.

One even scored three hits.

But the truly elite were yet to show.

“What the…?”

“They keep hitting!”

“How many now?”

“Five… no, six!”

Leonard and Karssen.

They loosed their arrows with practiced ease.

And unbelievably, every single arrow hit the mark.

“Ten? All ten?”

“Both of them hit all ten!”

The arena fell silent in shock at their near-supernatural skill.

“Looks like it’s a tie for the first event.”

“That would be nice, but… ah!”

Cedric, who’d been watching closely, let out a quiet groan.

What was wrong?

They both hit all ten—wasn’t that a draw?

Then the final verdict came in.

“Waaaah! Your Highness!”

King Karssen was declared the winner.

Both men had hit the target ten times.

But Leonard’s last arrow had pierced through the target.

Only nine arrows were left in the board.

The tenth hadn’t stayed behind to be counted.

“That’s ridiculous!”

I protested immediately.

It hit the target either way, didn’t it?

“Unfortunate for Sir Leonard, but the rules were clear because of the legend of the golden bell.”

“What kind of legend is that supposed to be?”

Moritz answered smugly.

“According to the story, the first king tied a rope to his arrow to retrieve the golden bell. Only arrows that remain lodged in the target count.”

In other words, it wasn’t bias for Karssen—it was simply the rule.

“Still, you could have told us that rule in advance. Sir Leonard could have adjusted his strength.”

Meanwhile, Karssen raised his bow high and grinned right at me.

“Seems His Highness is very interested in you, Your Majesty. I’ve never seen him so enthusiastic. Something happen last night?”

I let out an awkward laugh.

Oh, something definitely happened.

— I’m going to steal you away from the Empire.

— Why don’t we see who suits the Empress better?

Plenty of things.

Not that he’d believe me if I told him.

Ahaha.

At the edge of a sheer cliff, a crimson flag fluttered in the wind.

The banner bore the image of a fire-breathing dragon—the symbol of the Calus Kingdom.

“This round is a race to claim that flag. The first one to get it wins.”

Moritz explained the rules for the second match.

“So it’s a footrace. Sir Leonard is fast—he’s bound to win this one.”

Leonard wasn’t just a master swordsman; his agility was just as extraordinary.

I’d seen it myself when he fought off those bandits.

He was so fast, it made you wonder if he was even human.

He’ll definitely win this time.

It was only a contest, nothing more—but I still wanted him to win.

He’d lost the first round in such an unfair way, and for some reason, I couldn’t help but root for him.

“Sir Leonard’s movements are exceptional, no doubt,” Cedric said, “but this match won’t be in his favor.”

He gestured toward the starting line.

Just then, Leonard, Karssen, and the other participants appeared.

“Ah!”

Now I understood what Cedric meant.

This wasn’t just a running race.

All the contestants were on horseback.

“So it’s… a horse race.”

“More precisely, it’s a mounted trial of skill. No rules about how—it’s all about who reaches the flag first, by any means necessary.”

Just as Moritz had said, one of the competitors wasn’t even riding a horse but a sturdy-looking mule.

Naturally, in a match where the method didn’t matter, mounted riders had a huge advantage over those on foot.

And among those riders, the quality of one’s mount would be critical too.

I looked over at Karssen’s horse.

It was a striking crimson steed, gleaming with health—fitting for a man called the Blood Sovereign.

Leonard’s horse was clearly of good stock as well, but even so, it couldn’t quite compare to Karssen’s.

And this was enemy territory; the terrain would favor Karssen, who was more familiar with it.

“This round is stacked against Sir Leonard,” Cedric said quietly.

He was right.

Everything in this match tilted against Leonard.

Yet despite the grim outlook, I clenched my fists and cheered for him.

“It’s all right. If it’s Sir Leonard…”

He can win.

I just had that feeling.

Isn’t that so, Sir Leonard?

Pwooo―!

A horn trumpet blared.

At the starting signal, the competitors shot forward, kicking up clouds of dust in their wake.

But even after everyone else had taken off, Leonard and Karssen remained where they were.

“Please, go ahead, Sir Leonard.”

Karssen’s voice was almost lazy, unhurried.

“No need for your consideration.”

“It’s not consideration.”

Leonard’s reply was curt. Karssen adjusted his grip on the reins and continued.

“This is my land. My homeland. Every tree and blade of grass here belongs to me. I know this terrain like the back of my hand.”

Leonard stayed silent.

“If someone with that kind of advantage started at the same time as you, it wouldn’t be fair.”

Karssen raised a single finger.

“I’ll wait until this incense stick burns down.”

It was his way of saying he wanted a fair fight.

Leonard stared at him for a long moment before shaking his head.

“I appreciate it. But I’d rather not.”

“Stubborn man.”

Karssen’s lips curved faintly upward.

He didn’t truly dislike that obstinate refusal.

“Very well. I wish you luck, then.”

With those words, Karssen snapped his reins.

His crimson horse surged forward in a blur of motion.

Truly, it was a remarkable steed—cutting through the wind with a speed that left the other riders far behind.

Leonard watched Karssen disappear into the distance without moving an inch.

“What are you doing, Sir Leonard? Hurry up and go!”

Frustrated, I jumped to my feet and shouted.

But the roar of the crowd swallowed my voice whole.

My heart pounded with anxiety.

Even starting before Karssen would have been a disadvantage. Yet for some reason, Leonard still hadn’t moved from the starting line.

“Why isn’t Sir Leonard leaving?”

Moritz gave a polite, knowing smile.

“Perhaps he realized from the start there’s no way to win, and he’s simply given up.”

Give up, because the situation was bad?

Leonard?

There was no way.

The Leonard I knew wasn’t the kind of man who would even consider the word give up.

But if it wasn’t surrender…then why was he just standing there?

While I was puzzling over it, Cedric’s calm voice cut in.

“Perhaps he’s found a completely different approach.”

“A different approach?”

“Look at where Sir Leonard is staring.”

Cedric tipped his chin in Leonard’s direction.

I followed his gaze to Leonard himself.

Leonard wasn’t watching the track ahead.

He was looking up.

At the sheer cliff.

At the red flag fluttering at its peak.

Leonard’s eyes were locked on the flag.

He hadn’t given up at all.

If anything, he was clearly calculating a way to overcome the impossible.

And that plan…

“Oh no.”

A gasp escaped my lips like a strangled moan.