Chapter 215: Side Story Chapter
“Raise your head,” a man’s voice intoned through the reverential silence.
Riftan slowly obeyed. The pope was surprisingly tall and imposing, his pale face half concealed beneath graying blonde hair. His dark green eyes, arched by a pair of bushy brows, exuded authority. It was difficult to tell how old he was.
When the pope motioned to the Temple Knights standing beside him, two of the younger members approached Riftan with the sword.
“You have bested your opponents with exceptional skill. Hence, I bestow upon you the Knight’s Sword.” The pope’s voice was solemn and impassive. “This prized item once belonged to Sir Miguel, one of the original knights. Its sheath is wyvern skin, and its blade is said to have been crafted from adamantine and steel by a master smith of the Umri tribe.”
Riftan slowly extended his hands to accept the prize. When he gently pulled the hilt out from the unembellished sheath, he found the blade remarkably sharp for a weapon crafted in ancient times. He was gazing down at it in amazement when a steely warning rang above his head.
“Sheath it at once!”
One of the Temple Knights had his sword leveled at Riftan with an icy glare. Riftan complied, covering the blade once more.
The pope resumed in a monotone, “As the decider of the sword’s new owner, this year’s tournament has been particularly significant. It is God’s will that you stand before us now. I pray you will use it for honorable deeds so as not to sully its name.”
Riftan looked up, suspecting the pope had spoken thus to mock him. The old man’s eyes, however, were infinitely calm. He felt as though he were looking at an ancient tree that had been fashioned into human likeness.
The pope leaned on his amber-studded cane as he rose to his feet. “May fate be on your side.”
The crowd burst into applause. With the pope’s blessing resonating in his head, Riftan gazed down at the sword once more. All the angry sentiments directed at him were understandable. It was a piece of history that carried too much significance for the likes of a lowborn mercenary to own.
Riftan rose, feeling discomfited. The nobles sitting in the seats of honor watched him with rapt attention as though observing a rare creature.
He ignored them and obediently descended the stairs as one of the Temple Knights instructed. The crowd gathered along the road threw flower petals as he passed, but he soon stepped into a shaded alley and left the cheering mob behind.
The champion was given the honor of attending a banquet held for the nobles that day, which Riftan readily declined. Not only did he not have the appropriate attire for such an event, but he had no desire to serve as the night’s amusement. Though the possibility of the girl being at the banquet did cross his mind, he did not wish to make a fool of himself any further.
He returned to the inn to rest before immediately setting out the next morning. As soon as he left his room, Ruth rushed over from his crouched position by the stairs.
“It’s fine out there today, Master Calypse. Perfect for travel!”
Riftan looked out the hallway window to the gray sky and fog-shrouded street. He pushed past Ruth with a snort and descended the staircase. As expected, the mage began to prattle on while trailing him.
“Did I tell you I won most of the wagers yesterday? Oh, and don’t worry, you will get your share. You have my word. I wouldn’t do something as shameless as break a promise.”
Riftan got the sense that nothing he said would dampen the mage’s high spirits today. Heaving a sigh, he stepped out into the brisk morning. He brushed away the strands of hair pricking his eyes and peered into the swirling mist that began to envelop them.
Where would he go? He was surveying the surroundings with a faraway gaze when he sensed a figure rushing toward them. He drew his sword, meeting the heavy blow as soon as his blade was free of its sheath.
“Your senses really are something else.”
Riftan glared at the attacker. It was the same knight he had fought in the semifinals. So, the man who had seemingly taken his defeat in stride had come to ambush him the next day. Riftan’s lips twisted into a sardonic grimace as he pointed his sword.
“Is it not against your code of chivalry to ambush an enemy?”
“Is it?” the knight retorted with a grin. “I keep forgetting. I’ve only just been knighted.”
“How unfortunate,” Riftan said, gripping his sword with both hands and stepping back. “You happened to be the only opponent I liked in this tournament.”
As soon as the last word was out of his mouth, he kicked off the ground and lunged. The knight only just managed to block the blade that came whistling down like the wind. Riftan dug his boots into the dirt as he pushed the burly man back a few steps.
The knight’s relaxed demeanor changed into a vicious scowl.
“Are you saying you went easy on me?”
“More like I was trying not to kill you.”
He heard the young man grind his teeth, and he straightened his stance. The sword techniques he knew were all designed to deliver a fatal blow. There was nothing more bothersome than attacking a target while having to suppress his compulsion to finish off the job in one stroke. He deflected the massive sword and went for the knight’s neck.
Steel chains flew out of nowhere and whipped around his arm, immobilizing it. The knight, who had managed to keep his head by a hair’s breadth, quickly moved away. Riftan smoothly flipped his sword to his free hand and looked in the direction of the person who had thrown the chains. The middle-aged man that had talked to him in the waiting room walked through the fog, accompanied by a lithe youth.
“By God, didn’t you say you just wanted to talk to him? Why are there blades out?”
“I thought I’d have some fun. I didn’t quite get my fill yesterday,” the ambushing knight grumbled, stroking his almost-severed neck.
It was obvious that these three were together. After assessing the situation, Riftan yanked at the chains binding his arm. The slender newcomer lurched from the unexpected force. Seizing the opportunity, Riftan charged and swung his sword, but the older man blocked the attack. He clenched his jaw. It appeared this opponent possessed formidable combat skills as well.
What a pain.
Clicking his tongue, Riftan searched for an opening to strike again.
“Look!” the man said hurriedly. “We’re not here to fight, so let’s just settle down.”
“Don’t make me laugh. Do you ambush a man you have no intention of fighting?”
For a moment, the man looked dismayed. He slowly took a step back and said respectfully, “I apologize for my subordinate’s transgression. Fighting is all he has in his head. He can never seem to help himself when he thinks someone might be stronger than him.”
Riftan studied the man’s gentle face before turning his attention to the youth standing next to him. Both the lad who had bound his arm and the knight who had ambushed him showed no intention of pursuing the altercation. Still, that did not mean he could lower his guard.
After moving a safe distance away, he said coldly, “What business do you have with me?”
“I came to invite you to our order,” the man replied.
Riftan laughed at the ridiculous sentence. “I have to say, this is the worst way someone has ever asked me to join an endeavor.”
“I see that rascal got us on your bad side before we even had a chance to make our offer.” The man sent his younger comrade a stern look before continuing. “Let me introduce myself first. My name is Evan Triton, a knight pledged to the royal family of Wedon and the commander of the Remdragon Knights. That daredevil over there is Hebaron Nirtha, and this is Gabel Lachzion. Both are knights of the order.”
“The Remdragon Knights?”
Riftan had never heard of them before.
When he skeptically cocked a brow, the man gave a laid-back smile and admitted, “We are not well-known, and we have our base in the south of Wedon. Though we’ve sworn allegiance to the crown, we’re more of an independent order. Our tendency to move autonomously means we haven’t had much chance to make a name for ourselves.”
“Or your knights are inept,” Riftan muttered.
The knight named Gabel Lachzion raised his head in indignation, but their commander showed no sign of being offended. In fact, he let out a hearty laugh.
“What a shame that your opinion of us is so low. You must not have an eye for talent.”
Riftan gritted his teeth. There was no denying that Hebaron Nirtha and his commander possessed exceptional skill. Of all the knights he had met during his time as a wandering mercenary, they were by far the most competent.
Maintaining his guard, Riftan said stonily, “I’m sorry, but I have no desire to wait on nobles. You’ll have to look elsewhere.”
“We’re not in the service of any nobility. We serve only the king.”
...
“I see no difference.”
“It’s as different as night and day. The Remdragon Knights answer to no one but King Reuben III. In short, only the King of Wedon himself can tell us what to do. You will never have to wait on any nobleman.”
Riftan snorted. “Nobles and royals are all the same. And I don’t think the King of Wedon would want to knight a lowly mercenary.”
“No need to worry about that. I can tell you now that His Majesty has already taken a liking to you. It was he who commanded me to recruit you after all.”
Riftan’s eyes widened at the revelation. Though he had received numerous offers from nobles to enter their service, it was the first time any royalty had shown interest in him. The glare he gave Triton was full of distrust, making it clear he suspected an ulterior motive.
The Remdragon Knights’ commander said nothing for a moment before continuing calmly. “A third of our members used to be mercenaries. Hebaron Nirtha, the one who nearly lost his head to you twice, was formerly one. Though it’s also true that many of us, including myself, are of noble birth, you needn’t worry about being discriminated against because of your standing. The hierarchy within our order is determined strictly by skill alone.”
“A commendable idea, I’ll give you that,” Riftan said with a scoff. “Are you saying even a peasant can outrank a royal if he has the skill? If you thought I’d be swayed by such horseshit, you are sorely mistaken.”
Triton tilted his head, appearing genuinely baffled. “What reason would I have to lie to you?”
The twisted smile vanished from Riftan’s face. Indeed, a noble had no reason to deceive a lowborn. The world Riftan had been born into was one of lies and deception. Perhaps, after all this time, it had become impossible for him to take a man’s word at face value.
Heat crept up his cheeks. His overblown self-worth had ended up making a fool of him. Cursing, he began picking up the bag he had tossed aside earlier.
“I heard you left your company,” Triton said affably. “Do you have other plans?”
...
“Not really.”
As if detecting Riftan’s softened attitude, the commander grinned and pointed to the coat of arms engraved on his armor.
“Settling somewhere new might not be a bad idea compared to sticking it out on your own. You’ll find that a knightly order is not too different from a mercenary company.”
“I’d earn less.”
His cocky retort did nothing to dent the commander’s smile.
“An accomplished monster hunter such as yourself could indeed make more as a mercenary, but as a knight, you would garner honor. Make any distinguished contributions to the crown, and you may even find yourself rewarded with land and a castle.”
This content is taken from freewebnove(l).com