Margaret walked to a quiet corner of the encampment with a document held tightly against her chest.
She raised her head and looked at the people standing before her…
her comrades-in-arms.
Her gaze settled firmly on Liam, who stood at the front with a grave expression.
“Uncle Liam…
I’ve really made up my mind.” “No, Margaret.
You don’t understand.” Liam met her gaze without wavering.
“The honor of the campaign knights cannot be sullied by those competition knights who now make a living putting on spectacles for the crowd.
Besides, defending the borders and protecting the people as campaign knights has always been the duty of a knight, hasn’t it?” He continued seriously, “The campaign knights need someone as exceptional as you, Margaret.
We need you.
Defending the country is what it truly means to help and protect others!
That is the honor of a knight!” “No, Uncle Liam.” Margaret shook her head and bravely looked him straight in the eye.
“It’s precisely because I want to help more people that I want to become a competition knight.
Kazimierz has enjoyed peace for many years since the war with Ursus ended.
There have been small disputes with Leithanien, but in the end, they’ve only been minor clashes.” “In an environment like this, people’s views have begun to change alongside the rise of knight competitions.
Through competition, knights can gain fame, knightly titles, and even noble status.
The focus of Kazimierz has already shifted toward knight competitions.
There’s no denying that.” Margaret’s expression grew more severe.
“Can you not see the displaced people wandering the wastelands?
Or are you still so immersed in your own dream of knighthood that you refuse to look?” Those words were harsh enough that even Liam’s expression darkened.
“Margaret, you’re already stronger than the vast majority of us.” A handsome young man standing beside Liam tried to persuade her.
“You’re still so young.
Before long, you could even become a Silverlance Pegasus!” “A Silverlance Pegasus!
That’s the dream of every campaign knight!” “Thank you, Gassol.” Margaret shook her head.
“I actually have a friend.
He’s strong—extremely strong.
If he fought me seriously, there is absolutely no way I could beat him.” “He once dreamed of becoming a knight too, but he never got the chance.” “Why?” Margaret’s voice softened.
“Simply because he contracted Oripathy.
And how could an Infected ever be allowed to become a knight?” She raised her head again.
“Everyone can see the suffering caused by Oripathy, yet our country simply turns a blind eye and ignores those who suffer from it.” “I only want to do something for unfortunate people like him.
I want the councilors of the National Council to hear the voices of the people beneath them.
That’s all.” “Margaret Nearl has nothing to be proud of yet besides the name she inherited.” “I’m not clever.
I don’t have anything except the martial skills I’ve trained all these years.
My parents are gone from my life, and aside from Grandpa…
he’s the only person I have left.” “I don’t want to spend the rest of my time guarding the border for some vague, intangible ideal of knightly glory.” “I want to actually do something.” Margaret lowered her eyes slightly.
“I want him to be proud of me…
just once.” Liam remembered the black-haired Kuranta boy.
He had only met the child a handful of times, but he had always thought highly of him as well.
Liam had been young once.
He could understand at least some of what Margaret was feeling now.
However…
understanding her did not mean he would abandon the path he himself had walked for decades.
Liam sighed.
“So that’s what you…” “So that’s what you were thinking, Margaret?” A young man’s voice suddenly came from behind her.
Margaret’s entire body trembled violently.
“Looks like I came at exactly the right time.
I originally came here to talk you out of doing something stupid…
but after listening to the whole thing, your plan actually sounds pretty damn good.
It’s exactly my kind of thing.” There was amusement in the voice behind her.
“Hm?
Why aren’t you turning around?” “I…
I’m scared…” Margaret’s voice was trembling.
“I’m scared I missed home so much that I’m hearing things.
You told me yourself that the Infected aren’t allowed inside a military camp…” “You little idiot.” Clarus laughed and patted her shoulder before leaning forward to peek at her beautiful profile.
“Huh?
You’re actually crying~” “I-I am not!” Margaret hurriedly wiped her eyes, puffed out her chest, and raised her head proudly despite how red her eyes were.
“Why would I cry?!
I’m a knight!
I’m the Knight Primus of House Nearl!” “Uncle Liam, right?
Margaret’s told me many times about how you’ve looked after her.” This time, Clarus stepped forward until he was standing in front of Margaret.
Liam could clearly see the smile in the black-haired young man’s eyes.
“But this is really just a difference in ideals.
You can’t exactly say her way of thinking is completely right, and you can’t say yours is wrong either.” Clarus smiled.
“But we’re warriors, aren’t we?
What’s the point of learning all these martial arts if not to make sure other people listen to our opinions?” Liam looked at the black-haired young man before him and laughed.
“That’s an interesting way of putting it.” He turned around.
“Then I’ll see you at the training grounds.” “If the two of you win, Margaret, I’ll personally file the paperwork for you.” “Thank you, Uncle Liam!” Margaret timidly glanced up at Clarus standing right beside her, but the instant she heard Liam’s words, her eyes lit up with blazing excitement.
The grounds were cleared, equipment was prepared, and everyone began warming up.
The spar attracted half the knight order almost immediately.
The other half was already on its way.
“I was actually…
a little afraid you wouldn’t approve of what I wanted to do.” Margaret handed her armor to Clarus.
Clarus took it from her with an amused look.
“How old are you now, and you still need me to help you put on your armor?” Then he smiled.
“To be fair, I really didn’t approve at first.
All you wrote in your letter was that you wanted to become a competition knight, and then you went and submitted an application to leave the campaign knights.
Who wouldn’t panic after reading that?” “But after actually hearing what you’re trying to do…
I realized I really do support you.” “Really?” Margaret pressed down on her clothes so the armor would fit more snugly around her body, inadvertently outlining the healthy, powerful curves of her figure.
She pursed her lips and smiled.
“Looks like you’ve been through a lot too.” “Yeah.
Once we’re back home, I’ll tell you everything slowly.” Clarus whispered the words beside her ear with a smile, causing a faint blush to spread across Margaret’s cheeks.
“Then we absolutely have to win this match, all right?” “Mm.
Together.” Among the many members of the knight order watching below, quite a few young men felt as though the sky itself had collapsed when they witnessed the scene.
They immediately began cursing under their breath at this random bastard who had appeared out of nowhere and stolen their goddess.
Once Margaret had finished putting on her armor, the war song of the knights of Kazimierz began to ring out.
The hero stepped onto the stage that belonged to her.
In Margaret’s imagination, after doing something like this, there was no reason her comrades should support her.
Then several young knights raised an enormous white banner.
Written across it were the words: “Margaret, we support you!
You’re the best little Pegasus!” And beneath that banner, the loudest person of all was a young female knight whose shrieks completely overwhelmed everyone else.
Her voice was so piercing that even those standing in the arena felt their eardrums being subjected to inhuman torture.
Margaret clenched her teeth.
Clarus was absolutely certain that her toes were currently curling hard enough to punch straight through Liam’s armor.
Maybe Liam had tortured these young knights a little too much during training, or maybe there was some other reason, but the overwhelming majority of the crowd was actually cheering for Margaret.
There were even a few professional troublemakers taking the opportunity to praise Margaret by relentlessly roasting Liam.
They were using their voices to support their comrade.
No matter where your future takes you, we stand with you.
“I’m really touched…
but I’m also so embarrassed.” Margaret’s face twisted into an expression that was equal parts moved and mortified as her fingers repeatedly rubbed against the shaft of her swordspear.
“It’s fine.
Someone else is even more embarrassed than you.” Clarus jerked his chin toward the other side.
Liam, normally a fair-skinned and handsome man, had already turned completely crimson.
Under Liam’s “tyrannical threat”—Anyone who keeps shouting gets double training from now on!—the chaotic noise across the training grounds finally transformed into a unified rendition of the Kazimierz knightly war song.
The song rang out, clear and powerful.
With so many voices joined together as one, the blood in everyone’s veins gradually began to burn.
Both sides stepped into the arena and exchanged knightly salutes.
“If it were Margaret alone, I might’ve gone easy on her.” Liam tightened his grip around his lance, his burning gaze fixed upon the young man and woman standing before him.
“But now it’s the two of you against me.
If I don’t fight seriously, I might actually end up losing because I underestimated you.” “Thank you for your understanding, Mr.
Liam.” Clarus smiled and casually swept his rapier through the air, tracing a beautiful arc.
A dazzling golden radiance erupted around Margaret.
“Then let’s begin!”