September 12th, Month of Falling Fires
Nearly four months had passed since the conclusion of the Royal Martial Tournament, yet the buzz around Gazef Stronoff hadn't quieted one bit. In fact, his name was hotter than ever.
Traditionally, the tournament's victor would be promptly knighted by the king—a long-standing custom. But this time? Not only had the ceremony been bizarrely delayed, the title awarded to Gazef was... odd, to say the least.
He was granted the title of "Warrior-Captain."
No, it wasn't a noble rank. Nor was it an official government post. It was just… a title. A fancy, hollow label with zero authority and even less responsibility.
Naturally, the public was outraged. They admired Gazef's strength and honor, and this snub felt like a slap in the face. But of course, with no real power to protest the aristocracy, their fury simply festered.
Then came the perfect outlet.
It was as if a match was dropped into a powder keg.
Finally, someone they could be mad at. An outsider. An imperial noble! The people were practically foaming at the mouth, eager to see Gazef flatten her and deliver some long-overdue national pride.
Oddly enough, while the commoners fumed and fantasized about victory, the kingdom's upper nobility were... unusually quiet.
A luxurious carriage—adorned in elegant gold and deep blue trim, drawn by two pristine white horses—rolled steadily down the capital's main avenue.
It came to a stop before a tall five-story building, its four corners fashioned into sharp, protruding towers.
Reserved exclusively for nobles visiting the capital from the kingdom's various territories.
The coachman, with practiced grace, hopped down, placed a cherrywood step-stool decorated with golden-brown patterns beneath the carriage door, and bowed.
"We've arrived, Lady Leinas."
He gently opened the door.
Out stepped a poised and graceful woman. She wore fitted white trousers that traced the curve of her legs with understated elegance, paired with a tailored corset and a short lace blouse that accentuated her figure with noble precision.
Leinas nodded faintly to the coachman, her porcelain face calm and aloof as she entered the estate.
The servants inside—clad in smart uniforms—bowed respectfully as she passed, though Leinas paid them no mind. This display of deference was expected. Routine. Boring.
Her thoughts were elsewhere.
She'd been in the capital for a while now. After staying a night or two at a high-end inn, she had been formally invited to reside here. Just now, in fact, she had escaped yet another painfully dull noble gathering.
"A kingdom teetering on rot…" she muttered, her deep blue eyes reflecting quiet disdain.
She had more or less figured out her superior's strategy by now. That man Gazef—he didn't even need investigating. His fame reached far and wide.
Champion of the Royal Tournament, a man of such talent and integrity... and yet the nobles banded together to deny him even a simple knighthood. It was almost comical.
Had this happened in the Baharuth Empire? Emperor Jircniv would have personally handed him a general's commission—and a palace.
As for Gazef's commoner origins? Baharuth didn't care. Not anymore. Merit mattered. Bloodlines didn't.
Leinas had quickly realized—this kingdom was walking the same arrogant path the Empire once did.
Arriving at her suite, she pushed the door open, stepped in—and instantly frowned.
Her icy blue eyes narrowed at the sight of someone in a maid outfit, standing inside her room.
"I told you before," she said coldly, "I don't want my room cleaned."
The maid didn't even flinch.
Instead, she casually picked up a pastry from the table and bit into it. "Is this the famous Moonleaf Grey Cheese tart?"
She chewed, blinked, and made a face. "Hmm. Spicy. And disappointing. I expected better, honestly."
The familiar, slightly snide voice froze Leinas in place.
She immediately stepped back, eyes flicking to the hallway to make sure no one was around. Once satisfied, she stepped back inside and shut the door behind her.
"Well, well. A rare guest," she said flatly. "Imina."
"This is the first time you've come to my room uninvited. Did your assignment go sideways?"
Imina, still dressed as a maid—though the outfit did not suit her sharp demeanor—gave a humorless chuckle.
"You think I wanted to come here? He's waiting for you."
Leinas's eyes lit up. "He's here?" Her voice lost its icy edge for the first time.
Imina didn't answer. She simply turned and walked deeper into the suite.
Leinas followed quickly.
The Guest Estate's rooms were nothing short of opulent. Her private suite alone was massive—three separate lounges, a study, a library, and two baths.
In the farthest hall, beyond elegant drapes and gold-edged windows, sunlight spilled across a tall figure standing beside the glass.
The man turned. The light outlined his features—sharp, calm, and smiling.
"Long time no see, Leinas," he said warmly.
After departing from the Empire, Lyle had made a beeline for the Re-Estize capital. He'd already wasted enough time in the Empire, and now he wanted to wrap up his plans here quickly—before continuing his real journey: leveling up.
He had actually arrived in the capital two days prior. But rather than meeting with Imina or Leinas right away, he'd made a detour—to revisit the very shop he'd first stumbled into after arriving in this world.
The one where he had pawned a gold necklace for some starter funds.
He had hoped to buy it back.
Unfortunately, the shopkeeper had already sold it—to some minor noble.
And so, Lyle had wasted a few more hours tracking the guy down. The noble had originally asked for 500 gold coins. Outrageous.
Lyle, naturally, applied a little… persuasion.
The noble was about ready to gift the necklace to him by the end of it.
But Lyle wasn't a thief. He paid the man one gold coin. Fair enough.
"Gazef has agreed to the duel," Leinas reported.
"But I've noticed some of the nobles are... uneasy. They don't want you two to fight."
Lyle chuckled. "Let me guess. They're afraid if you lose, Gazef's popularity will explode even more?"
Leinas nodded. "Exactly."
Lyle shook his head, amused. "Ah, nobles. So good at politics, so bad at actual thinking."