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Adventurers. What a load of trash, thought the man as he worked his way back down the fighters’ corridor of the coliseum. Behind him, the stadium rang with cheers.
Somewhere in the melee, his servant had gone, his horse had vanished; he couldn’t even get his armor off. His battered shoulder felt unresponsive and hot; agony ran through it with every breath. His left arm still hung limply.
It was plain to see that this was someone who had been defeated and defeated utterly. And yet…
What is the king thinking, allowing lawless ruffians like those to run free?
The man’s thoughts were not those of someone who was gracious in defeat; they were filled with contempt and hatred.
Perhaps we should not be surprised.
Contests that focused on martial strength alone were the height of barbarity. Discrimination against the weak in its purest form! The man trembled to think what would happen if such savages were set loose in every land.
Other countries were more enlightened than his own, more civilized. This nation couldn’t be left in its backward ways. From what he heard, there were no adventurers on the plains to the east, nor in the country of deserts, nor in the frozen lands to the north. His own home should establish such a progressive system. Everything he did was to that end.
And yet…!
And yet they had put on this tournament, an orgy of dissipation and debauchery. Moreover, the king’s younger sister, whom he had thought might be the cornerstone of a brighter future, had proven obstinate in her benighted ignorance.
And the way she had wielded a weapon—an actual weapon!—against the forces of Chaos; well, what could be further removed from peace? Such behavior would never lead to a better, stronger world.
I must continue. I must let the poor and the ignorant know of my mission.
The common people were thoughtless and easily deceived. It was so very difficult to convince them of truth and justice. Behind its facade, the world roiled with conspiracies and plots, and it was incumbent upon him to share what he knew, to make right the people’s understanding.
First and foremost—at the very least—that king had to be deposed…
“Hrm…?”
Only then did the man register that something was strange.
It’s silent.
There was no one else in the passageway; he was all alone. Standing there all by himself.
That shouldn’t have been possible. There were always people here, soldiers, during the tournament. Notwithstanding the monster attack—in fact, that should have meant more soldiers.
Why had the monsters poured out from a magical rift anyway? They could have used this passage to get in. And yet it seemed—
“You don’t look like a man who’s ready to accept defeat. Am I right?”
“…?!”
Only when that voice spoke did he realize someone was there. A knight who sidled out in front of him to block his way. Beside him, an attendant with silver hair followed like a shadow.
The beaten man stopped moving, and for a second, his voice grew tight. It didn’t stop him from snapping, “Who the hell are you? Only authorized personnel are allowed in here!” He felt disgust well up at the way this interloper had brought along a young woman as well. “If you’re any kind of a knight, you should know better than to bring an innocent young woman to a battlefield. Have some shame!”
“Hey, now. If you’re helping to run this show, you ought to at least have a sense of who’s involved.”
“What’s that mean?”
“It means I am authorized personnel.” The knight appeared to smile. “A competitor, in fact.”
Oblivious to the silver-haired lady’s murderous look, the man studied this new knight—and then he remembered. Several of the knights participating in the tournament had chosen, each for reasons of their own, not to compete under their real names. Yes, and this knight had been one of them, standing alongside some young women bearing the sigil of the Trade God.
Ah yes, behold his shimmering accoutrements! Even in the darkness of the passageway, the knight’s armor and shield and helmet, his gauntlet, and the sword at his hip all shone with a piercing light.
The healing blessing, the light that disperses evil, the charm of unfreezing, the primal flame, the tempestuous wind: The knight before him bristled with imposing magical items, and his name was…
“The Knight of Diamonds…!”
He was a legend in his own way, spoken of among the common people. A quiet legend, almost a fairy tale. The story had spread quickly among the townsfolk these last years—but it was only a fantasy.
The story told of a “knight of the streets,” who hid his face and dealt justice to evildoers in the dark.
Surely it was only a story. But that Knight of Diamonds stood now before this man.
Stupidest name I’ve ever heard…
Diamonds, his ass! It was the sort of thing a child with an overactive imagination would come up with. Besides, if he really thought he was going to cut down every crooked merchant, every corrupt noble, every adherent of some dark and evil sect—what would that make him but a mass murderer?
The fact that the king allowed such a monster to run free was the utmost proof of his incompetence!
“You appoint yourself to pass judgment, and you call it justice,” the man said. “In my view, you’re nothing but a common killer.”
The Knight of Diamonds met the man’s attack with an approving grin. “You condemn me? That’s your right, but you should have raised your objection before you approved my participation in this tournament. However, the problem we’re here to deal with today is you.”
“What?”
Did the knight mean to cut him down, then? The man’s pallor shifted—not from fear but from mockery. Would that not be the final evidence that this Knight of Diamonds was nothing but a criminal? That he knew no shame for anything he did?
The man opened his mouth to tell the Knight of Diamonds exactly what he thought of his behavior—but he was shut up before he could speak even a single syllable.
“I sent to the water town with details of how you’ve acted and begged the archbishop for her judgment,” the knight said. “It seems you’ve caused a great deal of trouble. Inconvenienced many people. She did not sound pleased.”
In his hands, the Knight of Diamonds held a letter. The man had no idea of what it had been through to reach this place—how many people had died, how many adventures had been had bringing it here. Perhaps there was no point in wondering what spies had been involved in its transport; they had done their duty, and that was all.
No matter how many times his face might change, no matter how many times he might die—he was a man who loved the same wine, used the same weapons, and made the impossible possible. That great doer of deeds had never once failed in a mission—and the fruit of his labors was here now.
But such plotting, such doings in the dark were far removed from the man who stood here. Only evil people, only those steeped in darkness, would dirty their hands with such things.
“I was informed that you’ve acted entirely alone, without advice from or reference to either the wishes of your temple or the teachings of your religion,” the knight said.
“You would believe that woman’s ravings? The poor girl was broken when she was attacked by goblins!” How dare he? How dare the Knight of Diamonds try to hide behind a woman? He was the bottom of the barrel, this man. Not even worthy of being called a knight. The man’s tongue was quick and sharp. “She’s only a puppet of that rabble at the Temple of Law. She can’t make her own decisions, and that’s to their benefit!”
“You seem to enjoy finding fault with the failings of others.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about!” the man nearly shouted. Only then did he register the pounding of blood in his ears. He leaned forward, heedless of the pain in his left shoulder, and shouted, spittle flying from his mouth. “I’m only saying that we cannot let ourselves be trapped by retrograde ideas in which heroism consists only of achievement in battle—”
“You are, of course, right that the teachings of every deity must be constantly reexamined and renewed—but it is not your place to decide them alone.”