I was the first to secure my spot in the finals bracket, so I watched today’s final match between Fiel and Wilhelm. Personally, I hoped Fiel would advance, but I didn’t think Wilhelm, who’d beaten my father-in-law, would lose to him. Wilhelm’s skill matched his reputation.

Fiel wanted to reclaim the Steinhof family’s honor from Wilhelm.

Before his grandfather retired, the old man had lost to Wilhelm in his last tournament match.

For the Steinhofs, who reigned as Beren’s greatest swordsmanship family, losing to an outsider freelancer was humiliating. It had deeply wounded their pride, and they’d been grinding their teeth over it ever since.

And finally, Fiel and Wilhelm met in round 5.

It took time to repair the arena after the brawl, but the match itself proceeded normally. Fiel, unusually tense, received a flower from his wife Elisabeth and entered the field.

Wilhelm was a freelancer who went wherever the money was, but with over 500 wins, he was clearly a monster among monsters. My father-in-law had fought him on relatively equal terms but ultimately lost.

Thud!

Fiel, who’d been a reliable vanguard throughout the tournament, fell off his horse on the third pass against Wilhelm. Fragments of the shattered lance scattered like flower petals. Wilhelm’s lance had struck Fiel’s center of gravity with pinpoint precision.

I was speechless at the clean technique, without any wasted movement.

It looked even easier than when Wilhelm had fought my father-in-law.

"It’s not that Fiel is weak—Wilhelm’s just too much of a monster."

"I still wish Fiel would win."

"Well, I don’t think that monster who beat Father is going to lose."

Michael was already certain of Wilhelm’s victory. Most of the nobles had probably decided the outcome the moment they saw the two riders clash. I hoped Fiel would win, but I thought it would be difficult too.

After the rematch, both riders simultaneously fell off their horses at the end of a grueling fight that went to the seventh pass. Watching this, I got the sense that Wilhelm’s stamina was fading as the passes dragged on. That made sense, since Wilhelm was pushing fifty.

My father-in-law was in his late forties as well, but he boasted a physique as robust as any young man’s. He’d pushed Wilhelm with overwhelming strength and stamina but unfortunately lost due to a shoulder injury after a close fight.

"Seeing how Fiel knocked Wilhelm off at the seventh pass, maybe a war of attrition is the answer."

"Seems like it. But dragging Wilhelm into a long battle is easier said than done."

Fiel had also noticed Wilhelm’s weakness. So he tried irregular shifts in his center of gravity to throw Wilhelm off, but Wilhelm, reading his intention, accurately struck and knocked Fiel off before the third pass.

Michael was right.

You can’t just endure because you want to.

Wilhelm knew his stamina was an issue too, so he used even sharper accuracy to keep Fiel from dragging things out. But I still thought exploiting that weakness was the only viable angle of attack.

"Somehow I’ll have to drag it into a long battle."

"It won’t be easy. But brother-in-law, you’ve always pulled through with amazing tenacity, so maybe it’s possible."

Michael thought it over, looking troubled.

Then, as if making a momentous decision, he told me:

"Alright. I’ll bet on your victory, brother-in-law."

"Didn’t you lose money betting when Father-in-law lost to Wilhelm?"

"That’s why this is my last bet! You’re my only hope, brother-in-law!"

I appreciated the faith, but if he lost it all, that wasn’t on me.

Clinging to my leg wouldn’t help.

But I’d already bet 10 silver coins when the odds were at their highest. If I won, I’d witness the miracle of 10 silver coins multiplying into gold.

The last match of round 5 ended when Fiel declared forfeit after five rematches. He didn’t have enough money to pay any more ransoms. Being round 5, the ransoms were already astronomical.

"Damn it!"

Crash!

Fiel, throwing down his helmet, was in tears.

Was he more frustrated at being outmatched than at losing massive sums in ransoms? I wanted to comfort him, but that would actually have been an insult, so I held back.

All I could do was watch him exit in bitter silence.

He’d carried the family name and fought for victory, but the wall before him was too high. Wilhelm was confirmed as my opponent for tomorrow’s final. Could I really win? No, could I even put up a fight?

Right now, thanks to the medical service, I was in peak physical condition, but honestly, I wasn’t confident. Having discovered Wilhelm’s weakness, my only option was to hold out with everything I had.

But win or lose, there would be much to learn from the great freelancer.

From someone who committed fouls like the Knights commander, there was nothing to learn except countermeasures, but Wilhelm was different. Fiel had faced him with his own strategy, but Wilhelm’s responses had been even more impressive.

Fiel had tried to confuse Wilhelm by subtly shifting his center of gravity, hoping to drag things into a long battle, but the great freelancer had read every move like a ghost and struck with unerring accuracy.

I got chills watching it up close.

But I couldn’t back down. I’d come too far to retreat.

Even the great freelancer must have accumulated tournament fatigue, right?

That was the only thing I could pin my hopes on.

"..."

Even after today’s schedule had completely ended and I came home to lie in the rose garden as usual, my expression wouldn’t relax. Hilda looked at me and carefully leaned against my side.

Her soft warmth reached me. When I turned to look at her, her gently smiling lips stole a kiss from mine.

The brief kiss was incredibly sweet.

Lips I wanted to taste endlessly, like savoring wine.

"It’s okay, Wolf. You can stop now. I’ve already received so much from you."

"It’s a bit of a shame to stop now, isn’t it? If I win, I can give you something even more perfect."

Hilda shook her head.

"No. I’ve been mistaken all this time. When you said you’d enter the tournament for me, I was so happy and thrilled. I was proud that the man bearing my honor was my own husband. But that wasn’t really what I wanted."

The fight with the Grand Duke’s Guard commander had been extremely fierce. I’d won only by luck when the commander’s horse suddenly acted up and became difficult to control. Hilda confessed that it had been too hard to watch her beloved husband endure being knocked off his horse, all because of what she called her foolish greed.

And the scariest match had been against the Imperial Knights commander.

How anxious she must have been watching the commander’s deliberate fouls. At the end, the lances had tangled momentarily and shattered, and the broken shaft had struck the commander’s shoulder—but what if it had hit her husband instead?

Watching the commander bleed and get carried away on a stretcher, Hilda had realized that I could have ended up the same way, and her blood ran cold.

She realized that tournament honor was ultimately meaningless compared to my safety.

"I’m a foolish woman."

Hilda said this to me like a confession.