The Amber Knight's Vow to the Saint's Left Hand - Chapter 2.4

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The heat of battle swelled within the arena.

The ringing clash of swords echoed up to the spectator stands, rousing the crowd.

Cheered on by their thunderous applause, the match grew ever more intense.

For a hastily arranged royal exhibition match, the number of spectators was overwhelming.

Quill had never fully considered the weight of his engagement—until now.

Standing in the center of the arena, he and Marius turned to face the royal box and bowed.

Looking up, he saw Crown Prince Leonard and Crown Princess Julianna returning a small wave.

Seated beside Julianna was Lynette.

It was only moments ago that Lynette had revealed to him that it was Julianna who had backed their engagement.

Leonard had never mentioned it.

The idea that the saintess and the crown princess had such a connection surprised him.

But seeing Lynette seated so close to the royal family, it made sense—she held a status high enough to sit among them.

At Gies’s signal, Quill turned to face Marius.

Both wielded the same weapon: training swords, crafted from a different material and dulled at the edge.

No magic, no tricks—this would be a pure test of swordsmanship.

The match would end when the overseer determined that one of them had landed an unavoidable strike.

Marius’s smirk was as insufferable as ever.

He had always looked down on Quill, and given that he had never lost a duel to him, it wasn’t exactly unwarranted.

The White Knights had insisted on making this match public for a reason.

They wanted to force Quill to kneel—to humiliate him and prove that he was unworthy of being the saintess’s fiancé.

What they didn’t know was that Quill had never fought him at full strength.

He had always held back, carefully masking his true abilities.

“Begin!”

At Gies’s command, Marius lunged forward with his usual opening move—an honest, straightforward right slash.

As expected.

Marius had only ever used two attack patterns against Quill, a habit Quill had subtly encouraged over the years.

He allowed the first two strikes to connect, shifting their positions.

On the third, when Marius pressed harder, Quill struck back with force.

At this point, Marius always—always—took a step back before launching into the air for a fourth attack.

Or so he should have.

Instead, as Quill parried, a sharp wind sliced past his right cheek.

A dull sting flared across his skin.

Strands of black hair fluttered to the ground.

“…Sir Classen. What exactly do you think you’re doing?”

“Oh, my apologies. I got carried away with the saintess watching.”

Wind magic—Marius’s specialty.

Though, generally speaking, the White Knights were far less adept at magic than their Black Knight counterparts.

Wind magic wasn’t meant for direct attacks.

Its true strength lay in support—boosting movement, enhancing strikes.

Gies himself was the perfect example of this.

On the battlefield, Gies never fought at the front lines.

Amidst the chaos of battle, even his allies often lost sight of him.

Yet from the safest vantage point, he amplified his comrades’ abilities and controlled the flow of combat.

And yet here Marius was, smug over barely grazing my cheek.

From the looks on the faces of the Black Knights watching, they were just as unimpressed.

“As an apology, I’ll allow you one free strike.”

A cheap provocation.

Quill wasn’t even remotely tempted to take the bait.

Instead, his gaze flickered toward the spectator stands.

Lynette had noticed his glance.

She lightly touched her own cheek, then raised her right hand.

She had caught Marius’s foul play immediately.

But that was it.

She didn’t whisper to Julianna.

She simply sat straight, poised, watching him.

Julianna was accustomed to this sort of setting.

Lynette, however, had likely never stepped foot into an arena before.

Any ordinary noblewoman would have recoiled from the raw energy of the place.

Quill knew she felt no emotions.

And yet, because of her words earlier, he couldn’t help but misinterpret her composed demeanor as trust in him.

Even if it’s a misunderstanding… I’ll answer her encouragement.

Smiling, Quill lowered his sword.

Marius arched an eyebrow.

Quill raised his left hand, palm up, and curled four fingers in a slow beckoning motion.

Come.

A taunt in response to a taunt.

“Y-You—BASTARD!”

Marius roared, charging forward.

Marius’s rage boiled over.

With his sword raised, he lunged.

Quill sidestepped effortlessly, letting the attack slide past him before striking Marius’s blade from the side.

The White Knights, composed of high-ranking noble sons, primarily served as bodyguards for aristocrats.

Unlike the Black Knights, they were well-versed in courtly etiquette, making them better suited for social engagements.

Marius was valued as a commander not for his skill, but for his standing as a marquis’s heir.

Infiltrating noble gatherings was an area where the White Knights excelled—able to blend in without raising suspicion.

The same logic applied to the saintess’s escort.

Magical beasts would never attack the saintess.

The role of her guards was not to fight but to accompany her during ceremonies and banquets throughout her pilgrimage.

Their battlefields were entirely different.

Quill had never thought of the White Knights as inferior.

But he couldn’t accept the way they looked down on the Black Knights.

From the death of the previous saintess to the selection of the next, there was always a gap—a period lasting roughly sixteen years.

And even after a new saintess was found, it took another two years for her to complete her purification pilgrimage.

Eighteen years.

Eighteen years of vulnerability.

For that entire time, the Black Knights stood at the front lines against magical beasts.

Quill had become a squire at twelve, a knight at fifteen.

Ten years had passed since his formal enlistment—more than half of the last gap spent in battle.

In terms of combat skill, he had never once thought himself lesser than Marius.

Marius relied purely on brute force.

Losing his balance, he staggered.

“Damn it—damn red-eyed bastard!”

“There it is.”

“What!?”

This time, Quill didn’t evade.

As Marius’s sword came down, he caught it directly, digging his heels in.

Steel met steel, raw strength clashing between them.

As their blades separated for a split second, Quill twisted his wrist.

His sword struck Marius’s from below, sending it flying.

The blade tumbled out of bounds.

Marius fell back with a heavy thud, landing on his rear.

Quill lowered his sword, its tip hovering just above his exposed throat.

Cheers erupted throughout the arena, but Quill spoke in a quiet, measured tone.

“Lady Celies does not appreciate that word. You would do well to remember that.”