The Extra Wants To Live

Even when a large crowd gathered and the match began, Nero was nowhere to be seen.

Carl was able to hear about Ias later.

Nero did not attend the party. The nominal reason was to have tea time with his mother. The hidden reason was to make Carl stand out. Actually, the real reason was that he just didn't want to go.

Anyway, since Nero was absent, the most noble person at Milione's party was naturally Carl.

"You are truly manly."

"Even if you say it's a knight, I will believe it."

As soon as Carl put on the armor he had prepared, everyone was already excited.

The jousting armor was very thick and heavy, making it quite uncomfortable. It was so bad that he couldn't even turn his neck.

However, the armor only protected the front of the upper body, the head, and the left arm.

The right arm holding the spear and the lower body were left unprotected.

As long as they don't die, the two of them will charge at each other head-on and swing their spears. It's crazy, but that makes it even more exciting. This is a true warrior's match that cowards wouldn't even dare to participate in!

"Good luck, Lady Catherine."

Catherine was unable to watch the jousting match between Carl and Billford because she was participating in the fencing duel.

"Yes, I will do my best to dedicate the victory to you,Lord Carl."

Catherine spoke seriously.

But what was so funny about this was that Carl suddenly burst into loud laughter.

"Hahahaha! Hahaha! Hahaha! Then I can't send you away empty-handed!"

Then, he immediately felt inside his armor, took out a handkerchief from his jacket, and handed it to Catherine.

There is a tradition where a lady gives a handkerchief or other ornament to a knight who is competing in a match, and the knight dedicates the glory of his victory to the lady.

So, there are many cases where a knight secretly tells a lady he likes that he will dedicate the victory to her, and urges her to give him her things.

When Catherine said she would dedicate victory to him, Carl, who had suddenly become a lady, accepted it with a cheerful smile.

Catherine hesitated in embarrassment, then took his handkerchief when Carl urged her.

And after hesitating, she old-fashionedly followed the tradition and tied it to the handle of the knife. With this, Carl really became a lady.

Carl leaned against Billford's shoulder and chuckled as he looked at Catherine, who was flustered.

He looked like a mischievous boy, unlike his previous appearance, with his back bent stiffly and his shoulders shaking as he moved awkwardly because of his armor.

"Lady Catherine, don't think that just because you've taken my handkerchief, you've taken my heart too."

"Lo—Ca, Lord Carl. That's not it…"

"Ha ha ha!"

Carl teased Catherine by talking like a sassy lady, and when Catherine stuttered, he burst out laughing again.

Carl's cheerful attitude and friendly relationship with even knights of lowly families left quite a deep impression on others.

"I'm joking. Good luck."

"… Yes, good luck. And you too, Billford."

"Yes, Lady Catherine."

Catherine walked away, speaking seriously as if it were a lie that she had just been taken aback by Carl's joke.

"Then let's prepare too."

"Yes."

"When you meet someone, don't be lenient and treat them seriously."

"Oh, that…"

Billford was taken aback by Carl's words.

If Billford was serious, Carl would fall off his horse with one blow and roll on the floor.

Billford was still physically immature, weak in stamina, and unable to control mana, but he was a true genius in martial arts who could kill any knight with a single swing of his sword.

Even if Carl used up all his mana, he would lose a hundred times if he fought Billford a hundred times. Billford was too good to win with just 5 seconds of mana left.

"If you don't mean to insult me, then do it. I already know that I can't win against you."

"…Yes, I understand."

Billford answered resolutely.

After hearing the answer, Carl smiled at the other nobles around him. It meant don't be lenient and do it sincerely.

If you ignore me, I will consider it an insult.

Of course, that doesn't mean there aren't many people who would genuinely deal with Carl. Is there any guarantee that Carl wouldn't hold a grudge against the person who really defeated him?

"Wow!"

The race, which required relatively little preparation, had already begun. The garrison… no, he saw horses galloping powerfully around the party grounds.

The sound of people's passionate cheers.

"We will reveal the bracket!" A young nobleman brought out his servants and shouted loudly.

The attendants placed wooden name tags on the match schedule prepared in the stands. The competition would be held in a tournament format.

Therefore, the bracket was adjusted appropriately to prevent big matches from being held too early or trivial matches from occurring.

"Hmm…"

"…"

Billford noticed Carl's small voice.

Billford was placed slightly lower down.

The problem was that Carl was placed at the bottom. He was a prince by name, so for the sake of his pride, it would be better to place him in a higher rank and have him lose to a worthy opponent.

What if he lost to some random person and lost face? That was someone else's thought.

Billford was concerned that Carl, a fine warrior, might be offended by the sight of his father's rascals sparring with his father's rascals.

The fact that they were similar in age to Billford, who was 15, and Carl, who was 16, was not a consideration. To Billford, Carl's age didn't really matter.

"Billford, I'll meet you there."

Instead of being offended, Carl just smiled and pointed to the middle.

They were both in the lower ranks, so they would meet up soon. The nobles laughed a little awkwardly at Carl's confident words.

To them, Carl, who was a young seed and had some talent, but had only been holding a sword for two months, seemed unlikely to rise to that level with his skills.

"Then this is it for me. What a pity."

"Don't say that. You might win, right?"

"Didn't I tell you not to look at it?"

"That… yes."

Carl spoke calmly to Billford, fumbling with his uncomfortable helmet. In horseback riding competitions, the lower-ranked ones are played first.

This is because it becomes boring to see the big guys fight each other from the beginning and then the weak guys fight each other.

That is, Carl, who is in the lowest rank, would be playing first.

"Then I'll go and come back."

"Yes, be careful not to get hurt."

"Well, as long as you don't die, that's fine, right?"

"Cecil will be sad."

"That's difficult."

Carl spoke seriously, stepped on the stirrup, and climbed onto the horse alone.

Even if the armor only covered the upper body, it was very heavy and uncomfortable, so if he is short and weak, it was difficult to mount a horse by himself.

A small commotion spread at the contrast between the boy who was Carl's opponent and the boy who got on the horse with the help of the servant.

"Both sides, please head to your seats! Spectators, please stay in the audience seats, and the next contestant, please wait at the back!"

Everyone took their seats, and the glorious lowest Carl stood on the left as seen from the audience. In the center of the audience were those who served as judges, and flags symbolizing Carl and his opponent were hung there.

Carl's was, of course, the flag of the Morgan Empire.