Chapter 56: The Colosseum Festival

“I see”

“Lintheim is considered a relatively large country outside the Order. Not quite a great power, but you’ll find plenty to see here.”

Lema briefly explained what he knew of this place, supplementing it with what he’d heard from the young priests and paladins they’d traveled with.

The Kingdom of Lintheim.

It had no state religion. They didn’t worship Luxlon, but neither did they openly oppose him.

The reason for holding such a grand gladiatorial event was that the royal family had something significant to commemorate. This time, the tournament was sponsored directly by the Lintheim royal house.

But Lucilonia seemed rather displeased.

They claimed, “At a time when the world is under threat from monsters, to use that occasion to hold a festival is morally wrong.”

And on top of that, they criticized how the Colosseum bordered on a culture of human sacrifice.

Arrogant.

To Bel, it was oddly familiar. That sort of arrogance was exactly like Pranagenis of old.

Regardless of their creed being “for the sake of humanity,” and that the Colosseum flew in the face of that belief, ultimately it was still the creed of another country. Luxlon’s teachings might have started with benevolence, justice, and charity, but it wasn’t something they had the right to impose on other nations.

“This place seems safe. Usually outside the Order there’s no protection of holy power, so monsters appear often, and wars are common. But right now seems especially peaceful. A fine time to hold a festival.”

“Hm.”

The lands outside the Order were always in strife—wars between states, civil wars, s*ave raids, s*ave markets, all happening in the open.

Yet Lucilonia still celebrated its holy festivals in grandeur, even while such conflicts raged outside. They had never once restrained themselves out of concern for the “Outer Lands.” So for them to now object to a faraway country holding its own festival—it reeked of arrogance.

And the truth was, Lucilonia’s monster patrols were purely their own business. They were the ones living under constant threat. For those in the Outer Lands, such dangers were as ordinary as the sun rising and clouds drifting by.

“Among countries outside the Order, this one is fairly safe. Since they at least maintain a minimum of order, that must be why Lucilonia dared send those greenhorn priests here.”

Regardless of Bel’s private thoughts, Lema led her around the city.

Though both of them were new to Lintheim, Lema at least knew more than Bel, who was completely ignorant of this era’s nations.

“In hindsight, perhaps we should have followed those novices longer. Whatever their official mission, they clearly came here to sightsee.”

“Is that so.”

But they were too noisy. The only reason Bel tolerated them at all was because in the evenings, while camping, she had a chance to play board games with several opponents.

Still, Bel much preferred the quiet. Even if Lema’s nagging could be a bit much.

“No. It’s better with just the two of us.”

“…Eh? Ah.”

Lema suddenly flushed red and broke off mid-sentence. When Bel looked up curiously, Lema turned his gaze away—fixed on the great circular arena looming ahead.

They had said it would be a grand event, and indeed the stadium was larger than expected. Lema seemed captivated, his face flushed with excitement at the festive atmosphere.

“Ahem.”

He coughed and fanned his cheeks with a hand, trying to cool his excitement.

Before long, they arrived at the registration desk for participants.

“First, let’s get ourselves signed up. We can’t risk missing the deadline.”

Because the tournament was such a large event, with so many participants, the categories were numerous.

Lema studied the poster listing the events, frowning slightly.

“But which one should we enter…”

“Check the prizes.”

“The prizes? Ah, is this about that request from Light Sage?”

“I only said I’d take a look.”

“I see…”

Lema skimmed down the prize list until his eyes stopped on the tournament for martial combat.

“First place prize… the Staff of Bund Sage.”

“That’s the one.”

Lema tilted his head, perplexed.

“They say it’s a carved wooden staff. That’s correct?”

“Yeah.”

“Hmm. Personally, the second prize looks more appealing. It’s a sword forged by a famous master smith. In other words, a true masterpiece. It seems light enough for you to wield comfortably, my lord. Third place… ah, a jewel crafted from a high-grade monster core.”

“Monster core?”

“When you slay a monster, sometimes a gem-like core forms. The stronger the monster, the larger and purer the core. If they’re offering one as a prize, it must be extremely valuable. Could even be a magic stone similar to a holy crystal.”

Bel didn’t care about anything except the first prize she’d been asked to retrieve. But Lema seemed determined to get her the second prize as well, insisting that such a sword was worth more than gold.

In the end, they both registered to compete.

They gave the names Lema and Bel—Lema being common enough, and Bel obviously a pseudonym.

Dusting off his hands after paying, Lema muttered, “The entry fee is rather steep. Even with royal sponsorship, I suppose they mean to turn a profit.”

“We’ve got plenty of gold.”

“Yes, but from an accountant’s perspective, even small expenses add up quickly…”

Since Bel left all finances to him, she didn’t know the details, but Lema did seem to manage the money carefully.

Now all that was left was to find lodgings. By the time they stepped back outside, the sun was already sinking. The plaza was even more crowded than before, lined with food stalls.

As the evening glow spread, the air filled with smells of cooking.

Walking beside Lema, Bel tugged at his arm and pointed.

“Lema, what’s that?”

Skewers everywhere—cheap cuts of dubious meat slathered in pungent sauce, greasy fried dough around sausages, candied fruits hardened in syrup.

Lema frowned, shaking his head at the poor quality.

“Such things wouldn’t be fit for offerings. They lack any devotion, and the ingredients are hardly decent…”

Yet even as he said so, he remembered Bel’s words—that in all her long life, she’d never once “played” like ordinary people.

Lema found his gaze drawn to those black eyes, usually unreadable, but now seemingly tinged with curiosity. Surely it was just his imagination.

Wasn’t his lord a god who had lived solely to fulfill humanity’s wishes for countless ages? It was improper to even think otherwise.

But still…

She does look interested.

Lema’s hand moved on its own.

“…Would you like to try one, just this once?”

“Yes.”

Bel accepted the fried bread Lema bought.

She bit deeply into it with a loud crunch. She chewed slowly, swallowed, and then simply held the rest in her hand without taking another bite.

When Lema stared at her, Bel finally said,

“It tastes bad.”

“You swallowed it instead of spitting it out?”

“You bought it for me.”

“…G–give it here. That’ll spoil your palate.”

Lema hastily snatched the greasy bread from her hand.

Technically, he hadn’t bought it himself—it was Bel’s money after all, and he only managed it. But still, those words—“Because you bought it for me”—made his chest race. However it came about, the fact that Bel acknowledged his effort with sincerity… that alone felt overwhelming.