LIGHTNOVELSTORY Chapter 493: Tournament Registration
As the time went nearer to the middle of the fall, the Imperial Capital had been becoming busier and busier each day in preparation for the highly anticipated harvest festival. Among all of the events of the festival, citizens and outsiders alike were looking forward to the Imperial Battle Tournament.
The tournament attracted brave warriors all over the continent and beyond to contend for the title of this year's mightiest champion. Other than the trophy, the champion would be rewarded with a cash prize and, obviously, fame. But before they could get any of that, the participants needed to register themselves first.
The event would be held at the imperial coliseum in the capital, which was the largest arena on the continent so far, but the registration for the tournament was handled at the Adventurer's Guild headquarters. All the requirements needed were the adventurer's card and the participants themselves.
In the long queue line at the Adventurer's Guild, a young man was waiting for his turn to submit his registration for the tournament. More warriors lined up in front and behind him. Skilled knights were guarding the place to keep the applicants at bay.
The slick-backed, black-haired young man was like in his early twenties and had a lean but robust build under his black outfit with sharp brown eyes. He notably had a pencil-style mustache below his aquiline nose.
Except for the black Arlecchino-style Venetian mask he was wearing, the young man did not stand out that much as the hall was filled with muscular and robust men as well as warriors equipped with obnoxiously shiny high-quality armor and weapons.
The truth was that the young man was actually Azrael in disguise. He was participating in the tournament in place of Raphael.
Azrael entirely changed his appearance using the Organic Domination. He aged himself older, made his height a few inches taller, and even changed his facial features and skin tone into something like that of an Iberian complexion, which was actually a common feature in southern Astley and in the human nations in the Southern Continent.
He was currently disguising himself as a mysterious masked warrior to cover his disguise, whom he named Erik. Basically, the masked man was the cover of Erik, who was the disguise of Azrael, who was a clone of Raphael. With this level of cover, no one would know that Erik was connected to Raphael.
The purpose of his participation was partly Raphael's masculine urge to fight in an organized tournament. The other reason was for the investigation he had been pursuing. Both Raphael and Francis had concluded that the organization might be orchestrating something to sabotage the event, so Raphael had someone to stop them without revealing his identity.
"—Hey! Don't cut in line!"
As Azrael, or rather, Erik, was waiting in line, a commotion suddenly erupted in the hall of the guild. When Erik looked behind, he could see a well-dressed young man followed by two guards walking in between the long queue lines. While a man was loudly complaining, some immediately recognized who the young man was.
"It's His Imperial Highness! The Imperial Crown Prince, Prince Edward!"
With his presence, the hall filled with murmurs as he passed by them. The nonlocal man who shouted earlier immediately went quiet and did not say anything anymore in fear of getting attacked by the mob.
As Edward was on his way to the front desk, another foreign man in the line said something to him.
"So you are the crown prince, huh?" said the muscular middle-aged man to the prince without any care of formality. "But you don't look strong enough to have the privilege to skip the line. Hahaha."
"Hahahaha!"
More men, who seemed to be not from the empire as well, laughed along with the man's hot take on the prince. The hall was silent except for their laughter, and the other people were now concerned about what would happen.
Mockery to the members of the imperial family was a big offense, but in situations like this, Edward had made a bold move and he had prepared himself for the consequences. Confronting them would only make their claims more valid.
Suddenly, Edward and his guards stopped and turned to the men.
"You should not be judging people by their looks," he said with a neutral tone. "Save your words later in the arena."
"That's something big from you, Your Highness." The man addressed his title sarcastically. "What are you going to do? Have these guards fight for you? I have been fighting in that arena for years and I always see someone full of themselves like you who all the time got their asses whapped."
The two guards were visibly offended by the man's words for disrespecting the prince, but they held themselves back to take any action. On the other hand, Edward was still as cool as a cucumber.
"If you are concerned about my safety, I appreciate it, but I won't back out. You have no right to interfere with the decisions of the empire's future ruler."
"Hmph, if you say so, Your Highness. But don't blame me; I did not warn you if you get humiliated and are being a laughing stock in front of your future constituents."
"I'll be going. Good luck with your matches."
Unbothered by what everyone had said, Edward turned away and proceeded his way to the register. His eyes met with Erik for a second as he walked, but he just ignored him and gazed away.
Azrael was sure that Edward did not recognize him a bit—not even a gut feeling. Moreover, he assumed that Edward thought of him as a man with a ridiculous taste in fashion. In his opinion, that was better than getting suspected.
Once the crown prince smoothly made his registration, he made his exit from the guild building, and the operations went back to their hectic normal.
After several minutes, Azrael finally registered under the name of Erik for the tournament. By the way, Azrael got Erik's identification from the dungeon of a minor city in the Kingdom of Astley, so it was an authentic name.
The preliminary round started in three days. For a while, Erik would just stroll around the city and conduct his own investigation.