The Pendragon royal family, compared to the royalty of other nations, has an extremely small number of members.

Perhaps it’s due to their dragon bloodline, but they face significant difficulty in producing offspring. While other royal families often have hundreds or even thousands of relatives and branches, the Pendragon family numbers only ten. The difference is stark.

This is also because the criteria for being considered royalty in Pendragon are extraordinarily strict.

Silver hair.
It is the proof of the Pendragon lineage blessed by the Silver Dragon. Without this proof, no one can bear the Pendragon name.

In other words, while other royal families might have illegitimate children, Pendragon cannot. Thus, in the Pendragon family, every descendant is precious. Perhaps that is why.

“…As a knight, I must consider the honor of taking my own life, but as a royal, I also bear the noble mission of preserving the royal bloodline. When weighing the mission of royalty against the honor of knighthood, how could I neglect the former? Therefore, I cannot die!”

“……”

“So, killing me is not the right choice. Don’t kill me, commoner!”

“……”

“And, if you could stop threatening me with your fist, that would be great too….”

“…This guy is downright hilarious.”

Even as he begged for his life, he did so with such confidence.

It was annoying, sure, but his way of speaking also summoned laughter.

Arrogant and rude, yet somehow not entirely unlikable.

And so, Ihan said:

“I’m not such a saint that I’ll forgive the guy who drew his sword first.”

“……”

“You really should’ve fixed that bad habit of yours. Do you know how much you startled my delicate heart?”

“……”

Ihan, looking down at the prince buried up to his neck in the dirt, delivered his verdict in a low tone. A cold sweat ran down Arend’s face, accompanied by the ominous realization that today might be the day of his memorial.

“It doesn’t seem like this is his first time doing something like this, does it?”

“Plenty of people have picked fights with him before. On top of that, he holds grudges, so this kind of thing is routine.”

“…I’m surprised those who’ve suffered haven’t sent assassins after him.”

“They’ve sent plenty. The assassins all died, though. And the ones who sent them? Ended up as vegetables, unable to control their bodily functions.”

“……”

Yord silently resolved to never, under any circumstances, make an enemy out of this senior knight.

…In hindsight, Arend knew his actions might seem like excuses, but he never intended to harm Ihan.

“I just… I thought he was another parasite trying to cling to my sister, no, the Crown Princess as usual….”

“Why would you think that? Ihan was formally invited as a knight.”

“He… he seemed suspicious. How could someone, who was demoted, gain renown at the academy so quickly? Isn’t that suspicious in itself?”

“Just based on that?”

Jake, a far more peaceable man than Ihan and someone who respected the royal family, couldn’t even defend Arend’s logic.

Seeing Jake’s expression shift, Arend hurriedly continued, knowing that failing to persuade this normal man would mean the monster with the shovel would bury him again.

“O-Of course, that’s not the only reason! I’ve heard stories!”

“Stories?”

“I-I heard he’s a brute. He bullies weaker knights, beats them senseless, and tries to curry favor with those in power….”

“……”

Jake was at a loss.

Ihan? Bullying weaker knights? Schmoozing with the powerful?

‘Is he talking about someone else with the same name?’

Such behavior was typical of the countless noble brats in the Silver Lion Knights, but it had absolutely nothing to do with Ihan.

“Who told you these things?”

“I-I can’t say. How could a knight sell out his comrades?”

“…Then I can’t help you.”

Jake’s gaze shifted slightly to the side, where:

“Should I hit him a hundred more times?”

“Please hold back, senior.”

…a predator with a murderous glare loomed.

“Will you still keep your mouth shut—”

“Ahh! Didn’t I say I won’t betray Sir Baker and Sir Riemann? How could I possibly sell out Sir Garmond’s name as well—ah!”

“…Hm.”

Jake found his respect for the royal family dwindling to nearly nothing.

‘Honestly, it would’ve been better if he’d just stayed quiet.’

At least one thing was certain.

‘He’ll probably live a long life.’

Even if Arend lacked awareness, his survival instincts were as sharp as they were pathetic. Jake couldn’t help but think he was destined to live long despite everything.

“What?”

Ihan blinked at his only friend in the knights, unsure if he had misheard.

But Jake’s tone confirmed otherwise.

“It looks like the 1st Division has officially marked you as a political enemy. In other words, you’ve been labeled a rival by the royalist faction. And the prince, or rather, the Commander of the 1st Division, was… well, just used.”

“Royalty? Used?”

“A powerless royal, at that. Plus, he’s a major parachute case. I doubt he has many loyal followers.”

“…He’s got good survival instincts but zero awareness, huh?”

The world, it seemed, was fair.

A royal title, exceptional looks, and even enough talent to become a knight—but politics and perception had evidently bypassed the prince entirely.

No wonder he was so easily manipulated.

‘Or maybe he’s just hot-headed and gullible?’

Whatever the case, Ihan thought, the guy might face crises but still seemed likely to live a long life.

‘He’s such a ridiculous character.’

At this point, Ihan was too dumbfounded to stay angry. Instead, he asked the question that had been nagging at him.

“Why am I their rival?”

Hearing that the knightly order had declared him a political enemy, Ihan felt utterly detached from reality. He had never bothered them, let alone sought their attention.

Jake answered bluntly.

“Because you’ve drawn too much attention. You really should’ve kept a lower profile.”

“…This is ridiculous.”

Unlike the prince, Ihan was perceptive enough to understand Jake’s point immediately.

The knights of the Silver Lion—or rather, the palace’s noble faction—were wary of Ihan.

Why?

Because he was too capable, too outstanding.

Jake elaborated:

“The Crown Princess’s recent summons was probably the final straw, but there were likely factions targeting you long before this. They just took this opportunity to test the waters.”

“What did I even do?”

Ihan was genuinely baffled. He had gone out of his way to avoid standing out, even crediting others for his achievements. He had led his life as a knight quietly.

And now, because of some accomplishments, he was their enemy?

This was absurd.

“You didn’t choose a side.”

“…What?”

“Don’t you get it? As long as you’re part of the Silver Lion Knights, you were expected to decide: the royalist faction or the noble faction. But you stayed neutral. That alone was enough to make you a target. And on top of that, you’re exceptionally skilled. You’re a prominent nail finally meeting the hammer.”

“Dammit….”

“Exactly. But what can you do? This is the palace.”

Jake shrugged lightly, while Ihan frowned deeply.

To be targeted for taking no sides—what kind of nonsense logic was this?

If he could, Ihan would’ve loved to march up to the knights and beat some sense into them.

“Don’t. Fighting them won’t help you. They’d love for you to start trouble. It’d give them an excuse to tarnish your reputation.”

Jake’s words were sincere. He didn’t want his friend’s well-earned fame to turn into infamy.

But Ihan…

“I don’t care if my reputation turns sour.”

“……”

“If Baker and Riemann were involved, I’ll just start with them.”

“Ah….”

Jake realized something crucial then.

This wasn’t someone who cared about reputation. Ihan was the kind of beast who would crush anyone who crossed him, regardless of their status.

And Jake could only predict:

‘No stopping him now, huh?’

Today, several people were definitely going to end up bedridden.

*
*
*

“By the way, Princess!”

“It’s Crown Princess, to be exact.”

“…Is there a difference?”

“……How many times must I explain this to you, Layla?”

“Hehe, sorry!”

“…Haa, never mind.”

Isis had always been unusually tolerant of Layla Winter.

Perhaps it was because the maid had no ulterior motives.

From Isis’s perspective, it was much easier to deal with scheming and secretive individuals. Layla’s innocent and transparent nature, on the other hand, posed a challenge.

A peculiar weakness, if one could call it that.

For this reason, even when the maid misspoke, Isis couldn’t bring herself to get angry. Instead, she simply responded with unexpected patience and a rare hint of kindness.

If Isis had a natural enemy, it might very well be this braided, innocent maid standing before her.

“What was so urgent that you summoned me?”

“Hehe, it’s not a big deal, but… oh, what was I going to ask again?”

“……”

“Ah, right! I just saw Sir Ihan dragging your younger brother somewhere—is that okay?”

“My brother…? …Ah, I see. You mean that dullard.”

It might seem harsh for her to so easily forget her own sibling, but Isis only remembered individuals of exceptional talent.

There was no room in her thoughts for someone like Arend.

Conversely, those who did catch her attention often found themselves decapitated or imprisoned by her hands.

It was wiser, perhaps, not to draw her interest at all.

“If Ihan took that dull clown somewhere, he must have had a reason. Likely, the clown was being used as he should be, oblivious to his own exploitation.”

“…?”

“…Sometimes I wish you were a little smarter, Layla.”

“Hehe.”

“Haa….”

Displaying insight sharp enough to make one suspect she had clairvoyance, Isis quickly arrived at a plausible explanation.

‘The knights must’ve goaded the clown into this.’

It was obvious.

With the royal family’s prestige at an all-time low, they likely considered the eighth prince, with no claim to succession and no real value, an easy tool to manipulate.

Despicable, to say the least.

‘…What should I do about this?’

Tok, tok.

Her delicate, jade-like fingers tapped against her teacup.

To some, this image might appear angelic or fairy-like—a vision of beauty deep in thought. But for those who understood the implications of her deliberation, this moment was ominous beyond measure.

Tok.

“…Hmph, no need to overthink this.”

In truth, there was no reason for her to intervene.

After all.

‘—My little brother won’t let this slide.’

Isis knew her foster brother all too well.

And, as if on cue.

Knock, knock.

“Y-Your Highness! It’s Berhen! I have an urgent matter to report. I beg your forgiveness for disturbing you at this hour….”

“Enter. What business brings the chamberlain to my quarters at this late hour?”

“My deepest apologies, Your Highness. It’s just that… Sir Ihan is currently causing a commotion. Because of this—”

“It’s not a commotion. It’s sparring.”

“…Pardon?”

The chamberlain, despite the audacity of questioning her words, received unexpected leniency from Isis tonight.

After all, this was the kind of excitement that breathed life into the monotony of palace life.

For once, she felt charitable.

“So, what ‘problems’ have arisen from this ‘sparring’ among ‘knights’?”

“……”

Berhen, a man who had survived the treacherous royal palace for 38 years, immediately recognized her intent.

She was ordering him to bury this matter, to ensure it was never seen as an incident.

And so.

“…Ahem. Well, while this ‘sparring’ has resulted in ‘some injuries,’ it does not appear to be a major issue, Your Highness….”

Berhen’s hands trembled as he rephrased the event, knowing full well that overtime was now inevitable.

Isis nodded, satisfied with his understanding.

“What a shame. So, how many injured?”

“…In the 1st Division, sixty-three. In the 2nd Division, seventy-two.”

“The 2nd Division?”

“They… got involved while trying to stop it and ended up mixed in….”

“I see. So, a total of 135 injuries. Quite the spirited sparring session.”

“…Your Highness.”

This was no laughing matter.

One knight, Ihan, had managed to incapacitate nearly half of the Silver Lion Knights, a force of 300. If word of this leaked, it would undoubtedly cause a massive uproar.

Berhen’s nerves were fraying, but Isis’s face showed only amusement, her expression brimming with satisfaction.

At that moment.

“Chamberlain.”

“Y-Yes, Your Highness!”

The chamberlain reflexively bowed his head, holding onto a glimmer of hope. Surely, this brilliant princess would offer a solution to this crisis.

Surely, she would—

“Next time something this entertaining happens, notify me immediately. You let me miss such a spectacle.”

“……”

“How can you lack such basic awareness?”

“…Your Highness….”

Berhen, the loyal chamberlain, suddenly felt the overwhelming urge to retire.