Later, the slum dwellers would tell the tale: on that day, the entire district heard the screams of the dreaded bandit leader. For five full minutes he howled—until at last, he fell silent forever.
The company had successfully hunted down the slum's bandits, cleansing the outskirts of its villains. After the mission, they returned to the tavern in the slums, where Bella and Daisy awaited them.
"Already finished? Don't mess with me!" Bella clapped her hands in disbelief.
"Their leader's screams are still ringing in my ears," Bloki muttered, ears pinned back.
"Shall I bring out my best bottle?" Bella asked, her eyes sparkling playfully.
"Another time," Andras replied. "Do you know any good place in the city where we can have a fine lunch?"
"You do realize this is a tavern, right? We serve food here too," Bella smiled. "Shall I whip up something from monster meat?"
"That would please Ironclaw," Andras nodded, "but today I want to show Daisy what real delicacies taste like."
"I see," Bella answered. "Well, I don't really know the city's inns."
"Do you have any ideas, Daisy?" Andras turned to the girl.
"Hmm… at the market they start frying langos at noon!" Daisy's eyes lit up.
"Langos, huh?" Andras asked.
"With sour cream, cheese, and garlic!" the girl listed enthusiastically. "I've always dreamed of tasting it someday!"
"I can fry langos myself," Noelle smiled, "but let's go and try the flavor of the capital's market."
"Lots of garlic for mine!" Andras said.
"And plenty of meat for me!" Ironclaw bellowed.
"I don't really have an appetite right now," Andrea remarked gloomily.
"Down a good cold beer first," Anita advised. "That'll wipe the stench of bandit blood from your nose."
"It wasn't the smell of blood that bothered me," Andrea replied. "It was the sight and stench of their dangling guts."
"Don't ruin everyone else's appetite!" Noelle scolded.
"Sorry," Andrea sighed. "I guess I really will have a beer first."
The Young Wolf's company decided to have langos for lunch, freshly fried at one of the market stalls around this time of day. The drifting aromas seemed to draw them in—the sizzling of hot oil and the fragrance of garlic promised delight even from afar.
Daisy, who had never in her life tasted such a delicacy, could barely contain her excitement. With childlike eyes she watched as people enjoyed their langos piled high with toppings: sour cream, cheese, garlic, and sometimes even bits of meat. She herself had never been able to afford one, not even once.
But now things were different. Walking at the side of the Wolf Knights, she knew that soon she too would taste what she had only dreamed of until now. Her heart pounded as she led the group back toward the market in her new role as their guide.
The Knights followed cheerfully, as though this shared meal was their reward after the bloody bandit hunt—a fleeting moment of peace and joy in the shadow of battle.
"My tavern never had a name," Bella began as she wiped a mug. "It's the only tavern in the slums, so there was never any need. What do you think, Bloki—if from now on I call it Ironclaw?"
"A fine name," Bloki nodded. "But then no bandit would ever dare come here to drink again."
"Exactly," Bella smiled. "From now on, only good people will drink here. We'll see more and more smiles in the slums."
"I believe it," Bloki replied. "I might even start to think the Goddess Neptune truly watches over us from above."
"What do you think of the Young Wolf and Ironclaw?" Bella asked, her eyes flashing playfully.
"When I first saw Ironclaw," Bloki began, "it was as if a giant Wolf walked beside a little pup."
"I suppose you were the pup…" Bella teased.
"I've never felt such a powerful presence," Bloki continued gravely. "But the most terrifying thing is that there's a man who can keep that giant Wolf on a leash, treating her as if she were his own little dog."
"Is the Young Wolf truly that strong?" Bella asked.
"You can't sense it from his scent or his presence," Bloki explained. "It's as if he hides his true power completely. But through Ironclaw's scent, I feel it… the Young Wolf is a true Beast wearing human skin."
"What do you mean by that?" Bella raised an eyebrow.
"It's as if the Goddess Neptune herself unleashed her own hound upon the world—to hunt down evil!" Bloki answered.
"You're talking nonsense!" Bella slammed down the mug. "It's the Hero's duty to defeat the Demon King and the demons. The Goddess chooses the Hero for such things. Why would she send down a hound as well?"
"I don't know," Bloki shook his head. "It's just a feeling. Don't take it seriously."
"Maybe it's just Ironclaw's female scent that scrambled your peanut‑sized brain?" Bella shot back.
"With such a mighty female, what chance would a little pup like me have?" Bloki replied.
"But you still got excited by her, didn't you?" Bella jabbed.
"You are my master," Bloki said seriously. "My imprinting was bound to you."
"So you don't deny it?" Bella's eyes flashed sharply.
"What monster meat will we have for lunch?" Bloki tried to deflect.
"Do you want me to castrate you?" Bella growled.
"Please, forgive me…" Bloki lowered his head.
And so, the Wolf Knights' chance encounter turned into blood and justice, and the people of the slums began to hope once more. Children's laughter echoed through the streets, and in the eyes of beggars shone, for the first time, the promise of a future. Yet the shadows of the capital were deeper than they had imagined, and the Wolves' path had only just begun…
The preliminaries concluded within two weeks. During that time, the Young Wolf's company explored the southeastern quarter of Royal Whitefort, tasting everything the outskirts had to offer. In the preliminaries, the weak swordsmen were all eliminated, leaving only the skilled and strong knights—those who had already won several duels.
Now, in the qualifiers, the knights of the four great noble houses joined the fray, along with the Royal Knights themselves. The venue was the Royal Knightly Arena, whose grand balcony was reserved for the greatest figures of the Kingdom. Five larger seats rose above the rest: in the center, the throne of the Royal Family; to the right, the seats of House Wolfwood and House Silverwood; to the left, the seats of House Greenwood and House Redwood.
On the first day of the qualifiers, the Arena slowly filled to the brim with spectators. The roar of the crowd, the fluttering of banners, and the pounding of drums created a solemn atmosphere. The Young Wolf walked with slow, confident steps toward the balcony, Noelle at his side in her battle‑maid uniform. The balcony was guarded by Royal Knights, though the noble houses were also permitted to bring their own retainers.
Andras stopped at the entrance to announce himself.
"I am Andras Wolfwood, of House Wolfwood. This here beside me is my personal maid, Noelle."
The Royal Knight nodded sternly, checking the seal.
"The noble seal is in order. This way. The seat of House Wolfwood is just to the right."
"Thank you, I'll find my way," Andras replied, stepping into the balcony—where a new chapter of history was about to unfold.
The Young Wolf stepped into the balcony. The vast hall was empty, save for a single figure: a young girl seated at the Royal Family's chair.
If she sits in the Royal Family's seat, then she must be the Princess, Andras thought, examining her with his Magic Eyes. Let's see… Anabella Augusta Riel, fifteen years old, human, female, class: Princess. Magical element: wind. So she truly is the Princess. Golden hair, blue eyes… a pretty girl, though Noelle is prettier.
The Princess's gaze fell upon him.
The first guest has arrived in the balcony. Black attire, the Wolf crest… He must be of House Wolfwood. A young man, about my age. Then surely he is Andras Wolfwood, the Young Wolf. I've heard he is a prodigious mage, possessing two magical elements. And beside him, a maid… those long ears, an elf? Her outfit is strange. Is this truly the maid uniform of House Wolfwood?
Noelle's sharp eyes swept over the girl.
A noble girl, exactly as the books describe. Blonde hair, vacant stare. She's staring at the Young Wolf… now at me. I hope she doesn't start drooling over him. I bet she can't even bake bread rolls. Girls like her don't stand a chance with him!
In the silence of the balcony, three different streams of thought intertwined: the Princess's curious attention, Andras's calm analysis, and Noelle's jealous, mocking inner voice. Already the air vibrated with tension, as though the first duel of the tournament was not fought in the arena, but in the clash of gazes.
Andras stepped toward the girl seated at the center of the balcony, Noelle following faithfully at his side. The golden‑haired Princess in the Royal seat lifted her gaze to them with curiosity.
"Good day, Princess," Andras greeted her respectfully, though his voice carried a hint of confident ease.
"A good day to you as well," the girl replied. "If I'm not mistaken, you must be Andras Wolfwood, the Young Wolf."