Baron Atwood-Speaker Albert-finished reading his speech and left the awards platform surrounded by servants.
The tedious closing address had emptied more than half the stands. Only after a succession of city officials and merchants had spoken did Renato finally take the stage to receive his prize as champion.
He accepted the gold medal signifying the tournament championship. This was his prize money. It was not pure gold, only a copper-gold alloy, but it was worth at least twenty gold coins.
A Cleric of Torm had healed his injuries with divine magic, saving Renato a Healing Potion.
Maximilian presented the award himself. The burly old man, half a head taller than Renato, was all smiles. He even winked at him.
Renato found this rather baffling. As far as he knew, he had never had any dealings with this swordsmanship Master.
Naturally, he waived his right to challenge. An empty title held no appeal for him, much less warranted risking his life.
To an Earthling like him, staking his life on such hollow prestige was sheer idiocy.
The southern swordsmanship Masters' "tradition" of succession... Whenever Renato thought he understood just how backward and barbaric this world was, Ereel always found a way to sink below his expectations.
The moment Renato stepped off the awards platform, Kira broke past two guards and threw herself onto him.
"You really won! I knew you would!"
"Renato, do you know how high your odds were? I bet one Silver Crown and tripled it!" After showing off the coins in her hand, the female thief sounded a little regretful. "If I'd known, I would've bet more. Ah, who knows how much money I missed out on..."
"Let's celebrate over lunch. My treat! I heard a new place opened on Widow Street, and their roast chicken is amazing.