Chapter 9 The Battle for the Bed

The organizers of the event had done a commendable job; every participating knight had their own room.

But for some reason, a certain dragon just wouldn't stay in his room and insisted on squeezing into someone else's single bed.

If he gets beaten up, he can only blame his own bad luck, right?

"Three seconds. I'll count to three, and if you don't get off my bed by then, Sacre, you're in for it."

The bed was covered by a lump under the blanket. "Nooo, my queen~! I was so scared today. Please comfort me!"

Lancaster's face was dark. "Get off!"

"No!"

"Get off!"

"No!"

"Will you get off!"

"I'm not getting off!"

Fine. If I can't move you, I can at least move the bed.

With a thought, Lancaster teleported the bed from one side of the room to the other.

The dragon, who had wrapped himself in the blanket, was thrown hard onto the floor.

"Ouch, that hurts!" He poked his head out, rubbing a bump that had apparently formed on his head.

"Serves you right! Now give me back my blanket and go to your own room."

"No way. If you stay, I stay. If you leave, I leave!" Sacre was unusually determined.

"You!" Because it was her own blanket, her own bed, and her own room, Lancaster didn't dare use any more powerful spells. (Little Lan, why don't you just go to Sacre's room instead? Mind your own business—I'm attached to my own things!)

She could only allow the cheeky little dragon to continue his antics.

Lancaster lay back on the bed, turning her back to the persistent dragon.

After all, with her current strength, whether or not she had a blanket didn't really matter.

Sacre curled up in a large ball in the corner of the room, only his eyes peeking out, surprisingly innocent and clear, staring at Lancaster's back.

"Lancaster..."

"My queen..."

"Little Lan!"

"I'm so cold." At that very moment, the sound of wind howling could be heard outside, adding to the atmosphere.

Lancaster ignored him.

Sacre pitifully shrank even smaller, "Lancaster..."

Still no response.

He quietly clutched the blanket tighter, obediently curling up in the corner without saying another word.

At midnight, the wind outside grew even stronger.

"Get up, onto the bed!" Sacre was woken up by a voice. His eyes sparkled with puppy-like innocence.

"Let me make this clear: I'm not feeling sorry for you, I just want my blanket back."

"Yes, yes, I swear I'll be warmer than the blanket!"

That night, Sacre finally achieved his long-cherished dream of falling asleep while holding Lancaster... with a blanket in between.

The next morning, Manning noticed that Sacre's face and body were covered in mysterious bruises and couldn't help but tease him. "With a big battle ahead, you should conserve your energy!"

Sacre forced a smile. Only he knew how bad Lancaster's sleeping habits were. Throughout the night, he had been kicked out of bed 37 times, not to mention receiving countless punches and kicks.

But, holding Lancaster felt as wonderful as he'd imagined!

Bang! "Sacre, stop smiling so smugly!"

Tsk, tsk, tsk... To think he barely even held her, and he's already covered in bruises. Sacre, you've got a long road ahead of you...

The Queen's team was scheduled to compete in the afternoon, and none of them were interested in watching other matches.

Lancaster slept until noon before getting up. Manning and Cain were already waiting for her.

"Where's Lief?" she casually asked.

"Practicing with his lance in the back."

"How diligent!"

"He has no talent, what else can he do?" Cain's usual nasty attitude persisted.

"Go call him, it's time to go!"

Once again, they walked down the passageway, their hearts now calm and steady.

Pushing open the door, "Lancaster, I love you! Lancaster, I love you!"

Around the arena hung large banners, and a few scantily clad girls were dancing around.

The moment Lancaster and her group appeared, the cheering grew several times louder!

"Ahhh~~~ Lord Lancaster!"

Lancaster was stunned, turning to look at Manning and Cain, who both wore smug expressions.

"Don't look at us. This is a fan club officially approved by the tournament committee—Lancaster's Support Group. We know nothing about it."

The two shrugged in perfect sync.

Lancaster twitched her mouth, trying to force a smile.

Sacre sidled over. "My queen, aren't I a better option?"

Lancaster shot him a glare. "If you were in that group, you'd definitely be the craziest one!"

"And now, let's welcome the Queen's team and the Flames of Fury team!"

As they stepped onto the arena platform, they were surprised to find only one person standing on the opposite side.

No, it was an elf.

Manning looked at the referee, who shook his head and gestured toward the elf.

"No need to search," the elf shrugged nonchalantly, "After watching your match yesterday, they all forfeited."

"And you?"

"Me? I wasn't in it for the prestigious title of Free Knight. I just wanted to fight strong opponents."

"So what now?" Lancaster asked.

"Who cares!"

The referee raised his hand. "Due to the Flames of Fury team's lack of sufficient members, they are disqualif—"

"Wait!" Lancaster interrupted him.

She smiled slightly at the elf. "How about this: we'll send one person to fight you. If we win, we win; if we lose, we lose. How does that sound?"

"Doesn't matter to me, as long as I get to fight."

"I thought elves were supposed to love peace..." Manning remarked.

Cain nodded in agreement.

"That's what makes him interesting!" Lancaster laughed brightly.

"So, who do you want to fight?"

"You, of course!" The elf scratched his head and pointed at Lancaster.

The crowd gasped. Lancaster had displayed high-level magic the previous day that had terrified the audience, not to mention that she was also the Megrez Knight.

"Alright!" Lancaster stepped forward with a beaming smile.

"My queen!"

"None of you are to interfere with this match, understand?"

Sacre reluctantly stepped back.

"I declare the match officially started!"

"Hey, elf, I like you," Lancaster said.

"Likewise, you're far more agreeable than those old geezers back home," the elf replied with a big, sunny grin.

"I'm Lancaster. What's your name?"

"Me? I'm Daniel."

A beam of light whizzed past Lancaster's temple, slicing off a few strands of golden hair.

Daniel stood across from her, holding his bow, smiling as brightly as the sun.