The World Is Mine For The Taking

Chapter 523 - 83 - The Invitation (4)

I arrived at the venue. The place was absolutely packed with people, and it was hard to believe this was just a regular wedding. Then again, considering the bride and groom came from influential families, it wasn’t all that surprising.

Everyone was dressed to the nines, and I noticed quite a few high-profile individuals in the crowd. It was honestly a bit overwhelming. Even Princess Myrcella was here.

"Well, I guess that makes sense—he’s her knight, after all..."

Johanne was Princess Myrcella’s knight, so her attendance was expected. What wasn’t surprising was the security around her. Being a princess, she was always a high-value target, and the likelihood of an assassination attempt was never zero.

As I looked closer, I spotted someone near her who looked oddly familiar. It was Angelica. The very same Angelica who’d once been brainwashed by the cult, Eclipse—the one I’d crushed not too long ago. Seeing her here, working directly under Princess Myrcella, was the last thing I expected. I would’ve never guessed that Angelica would end up in her service.

Shaking off the surprise, I headed toward the entrance of the venue, only to be blocked by a guard.

"We don’t allow civilians in here," he barked, his chest puffed up with misplaced pride. The way he stood there screamed self-importance, as though this job was the highlight of his life.

I pulled out the invitation Johanne and Tris had given me and held it up for him to see. His eyes narrowed as he glanced at it, widening slightly before suspicion crept back into his expression.

"Where did you get this?" he asked, his tone sharp and accusatory.

"From the couple getting married, obviously," I replied dryly.

The guard’s brows furrowed. He didn’t seem convinced, and his irritation was palpable as he reached out, trying to snatch the letter from me.

I stepped back quickly, holding it out of his reach. "Whoa, easy there."

"Give me that," he snapped.

"What, so you can rip it apart? Not a chance," I shot back. "I need someone competent to verify this and let me in."

"You’re suspicious," he growled, clearly offended. "I can’t let you in."@@@@

"Even though I have an invitation?"

"It’s possible you stole that or forged it. You could be trying to sneak in to pull something shady. With all the high-profile people here, we can’t take chances. Look at you—you don’t exactly scream ’VIP.’"

"Fair enough, I guess," I sighed, though his condescending tone was grating.

Reluctantly, I unfolded the letter and handed it to him. "Look at the damn thing. My name’s Leon. It’s written right there, clear as day."

The invitation had my name on it, signed by both the bride and groom. But instead of reading it properly, the guard barely glanced at it before balling it up in his hand.

"Suspicious," he repeated, tossing the crumpled letter to the ground and stomping on it.

This man... he had to be the Sword Saint—the most powerful swordsman known to man, or at least within the entirety of the Milham Kingdom.

When the Sword Saint reached us, he didn’t spare me a glance at first, focusing instead on the guard who had nearly cleaved me in two.

"Sir Sword Saint," the guard said, bowing deeply. Then he threw me a venomous glare. "This man attempted to bypass me using a forged letter of invitation to Lord Johanne’s wedding. I tried to stop him, but he forced his way through with violence. I was just about to cut him down, my lord, but you arrived just in time. Should I finish the job now?"

Finally, the Sword Saint turned his gaze to me. His hawk-like eyes were piercing, brimming with the weight of countless battles. A man like this had seen everything and couldn’t be fooled easily. Despite the intensity of his stare, I refused to look away.

"Cleave him? Right here?" the Sword Saint sighed, his tone heavy with exasperation. "You’re fired."

"W-What...?" The guard’s mouth flapped open like a fish gasping for air. "What do you mean, Sir Sword Saint?"

"You heard me," the Sword Saint said flatly. "You’re fired."

"But why...?"

"This is a celebration, not a battlefield. Killing someone in the middle of such an event is not only prohibited—it’s outright disgraceful. Anyone who thinks such an act is acceptable has no place in this role. Now, leave my sight."

"Sir Sword Saint, but...! That man is trying to—"

"This guy doesn’t even do his job properly," I interjected, cutting the guard off as I addressed the Sword Saint. "It’s wise that you’re firing him."

The Sword Saint raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. "Hmmm. And why do you think that?"

I bent down and picked up the crumpled letter the guard had stomped on earlier. Straightening it out as best I could, I held it up for the Sword Saint to see.

"Your son invited me to his wedding, Sir," I said firmly. "This guy decided to play the hero, using me as a scapegoat to make himself look good in front of the crowd. He branded me a fraud because I wasn’t dressed extravagantly enough for his taste. If that doesn’t scream incompetence, I don’t know what does. Firing him is the least of what he deserves, wouldn’t you agree?"

The Sword Saint studied me, and I caught the faintest glimmer of amusement in his eyes. Then, he shifted his attention to the letter in my hand.

"This is, indeed, my son’s handwriting and signature," he said after a moment. His tone turned sharp as he addressed the guard. "Not only are you incompetent, but you’re also incapable of fulfilling even the simplest of your duties."

"S-Sir...!"

"Are you going to leave my sight willingly, or shall I take your fingers as payment for this disgrace?" the Sword Saint asked, his voice cold and cutting.

"G-Guh...!"

Faced with that threat, the guard finally caved. Tucking his metaphorical tail between his legs, he glared at me one last time before fleeing, his head hanging low in shame.

Serves him right.