Chapter 109
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 109
The Royal Legacy.
At those words, Eisen froze in place.
Even in this era ruled by the Empire, royal families still existed, albeit rarely. A few nations remained as vassal states rather than being completely annexed.
However, adding the word "Legacy" changed the weight of the conversation entirely.
"Could it be... an item left behind by the former Duke Grimaldi?"
"To be precise, they are 'items.'"
Items, plural.
Did the fallen House of Grimaldi truly have the capacity to leave behind multiple legacies?
Though his mind was racing with questions, Eisen could not suppress his curiosity and opened the box.
"Armor?"
It was a suit of snow-white armor that brought platinum to mind. To be specific, only the breastplate of a set of full-body armor lay within the box.
As Eisen lifted the breastplate out, his eyes widened.
"Good heavens...!"
He could tell just by the sensation at his fingertips. No craftsman currently living could ever hope to forge such a piece. He didn't know what metal it was made of, but it was lighter and sturdier than any armor he had ever seen.
Furthermore, the runes engraved into the gaps seemed to disrupt the surrounding mana, as if blocking all external interference.
It’s not just sturdy. It’s clearly designed to withstand magical attacks.
Unfortunately, Eisen couldn't fully discern the effects of the runes. He was a master of the sword, but a complete layman when it came to magic.
It was Lucian’s voice that finally snapped Eisen out of his trance.
"I would like to ask you to test its durability, Sir Eisen."
"A test? Surely you don't mean the kind of durability test I'm thinking of?"
"I do. Please, strike it with all your might."
"Ha!"
Eisen barely managed to swallow a gasp of shock. Even he had rarely seen armor crafted so perfectly. And now, he was being asked to destroy it right before his eyes.
"Your Grace, there is no need to test armor of this caliber. Even a cursory glance tells me this is a masterpiece, among the finest in existence."
"Still, wouldn't it be better to know the limit of the impact it can withstand?"
"If it were a mass-produced item, that would be the correct approach. But with a treasure as rare as this, you would simply be destroying a masterpiece by your own hand."
"Then please, strike it as I requested."
"Pardon?"
"This armor is a mass-produced item."
"…!"
For once, Eisen failed to maintain his composure. Mass-produced? A treasure like this?
Utterly flabbergasted, Eisen instinctively stood up and asked again.
"Are you saying this is truly a mass-produced item?"
"An ancient mass-produced item, to be exact. There are about a thousand of them remaining."
"Ha! Hahaha!"
A hollow laugh escaped Eisen’s lips. To think there weren't just a hundred, but a thousand of these things. His body trembled at the thought of what would happen if a thousand men marched while wearing this armor.
Even a unit of raw recruits could easily bring down a castle.
The thought sent a chill down his spine. This was an item that would allow even greenhorns to conquer a fortress. But what if those thousand men weren't recruits, but battle-hardened elites?
No, what if every single one of them was a knight who had mastered a swordsmanship style?
"Sir Eisen."
Snapped out of his thoughts by Lucian’s voice, Eisen looked at the armor once more. It was still a treasure, but with a thousand of them left, he supposed it wouldn't matter if he broke just one here.
Having made up his mind, Eisen picked up a wooden sword resting nearby.
"You intend to strike it with a wooden sword instead of a real one?"
"If I use a real sword, it won't be a test."
It was a statement that might have sounded arrogant, but it was the honest truth. No matter how hard it was, the target was an inanimate object standing still, waiting to be hit at the optimal angle. The moment he used a proper blade, he would cleave anything in two, rendering a durability test meaningless.
Vroom—
As Eisen gripped the wooden sword with both hands, materialized mana began to shimmer. Compared to a real blade, the strike would be much blunter, but with this amount of mana, the blow itself was no different from a battering ram.
Eisen steadied his breathing and brought the wooden sword down like a bolt of lightning.
CRACK-BOOM!
"Ugh!"
A roar like a thunderclap rang in Lucian’s ears. It was the sound of the various runes engraved on the armor being torn apart as they collided with the Sword Saint’s strike. The runes shattered incessantly, flashing repeatedly in a desperate attempt to mitigate the impact.
Finally, when even the last rune lost its light and all protective effects vanished—
"…Hoo."
A groan, whether of admiration or shock, escaped the Sword Saint’s mouth.
Lucian looked at the wooden sword through the swirling dust. The sword had dug into the armor, tearing through two-thirds of it, but it could go no further.
Had there been a wearer, they would have died instantly, but the fact that it held together without being split in two by a strike from the Sword Saint spoke volumes of its durability.
"Your Grace, just what did the former Duke leave behind?"
Only pure wonder remained in Eisen’s eyes. How could the fallen Grimaldi have preserved a thousand of such items? Lucian met Eisen’s gaze and smiled thinly.
"I will tell you after we have destroyed the House of Calix."
*
Norbeck muttered blankly at the unexpected report.
"They accepted my challenge to a duel?"
"Yes, my lord."
"But why?"
"…."
Palmyr, a knight of the House of Calix, remained silent at his lord's question. How was he supposed to know what those bastards were thinking?
Norbeck knew this as well, but he couldn't help but ask. After all, he had never expected the opponent to actually accept the proposal.
Are they so overconfident that they’ve gone mad? They’re going to leave those walls and come outside?
The walls of Asagrim were such that they could not be breached unless a traitor helped from within or special means like magic were employed. To use a bit of exaggeration, one wouldn't even need to station guards on them. Norbeck’s challenge had been a desperate gamble, born of his frustration at finding no way over those walls.
And yet, they were leaving that reliable fortress to come out for a duel.
"Do they actually believe it will be a fair duel?"
"I doubt it."
What trust could they have in Norbeck, who had already attempted an assassination? They clearly had their own schemes and had accepted despite knowing it was a trap.
"Perhaps they have given up on maintaining appearances. They might be planning to strike us while pretending to approach for the duel."
"If that were the case, they would have relied on their walls and waited until our provisions ran out. To abandon their justification and strike when the enemy is at their strongest... that makes no sense."
"The Sword Saint we’ve heard rumors about might be participating. If they have his help, it wouldn't be strange for them to try and lure us out rather than playing mind games."
"If he begs the Sword Saint—who isn't even his own retainer, but his father's—to hand him a victory, who would ever respect him? Unless he’s a fool, he’ll want to deliver the finishing blow himself."
"My apologies. This is the limit of the strategies I can conceive."
Seeing Palmyr so readily admit his shortcomings, Norbeck sighed. In the past, this man would have wracked his brain for an answer, but ever since he had resigned himself to death, he had become excessively blunt. Norbeck knew it was because Palmyr no longer felt the need to impress him, but the attitude was still deeply unsettling.
"I suppose if we could always see through the enemy's intentions, we wouldn't be in this mess."
"What will you do? If you are worried about a trap, you could always call it off."
"No. We accept. The benefit of them coming out is too great to overturn just because it's suspicious."
He didn't know what the enemy was thinking, but they were offering to step outside the walls of their own accord. It was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, worth any risk.
The duel location is Crow Hill? How laughable.
It was the midpoint between Asagrim and the other four territories. It was called Crow Hill because only the very top of the hill was muddy, resembling a crow's head. Since there was no cover to hide troops, any ambush would be discovered immediately. The opponent's intention was clear.
Is he saying that as long as there’s no ambush, he’s confident he can win no matter what I do?
Grit.
Norbeck reflexively ground his teeth in surging rage. To think that the House of Calix, which had reigned as a great family of the North for centuries, would be so looked down upon by a green brat.
Fine, enjoy your victory while you still haven't earned it.
It was humiliating, but that sense of victory would be nothing more than a fleeting illusion. Once death drew near, the boy would regret everything he had done. If he could just see that brat’s face pale with terror, Norbeck could endure any amount of petty humiliation.
*
Three days later, Lucian, leading his army, faced Norbeck at Crow Hill.
Lucian stroked his chin as he watched Norbeck’s forces approaching in the distance.
As reported, they have about twice as many troops as we do.
Lucian led the Blue Rose Knight Order borrowed from the Imperial Family and 2,000 elites, while Norbeck led the White Bear Knight Order of Calix and 4,000 soldiers. In terms of numbers, Calix was overwhelming, but in terms of training and equipment quality, Lucian held the advantage. It was difficult to guarantee the outcome of a full-scale clash.
"Lucian! You snot-nosed brat! If you aren't cowering in fear, draw your sword and stand before me! Do you intend to tuck your tail after requesting a duel yourself?"
While both sides glared at each other across the hill, Norbeck stepped forward and shouted.
At the provocation, Lucian gave a short laugh and shouted back.
"Not a chance! Why would I ever show my back to a withered old man? Since we’ve met again after all this time, I shall face you myself!"
"…!?"
Not only Norbeck but even the soldiers on both sides were aghast at Lucian’s response. Did the commander-in-chief truly intend to step out for a duel? It wasn't even a formal proposal, just a light provocation, yet he had accepted it instantly.
While everyone was buzzing in confusion, Lucian shouted again.
"However, it would be undignified for the commander-in-chief to step out from the very start! If you want me to come out, try cutting down my knight first!"
"What is the meaning of—!"
"If my knight falls, I will face you personally! How about it!?"
Palmyr, standing beside Norbeck, narrowed his eyes. If they defeated just one knight, the commander-in-chief would personally respond to the duel? He couldn't fathom the scheme behind this.
"My lord, something is strange. Let us observe the situation—"
"Are you serious!?"
Before Palmyr could finish, Norbeck shouted. As a startled Palmyr turned his head, Lucian smiled and raised a banner.
"In the names of Valdek and Grimaldi, I swear to the Eight Gods of Heaven! The moment my knight falls, I shall step forward to duel you alone!"
An oath sworn not just in the name of Valdek, but Grimaldi as well. Having invoked the name of Grimaldi before the people of the North, the weight of that oath was by no means light. Unless Calix broke the format of the duel first, it would be impossible for Lucian to break his word.
Norbeck clenched his fists instinctively and spoke.
"Sir Palmyr."
"Yes, my lord."
"I don't care how many are sacrificed. Send them out one after another. Do not act rashly until we have dragged that brat out."
Palmyr shuddered at Norbeck’s command. To discard all the plans they had prepared and walk right into the arena the opponent had set up...
He wanted to stop him somehow, but Norbeck, his eyes already wild with obsession, seemed unwilling to listen.
We’ve been had.
Only then did Palmyr realize the enemy's true intention, and he closed his eyes tight.