Exit Pursued by a Bruised Ego
Exit Pursued by a Bruised Ego
Count Mekelin laid his discomfort bare, tapping the table with his index finger.
It was merely a habit, an unconscious action, but those beneath him had learned through hard experience that the end of that habit was rarely pleasant. Each time his finger struck the table, the faces of all but his closest aides paled at an alarming rate.
Ordinarily, witnessing such a reaction would have only soured Count Mekelin's mood further. He was the type of man who expected his subordinates to act with a dignity and authority befitting his own. He believed that groveling and watching for cues like a petty wretch degraded not only the man himself but the dignity of his superior. That was why he had once personally disciplined a subordinate whose pointless blustering had cost him face—his intent clear: fail to stand straight, and you too would be discarded just as easily.
Yet, the ones who had actually been discarded were the mercenaries he himself had dispatched, and for that, he felt his honor had been doubly trampled. At least, that was what he believed until the duel letter arrived and he grasped the full situation.
"He must have a card up his sleeve."
At first, he wondered if he had misread it and read it again. It took some time to accept that there was nothing wrong—neither with the letter nor with his own eyes. When he showed it to his closest confidant and received a similar reaction, only then did Count Mekelin feel certain. The problem lay in the head of the one who had sent the challenge, Eldmia Ega. And such people were either born with the temperament of a hero or were utter fools without parallel.
"That he survived and defeated the Ear Hunter was unexpected, but... perhaps not. Perhaps that is precisely why he now rampages about, ignorant of how terrifying the world can be."
Count Mekelin did not enjoy the mistake of underestimating an enemy. He considered it not a mistake at all, but sheer incompetence. So, the moment he received the duel letter, his internal assessment of Eldmia began to rapidly recalibrate.
He had seen the Ear Hunter's skills firsthand and knew them well. Had he commissioned the man to raid a neighboring territory, the hunter would have completed the task admirably, even returning with a knight's head. A seasoned veteran of combat and hunting—whatever the distinction between war and duel—the Ear Hunter was an excellent hound. Over a decade of elf-hunting infamy had honed his skill and experience to the highest caliber.
Count Mekelin had reasoned that however outstanding this Eldmia might be, the boy was merely fifteen, lacking in experience. The Ear Hunter's viciousness should have been more than enough to overcome him. Even now, he believed that assessment was not flawed. The opponent simply did not conform to the standard of common sense. Given the circumstances, it was likely correct to assume that all of the Ear Hunter's men had been wiped out as well.
"With that level of skill, he has earned the right to his arrogance."
The Ear Hunter was, by all accounts, a notorious blight upon an entire race. Whether the elves had helped Eldmia or he had accomplished it alone, it was a monumental feat. Even if it had dealt a painful blow to his own interests, an opponent with the skill and resolve to go this far was worthy of respect. It was far more honorable to have a hidden talent as an enemy than some adventurer who didn't know his place in the world.
"Judging by the letter, it's clear he holds Ozweol as a hostage. It's reasonable to assume he possesses some degree of knowledge about our forces and the state of the territory."
"And yet he sent a letter like this. I cannot fathom what he is after..."
"We'll ponder that later."
Count Mekelin had no intention of wasting time on pointless theory-crafting. His firm words silenced the aides who had just begun to find their tongues.
"Prepare as if we are facing an army. Since he explicitly mentioned moving against the family, the brat cannot be ignorant that he has picked a fight with the entire territory. There is clearly something he believes in, some hidden advantage, that made him commit such a reckless act."
Above all, there was no way he had sent a document so perfectly tailored to form solely to us. He would have certainly sent one to the royal family as well to secure legitimacy. They, in turn, would use the pretense of an observer to intervene to some degree.
Countless questions about the opponent's intentions surged within Count Mekelin, but he patiently suppressed them as he issued orders to his men.
"Nominally, it is a duel to hold me accountable for my crimes. But since he has initiated a matter against the territory and the family, the royal family will also dispatch an observer for the duel. A man so meticulous as to carefully build his justification will not make any rash moves before that observer arrives. Whatever this... thing is, suspended between a territorial war and a duel, it will only truly begin once the observer arrives from the capital. If we hurry by wyvern, it is only a two-day journey. Prepare as swiftly as possible."
What mattered now was coldly handling this unprecedented irregularity. That was how he had survived in the kingdom, and how he had protected his family. Mocking the enemy could wait until after all matters were settled. He resolved to focus on preparation.
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During the five days it took to send the documents to the Kaldar royal family and Count Mekelin via the Magic Library's express service—a service only usable for delivering objects, as attempting it on a living creature would end with its limbs torn off—and then hurry towards the Count's territory, nothing happened. It was remarkably uneventful.
Of course, there was a minor incident where I vented my frustration on Ozweol upon realizing, with great disappointment, that the delivery service did not extend to Itisel. But I meant we suffered no attacks. This despite the fact that we weren't moving quickly on horseback, but traveling on foot to match the elves' pace.
I had originally intended to part ways with Cellevian's group and have them head straight for their destination, a city near the forest, but they refused so adamantly that I had no choice but to travel with them. I didn't bother asking for their reasons. Whatever their reasons, they were people who had traveled all the way from the northern borderlands to the west just to find me. I would have a hard time refusing their decision regardless, so I simply chose not to ask.
And so, Count Mekelin's territory, which we reached after a journey longer than expected, was far more... normal than I had anticipated. Because they were already fully prepared for battle.
"Huh... I thought he was just another helmet-stand. What is this? Was he a narcissist with a functioning brain after all?"
Ozweol, who had learned through painful physical experience during our journey that interrupting my muttering brought him nothing but misery, started to say something before promptly clamping his mouth shut again. Acknowledging his wise choice with a touch of regret, I asked Cellevian's group to wait, then mounted my horse and approached the wall surrounding the territory.
Perhaps a Count truly was a Count, after all. As I approached the territory's gate, the gatekeepers greeted me from behind the firmly shut iron gate. From a distance, I had thought they were mere gatekeepers, but observing their movements and discipline, it was clear they were certainly not the usual lot assigned to guard duty.
"Eldmia Ega. You cannot enter the territory."
Hearing them speak confirmed my suspicion even further. I was intensely curious how they recognized me the moment they saw me, but since they were reacting as if to an outright war, there was a high probability they had deployed scouts.
Though this was a man who would likely soon be cursing my name, he had shown courtesy, and so I responded in kind, nodding politely as I asked back, "Is your objective to bar my entry, or has the Count decided to accept the duel?"
"...His Lordship the Count stated that when the observer arrives from the royal family, you will obtain the result you desire."
So, he had accepted it.
I hadn't expected him to prepare on such a full-scale level, but as it was within my expectations, I was satisfied with the gatekeeper's answer and turned away. Though I had raised my Magic Power and heightened my senses to the utmost in case of emergency, no arrow came flying at my back. Thanks to that, I could be certain that Count Mekelin was a clever man. If he had been an arrogant fool, he would have sent a couple of men to 'solve' the problem, insisting one shouldn't use a sledgehammer to crack a nut—only to lose them all. Instead, this man was preparing as if facing an equal army.
"It's as if he's preparing for war. Are you truly planning to charge in there?"
"Of course. It'll just be a little tedious."
Cellevian, who had been staring at the territory with a fed-up expression, shifted that same stare towards me. But aside from shrugging my shoulders, there was nothing else I could offer him. Telling him that the only difference was whether the enemy was off-guard or not, and that the rest was futile anyway, didn't seem like something he'd accept.
"Do you genuinely believe you can wipe them all out and strike down the Count?"
"How would I wipe them all out? I've been learning magic, but I can't cast grand-scale spells like that yet."
"...Then what on earth are you planning to do?"
His fed-up expression shifted to one of a man watching a madman, but as that was also a perfectly normal reaction, I just gave a small laugh. Then, raising a finger, I slowly traced a line from the territory's gate all the way to the lord's castle and answered.
"Break through. Cutting down only what I must, as fast as possible, all the way to the lord's castle."
A single punch wouldn't topple the castle. The situation wouldn't end just by cutting down ten or twenty men. And if I resorted to assassination, it was obvious they would raise hell over a thousand different issues, and it wouldn't serve my purpose of warning others not to touch me. So, the plan was simply to gloss it over with the formality of a duel, then force my way through.
"Only a madman would think of sweeping through an entire territory alone."
Even as I said it myself, a hollow laugh escaped me, and I shook my head from side to side, glancing at Cellevian to seek his agreement...
"Why are you looking at me like that? As if I were a madman."
...for some reason, not only him, but the other elves and even Ozweol were still staring at me as if I were utterly insane.