Hero
Hero
In the end, because Siegfried hadn't even waited for me to finish eating, my short break was invaded by the sparring-obsessed idiots.
They said even dogs weren't disturbed while eating, but clearly these fucks regarded me as less than a dog.
When I complained about it to Ragnis after she returned from her business, she laughed as if the whole thing were absurd.
"The Hero actually went out of his way to tell you something like that? He must've taken quite a liking to you, huh? And it's not exactly wrong, either."
Ragnis seemed more surprised that Siegfried had enough judgment to observe his surroundings with a fairly normal mindset than by the fact that he'd approached me personally to offer that advice.
Still, before we first met him, my assessment hadn't been quite as harsh, but the thought fleetingly crossed my mind that if even Ragnis, who'd suffered since childhood, regarded that bastard Zeke's behavior so negatively, he really might be treated like an absolute menace in the Empire.
"Anyway, if he even knows about a visit from another kingdom, the Fourth Princess really must be feeding him information consistently. Marquis Bende said it was a story known only to a minority even among the Imperial faction."
"Mm? Was that what you were up to today?"
"Right. Since I couldn't show my face at all yesterday."
"Huh. So that was it."
"...Let me state in advance, we only had an ordinary conversation."
"No, of course you did."
"I mean it."
For some reason, as Ragnis vehemently insisted they'd only exchanged light greetings and small talk and reported even trivial details, we attended the remaining classes, and the next day passed like that. Aside from the intense interest directed at me, it had been a relatively uneventful day.
But trouble came the day after.
"Hmm. You're the commoner who defeated the Hero?"
A nobleman, wearing attire that quite literally flaunted his foreign origin, approached us as we got off the carriage and abruptly addressed me.
With curly golden hair, a jewel-encrusted scabbard and sword fixed to a belt embroidered with gold thread, and rings so large on each finger they could serve as knuckles, this spectacularly adorned nobleman regarded me with an arrogance beyond belief, his three servants in tow, his gaze appraising me as though I were some object.
If he recognized me, that meant he also knew who Ragnis beside me was, and this was his reaction? He was openly sizing me up like a retainer right in front of my own liege?
"...Who..."
At that moment, just as Ragnis, incredulous but struggling to maintain her composure, was about to speak, the bastard, looking like the medieval noble from my memories draped in obscenely gaudy splendor, stroked the pommel of the sword at his hip and continued.
Completely ignoring Ragnis.
"I wish to see your skill. Follow me."
And then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, he started walking toward the sparring grounds without even asking whether I intended to follow.
Inside my wine-red half-cloak, meticulously pressed by the servants again that day, I had the illusion that Bad Eldmia and Worse Eldmia were crawling out for the first time in a while. As I stood there without taking a step, staring at the bastard and sharing my dumbfounded feelings with the Eldmias in my mind, the bastard sensed something, turned his head, and immediately furrowed his brow, his voice slightly raised.
"What are you doing? I'm a busy man."
-He's insane, isn't he?
-He's some kind of lunatic, isn't he?
Whoa, whoa. Let's calm down, Little Eldmias. Even if it's an astronomical probability, isn't it the duty of a true modern person to check first?
I discreetly restrained Ragnis, whose face was already flushing crimson with humiliation as she was about to charge forward, then voiced the single possibility that could permit this bastard's behavior.
"Are you His Majesty the Emperor?"
Honestly, even if he were the Emperor, it'd be rude, but nothing that couldn't be overlooked.
Conversely, unless he was the Emperor, the very act of trying to order me around like his own subordinate while Ragnis, my nominal liege, was standing right there with her eyes wide open, was a breach of etiquette beyond imagination, an atrocity on par with spitting in her face.
That was precisely why the countless students who chanced to witness this absurd scene as they passed by had frozen in horror. Students with more aristocratic common sense were so flustered their faces had gone pale, even though it wasn't their affair.
That's how fucking insane it was. Obviously, I knew he wasn't, but it was a situation that forced me to ask if he was the Emperor, wasn't it?
The bastard's gaze as he looked at me was quite different from everyone else's reaction.
"Hmm hmm. Though I am well-acquainted with the bearing of nobility, to be mistaken for His Majesty the Emperor... It's not an unpleasant..."
Huh? This dumbass actually took it as a compliment?
I didn't want to see any more of his shithead smirk curling up, so I cut him off.
"You are not even the Emperor, so what gives you the confidence to publicly besmirch the honor of Ragnis Lien da Levien, Margrave of Itisel and my liege, and insult her like this?"
"...What?"
No, why are you making that bewildered face?
The bastard openly furrowed his brows, looking displeased and irritated.
"You dare to invoke the measly honor of an Itisel noble against me..."
"Draw your sword."
"Huh?"
"There is no conversation to be had with you. Draw your sword."
To prevent any other nonsense, I drew my own sword first and held it upright for the duel's pledge. The surrounding area, which had been frozen solid, instantly rippled with a bustling commotion, and the bastard's three servants stepped forward with grim expressions, shielding the nobleman.
"If you lack the skill to fight personally, appoint a champion. I failed to stop you from spitting on my liege's honor even while watching it with my own two eyes, so now the only things I can do are to die at the end of a duel here, or to belatedly right my liege's honor by killing you or your champion for having defiled it."
I might run around playing butler all the time, but believe it or not, I'd spent over a year eating at the table of House Ogatorf—one of the Kingdom's foremost knightly families—and was even studying to become a wandering knight.
To become a wandering knight, there was an unimaginable prerequisite of memorizing the chivalric codes of other nations down to the last detail. Maybe it was to avoid clashing with foreign knights over ideological differences while wandering around, but whatever the reason, I had to know them all.
So I'd memorized them, and therefore I could be certain.
Anywhere on the continent, this treatment legally constituted grounds for a duel.
Even if I'd flown into a rage and split his skull open on the spot, and he turned out to be some duke from some kingdom, legally it would fall under mitigating circumstances. That's how legal this was.
And Eldmia Ega, employed as a retainer and personal butler for the past week, a true intellectual who knew how to be faithful to his duties, could not simply let this fucked-up situation slide.
"You now..."
"I am Eldmia Ega. Son of Radan Ega and Evisher Ruina, an apprentice walking the path of knighthood under the sword of Ogatorf, and a single blade sworn to wander for the peace of the kingdom and the tranquility of its people. I swore to serve and protect my liege and thus arrived here, yet I failed to prevent an insult to her honor. By the gods, I swear I shall surely set this right."
I'd never imagined that in my entire life I'd end up reciting a formal declaration of duel, but apparently today was the day.
Trouble followed me everywhere, seriously. I couldn't predict a single day of my own life anymore.
Still, I had to finish the declaration.
"As my liege's honor was lost here, here I shall reclaim it. Until then, I will neither sheathe my sword, nor open my mouth."
A magnificent shitshow erupted, with students watching and students scattering in all directions to find a professor, sending the place into chaos.
"Do you know who I..."
"Young master. It is already too late."
Seeing the three men I'd assumed were mere servants cut off their master's words with bitter expressions, they too were likely knights or apprentices. Judging by their decisive reaction, they were probably knights.
But the nobleman himself merely retorted to them with a tone and expression still mixing irritation and disbelief.
"Too late?"
"That young man has already declared the duel and sworn silence. If you attempt to leave, he will pursue and cut you down... Even if the Emperor himself arrived, he would not open his mouth until the duel is over."
"Absurd. I heard he'd vied with the Hero, so I came to see his skill, and now this wretch who doesn't know his place dares to insult me so?"
He was a miraculous bastard who spouted shit that made me doubt my ears every time he opened his mouth. If anything, his servants were the ones with some remnants of sanity, possessing some grasp of the situation.
"We have no choice."
"Kill him. He has no value."
"...Then I shall."
Not being able to sense aura was more inconvenient than I'd thought. Most of the time, I had absolutely no goddamn clue how skilled a bastard was, leaving me unable to decide whether to hold back or go all-out.
But if I had to kill him anyway, none of that mattered.
Once the two bastards escorting the nobleman back had put some distance between us, the brown-haired one with the most imposing build among the three drew his sword and spoke.
"I am your champion, Lag Wenstera. I draw my blade for the honor of Gwilb Buis Beluin, eldest son and rightful heir of Baron Jagnela Buis Beluin, my liege. To you... I offer my apologies."
What was that? A show of ego? An implication that he would win?
I didn't know what else to make of it, but complacency was practically dripping from his words.
That attitude pissed me off so much that while he briefly paid his respects and took his stance, I drew up all my Magic Power.
"Such a..."
And the moment he muttered lowly and tried to take a step forward, I closed in, blew his head off, and passed through.
It was as expected, nothing special. As far as I'd seen, the vast majority of bastards whose aura I couldn't sense well couldn't stop my ambush when I was seriously aiming for an opening—it was a fact already proven through multiple experiences.
All I did was marvel inwardly at how much better the sword cut than I'd expected while moving at a speed I'd already grown somewhat used to.
Come to think of it, this was my first time cutting anything with this sword. Was this what you'd expect from a blade handed over personally by a dwarven master craftsman? Compared to my old one, it cut so cleanly I couldn't even feel resistance. So this was why everyone made such a fuss about dwarves.
"Uh...?"
I watched the nobleman and his two remaining servants, still unable to grasp the situation even as the cleanly severed head flew through the air and hit the ground.
"Rag... in one strike...?"
And seeing them unable to shut their own mouths, I raised my sword again and resumed my initial stance.
Watching that, the expressions of the servants drained of all color. Whether they did or not, I voiced the words permitted now that one bout of the duel had ended.
"The champion's skill was so worthless, it isn't even worth weighing against the lost honor."
Duels in this otherworld had a brutal aspect. When it was settled between the principals themselves, it didn't matter, but if a champion was involved, that brutality came to the fore.
Because the duel wasn't over until I sheathed my sword.
It wouldn't end unless a new champion was appointed or they begged forgiveness along with an apology. Even the latter required a proper compensation payment attached.
And the fact that they'd gone pale was proof that the motherfucker possessed a personality that would never apologize.
Did he think I'd beaten the Hero at some children's game or something? Fine. Let's see this through to the bitter end.