Chapter 40
Chapter 40
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 40
Chapter Title: A Challenge
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* * *
“Wilhelm of Geol! I come before Your Grace the Duke, leading thirty knights, one hundred heavy infantry, and four hundred foot soldiers!”
“Joseph of Bidel! I come before Your Grace, Lord Black, leading thirty knights, fifty heavy infantry, fifty light cavalry, and three hundred foot soldiers!”
“Kenneth of Bilderberg! One Aura Knight! Thirty knights, one hundred heavy infantry…”
In the grand hall of Duke Sachsen's castle, lords from all over the North were reporting the numbers of knights and private soldiers they had brought.
Pledging their loyalty before their great lord… Lord Black, who sat upon the throne.
The nobles of the North, gathered for the greatest magnate of the North and one of the three great dukes, Duke Sachsen.
“Furthermore, my eldest son, Beth of House Geol, will surely, in this battle, for Your Grace the Duke…!”
“As my father said, we of House Geol, father and son, are prepared to lay down our lives for Your Grace the Duke!”
The noble, who appeared to be the father, spoke, and a young man armed in armor knelt and planted his sword on the ground. It was a kind of appeal seen in any society: ‘Please look after my son.’
“Our second son, Yones of House Kennet, has also commendably brought with him the one hundred mercenaries he personally assembled…”
And Count Geol was not the only one trying to secure such advantages. Thus, Duke Sachsen spoke calmly.
“I am ever grateful for your loyalty.”
A battle does not begin overnight. Before the coming conflict, as the lords gathered at the castle and the soldiers stayed in the barracks organizing their formations… the process of a great lord rallying his subordinates and gaining the respect of his faction was also indispensable.
The fellowship and socializing among the nobles that occurred during this time were also essential rituals. Which faction to align with, which noble to impress. In that regard, there was no need to state who the northern nobles and their sons needed to connect with.
“It is an honor to meet you, Black Prince!”
“Lord Dale! I have heard much about your valor in the Black-and-White Battle!”
“I, Beth, the eldest son of House Geol! I wish to fight alongside you in battle and share in your valor!”
‘Politics is what it is.’
People began to clamor about Dale's fame, vying with one another, and Dale offered a suitable smile.
“You all seem truly reliable.”
A smile befitting an eleven-year-old boy.
“Oh my, Lord Dale!”
“You are even more handsome and dashing than people say!”
“I never imagined you would be such a dignified and splendid young man!”
“Even at such a young age, you are so gallant and manly!”
And then there were the young ladies of noble houses, fawning over him desperately, holding nothing back. At most, they were perhaps fourteen or fifteen.
“With a battle about to break out, have you ladies come in person?”
Dale asked, and the young ladies vied to answer.
“It is the duty of a lady to support the men, so that our fathers and brothers can focus on the battle.”
A wise and sharp answer. The daughters of noble houses were also desperately trying to fulfill their duties, it seemed.
“I see.”
Dale nodded calmly. Looking at the endless stream of people flocking toward him, he smiled bitterly to himself. It was truly exhausting.
“Lord Dale.”
It was at that moment.
Amidst those busy spouting empty flattery, a voice with real weight was heard for the first time.
“I have heard that at a young age, you possess martial prowess in no way inferior to that of a grown knight.”
At that voice, Dale looked up.
A man dressed in black armor, slightly weathered with rust, a sword at his hip. He looked to be just past twenty. A faint trace of youth still lingered, making it clear at a glance that he was the son of a noble house.
“Yo-Yones! You insolent fool!”
At the same time, a man ran over, out of breath and unable to hide his bewilderment. He was a noble who appeared to be the young man's father.
“T-To the young lord… what kind of impertinence is this!”
But Dale paid it no mind and waved his hand. At Dale's single gesture, the man's father hastily shut his mouth.
“The second son of Baron Kennet, Lord Yones, I believe.”
“That is correct.”
At Dale's question, Lord Yones knelt and showed a knight's courtesy. The commotion in the hall subsided, and all eyes turned to them.
“Is there something you wish to say to me?”
“The greatest genius in the Empire…”
Lord Yones began to speak.
“I have heard that the young lord of House Sachsen possesses an overwhelming talent in both sword and magic, unparalleled by any other.”
Sword and magic.
“At your age, you led the Black-and-White Battle to a great victory and created a sea of blood with the knights of Saint Magdalena.”
“It was the result of the fine work of House Sachsen's swords.”
“I heard it was a scene where even if a flock of crows pecked for a week, day and night, the number of enemy corpses would not diminish.”
“Is there something else you wish to say to me?”
Lord Yones nodded at Dale's question.
“With that sword of yours, my lord, would you please grant me a few lessons?”
A murmur spread.
At his words, a commotion erupted from all sides. It was an act tantamount to challenging the eldest son of House Sachsen to a duel. In a way, it was like declaring his intent to expose the truth behind the tales of valor surrounding Dale.
This was not something the son of a minor lord could dare to do against the son of a great lord.
“You insolent cur!”
“How dare you be so rude to the young lord!”
“Your Grace, that young whelp doesn't know his place and is spouting nonsense!”
“Let's drag him out of the castle at once!”
Accusatory fingers pointed at Lord Yones from all directions, but even amidst the uproar, his expression remained completely still.
‘Interesting.’
Dale spoke, feigning interest. The commotion died down.
“Lord Yones, second son of House Kennet. I hear you lead a company of one hundred mercenaries.”
“I formed them myself from scratch, embarking on a path of training as a knight-errant.”
‘A mercenary company.’
The second son of a baronial house. By the laws of primogeniture, it would be difficult for him to inherit the domain. That must be why he's trying to prove himself with a move that is little more than a gamble.
To be able to form a mercenary company of a hundred as a knight-errant with no backing, his skills must be considerable.
‘He might be quite useful.’
Above all, I liked his nerve.
“Very well.”
Having made his decision, Dale nodded.
“I accept your challenge to a duel.”
* * *
Under the supervision of his father, Duke Sachsen, a duel between Dale and Lord Yones was arranged on the spot.
Right here, in the grand hall of Duke Sachsen's castle.
Duke Sachsen sat on the throne with an emotionless expression, looking down at the two.
The lords and their sons present here were men who would fight in the battle under his and his son's command. Therefore, showing them Dale's skill was something Lord Black had no reason to refuse. No, rather, it would be a good opportunity to firmly establish the hierarchy.
This was only possible because, as a father, he was confident that Dale would win.
Regardless, it was a well-known fact that Dale was excessively young. Thus, it was necessary to clearly show his true capabilities in front of the northern lords.
The fact that the cruelty and infamy of the ‘Black Prince’ were by no means empty rumors.
*Shing.*
Dale's opponent, Lord Yones, drew his knight's sword. Seeing this, Dale spoke.
“You must be aware that my sword is different from an ‘ordinary sword’.”
In that place where not even a breeze stirred, his black surcoat fluttered.
“I, too, have heard about the ‘Sword of Shadows’ that you possess, my lord.”
A blade of darkness whose form could be freely controlled and moved without being touched. Strictly speaking, for a knight, it was a sword close to the unorthodox path, but Dale was aspiring to be a mage in the first place.
“Use your aura.”
“……!”
At Dale's words, a flicker of agitation crossed Lord Yones's face. He could not be unaware of the gravity of using aura in a duel.
“This is an order.”
Dale replied coldly. As if to say that once a decision was made, there was no turning back.
“Understood.”
The energy of aura began to circulate through Lord Yones's body. He was not yet a knight at the level where he could use an Aura Blade.
‘Even so, his control is remarkably clean.’
Calmly assessing his condition, Dale spoke.
“Come at me with all your strength.”
Simultaneously, the shadow at his feet rose with substance, taking the form of blades that orbited around Dale.
‘So that is the Black Prince's sword…’
Blades of shadow.
Looking at those bizarre and ominous swords, Lord Yones swallowed hard. After swallowing, he readjusted his grip on his hilt.
Yones of Kennet.
At sixteen, he roamed the continent as a knight-errant, making a name for himself, and starting from the bottom, he became the captain leading a hundred mercenaries. By the time he turned twenty, he had learned to wield aura despite never having received formal training in the art.
His resolve set, Lord Yones kicked off the ground.
‘I cannot lose to a brat who has had everything since birth.’
Born as the second son of a minor noble house, he had nothing and had climbed this far relying on his sword alone.
In comparison, the eldest son of House Sachsen, the greatest magnate of the North, dared to flaunt his ‘talent’!
The fact was so outrageous that he couldn't stand it.
He wanted to show that even ‘the one who has not’ can defeat ‘the one who has.’ He didn't want to kneel before the absurdity and injustice of the world.
*Clang!*
Lord Yones's sword swung. Blade met blade. And with each parry against the jet-black blades swirling from all directions, an inexplicable sense of unease began to fill Lord Yones's chest.
The ‘Black Prince’ was looking at him without a shred of emotion.
Freely manipulating the blades of darkness that formed from the shadow at his feet.
Swords clashed, retreated, rushed in, clashed again, and glanced off. Blades met endlessly, and only after dozens of exchanges did he vaguely understand.
“Ah, ahh…”
The fact that, from the very beginning, the ‘Black Prince’ wasn't even seeing someone like Lord Yones.
His target was not Yones, but the northern lords and their sons watching this duel. It was to prove his name before them all. Lord Yones had merely been chosen as the sacrificial lamb for that purpose.
A sacrificial lamb to establish the hierarchy.
He was overwhelming him as if playing with a child, showing off his martial might.
‘It can't be…’
In front of a knight who could use aura, a mere eleven-year-old brat was acting so composed? This was nothing short of a public execution, a humiliation.
‘I won't let it happen…!’
In his impatience, Lord Yones's sword swung even more desperately. A killing sword, meant to strike down his opponent with all his might.
*Clang!*
Once again, blades clashed.
*Clang! Clang!*
It was not the sound of blade meeting blade.
It was the feeble sound of a sword striking ‘a great, insurmountable wall.’ A wall so vast and immense he could not even dare to look up at it. A wailing wall stood tall before him.
Before long, the fight had become nothing more than Yones's one-sided, desperate struggle.
Only then did he realize.
The ‘Black Prince's’ talent, the greatest in the Empire, did not stem from paltry reasons like being born into a powerful house or receiving a good education.
That boy was the very incarnation of absurdity.
An overwhelming talent that seemed to symbolize ‘the world's unfairness’ itself.
Realizing this, he could only let out a hollow laugh. Crossing swords any further was meaningless. He understood it to his very bones. A gap so overwhelming it bordered on despair.
“My…”
The strength drained from the hand gripping the hilt.
“Defeat.”
At the same time, the blades of shadow orbiting Dale came to a complete stop.
“My victory, then.”
Dale spoke.
“Is this all you have?”
Before Dale's question, Lord Yones could say nothing.
“…”
Silence fell. A very long and heavy silence.