Marriage Scam (4)
“What kind of insane nonsense is that?!”
Mazar shouted the moment he grasped the situation. A trial by duel? What era did they think this was? A trial by duel was a proceeding born from the belief that in situations where right and wrong couldn't be easily discerned, the gods would lend their strength to the righteous. But in truth, it had devolved into nothing more than brute force wielded by sword-wielding thugs. That was precisely why Imperial Law had gradually tightened the conditions for such trials until they were effectively abolished.
“Under Imperial Law, trials by duel are only permitted for matters worthy of the gods' attention—issues involving religion or the Abyss!” Mazar countered with the most fundamental premise of duel trials.
“Hm. What was the official title of the judge presiding here?”
Religious Tribunal Judge. Marriage was a sacred rite overseen by the gods themselves, so depending on interpretation, this could qualify as a “religious” matter sufficient to establish grounds for a trial by duel.
Mazar took a deep breath. Even if his first rebuttal was blocked, he had a second prepared.
“Marriage is undoubtedly a sacred union blessed by the Six Sovereigns. However, to prevent the abuse of resolving every dispute through combat, the Empire imposed strict conditions on trials by duel.”
The Empire had steadily narrowed the scope of applicable cases, ultimately restricting even who could petition for one. The logic underpinning a trial by duel was that “the gods would select the righteous.” Thus, anyone petitioning—claiming themselves to be “righteous”—needed proof of their righteousness.
“Do you have any reason for the gods to take notice of you? Have you undergone holy ordination to qualify as a priest, or has a miracle occurred here, imbuing you with divine power?”
The easiest condition to satisfy was possession of divine power, tantamount to proof of the gods' gaze. Without it, one needed far harder qualifications, like widespread renown acknowledged across society. But a mere wandering knight like this man lacked such fame.
The sole exception allowing a duel petition without meeting qualifications was the Abyss. Every human had the right to defend themselves if suspected of abyssal taint.
Kriel nodded at Mazar's forceful argument.
“Priest, I beg you.”
Priest Daukrius, who had stood silently behind until now, stepped forward.
“By the wings of the Crow Goddess and the divine mandate bestowed upon me by Her, I vouch that Sir Kriel is the Champion of our order.”
“Champion?” Mazar rolled the unfamiliar term around in his mouth. He knew the meaning, but what good was claiming to be an order's Champion in this sudden mess? If they meant to intimidate with the title, they'd picked the wrong opponent—
“Wait. Champion of where?”
“Eve Kaha. Goddess of the Crow Wings, who guides the departed souls of the dead.”
Kriel declared it plainly. He was the god's chosen—precisely, the saintess's chosen, but that was a detail for another time—Champion.
“If I have not acted honorably, the gods will exact Their retribution upon me. Mazar Gavi, accept my challenge to duel.”
His intent was crystal clear. Everyone present could sense the unspoken eloquence radiating from Kriel's very being.
I don't know the law. Let's settle this with swords.
“This is actually working.”
Armed muttered in bewilderment. An eye for an eye, a law for a law—when Kriel had dredged up some archaic statute that smelled faintly of madness, she'd doubted it would fly.
The Religious Tribunal Judge had clutched his head in anguish for a good ten minutes before declaring, “…This constitutes valid grounds for a duel.” He instructed Mazar Gavi to prepare for combat or procure a Champion within the allotted timeframe.
Armed shot a sidelong glare at Kriel, who was speaking with Priest Daukrius.
He told me his military chaplain days in the Western Army were all he had to his name.
A Champion of the order? That was a status worthy of VIP treatment almost anywhere. She let out a sigh.
Strip away the Ket family's halo, and she was just an ordinary mage. But Kriel had become Eve Kaha's Champion. She suddenly felt diminished.
Curious as she was about what the Champion and priest might be discussing, Armed tamped down her curiosity. A decision she'd regret.
It was the perfect chance to learn that the priest Kriel had first approached for false testimony was none other than the saintess.
“A Champion with a fiancée? Astonishing.”
Priest Daukrius—who had aided from sending letters to Morgina to providing today's testimony—unexpectedly opened up.
I shrugged and replied, “It was to protect a friend's dream.”
“I wonder if the saintess knows.”
“Morgina? Actually, the letter I asked you to send a few days ago was about this very matter. If she'd helped, I wouldn't have needed to trouble you further, Priest.”
Priest Daukrius's eyes widened briefly, then shifted to a puzzled expression.
“Ah. So that's how it is. The saintess truly has a generous heart.”
I nearly objected to calling Morgina generous but held my tongue. It wouldn't do for a youth steeped in Confucian virtue—or a knight pursuing chivalry—to sass an elder who looked three times my age.
“Out of concern, I must advise: once you've invoked the Champion's name…”
I nodded. I hadn't planned to borrow the Eve Kaha order's name from the start. Duel was the only way to nullify legal proceedings, no matter how I turned it over in my mind. The timeless justification of “for love” wouldn't tarnish the order's reputation—in fact, they'd encourage it. What order would deny love? The Abyss, maybe.
If questioned after formally dissolving the engagement, I'd simply say it was “for a friend's dream.” In truth, wasn't it knightly perfection—embracing dishonor for friendship? Eve Kaha would surely approve.
“Yes. To avoid staining the order's honor—”
“No, I mean smash the opponent flat.”
“…Pardon?”
“It ties to the order's honor too. We're brawlers at heart, aren't we? If our order's Champion loses a straight-up fight, it besmirches our face.”
“Priest?”
“Whoever they send, beat them senseless… Ah, but don't kill them. Thrash them good without going lethal, if possible.”
The old priest made his request with a kindly smile. Under that subtle pressure, all I could do was nod.
Mazar pinched his brow.
He'd bought a few days' grace, but things had gone south. The Eve Kaha order was infamous for its belligerence. To be named their Champion required skill beyond the ordinary.
“Even a ducal knight order might balk…”
Not the Gavi Merchant Lord himself, but his youngest son's request—would any knight order even glance their way? Mazar felt cornered. Should he abandon this path and seek alternatives now?
No. If I approach elsewhere, my brothers will sniff it out and strike first. The only group I can fully influence without their meddling is the Abyss Prevention Society—for now.
Plus, he'd poured too much money into it already. Not just Gavi Merchant backing, but his own personal funds to win Armed's favor. To recoup that, he'd need a noble title at least.
Of course, if the Gavi Merchant Lord were in his shoes, he'd write off the sunk costs and pivot coldly. But Mazar hadn't reached that level of detachment.
He scoured everywhere for a Champion. Riffraff mercenaries swarmed in, but even they fell short of his baseline: “Can you defeat a knight one-on-one?”
Those claiming knightly victories crumbled under deeper questioning.
“So, was the knight you felled in full armor and armament?”
“Haha, milord, you jest! Those are living light tanks. If they're exhausted and sprawled out, maybe—but no ordinary merc stands a chance.”
Mazar clicked his tongue. He had one week. Fail to select a Champion, and he'd have to fight himself or concede defeat.
Time was running out. As Mazar's resolve teetered toward surrender—
“A candidate has volunteered?”
“Yes, young master. But their appearance…”
Doesn't look like much of a fighter. His old retainer conveyed with a glance.
Just meet them, Mazar thought, heading to the interview room.
Inside waited a single woman in clerical garb, her black hair cascading with faint red tips at the ends.