Duel #3
There is a world of difference between knowing a thing and living through it—and nowhere does that gap show more vividly than in the heat of the moment.
Never had Ellen felt the truth of that more keenly than she did today.
The face of the woman who had been nothing but kindness, without a trace of dislike, had frosted over. A sharpness hung about her now, keen enough that a touch might draw blood.
To call it a threat would hardly have been an overstatement.
Zion. Zion Altram.
Thinking on it carefully, Helena was the sort of madwoman who would take a life over something as slight as a man being struck across the cheek. The rumors about her were so grim and so absurd that Ellen had already known they had reached even the battlefields of Bluenail.
It was only that her first impression of the woman had been so favorable she had let the fact slip from her mind.
"Nothing of note occurred."
Well—of course. A man with looks like that, and a generous heart to match. And though his station was not high, he still held a position of some standing. It was only natural that the Grand Duchess would fall for him.
Ellen reached that conclusion inwardly, then spoke the plain truth as it stood.
"Is that truly so? Nothing happened at all?"
"Indeed. If treating a dark elf like myself as an ordinary person counts as a great event, then perhaps it was one—but setting that aside, the journey was thoroughly ordinary."
At Ellen's firm answer, a sly light kindled in Helena's eyes.
Helena was a woman who could calculate exactly what kind of looks a dark elf would draw once people stopped thinking of her as filth, and for that reason she watched her opposite with even greater care.
To Helena, a dark elf was still an elf in the end—long-lived compared to humans, and spending most of that span young and beautiful. If such an elf showed interest in Zion, there was no guarantee her kindhearted boy would not be swayed.
Even knowing she trusted him, relied on him, and that the affection he poured out held not a speck of dust.
"…I understand. I will choose to believe you."
Ellen's expression was resolute, and her voice carried no hint of falsehood. The particular air of someone telling the truth hung thick about her. So for the moment Helena meant to let it pass—yet she still felt a warning was in order, and opened her mouth.
"However… I must insist that you take care. Do not approach that child too frequently, and do not give any impression of growing closer than necessary. If I should see or hear of such a thing…"
Imagine the rest yourself. With those words as her last, Helena pressed her lips firmly shut.
Even when told to rest and recover, simply lying still felt wrong. Thinking that way made me seem like some kind of workaholic, but I only thought it because this still was not the time to rest. Once the duels were over and things settled, I would probably waste the hours spinning idle fantasies again.
So I changed into a neat tailcoat and made my way to Helena's office. I guessed that while I had taken a short breather their private talk would have ended, and that she would not have moved elsewhere.
"I told you to rest. You're already here?"
Fortunately, just as I had expected, Helena was in her office.
"The mess I made is too big for that. Sitting still felt wrong."
"I keep telling you it wasn't your fault. But there's no point in going over it any further, is there…?"
"Right. So if there's anything I can help with, I will."
I stepped up beside a clearly displeased Helena and helped her sort the documents. Most of the work was handled on Is's end without us, but that did not mean Helena had nothing left for her share. It had always been that way. And ever since she had become Grand Duchess, the load had shown signs of growing little by little—because her handling of affairs had improved beyond what anyone expected, and the pace of the handover had caught fire. Which meant, of course, that my share of the work was growing too.
"By the way…"
Right as the paperwork was gathering real momentum, Helena spoke up. Her face was flushed in a shy way that suggested something important was coming, so I kept quiet and waited for her to go on.
"We still haven't held an engagement ceremony, have we…?"
"Ah. That's true."
Come to think of it, the fact that I was her fiancé was already well known through Helena's own mouth. And yet no engagement ceremony had been held—she clearly found that more than a little regrettable.
"It is true, but think about it—you inherited the dukedom without a succession ceremony either. In a situation like that, do we really need an engagement ceremony?"
I brought up how she had become Grand Duchess without a succession rite and spoke as if it were nothing of great weight. I genuinely wondered whether an engagement ceremony was necessary—and given how deep our bond already ran, I thought going straight to marriage would be fine.
"Ah… yeah. That does make sense."
"Of course, as an event to present the Grand Duchess's partner, it would still matter. But there is already a precedent of handing over the dukedom without a succession ceremony, so skipping the engagement ceremony shouldn't be so different."
"True… you're right. Bringing up an engagement ceremony in these circumstances is a bit ridiculous. Everyone already knows more or less what kind of man Zion is."
Helena gave a bitter smile at my answer and nodded. The forced brightness of that smile was obvious, and I could tell exactly how much the engagement ceremony meant to her. I had spoken of it too lightly, and it had wounded her. On top of that, the way she tried to hide it and play it off as magnanimity was painfully endearing. Without her usual makeup, that shy softness of hers was still the same as ever.
Watching her wilt, I decided it was time to offer a line that might actually make her happy.
"Right. So once this business is settled and a little more time has passed, going straight to the wedding would be far better, wouldn't it? We can skip the engagement ceremony—but a wedding we should still have."
"…Huh?"
I might not think an engagement ceremony was necessary, but I did not think the same of a wedding. If we had little property or were not nobility it might be another matter, but for a Grand Duchess to take a consort without even holding a wedding would be a problem in its own right. And failing to hold a ceremony at all would feel unfair to Helena as well. It was an emotional conclusion without any clear basis—but since we were not in a situation where a ceremony was impossible, simply sliding past it like a snake over a wall left a bad taste in my mouth.
That said, I also knew that if Helena pushed hard enough, we would have no choice but to hold the engagement ceremony too.
"What? Is that wrong?"
I smirked at the way Helena startled at the word marriage. Every trace of disappointment was gone, and her expression was brightening by the second—so sharp a change I almost doubted she was the same woman who had been wilting moments before.
"Ah… no, it's not! You already said you were mine, so of course we'd get married! Right?!"
"And you're mine too, Helena."
Helena broke into a wide smile, as if remembering the promise from that night. On top of that, the documents were finished, leaving her thoroughly at ease—so we could even idle away a little time in small talk. And in the middle of that, I casually turned the subject. Toward the duels still ahead.
"Come to think of it—what are you going to do about the remaining one?"
"Ah, the duel? Hmm. I think I can just pick someone suitable from within the duchy. With me and Redhood, the two of us should be enough anyway."
A woman who was timid at her core, and who never rated her own ability all that highly, answered this time with a calm, quiet confidence. For someone facing a hundred Expert-class fighters without killing them, she showed surprisingly little strain. And if she seemed that unconcerned about the remaining match… the odds that she would listen to me looked that much better.
"Then put me in that seat."
"What…?"
Whether to call it exactly as expected or a hope gone wrong, I could not say. What was certain was that the joy that had been lifting Helena a moment ago had gone cold.
"If you didn't catch that, I'll say it again. Put me in the empty seat."
"No."
Helena refused without the slightest hesitation, as if rejection were the only natural answer. But I had no intention of backing down, so I meant to catch hold of the thread and not let go.
"Please. Put me in."
"Absolutely not. It's dangerous. It's a deathtrap with a high chance of dying, and you want me to shove you into it? With my own hands?"
"I won't die. No—I won't die."
Unless my heart was torn out completely or my head was smashed to pieces, this body was not going to die. And with all the time I had spent honing both mana and flesh on top of that, I did not think my odds of survival were low. But Helena clearly saw it differently. She looked at me as if I were a child left by the water's edge, lips trembling, anxiety written all over her face.
"Just bringing the mercenaries was already more than enough of a contribution. So I won't allow it."
"Helena."
"Anyway, my decision is firm—absolutely not. So stop wasting time and—"
I caught the shoulders of Helena as she tried to turn away and forced her gaze to meet mine. If she had truly meant to shake me off, my strength would not have been enough—but she yielded without a struggle, so she seemed willing at least to hear me out.
"Helena. I want to stand at your side with my head held high. I don't want to hide behind someone else's back and take a victory for free."
"As I said, bringing the mercenaries was enough…"
"It's not enough for me. If that's all I do, the label of a smooth-talking brat who only knows how to charm people might stick to me for the rest of my life. I don't want to hear that, and I don't want to think of myself as some lucky fool who only won your favor by chance."
The moment I dug into my own self-respect, Helena's eyes began to waver. The words were similar to when I had persuaded her to let me go fetch the mercenaries, and they seemed to be working reasonably well. Of course, that was only relative to before—still not enough to turn her heart. She was still showing every intention of refusing.
"Even so…"
"I'm not just saying pretty things. I want to prove I have the skill to stand at a Krauser's side. If I do, the useless noise will die down a great deal too."
I tossed out the childish line about wanting to raise my own name, though I had not the slightest real desire for that. I was only throwing it out in the hope that a young man's pride might get through. While carefully playing at that pride, I drew my eyes close to hers and spoke calmly.
"Besides, I've been training under you every single day, haven't I? There is no more luxurious environment for building skill than this… and you know that better than anyone, don't you?"
"That… is true, but…"
"Right? A Swordmaster drilling me day after day, correcting every shortcoming—I've lived that for years. I wouldn't call it something to boast about, but… I can probably handle a typical Expert."
Day after day I had enjoyed the blessing of sparring with a Swordmaster and having my weaknesses patched. I had been breathing inside a luxury any sword-bearer would kill for—and I would keep doing so. Perhaps for that reason, Helena seemed to understand that my words were not pure empty bravado.
"Helena, please. I've said it before—I want to be bound to you with nothing to hide, with my head held high."
"Even so…"
The hesitation was still strong; the finishing blow was not there yet. So I brought my face close enough that our noses nearly touched, and spoke in the lowest, most earnest voice I could manage.
"Uh, uhh…"
"Please. I want to be someone our child can look at without shame, too—the one who'll be born someday."
"A—a child…!"
Becoming a father was something that had never been in my stars, but now that I was Helena's fiancé it was a future half-settled already. I could not run from it now—and should not. Helena had clearly never even considered the thought; she flustered, though it felt less like panic and more like joy so sharp she did not know what to do with herself.
"Yes. To the child who'll be born someday, I don't want to leave even the impression of a father who ran from his responsibilities."
I put deliberate weight on the word child, trying to topple the last of Helena's stubbornness as she teetered halfway over. The summit was right in front of me.
"So Helena—please…"
Just a little more persuasion and she would fall. Holding onto that hope, I kept speaking as if whispering into her ear. Partly to take even a fraction of responsibility for the mess my mistake had enlarged—and partly to steady Helena. And to drive the wedge home, I forced down the rising nausea and even spat out a line with a coercive edge. A desperate measure aimed straight at her timid nature.
"Y-yes…"
And with that, Helena finally dropped to her knees before my stubbornness and surrendered.