The Champion's Duel
Jeron woke up rather late and began preparing for the territory war.
He had drunk so much the night before that his memory was practically a blank slate.
At the beginning of his drinking session with Count Renkai, they had enjoyed the fine liquor brought from Earth. However, once his taste buds went numb, Jeron had quietly substituted it with cheap, harsh rum.
After all, there was no point in wasting their limited supply of whiskey when neither of them could taste it anymore.
Of course, the hangover that followed was brutal.
“Ugh, I feel like I'm going to die. How do people drink this stuff and survive?”
Even with Jeron's youthful body in his late teens, the hangover was this severe. He couldn't help but worry about Count Renkai, who was old enough to be his father.
“Mister! Drink this.”
Kang Yu-jung walked in, holding a cup of warm honey water.
Jeron downed the sweet liquid in a single gulp. As the sugar hit his bloodstream, the throbbing in his head began to subside.
“Phew! That's much better.”
“A minor binge-drinking? If you're starting this early, what are you going to do later in life?”
“Maybe that's why people in this kingdom die so young. But in politics, you do what you must. You saw it last night, didn't you? Count Renkai and I were calling each other brothers. Do you think that would have been possible without the help of alcohol?”
“It was honestly a bit cringeworthy to watch.”
“That's just how things work around here.”
It was pointless to apply modern standards to a medieval society. Even with a massive age gap, if a superior noble wanted to be sworn brothers, you became sworn brothers.
And as for Viscount Rebion?
Jeron was playing the polite subordinate for now, but the moment their titles swapped, he would show no mercy.
“More importantly, is everything ready?”
“Of course. It's all in here.”
She patted the black backpack slung over her shoulder.
The core of today's operation was Kang Yu-jung's sniping. Her task was to eliminate the target precisely when Jeron gave the signal.
There was no need for mercy. The goal was a clean, instant kill to the head.
To achieve this, she had disassembled the sniper rifle and packed it into her bag. They could also communicate over long distances using the military walkie-talkies they had acquired.
Although they were standard military issue, Mr. Kang had bypassed the electronic circuits to allow them to be charged via solar power.
The moment Jeron gave the order, a head would roll.
After waiting for thirty minutes in front of the castle, Jeron spotted Count Renkai, who waved warmly upon seeing him.
“Hahaha! Brother! Did you sleep well?”
“Yes... Brother!”
It was certainly awkward to call the aging Count Renkai his brother, but he had no choice. In this world, when a high noble set the tone, the lower noble had to follow along.
Pat, pat.
The Count clapped Jeron on the shoulder with a perfectly fine expression.
“Why does a young man look so drained? When I was your age, I could drink for three days and nights straight without a hitch.”
“Haha, I suppose I was simply born with a weak tolerance.”
“Tsk, tsk. A man should be able to hold his liquor.”
Now that they had established a personal bond, Count Renkai was incredibly chatty. Jeron, still nursing his hangover, felt like he was dying just trying to keep up with the conversation.
The territory war was to take place on the Farrow Plains.
By the time Jeron and Count Renkai arrived, Viscount Rebion was already waiting. The obese noble had apparently rushed to get there early, still mindful of the scolding he had received from the Count the day before.
“I greet His Excellency the Count!”
“When did you arrive?”
“I have been waiting here since an hour ago, Your Excellency!”
“What a ridiculous fellow.”
“Pardon...?”
“Did you arrive so early just to make me feel guilty for keeping you waiting? Why must you always be so difficult? Tsk, tsk.”
“I... I apologize.”
Ugh... You crazy old man!
Rebion barely managed to swallow the curse rising up his throat. He had arrived early today, only to be scolded for that too.
Had he arrived right on time, the Count would have accused him of disrespecting royal authority. Jeron had a hard time holding back his laughter as he watched the scene unfold.
This feels strangely familiar. I think I saw this kind of nonsense back in the military.
It was the exact type of military absurdity Jeron had witnessed during his service on Earth. He had thought senior soldiers only developed those verbal hazing skills because physical violence was banned, but it seemed the nature of petty tyrants remained the same across all eras.
Viscount Rebion was paying dearly for his past arrogance toward the Farrow family.
“Both parties, step forward.”
“Yes!”
Jeron and Viscount Rebion walked toward Count Renkai. While Jeron moved with light, agile steps, Viscount Rebion struggled to keep up due to his immense weight.
Predictably, the Count's voice boomed in anger.
“You slow, sluggish fool! What is wrong with you? Can you not move any faster? Do you mock my presence!”
“I will correct my behavior immediately!”
Viscount Rebion sweated profusely. Finally, Jeron stood face-to-face with the fat noble.
Jeron tried his best to keep a straight face, but seeing the viscount looking so utterly miserable and intimidated, a small chuckle escaped his lips.
“Pfft.”
Rebion's face contorted in anger. Jeron quickly offered an excuse.
“Ah, my apologies. I drank far too much last night. Please understand.”
Grind!
Viscount Rebion gnashed his teeth. It was obvious to everyone that Jeron was mocking him. Regardless, the Count ignored Rebion's reaction and proceeded with the duel's formalities.
“This duel is conducted in the name of His Majesty the King. If either of you wishes to back out, speak now. I shall grant you this final chance.”
“...”
Neither Jeron nor Viscount Rebion took a step back. Both were absolutely confident in their victory.
“Very well. I shall step back. You may exchange your final words.”
Only when the Count stepped away did the tension between the two relax. As soon as their supervisor was out of earshot, Viscount Rebion sneered.
“Brother, do not resent me for this. You brought this upon yourself.”
“You shouldn't resent me either, brother. I warned you. Since you coveted my land, the protection of the Guardian Dragon will be invoked.”
“Hahaha! Do you still believe in such fairy tales?”
“I went all-in because I believe in it.”
“All-in... A fitting term.”
With that, the two retreated to their respective sides.
The contract had been signed, and the Royal Inspector had arrived to arbitrate. Since the agreement was officially notarized in the King's name, both sides had to accept the outcome like true nobles.
If anyone refused to honor the contract, it wouldn't end with mere dishonor; the royal army would march down to seize their lands and execute their entire lineage. Because of the gravity of the duel, the penalty for breach was absolute.
Jeron gripped the walkie-talkie tightly in his hand. Now, with the press of a single button, the Guardian Dragon's blessing would manifest.
The knights representing the Farrow and Rebion houses prepared themselves.
While the Farrow side put their faith in the dragon's protection, Viscount Rebion relied on sheer martial prowess. He was certain that Burcain, a knight renowned as undefeated in the north, would secure his victory.
“Sir Burcain! Win this, and your path to greatness is assured. Not only will I grant you a manor, but once I am elevated to the rank of Count, you shall become a landed noble yourself.”
“I place my trust in you, my Lord!”
Burcain von Aschlich, the commander of the Rebion knights, was a promising talent. He was a typical fallen noble striving to restore his family's honor through military service.
Burcain had no doubt of his victory, especially since his opponent was Sir Garcia, whose golden hair fluttered in the wind.
Nothing but a pretty face! This will be over in an instant.
Burcain had heard rumors about Garcia. His reputation had spread far beyond the Farrow territory, and it was well known that several maidens in the neighboring lands had wept because of his philandering ways.
To think they would send a mere playboy instead of Sir Jenald, the strongest knight of the Farrow family.
Watching from afar, Viscount Rebion shared the same sentiment.
“Ha! They sent Garcia?”
“Yes, my Lord! The duel is as good as won. Garcia is decent with a sword, but he is leagues below Sir Burcain.”
“I truly cannot comprehend what goes on inside Jeron Farrow's head. He is utterly baffling.”
Viscount Rebion shook his head, dismissing the thought. Now that the contract was notarized by the Royal Inspector, the victor would claim vast lands and resources.
In a few years, he might even annex the entire Farrow territory and rise to the rank of Count. Did Jeron truly not understand the risk he was taking?
While Garcia was somewhat known as a knight, he was far more famous for his womanizing. It was said that even the female knight, Sir Leila, had once beaten him half to death for his antics. Sending such a man as their champion was laughable.
The viscount's advisors chimed in, equally relaxed.
“If Jeron Farrow wishes to hand over his land and wealth on a silver platter, we have no reason to refuse. Perhaps the foolish boy truly considers you his brother.”
“Ha! Indeed. I shall worry no further.”
Jeron and Viscount Rebion signaled from a distance. Once both sides were ready, the flag bearers raised their flags.
Flutter!
Whoosh!
The moment the duel began, Sir Burcain charged toward Garcia with incredible speed. His agility was truly remarkable.
Crack!
His momentum was fierce, but in that split second, Sir Burcain's body suddenly flew backward as his head shattered into pieces.
Thud.
“...”
The wind howled across the desolate plains.
Only the headless corpse of Sir Burcain lay on the ground, killed instantly by an unseen force. It was as if divine retribution had struck him down the moment he ran toward Sir Garcia.
It happened right before their eyes, yet it was entirely unbelievable.
Viscount Rebion stood frozen, unable to process what had just occurred. A proper duel required at least a clash of blades, but their champion's head had exploded mid-charge as if struck by lightning.
Magic?
Neither territory possessed a mage. Even if magic had been used, there should have been some trace of mana.
An arrow?
No one had fired a bow. Besides, an arrow would have lodged itself in the skull, not obliterated the entire head.
“This... This is impossible!”
Viscount Rebion jumped to his feet, the blood draining from his face. His massive frame wobbled, and he would have fallen if his knights hadn't quickly supported him.
Thump! Thump!
As the reality of the situation set in, Rebion's heart hammered against his ribs. It felt as though he had wagered his entire fortune on a single bet and lost everything in an instant.
The all-in Jeron Farrow had spoken of.
But the one who had been cleaned out was Rebion himself.
“What is the meaning of this! This makes no sense!”
“Bwahaha!”
While Viscount Rebion raged in disbelief, Jeron Farrow walked forward with a bright smile. He knelt toward his territory and bowed deeply.
“O Guardian Dragon! Thank you! Thanks to your grace, our family has been granted glory!”