Guildmaster Dieta (3)
Agesio Arvenia was the eldest son of the ducal house.
Until only a short while ago he had been the leading candidate to inherit the headship, the center of every gathering he entered, a figure who drew every eye. The backing of House Arvenia had always upheld him; he had never known neglect, and none had ever dared offer him discourtesy. To a man like Agesio, the present situation was simply incomprehensible.
Is Sir Griffin not a knight of House Arvenia? Did he not swear to serve Arvenia alone and devote his full loyalty to Arvenia?
Why, then, was that same Griffin bowing his head to someone else—and at an angle he would offer only to Agesio’s own father, Osman? Agesio’s eyes flew wide.
Of course, had Griffin bowed to almost anyone else, Agesio might have thought, Sir Griffin must have his reasons, and swallowed his discomfort…
But the problem was the recipient.
Griffin was on his knees before that damned woman and the youth who had already humiliated Agesio once before.
The moment he saw it, Agesio lost all command of his emotions. Inferiority became the fuse; the blaze that followed consumed his reason. Action and speech outran judgment by a full stride.
“What is the meaning of this impropriety, Sir Griffin!”
Agesio’s roar rang through the dining hall. Every noble at table turned to stare.
“You are a knight of Arvenia—a knight who swore loyalty beneath the name of Arvenia.”
Whether berating his family’s own knight before so many witnesses was wise never even crossed his mind.
“What knight abandons his lord and bows his head to another? Have you forgotten the knightly code, Sir? A knight is, by nature…!”
The knightly code.
The instant those words left Agesio’s mouth, Griffin’s head snapped around. The man who was always composed, who never made a scene, whirled with frantic urgency to look at his master. His eyes screamed shut your mouth—but Agesio never noticed.
“He is a sword that serves his lord with absolute loyalty, one who bows only before his master and only for his master’s sake…”
In the end Agesio recited the knightly code and his own conception of knighthood—an extremely aristocratic, noble-centered view.
It was not a view unique to him. Ask any ten nobles “What is a knight?” and eight would give the same answer.
But add one premise, and all ten would clamp their mouths shut or answer with affected solemnity, “Is a knight not one who upholds honor and pride?”
That premise was simple.
If one stood before the knights of knights—the Atanga Knights—
Or before one who held a similar title.
Najin belonged to the latter.
From the moment Agesio uttered “the knightly code,” Najin’s eyes narrowed. Catching that gaze, Griffin went deathly pale.
Griffin knew exactly how absurd the present situation was.
Najin was a Free Knight. Free Knights were the guardians of knighthood itself, living symbols every knight looked up to. To prattle about the knightly code before such a figure was tantamount to suicide.
What became of the nobles who once spouted the knightly code before Atanga?
He remembered their ends had never been good. Beyond mere legal consequences, the real offense was the insult to the title of knight itself—the sort of slight that could rouse the collective wrath of everyone bound by that name.
“Where are you looking, Sir Griffin? I am speaking to you!”
Griffin desperately wanted to roar at him to shut up, but with astonishing self-control he settled for chopping the back of Agesio’s neck with the edge of his hand. Channeling mana into the blow, he dropped his young master cold.
Even if it meant laying hands on his own lord, he could not allow the matter to escalate further.
“Ugh…”
With a final croak Agesio went limp. Griffin settled him into the neighboring chair, then knelt once more before Najin.
“On behalf of my lord, I apologize for the discourtesy.”
He had prevented the incident from growing worse, yet spilled water could not be gathered again. Griffin felt his insides burn.
There were many watching eyes.
They had made the mistake.
And they had handed the other side a perfect pretext.
Their political position was wretched. It was as if a sharp sword had been placed in the opponent’s hand, complete with full justification to swing it at them. Griffin looked up at the one who now gripped that hilt.
A girl regarded them with indifferent eyes. Those coolly settled golden irises reminded him of his own lord. The girl who had inherited the golden eyes of Arvenian blood curved her eyes into crescent moons.
Born merchant, born negotiator, born politician.
She who had seized the position of the empire’s greatest merchant in less than a year would never let such an opportunity slip. Though no blades or spears flew here, in the political arena where pretext itself was the weapon, that girl was nothing short of a Sword Master.
“Knight Commander of Ducal House Arvenia, Sir Griffin.”
Dieta opened her mouth.
She spoke, precisely naming Griffin’s affiliation and status. It was like combatants declaring their names before a duel.
A signal that she was about to attack.
Griffin swallowed the sigh that tried to escape and straightened his posture, hoping to evade even a fraction of the coming blow.
Agesio awoke about an hour later. He sat up in a hurry and looked around. His own room. The sun had fully set; darkness filled the chamber. Clutching his throbbing head, Agesio blinked.
He was certain he had been reprimanding Griffin, but nothing after that remained in his memory.
As he groped for those lost recollections—
“You have awakened.”
“Wha—!”
The voice from beside him made Agesio start. He hurriedly lit the ore-lamp at his bedside and shone it toward the sound. There sat Griffin, perched on a chair with his hands folded.
“…What is it, Sir Griffin.”
“First, I apologize for laying hands upon your person, Young Master. I will accept any punishment related to that matter, but there is a report I must deliver first.”
Agesio’s mood was far from pleasant. Yet with his head cooler, he decided he should at least listen and nodded with a look as if he had bitten into something foul.
“Speak, then.”
“To put the conclusion first: House Arvenia must undergo a trial by combat against Free Knight Sir Najin.”
“What? What nonsense is that?”
Agesio’s eyes went wide.
Griffin exhaled a long breath and continued.
“Young Master, you committed a grave discourtesy against Free Knight Sir Najin. Furthermore, House Arvenia has a prior record of illegal actions against the Dieta Trading Company. At the time the company’s scale was small, so noble society did not make much of it… but if one chooses to make an issue of it, it becomes an issue.”
What is that supposed to mean. Explain so I can understand—Agesio ordered as much, yet Griffin did not stop speaking.
“Past events have been reexamined, and the discourtesy you committed has given them a pretext.”
“I committed a discourtesy?”
Even as Agesio blinked stupidly, Griffin endured. This man is my lord’s son, one I must serve. Do not question, do not doubt, do not judge. Repeating his creed over and over, Griffin steadied his breathing.
“At best they are nothing but merchants. Their scale may have grown a little, but that does not raise their status. And that I was discourteous to that youth? The problem was you suddenly bowing your head! What discourtesy did I—”
“Listen carefully, Young Master.”
Griffin cut him off.
It was a rudeness he had never before committed.
“Even setting aside the fact that Guildmaster Dieta can no longer be treated as ‘a mere merchant,’ Sir Najin is a Free Knight.”
“I know that. In terms of status he is treated as my equal, is he not? Equal to the highest nobility…”
“That is merely administrative rank. If I may be so bold, Free Knights are not beings bound by class. They are not protected by rank; rather, when necessary, they make use of rank.”
To his blinking young master, Griffin explained.
“A Free Knight is an idol to every knight, a figure invested with a kind of symbolism. They hold the same title as the mythical knights who stood with the Founding Emperor.”
In an empire that prized tradition, what that meant needed no further words; it would only weary the mouth.
“There were not first nobles and then an empire; there was first an empire, and then nobles. And the empire is the nation founded by the Founding Emperor, the Knight-King Arthur, together with the Round Table and the Free Knights. Do you understand what that means?”
“…”
“To utter the words ‘What is a knight?’ in a public setting is to shoulder an enormous political burden.”
And Agesio had expounded on what a knight was before a throng of watching nobles—from an extremely aristocratic, noble-centric viewpoint, no less.
“To speak words that could be taken as an insult to knighthood before a Free Knight—the very idol of knights—is not a matter that can be lightly dismissed, Young Master.”
“M-must I apologize to that fellow, then?”
“If an apology could settle it, that would be fortunate. The problem is that it cannot.”
The conversation returned to the beginning.
“The prior illegal acts committed by House Arvenia, and the charge of ‘insulting knighthood before a Free Knight.’”
Only now properly grasping the situation, Agesio’s face began to drain of color.
“These are not charges the Young Master can bear alone. Therefore the matter has ballooned into one for which all of House Arvenia must take responsibility.”
“Which means…”
“A trial by combat. And even this, I would call a merciful measure. It was possible only because Sir Najin chose to step back one pace.”
Griffin let out a short sigh.
“This is the message from the Head of the House.”
Griffin said.
“Return to the main house.”
We will discuss the details then.
At those words, Agesio fainted.
The affair surrounding House Arvenia, the Dieta Trading Company, and Free Knight Najin spread across the entire empire overnight. And when the schedule for the trial by combat was announced, the people of the empire could only cock their heads in puzzlement.
Why handle a matter with such abundant evidence and such clear responsibility through a trial by combat?
Trial by combat was a method used when evidence was unclear; it did not fit this situation. Yet the words Najin spoke next made the imperial citizens understand.
“Insults are washed clean by the duel.”
“Honor and pride are proven by the sword.”
“That is the knightly code.”
By invoking the knightly code and chivalry, Agesio Arvenia had sullied the honor of knights. Arvenia had to prove that this had been a misspoken word, and that it did not represent the thinking of House Arvenia.
How was that to be proven?
Fight the duel. Before a Free Knight, let the knights of Ducal House Arvenia show that it is not so—show your honor and pride. Then we shall consider a merciful disposition regarding the outrages you have committed.
At Najin’s words the imperial people cheered. The knights, too, raved that it was a merciful measure and a choice worthy of a Free Knight. But to the parties upon whom the duel was laid, it was by no means an entirely merciful choice.
If they failed to prove it—
If, that is, they lost the duel in an unsightly fashion—
It was a trial by combat to be held before the eyes of the entire empire. Depending on the outcome, Arvenia could see the reputation it had built crash to the ground. Osman, head of House Arvenia, summoned every Sword Seeker of the family.
The rules of the duel were simple.
As many as you like may come.
Any knight belonging to Arvenia, take up your sword.
The rules Najin had specified were extremely advantageous to House Arvenia—and for that very reason, the risk they would bear if they lost unsightly was all the greater.
So time passed, and the day of the trial by combat arrived.
In the arena packed with spectators, amid cheers and applause, Najin stepped onto the stage.
“…”
The Free Knight’s coat fluttered. In his hand was a single sword; across his back he bore the Spear of the Crossed Star.
Najin drove the Spear of the Crossed Star down with a thud.
As the banner bound to its shaft fluttered, Najin spoke.
“Insults are washed clean by the duel.”
What Najin pronounced was the knightly code.
“Honor and pride are proven by the sword.”
Najin raised his sword.
“Take up your swords, and prove it.”
That you are knights.
The duel was declared. The first to ascend from the opposite side was one of the four Sword Seeker-class knights belonging to Arvenia.
“Free Knight, Najin.”
“Knight of Arvenia, Guyot.”
The knight gripping sword and shield—Guyot.
Guyot raised his shield in one hand and his sword in the other as he regarded Najin. If one were to name the most famous person in the empire of late, it would be the youth before him. Guyot had no intention of denying the feats that man had accomplished.
He would be strong, and Guyot himself could not win.
Yet for the sake of the knights who would fight after him, and after them, he meant to tire Najin even a little, and so Guyot drew up his mana.
However famous he may be, is he not still a fellow Sword Seeker? He is no Sword Master.
Then he would endure at least a little.
What Guyot was most confident in was endurance—dragging a fight into a prolonged battle. Guyot struck his shield with his sword—clang. The aura-clad shield glowed crimson.
Preparations were complete.
The one overseeing the duel, a knight of Atanga, announced the start.
And then—
BOOOOOOOOOOM!
At the very instant the duel began, Guyot was smashed into the wall.