Duchess Dieta (4)
The duel trial was held in the very heart of the Empire.
With the man at its center being who he was, the stands stood packed without a single empty seat.
Among the throng were not only gossips and nobles, but knights as well in great number—renowned swordsmen and officers of knightly orders who had come expressly to witness the famed Free Knight’s skill with their own eyes.
Arms folded, they watched Najin.
A youth who had risen to Sword Seeker at a mere eighteen, received the title of Free Knight at nineteen, and now held five stars.
They knew there was no room left to doubt his skill. How could anyone question the prowess of one backed by Sir Gerd of the Empire’s First Seat and by His Majesty the Emperor himself? They had not the slightest intention of diminishing the achievements carved as stars into the heavens.
But…
Understanding a fact with the mind and truly accepting it were two entirely different things.
Most of Najin’s accomplishments had been forged in the Outer Land.
It was no easy matter for the knights of the Continent to grasp what he had achieved in that distant waste. What even was an undead who had lived for centuries? A beast that swallowed stars? A transcendent who commanded hundreds of clowns?
Imagination failed them. It never quite landed. It felt like trying to catch clouds in both hands.
Knights who had set foot in the Outer Land even once understood how great those deeds truly were. Those who never had could not quite accept just how magnificent Najin’s feats had been.
And so they thought:
He’s impressive, certainly—but he’s still a Sword Seeker, isn’t he?
In the end he remained a being placed inside the same circle as themselves. Even if skill differed among Sword Seekers, how severe could the gap really be? Since he had reached the realm of Sprouting, he was probably upper-tier among them—that was as far as their thinking stretched.
It was not an entirely wrong assessment.
Nor were they looking down on Najin out of spite.
Objectively speaking, Najin was a swordsman who had only become a Sword Seeker less than two years earlier. Calling even such a man upper-tier among Sword Seekers was already a generous evaluation, offered with respect for the Free Knight.
They say Arvenia fields four Sword Seekers? Then it ought to make for a fairly decent duel.
It would be a good fight.
Several of the watching knights thought as much. Most people try to understand the world inside the bounds of their own common sense. Within those bounds, the speculation was only natural.
And so—
KRAAAAAAAAAAANG!
The instant they saw Guyot slammed into the wall at the very start of the duel, their eyes could only fly wide.
“Wha…”
“Just now?”
“What just happened? Did I miss it alone?”
“I didn’t catch it properly either.”
“What in the world…?”
They murmured with eyes still stretched open. Something had just occurred that their common sense could not contain.
Guyot, knight of Arvenia.
A man who had reached Sword Seeker more than a decade ago, famous for tenaciously holding out against superior foes and dragging every fight into a war of attrition. Among knights he was also known as “the one you never want to duel.”
Endurance. Grit. The stubbornness to cling like a burr.
A knight notorious for all of it. That Guyot had been taken down in a single blow. The gazes fixed on the man embedded in the wall wavered. Most of them had not even been able to follow the strike Najin unleashed with their eyes.
The signal announcing the start of the duel had fallen—
and almost in the same breath Guyot had been launched like a cannonball into the wall. Only that result remained, as if the process in between had been snipped clean away with scissors.
“…”
The knights seated in the highest places.
Only those who held officer posts in renowned orders—Sword Seekers of long standing—had been able to properly see the blow Najin delivered.
At the instant the duel began, Najin had closed on Guyot; the moment the shield rose, he struck upward. There was no sophisticated technique in it, no profound principle of the sword.
Simply—the basics.
The most fundamental of strikes, yet its power was anything but light. In a single blow Najin had shattered the shield Guyot prided himself on. Then, using the rebound of his aura, he had sent the man flying toward the wall.
All of it had taken place in less than a second.
“Huh.”
The veteran knights laughed.
Some with hollow chuckles, some stroking their beards and exhaling in disbelief, others simply nodding. All of them thought much the same thing.
The young man’s reputation had not been exaggerated in the slightest.
If anything it had been understated; there was no inflation in the rumors surrounding Najin—they accepted that now. Because this was a duel that did not take lives, Guyot had merely “been slammed into a wall.” Had it been a duel to the death…
He’d be dead.
Being able to smash a shield in one blow meant being able to cleave through a shield in one blow. In a fight with lives on the line, Guyot’s head would have been soaring through the sky the moment it began.
The first duel, over in an instant.
Silence settled over the stands as Najin lightly flicked the tip of his sword. He still stood in the arena. Expressionless, eyes coldly settled, he looked upon the Arvenia knights awaiting their turn.
Prove it. That you are knights.
The moment their eyes met, the Arvenia knights finally understood what it meant. Standing before them was a Free Knight.
The existence that made a knight a knight.
The Free Knight was posing a question.
Are you knights?
Then reclaim the honor of those of you who have been insulted by your master. Simply enduring, holding out for the next turn—that will not do. Come at me ready to die. Step onto the stage and pour out everything you have.
He was demanding they do exactly that.
Harsh.
But that was the nature of proof to begin with.
Najin’s gaze, which had been directed at the knights next in line, naturally came to rest on the man seated in the very last place.
Knight Commander Griffin.
Only Griffin was looking straight at Najin.
The duels continued.
After the first, the Arvenia knights changed their strategy. They had realized that Najin’s skill far exceeded every expectation they had held.
“What kind of monster is that man?”
“Watch your tongue. There are many ears listening.”
“But he is a monster, isn’t he? Guyot went down in one hit. I can’t believe it even after seeing it with my own two eyes. We know better than anyone—how tenacious a fellow Guyot is.”
“If you mean that friend over there foaming at the mouth, then yes, I know him well.”
“This is driving me insane. What Sword Seeker in the world is like that? This is just ridiculous…”
The next man to take the stage, Holt, shook his head. He was a knight with little interest in pride or honor. He simply wished for his peaceful life of collecting a salary from the ducal house to continue forever.
A knight’s honor had been insulted?
What did that matter?
Honor didn’t pay.
With that lighthearted attitude, Holt stood in the arena with no firm stance at all. He looked as if he wanted the duel over quickly so he could leave. If Guyot had held out a little longer he might have tried something himself, but…
Seeing even that Guyot go down in one hit, it looks hopeless… Do I really need to try hard?
If he was going to lose anyway, better to lose without looking too bad—just enough to save face. With that complacent mindset, Holt opened his mouth.
“Knight of Arvenia, Holt.”
“Free Knight, Najin.”
Najin furrowed his brow.
Then he adjusted his grip on the sword with a little spin. The duel began right after, but unlike before, Najin did not move. He simply glared at Holt with his sword hanging loose.
He wants me to come first?
Holt hesitated a moment, then charged.
Bang!
He kicked off the ground and came on. To ordinary eyes his speed looked fast and his movements earnest. The veteran knights, however, clicked their tongues as they watched.
“Spoiling a fine match.”
Najin felt exactly the same.
He did not face the charging Holt as a knight. With a single step to the side and a tilt of his body he slipped the thrust.
Then he simply reached out and seized the wrist of the hand gripping the sword.
Holding Holt’s wrist in his left hand, he swung the pommel of the reverse-gripped blade in his right like a hammer. The longsword’s pommel slammed into Holt’s elbow.
“Guh…!”
With a crack the arm bent the wrong way. As Holt bit back a groan, Najin kicked him hard in the abdomen. Having lost his sword, he tumbled ungracefully across the arena floor.
“…”
Expressionless, Najin tossed the dropped sword at the man’s feet.
Pick up your sword and stand.
Or leave the arena yourself.
As if he had no intention of respecting someone who had not stepped onto the dueling ground as a knight, Najin glared at him. Clutching his reverse-bent arm, Holt ground his teeth. He snatched the sword from the floor and charged again.
Crunch. Crack. Thwack!
With every limb broken, Holt was carried out.
“Knight of Arvenia, Konev.”
The next man to take the stage trembled with fear, yet still gritted his teeth and charged. Sensing his resolve to land even a single blow somehow, Najin answered him with a clean, decisive strike as well.
In an instant three matches were over.
One remained.
Griffin stepped up onto the stage.
Griffin had fought Najin before.
Before the boy had become a Sword Seeker—back when he was still only a Sword Expert—Griffin had clashed with him. He remembered the circumstances of that day with perfect clarity.
And the conversation they had shared then as well.
“I will not ask your name.”
Griffin had said that to him.
“His Grace the Duke has ordered me to kill you, and I will simply follow that order.”
“Even so, I say this because—”
“I respect your choice.”
At the time Griffin had been carrying out a mission, yet he had felt no anger or irritation toward the boy who barred his path. Even now, after the mission had ended in failure and he had borne the responsibility for it, that impression remained unchanged.
The will the boy had shown in that place, his choice, had been worthy of respect.
There had merely been a difference in position.
Now that time had passed and they were to duel again, Griffin steadied his breath. Back then a boy of no consequence; now a young man who had made his name known across the entire Continent. Facing the Free Knight, he opened his mouth.
“I am Griffin.”
Thump—he pounded his chest and cried out.
“Knight Commander of Arvenia, Griffin.”
“Free Knight, Najin.”
Najin answered by raising his sword in salute as well.
After the exchange of greetings, Griffin pressed the helmet he had removed firmly down over his head. Within the steel, his gaze grew still.
The moment the signal announcing the start of the duel fell—
without a shred of hesitation, Griffin unleashed the strongest technique he possessed.
Thud!
The foot he planted was the root of a great tree driven into the earth. Standing upon the ground, his body was the trunk of that great tree. The sword he raised was a branch of the great tree stretching toward the sky.
The swordsmanship of the war hero Arta Triguardian.
Crimson aura bearing the mindscape of a thorn tree filled the stage. He entertained no petty thoughts of conserving strength, limiting his output, or hesitating to reveal his secret technique before so many spectators.
Simply—full power.
You told me to prove a knight’s honor.
I cannot prove my honor.
For it is decided not by me, but by the master I serve.
So all I can show is—
Griffin swung the massive thorn tree.
—my pride alone.
At the sight of the thorn tree crashing down like a wave, for the first time since the duels began, Najin smiled.
Thoom.
Najin stamped the ground.
The spear of the Crossed Star that he had planted in the earth without drawing it throughout the three previous duels answered his footfall, springing up from the ground into the air.
In one seamless motion—snatching the spear and thrusting it forward without distinction—the technique was complete the instant he seized it.
Ramming.
A storm raged from the tip of the spear.
KRAKAKAKAKAKAK!
Before the raging storm every last thorn tree snapped. As the crimson aura scattered like broken branches in every direction, Najin hurled the spear into the air and began running toward Griffin.
“Kh…!”
Swept up by the storm and flung to the ground, Griffin rose with a roll. Gritting his teeth, he rooted himself in the earth once more and drew out his aura.
The same situation as their past duel.
But the positions were completely reversed.
Back then it had been Najin challenging the impossible; now it was Griffin. Gone was his usual static, rigid demeanor—Griffin roared as he swung his sword at Najin.