Chapter 104
Chapter 104
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 104
Chapter Title: Results of the Duel
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I think I mentioned it once before. Swordsmanship is like chess. And the longer the reach, the more advantageous it is in combat. In that regard, this man named Aston was a tricky opponent.
Of course, that was back then. After clashing with that monstrous elf in red armor not long ago, I didn't feel much toward him. I was just annoyed at Wayne for suddenly barging into my party and causing a scene.
Crunch!
As I gripped my gauntlet tightly with that thought, the pommel and gauntlet scraped together, producing a grating metallic screech.
"I'll go first!"
Aston struck first. He lunged like a wild beast, swinging his axe-spear ferociously. The axe-spear, gleaming as if lit by firelight, clashed with my sword in an instant.
Clang!
"Ooh!"
A savage metallic ring echoed through the party hall, and the surrounding nobles erupted in cheers. No matter how it had come about, it was a fine spectacle for them.
I parried the crude baron's spearwork, then smoothly twisted my blade to deflect the spear. From there, I swung diagonally with a snapping motion. I usually aimed to end things moderately, but this time, breaking an arm or leg seemed fair enough.
Tang!
Even so, he wasn't just any proxy for Wayne—he blocked my sword with the axe blade of his spear. As the shaft trembled violently, he shook it even harder, whipping that destructive weapon at me furiously.
Chaeng! Kakak!
Even with armor on, a solid hit from that axe-spear wouldn't be negligible. I let it glance off my armor, and the axe blade roughly scraped across it.
"As expected!"
He let out a short exclamation and slammed the axe-spear even more aggressively. The clash of metal on metal, the chilling whoosh of axe and sword slicing through the air. I closed the distance, pressing my sword against his, then rammed him with a headbutt.
"Krak!"
The sudden impact snapped his head back, but even then, he swung his axe-spear to fend off my attack.
Kak! Kakak!
"Hup!"
Like flowing water amid a raging storm, the two-hander's swordsmanship flowed smoothly and flexibly—contrary to its brutish image. But it was incomparably heavier than any other blade. And once a spear gains distance, stripping it away is incredibly tough.
Baron Aston fought valiantly. He had skill and strength, no doubt. The problem was, it wasn't enough to match mine. After a few initial tests of strength that left him completely overpowered, he tried to keep his distance and rely on reach. Naturally, I wasn't about to let him.
Thud!
"Guhk!"
He staggered back from my shoulder charge slamming into his chest. Not just whipping him with the flat of my blade, but smashing his helmet's pommel into his head produced a resounding thunk like beating a tin can, forcing a gasp from Aston.
This brawling style might actually be more familiar to him.
Kang!
I blocked his poorly powered strike with my helmet and laughed.
"Is that all you've got!"
The man in the baron's guise gnashed his teeth at my words and shouted irritably.
"It's not over yet!"
Bam!
The moment he spoke and relaxed his neck, I headbutted his skull, making him reel. In that gap, my two-hander came down, smashing his shoulder.
Krunch!
It landed solidly.
"Kraaak!"
The shoulder pauldron crumpled pitifully against my blade, as if its material meant nothing. The blow from my two-hander, more like a mace than a sword, produced a clear crunch of denting metal and breaking bone from his shoulder.
Aston screamed, but even in his agony, he didn't loosen his grip on the spear.
I leisurely spun my blade and said,
"For a knight, that's some sloppy spearwork. Are you really a knight? Or even a noble, for that matter?"
"It's not over!"
Provoked by my taunt, he charged again, but with his shoulder wrecked, the skill gap was clear.
Unable to properly wield the spear, he kept leaving himself open to attacks. And with no strength in his arm, even his blocks made his hands tremble as if he'd drop it. In the end, he knelt before me.
"Urk... Damn it..."
Even subdued, his eyes blazed with fighting spirit. He seemed more gladiator than knight. His temper suggested he might not even be a real noble.
Whatever the case, the duel was decided. I looked down at the kneeling Aston, then glanced at Count Lagos. The count hurriedly shouted,
"The winner of this duel has been decided! The victor is Viscount Lucas! Glory to His Imperial Majesty and the Empire!"
The sudden, brief duel sparked by Viscount Wayne was over. Servants rushed to help the kneeling Aston up and carried him off for treatment.
"A splendid duel, my lord."
"I know a talented young man among my acquaintances. If it's alright, might he squire under you, Viscount?"
The nobles swarmed me, the unwitting provider of entertainment. I wanted to chat and laugh with them, but I had business first. I walked up to Wayne, whose face was twisted in fury, and looked down at him.
"What are you doing? Get up already."
"What nonsense... If you're mocking me..."
Wayne seemed thoroughly deluded. He'd requested the duel first, and I'd accepted his unprovoked disruption without demanding anything. Now it was his turn to honor my request, wasn't it?
Wayne bowed his head with a sour expression, as if granting a favor. When I grabbed him as he turned to leave, he looked at me questioningly and said,
"What do you think you're doing? Where do you think you're going?"
"What do you mean? Haven't I apologized?"
I scoffed at his brazen words and glared.
"You vastly overrate yourself, sir. Your apology holds no value whatsoever."
As Wayne's eyes widened at the insult, about to retort, I flung my gauntlet at him.
"Let's have at it. I challenge you to a duel. No hiding behind proxies like a rat—face me properly."
His eyes flew wide at the sudden challenge.
"What are you saying...!"
"I forgave your rudeness and accepted your challenge, so now it's your turn to accept mine, isn't it?"
As Kyle said this, scanning the room, the nobles watched with intrigued expressions. Having just thought the show was over, they now sensed a new one brewing and cheered him on.
"Indeed! Viscount Lucas accepted Viscount Wayne's duel without conditions—fair's fair!"
"What kind of man hides behind a proxy?"
"Let's see Viscount Wayne's skill!"
As the nobles chimed in, Wayne's previously twisted face flushed with panic. He'd never imagined fighting himself. He'd only requested the duel to humiliate Kyle, even resorting to theater.
Of course, his proxy's defeat was unexpected, turning the humiliation on him. He rolled his eyes, scrambling for an excuse.
"I don't have armor or a sword..."
"I'll lend you mine!"
"I brought some decent armor..."
Far from dissuading him, the nobles egged it on. Wayne ground his teeth—even some old allies among them now watched silently.
He knew he'd acted outrageously. The point was to dent Kyle's reputation through a proxy duel, and ideally stir trouble for an excuse.
That's why he'd borrowed Count Osland's hound, using the baron's name... only for it to shatter so pathetically.
His gaze shifted to Kyle and the massive greatsword he held. An arm-thick blade as long as a man. Wayne had learned fencing for refinement, but he knew he couldn't face this giant.
He might get his head split before even surrendering. Sweat beaded on his back as displeasure showed plainly.
'This brute mercenary means to kill me! He's holding a grudge!'
He belatedly recalled Kyle's ex-mercenary background. A normal noble might apologize and let it slide.
"I didn't think you were such a coward you couldn't even pick up a sword..."
Kyle smirked and taunted, but Wayne didn't bite. Pride required a head to feel it.
With Count Osland's hound fallen and Kyle challenging him directly, the fear he'd briefly lost in overconfidence returned.
"..."
"What are you waiting for? Take up a sword."
Kyle whetted the dulled blade from the last duel, prodding Wayne. Wayne's eyes fixed on the enormous sword. But he'd started this farce—he had to follow through now.
"...Give me a sword."
In the end, Wayne took the borrowed sword with trembling hands. A plain longsword. Whether longsword or rapier, weapon type meant nothing now.
His mind held one thought: Surrender before that monstrous greatsword cleaved his head.
"Not wearing armor? I've never heard of Viscount Wayne's swordsmanship, yet you say no need for armor... Guess I should be on guard."
Under the protection of counts and marquises, Wayne had briefly shed his fear. Now, he wanted to cry.
Thankfully, Wayne survived to leave. He surrendered the instant the duel began. Thus, the greatsword stopped short of splitting his head, ending it quickly.
Even so, with the duel safely over, he stared blankly at the blade halted before his face for a while.
"Viscount, pull yourself together."
He snapped out of it only after Arthur helped him into the carriage. Regaining his senses, he kicked Arthur in the chest.
"Arthur! You damned bastard! Didn't you say you could win?!"
Arthur—Aston—bowed his head. His shoulder was bandaged.
"My apologies. And not using my main weapon was a big factor. The axe-spear was just something I learned briefly..."
Wayne spat on him and snapped irritably.
"Enough! I'll report this to Count Osland, so expect that! Called His Excellency's fierce hound, my ass—just a pup!"
Arthur quietly eyed Wayne invoking the count. He retrieved his true weapon from behind the carriage—a single-edged axe with ornate engravings. Wayne recoiled at the menacing sight.
"Wh-what are you doing?! Don't tell me...!"
But Arthur's words differed from his fears.
"You go ahead. I'll kill Viscount Lucas and follow."