Chapter 65
Chapter 65
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 65
Chapter Title: Duel
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“The duelists, step forward!”
The promised two days flew by in an instant. But since then, I'd been deliberately avoiding her. Every time I saw her, it stirred up confusion. The little kid I'd played with as a child was now the lady of a count's family? What kind of cheap novel plot was this?
'Ash-gray hair? How do you know that?'
Edward had confirmed it himself—the lady had been adopted by the count, and as a child, she had ash-gray hair and ash-gray eyes. There was no denying it now. Come to think of it, Ren... Lenia. The names were awfully similar, weren't they?
But I didn't say, I'm that big brother who took care of you when you were little. What good would bringing up playing with her as a kid do? Gain some worldly glory? She'd probably just look at me like I was crazy, and that'd be the best-case scenario.
We were both too young back then. She probably didn't even remember. Even if she did, I'd just come off as some sleazy guy clinging to old memories to get close.
Better to leave it at something like, Glad I didn't have to go through the hassle of finding you, or Nice to see you've made it big. That was the reason I'd wanted to find her in the first place—just curiosity about whether she was doing well.
“Viscount Lucas Kyle! Step forward!”
More importantly, it was time to focus on the duel. Though I hadn't received any sword training from the lady during that time, I'd sparred with Edward, so I was confident against anyone.
“What's that sword?”
“They say it's a two-hander.”
“No way... He's swinging that thing around?”
The nobles gathered to watch the duel were making a fuss, having never seen such a ridiculously huge sword like mine before. And now it was Viscount Loban's turn.
“Viscount Loban Karna! Step forward!”
They said he was a swordsman, not a knight. What kind of sword would he...
“A rapier?”
He stepped out with a rapier. That iron skewer of a sword. He knew I had a two-hander and still brought a rapier? Was he insane?
I wasn't the only one who thought that— a rapier could never match a two-hander. Hell, it struggled against even a standard longsword.
Rapiers had a reputation as self-defense weapons at best, and that wasn't without reason. They were designed solely for that purpose. The nobles shared the sentiment, chattering about the rapier regardless of their swordsmanship knowledge.
“He's mad. A rapier against a two-hander?”
“I heard Viscount Loban was a master swordsman, but a rapier?”
“Ah!”
Right then, amid the nobles' clamor, one snapped his fingers. With a sudden look of realization, he spoke up.
“Viscount Loban comes from a fencing club. And those fencing clubs only use rapiers.”
***
Viscount Loban brimmed with confidence. It didn't waver even against a two-hander. Among those he'd defeated before were knights. Though he'd never faced a two-hander, he'd beaten longsword users multiple times, so defeat wasn't on his mind.
“Madness... A rapier against a two-hander...?”
He ignored the clueless knightly nobles calling him crazy. As if those brutish knight-born aristocrats could appreciate the rapier's elegance.
In fact, he'd proposed the duel without armor to maximize the rapier's advantages. He knew full well a rapier struggled against an armored opponent.
A two-hander... Fitting for a lowly origin, wielding such an undignified blade.
He eyed Kyle's sword with disgust. A crude weapon like that. A longsword might be tolerable, but this was a battlefield tool, not for a noble duel.
The two stood in the training yard, glaring at each other. Rapier versus two-hander. Viscount Loban moved first.
Shiiik!
The rapier thrust toward Kyle's chest with nimble speed. The unpredictable timing and velocity would be hard for most to parry, but...
Clang!
Kyle's ready two-hander deflected it upward without missing a beat. His blade then swung wide through the air, forcing distance between them.
Hmm...
After knocking the sword away and creating space, Kyle swung his blade to keep Loban at bay while retreating to reset his stance. A rapier was no match for a two-hander. Compared to the two-hander's halberd-like length and weight, the rapier was little more than a dagger.
Moreover, from parrying it earlier, even the rapier's strengths—its light speed and flexibility—were manageable. Loban scowled, flicking his rapier this way and that. He aimed to dazzle Kyle's eyes with flashy moves and lunge in one shot.
Cling! Clang!
A light, tinkling clash unlike heavy sword strikes echoed across the yard. A brief exchange. Then Kyle pressed forward.
Tang!
The moment blades met properly, the rapier bent sharply, as if about to snap. Against the two-handers encroaching pressure and power, Loban could only backpedal.
He was outmatched. Trying to close in invited that monstrously long blade slicing toward him like it would cleave him in two. Blocking it bent his fragile rapier on the slightest graze.
Damn it all!
Unable to admit he was on the defensive, Loban swung his rapier irritably. He feinted with dazzling flourishes to befuddle Kyle's eyes, then retreated to the yard's edge.
How to break this disadvantage? How to close the gap? Swordsmanship aside, he was losing in every aspect. His victories over a few longsword knights were worthless now. This was a different beast entirely—in length and weight.
“How long do you plan to run? You'll end up fleeing beyond the capital at this rate. Haha!”
Kyle's mocking words boiled Loban's blood, but he had to concede. He was being overwhelmed. No, it was more than that—he was under constant threat of death whenever that brute sword targeted him.
“They say birds of a feather... You even flee like your friend. Especially that running form.”
“...”
Loban raised his rapier in response. Instead of measuring distance, diving in for an attack might work. Thought was long; action swift. He pulled his blade back into a classic thrust stance.
“Hup!”
As Kyle approached with his sword resting on his shoulder, Loban shouted and lunged blade-first. Impressive form, worthy of his swordsman title among nobles. But it didn't connect.
Crack!
Kyle twisted aside from the incoming lunge and smashed the rapier-wielding viscount's head with his sword's pommel. Loban's blade missed Kyle's body by a paper's thickness.
“Urk...”
The mace-like impact to his head sent Loban screaming to the ground, rolling. His brain rattled, balance lost. Even then, Kyle had held back—or his skull would've shattered.
“Ooh...”
“Was the rapier too much of a gamble after all?”
“Viscount Loban was way too careless.”
The outcome was decided. Loban, properly clocked in the head, showed no sign of rising. The referee checked him, then had servants carry him to his room. Turning to the nobles, he declared,
“The victor of the duel is Viscount Lucas Kyle! I affirm this was a fair, honorable duel without deceit!”
Clap clap clap—
The nobles applauded the announcement. A token of thanks for an entertaining duel after so long. Truth be told, they dueled or watched in their youth; now, what point was there? No gains in fighting.
“Viscount Lucas is young, but strong indeed.”
“Didn't he swing that sword like a twig?”
“My daughter's of marriageable age...”
As the nobles laughed and chatted amiably, Alfred—who'd watched the duel—approached Kyle, clapping. Smiling, he spoke.
“Haha! Impressive skill. I hear you're the hero of the Sarisa-Cligrove war.”
“You're too kind.”
“Nonsense! Thanks for the show. It let me rest a bit today. I'd love to stay, but...”
Alfred glanced at the knights waiting behind him. A soft sigh escaped his lips.
“Time's short; I must go. Congratulations on your victory.”
With the duel over, Alfred had to return to his hellish lessons. But before leaving, he shared good news with Kyle.
“Oh, and you came for a fief grant? I mentioned it to His Majesty, so expect good tidings soon. Maybe even today.”
Chuckling as a small reward for the entertainment, Alfred was escorted away by his knights.
As the most important figure of the duel departed for the palace with his escorts, the lingering nobles dispersed in groups. Soon, only Lenia and Kyle remained in the yard.
“Sir Lucas.”
Kyle turned at her voice, hesitating at Lenia's face. His emotions were a tangled mess. The lady he served was that girl who'd trailed after him, calling him big brother. Back then, she'd followed him everywhere, shouting “Oppa!”
“Sir? Are you hurt?”
When Kyle didn't reply, Lenia eyed him worriedly. Despite his overwhelming win, she fretted over a possible rapier injury. He shook his head hastily.
“Sorry. Just lost in thought...”
Silence returned. Lenia hesitated, lips pursed, then carefully voiced what she'd prepared.
“I don't know what had you so deep in thought, but... thank you. You saved our house's honor. I keep relying on you.”
In the end, she extended her hand first to dissolve the awkwardness between them. Kyle snapped to at her voice. He'd resolved to let the past go, yet here he was, stuck on it.
For a vassal, having one's lord offer a hand first was improper unless bound by deep trust.
Belatedly collecting himself, he dropped to one knee. Looking up at Lenia, their eyes met—her turquoise irises against his black.
Meeting her gaze, he smiled and said,
“Even without me, Lady, you would've challenged that viscount yourself. Cligrove's greatest sword is right here before me.”
The two lingered in the training yard, talking at length. What he'd agonized and avoided felt foolish now—their bond warmed quickly, just like old times.