The Battle Begins
Ethan's gaze had been fixed on Fabian's wrist for some time now, the one the old knight kept absently touching.
"Are you injured?"
"It's hardly worth calling an injury."
"Don't lie to me. Do you think I wouldn't notice something like that?"
If it had been anyone else, perhaps. But Ethan knew Fabian far too well.
Hiding anything from him was impossible.
Fabian felt both grateful and guilty that Ethan still worried about him even years after he had left.
Ethan's eyes sharpened.
"This duel is nothing less than a wager on the fate of the kingdom itself. What could you possibly gain by concealing an injury and stepping forward anyway?"
"Because Her Highness asked it of me."
"Our order has many fine knights. There are plenty of others who could go in your place!"
"I know your abilities well. Yet it is also true that only Diego and I have experience with single combat on the battlefield. Sending someone trustworthy for the final and most critical bout—is that not the natural choice for one who holds command?"
"Commander Fabian, why are you acting like this?"
"I am no longer the commander. The one you should serve is Princess Jeanne."
The attitude that seemed to draw a deliberate line between them made Ethan's voice rise in agitation.
"I believed you were the most knightly knight of all. That is why I chose the Second Knight Order over the First. Yet not content with abandoning us, you play at master and disciple with the princess, and now you treat single combat as some kind of game?"
"Refrain from speaking of Her Highness in that manner. And I simply do my utmost, Ethan. The reason I will not yield this duel is because, just as Her Highness trusts me, I too trust in my own skill."
"If an injured man steps forward and loses, it will be an even greater insult to Her Highness."
Ethan clenched his fist. If Fabian continued like this, he was prepared to knock him down to stop him.
"What exactly are you saying right now?"
Another voice cut in between them.
It was Jeanne, who had descended to offer encouragement to Fabian and Ethan before the next duel, only to overhear their exchange.
Both men bowed their heads at once.
"Fabian, I believe I heard mention of an injury. Is it true?"
"It is nothing, Your Highness."
"Whether it is nothing or not is for me to decide. Speak plainly."
"It is merely a slight pain in my wrist."
Jeanne frowned.
This was an unforeseen complication.
"There is no need for concern. I will win and return."
"No. We must send another knight!"
With neither Fabian nor Ethan willing to yield, Jeanne's dilemma only deepened.
Fabian was the one knight she could trust without reservation, yet if he overexerted himself and something went wrong, the consequences would be severe.
Even if he claimed to be fine, she had to stop him.
"In the end, it won't do. Someone else will fight this duel."
Jeanne spoke directly to Fabian.
Ethan's piercing stare burned against her.
If she forced Fabian out despite everything, he looked ready to forget the gulf between knight and princess and seize her by the collar.
"This much cannot even be called an injury."
"Fabian, loyalty to one's superior is every bit as vital a knightly virtue as defending one's honor."
Fabian met the eyes of his young liege.
The princess, who had always been resolute and unyielding, had grown sharp and strong as tempered steel in recent days.
It seemed impossible to bend her will.
"If that is Your Highness's command, then I shall obey."
"I understand your disappointment. But every member of the Second Knight Order possesses real skill. Let us place our trust in them."
"As you wish."
Fabian accepted the order from the princess he had sworn to serve.
"And you, Knight Ethan—perform well."
Ethan bowed to Jeanne. Though he had not yet fully accepted her as the true commander of the Second Knight Order in his heart, he was at least a man who understood courtesy.
Jeanne regarded him with warm eyes.
At that moment, cheers erupted from the castle wall above.
It was the roar announcing Diego's victory.
Fabian turned toward Ethan, who would now take the field.
"Ethan, the fact that you were chosen to represent us in single combat means you have grown into that fine a knight."
The gaze Fabian turned on the man who had once followed him was filled with paternal warmth.
"Do well and return."
He gave Ethan's back an encouraging pat.
Now it was Ethan's turn.
With a faintly tense expression, Ethan strode out from the castle. Diego was returning from the opposite direction.
"Hey, you're obviously coming back with a win, right?"
Ethan gave a silent nod.
One knight heading out, the other heading in; the two men crossed paths.
Diego, returning in high spirits, raised his voice proudly.
"Hahaha! How about that!"
Just as Jeanne had expected, Diego had utterly dominated his opponent and returned unscathed.
"Well done."
Jeanne offered him sincere praise for coming back without so much as a scratch.
"Huh? But wasn't Sir Fabian supposed to fight third? Why is he still here?"
"Circumstances arose. It seems we must send someone else."
Jeanne let out a low sigh. As she pondered, Diego offered a suggestion.
"May I recommend one of our own?"
Jeanne looked at him.
Having been the order's commander until just days ago, he knew its members better than anyone. His opinion was worth hearing.
She nodded.
"There's a knight named Chastan. That young fellow is something else."
"Knight Chastan?"
The unfamiliar name drew a questioning look from Jeanne.
"He turned seventeen this year and only recently joined the Second Knight Order. His skill is unquestionable."
"Seventeen is still far too young, no matter how skilled."
"Doesn't skill matter more than age? When it comes to one-on-one combat, there are only a handful in the entire order who could defeat him."
A knight capable of using Sword Aura despite being a year younger than Jeanne herself. The youngest aura user in all of Bluisol.
Diego continued to make his case with enthusiasm.
The more Jeanne listened, the deeper her doubts grew.
Why is there no memory of such a knight?
Then Fabian spoke up.
"I agree with Knight Diego's assessment. Knight Chastan should be more than capable."
"Fabian, you know this knight as well?"
"I crossed blades with him myself. His talent is extraordinary. Were it not for Your Highness, I would have called him a genius who appears once in a century."
Fabian lent his support, saying the boy could more than take his place.
Jeanne weighed her options carefully.
They could not afford to waste time. A swift decision was needed, and the chosen knight must be informed.
If both Diego and Fabian vouched for him, his ability was certain.
Jeanne chose to trust them.
"Very well. Knight Chastan will fight third."
"Understood. I will inform him at once."
Diego withdrew.
Once they were alone, Jeanne asked Fabian quietly.
"When exactly did you spar with Knight Chastan?"
Since leaving the Second Knight Order, Fabian had not met with them privately.
As her personal guard knight, he spent nearly all his time at her side. It surprised her that he had dueled without her knowledge.
"It was yesterday."
"Yesterday? Wait—then surely you don't mean..."
Jeanne's eyes moved to Fabian's swollen, reddened right wrist.
Fabian nodded.
"Indeed."
Understanding the implication, Jeanne let out a soft gasp of admiration.
"Impressive. That child was able to trade blows with you on equal footing, Fabian."
"I won."
"Ah, if I wounded your pride, forgive me. I only meant that crossing swords with you at all is remarkable."
"There is no need to apologize. I was merely teasing. Knight Chastan will clearly surpass me within a few years."
As he spoke, Fabian watched the young knight walking out beyond the castle wall.
He was not so petty as to feel inferior to such a boy.
Jeanne followed his gaze, tracing the youth's retreating figure.
The Rotinzel knight who had come out for the single combat felt a wave of relief when he saw Chastan standing before him.
They had already lost two of the three bouts.
Diego Fidelity was a renowned knight even in Rotinzel, so that defeat could not be helped. But losing to a knight named Ethan had been entirely unexpected.
Three consecutive losses would shatter the army's morale. He had stepped forward with the absolute duty to win.
Yet his opponent was just a boy. Relief washed over him, followed quickly by disbelief.
"Ha, to think they would send even a brat like this. Does Bluisol truly have no talent left?"
He provoked, hoping to draw out some agitation, but Chastan remained unmoved.
"...Duel."
"Fine. Since you're a knight too, I'll indulge you. I am James Pavilion. And you?"
"Chastan."
Chastan's words were curt.
"Insolent pup. I'll crush you thoroughly."
The knight raised his sword.
Chastan drew his own blade from its sheath. In that instant, his entire presence transformed.
The gentle expression vanished, replaced by something akin to madness. A smile that seemed to devour everything curved at the corners of his mouth.
His golden eyes gleamed like a wolf's.
Chastan charged.
He fought like a beast on the hunt—instinctive, savage, untamed.
His skill was so overwhelming that every watcher on the castle wall was stunned.
Chastan drove his opponent with relentless, one-sided attacks. His movements carried the wild playfulness of a wolf, fierce yet blindingly fast.
The Rotinzel knight could not keep up at all.
"Weak."
"Bastard!"
The words should have wounded his pride, yet the Rotinzel knight could not refute them. Chastan was simply too strong.
The gray Sword Aura coiling around Chastan's blade grazed the enemy's thigh. Flesh parted. Blood sprayed.
The Rotinzel knight barely twisted aside from the next strike aimed at his heart. Or so he thought.
In that moment, their eyes met.
Those yellow pupils flashed like a predator sighting prey.
The chilling gaze made him feel death's approach.
Chastan accelerated, swinging with even greater speed.
The knight scrambled backward, but Chastan's sword tore into his side as though ripping away a piece of meat.
A wet, horrifying sound followed—skin splitting, muscle pierced.
As if the noise were sweet music, Chastan's lips curved into a delighted arc.
With an indifferent expression, he flicked the blood from his blade.
For a heartbeat, silence gripped both sides.
"Ah."
Only then did Chastan stare down at the fallen knight with dazed eyes and shake his head.
He blinked slowly several times before his gentle, timid face returned.
Only after Chastan walked slowly back toward Roire Castle did the silence finally break.
The roar that shattered it came from the Bluisol knights.
Heavy silence still weighed upon the Rotinzel camp.
Two soldiers stepped forward to retrieve the fallen knight.
The corpse was gruesome.
Even through armor, the aura-infused wound at his side left flesh ragged and intestines scattered like torn fragments.
It looked less like a sword cut and more like the work of a beast's jaws.
The soldiers swallowed their bile and somehow carried the body away.
Once they had finished, Aaron stepped forward.
"Heh heh. I never imagined you would take all three victories."
As expected, Aaron remained composed.
He showed no fury at their defeat, merely observing like a man watching a fish flop inside his net.
Of course, that was only on the surface. A faint tremor lingered in his voice.
"I shall withdraw for today."
Doing his best to appear unconcerned so as not to unsettle his troops, Aaron returned to his lines.
He still appears calm. But he is surely grinding his teeth in private. That is the kind of man Aaron is.
Jeanne watched his retreating back until the very end.
If Nicholas was direct, Aaron was cunning.
No matter how relaxed his demeanor, he was a general commanding troops. He could not possibly be unaffected by defeat.
A faint smile touched Jeanne's lips.
She brushed them lightly and asked herself:
Does this please you? Does it bring you joy?
The answer was yes.
To Jeanne, Aaron had been a towering giant.
When that massive hand pressed down, there had been no choice but to accept defeat.
He had been the one to drag her to the execution ground in her previous life.
The knowledge that she had finally landed a blow on him—that he must now feel even a fraction of the crushing defeat he had once inflicted on her—filled her with fierce satisfaction.
Yet it was still too early to rejoice. She had taken only the first step.
Jeanne quickly composed her features and turned her gaze.
Her eyes settled on the boy knight now returning.
On the untamable shadow of a gray wolf.