The Road to the Royal Capital (3)
As Roy hurried toward the scene of the trouble, Marek filled him in on what little he knew.
Marek had come running so urgently that he didn't have the full picture either, but one fact was certain: Misha was hurt.
Which meant the amulet Roy had given her had failed.
Roy had gifted Misha two amulets.
One was an instant-type charm that would automatically block a single fatal blow—something like a sword stroke meant to kill.
The other was a continuous-type amulet that could ward off lesser injuries multiple times: a beating, a flung stone, and the like.
The second one would hold until the mana sealed inside it was completely spent; a sufficiently hard hit could destroy it in one or two strikes.
"Misha!?"
She lay collapsed on the corridor floor only a few dozen meters from where Roy had been, weeping.
The first thing that caught his eye was the blood streaming from her ear.
And standing over her, sword drawn, was a man.
Judging by his looks and build, he was a grown adult—easily past twenty.
Roy didn't care who the man was. He ran straight to Misha.
"Are you all right? You're bleeding badly. Marek! Go find something to treat her!"
"Yes, sir!"
The situation was so urgent that the formal speech slipped away into plain speech. Marek didn't mind in the least and carried out the order at once.
"What in the world happened?"
Misha answered through her tears.
"Young Master... I'm so sorry. I lost my way, and..."
"You lost your way?"
"Yes... and then I accidentally bumped into the nobleman. I'm truly sorry."
"And he did this to you over something that small?"
Roy turned his head, face twisted with fury.
The man opposite him was staring at his own blood-soaked hand—or rather, at the earring resting in his palm.
It wasn't the man's blood.
No matter how you looked at it, that was Misha's.
And that earring was the guardian amulet Roy himself had given her.
You son of a bitch...
The picture came together at once.
The man in front of him had attacked. The amulet had activated.
Fascinated by the light it gave off, the man had ripped the glowing earring straight out of Misha's ear.
Of course that left a wound.
With a murderous expression, Roy drew his sword on the man.
It didn't matter who the other party was.
He had dared to strike what belonged to Roy. Whoever he was, there would be no forgiveness.
"What did you do to my Misha."
"And who the hell are you? Get out of the way. I still have questions for that girl."
The reek of alcohol was thick on him.
But that was no excuse for mercy.
"If you don't want to get hurt, give back Misha's earring and apologize properly."
"Has this little bastard lost his mind? Who do you think you are? Do you even know where you are?"
The man already had his sword out.
That was exactly why Roy had drawn his own without knowing the man's identity.
He couldn't stand weaponless and defenseless against someone who already had steel in hand.
"You laid hands on what's mine first. Everything I do from here on is self-defense."
"What? Puhahaha. That's rich. Who even are you? Since you don't know me, you're not from our territory, are you? Barging into the lord's castle and drawing a sword without leave—this kid's completely off his rocker."
Look who's talking!
Roy ignored the man's words and swung his blade at once.
The man was more thoroughly drunk than expected; he failed to dodge.
The tip of Roy's sword lightly tore the man's ear.
A spray of blood marked the corridor wall.
"Urgh... You crazy little shit!"
The counterattack came immediately.
Thanks to the drink, it wasn't particularly threatening.
Compared to the baron, the man's skill was several levels lower.
Roy's sword thrust deep; this time the opposite ear was torn open.
He cut deeper than before.
The amount of blood that sprayed and then ran free was considerable.
"Guh... Dieee!"
The man moved as if dancing—an awkward, clumsy sword dance.
If Roy had wanted, he could have taken the head in a single stroke.
"Stop it! What do you think you're doing!?"
Chloe's voice, arriving hard on their heels, froze both of them in place.
Others were crowding in behind her as well.
"Tch."
In truth, Roy already had a rough idea who the man was.
The clothes marked him as a noble beyond any doubt, and the fact that he carried a sword inside the castle and drew it freely suggested he was closely connected to the lord.
On top of that, his features strongly resembled one of the countesses who had dined with them earlier.
Blood relation was highly likely.
Even so, Roy had moved without hesitation.
There were lines a person simply could not yield.
If he could not protect the people he trusted and relied upon, then when the day came that he took a knife in the back, he would have no right to complain.
If it comes to it, Noah's power...
With that resolve, he had drawn his sword.
Even if he couldn't kill the man, he needed to draw at least twice the blood Misha had shed before his anger would cool.
Roy ignored Chloe's words and swung again.
Once more, one of the man's ears was deeply sliced.
A torrent of blood poured down—far more than Misha had ever lost.
"Stoooop!!"
Chloe's cry was almost a scream.
Having achieved his immediate purpose, Roy shifted thereafter to pure evasion, careful to keep the man's attention on himself in case the drunkard lunged for Misha instead.
He raised his voice so Chloe would hear, not the man.
"I already told you, didn't I? I'm a rabbit. To survive in front of a lion, a rabbit has to give everything it's got. If you want to stop someone, stop him—not me."
"......"
Chloe had no answer.
Whether because of her earlier shout or because someone had already gone to fetch help, figures came running from the far end of the corridor.
Knights, almost certainly.
This territory might not match the Biswald Margraviate, but it was still a domain of no small power.
It might lack a massive standing army, yet the number of capable knights would be formidable.
Even considering only the collateral branches that shared the count's blood, it dwarfed Greenhilt.
Roy let the tension ease from his shoulders.
The situation would be resolved now.
From this point on, the real problem would be what excuse to offer the count.
"You dare attack me? Die! Dieee! Just die already, you little shit!"
But the drunken lout had finally gone completely mad.
Whoooom—white mana suddenly coated the blade in his hand.
Aura Blade.
The vast mana of a man who carried the count's bloodline wrapped the entire length of his sword.
"......"
Roy clenched his teeth.
Can I even withstand power like that?
What the eye saw was the aura sheathed around the blade, but the count's bloodline would have that same vast mana wrapping the man's entire body as well.
The quality of his movement would change completely—raw strength, speed, and reflexes all of them.
"This is self-defense to protect myself! Do you understand, Chloe?!"
Roy poured mana into his own sword.
The ornate blade Benjamin Biswald had given him on his seventh birthday—the same sword that, mere months ago, had severed the head of a corrupted unicorn in a single stroke—now began to flood with a savage crimson light.
And that was not all.
Roy's pupils suddenly blazed with golden light.
End it as fast as possible.
He could not take the head of someone who might share the count's blood.
The quickest way out of this mess was the sword.
Destroy the opponent's blade.
"Brat! Playtime's over!"
Even drunk, the man wrapped in mana moved with terrifying speed.
Roy barely twisted aside.
The stone wall behind him split with a sharp crack under the man's single blow and collapsed.
An unenchanted sword had sliced through thick masonry as if it were nothing.
That was the aura of a warrior who had reached a true realm of mastery.
But to Roy's eyes it looked different.
The man's movements were extremely slow.
One of the new applications of the Gold Eyes he had learned from Noah.
At the cost of enormous mana, he could perceive an opponent's motions with perfect clarity, as if they were crawling.
That did not mean Roy's own body suddenly grew faster.
He could simply read the direction of the attack in advance; actually dodging still depended entirely on the reflexes of his own flesh.
I finish it on the next strike.
Roy watched the man raise his sword high and bring it down in a great arc.
He measured the timing.
The blade descended slowly from above.
Now!
He sidestepped and smashed his own sword down hard across the edge of the man's blade.
—KAAAAANG!
Their mana clashed and violently repelled each other, scattering fierce sparks.
What broke next was the sword the man held.
Roy's blade was heavily reinforced with powerful magic—many times stronger than the enchanted weapons he supplied to the armory shop.
Unless the man had poured every last drop of his mana into the sword, an ordinary blade could never have withstood it.
The man's sword was not only nicked; it was hideously warped and crushed.
The fact that it had not snapped cleanly in two was almost surprising.
So this is count's blood... even while drunk...
Roy slowly withdrew the mana he had focused into his eyes.
"Huu..."
He exhaled deeply.
With the weapon destroyed, the victory was his without further contest.
In any ordinary duel, that would have been the end of it.
"Uwaaaaaah!"
But the drunken madman went completely berserk.
"Crazy..."
Roy leapt backward, opening the distance at once.
The man flailed the nicked, bent sword wildly; the blade, still sheathed in terrible mana, screamed with each impact against the walls.
In an instant, sections of the corridor began to collapse.
Then—
—Whoooosh! A fierce rush of sound, and wind-attribute magic wrapped the man's entire body.
A moment later his whole form lifted into the air.
In the next heartbeat—
—PAAANG!
The air itself exploded.
The man was slammed toward the wall at terrifying speed.
He scraped down its surface and crashed to the floor.
He did not rise again.
"......"
The one who had cast the spell was none other than Chloe.
Roy and the count's knights who had just arrived both stared at her in astonishment.
That girl... the more I see of her, the more surprising she is.
That was Roy's impression as he looked at the young woman.