Surpuk Duke (2)
A short while ago.
The Surpuk Duke was sipping tea in a room overlooking the training grounds.
He was checking out those who had come early to pay their respects.
The young nobles from aristocratic families would never dream of it, but this was his long-standing habit.
When peers gathered, factions and power plays quickly emerged.
The duke would casually observe, gauging the temperaments of these noble heirs.
Anyone stand out, Your Grace?
A white-haired, dignified old steward attending the duke inquired.
Hmm... nothing special. Bobert's daughter and Russell's son are glaring at each other a bit. The boys just lock eyes like kids instead of throwing punches? Ha ha!
Your Grace, they're both from fine houses. They wouldn't dare fight here, would they?
That's the problem. The problem. Tsk tsk! Back in my day, we weren't like that. Youngsters need to be like raging lions. The kind that make your legs shake just looking at them! Fierce enough to charge anywhere without flinching. That's how you stand tall even before orcs.
Your Grace, that's why the empire calls eastern nobles fiercer than bandits.
Ha ha ha! Damn fools. Let them try rubbing shoulders with those hulking orcs. You think weaklings like that survive in the east?
The empire's east had long competed for survival against savage races like orcs, hobgoblins, goblins, and ogres.
That's why the people here were renowned for their strength and wild tempers.
Anyone who wasn't had long since died.
Well said, Your Grace.
Tsk! Time to head out. I've watched till my tea went cold, but these idiots only know how to stare each other down!
The steward sensed disappointment in the duke's tone.
Looks like the duke's scolding would drag on during the greetings today.
But just then, a new figure appeared.
Hm? Who's that? Never seen him before.
The one who caught the Surpuk Duke's interest was none other than Owen Leire.
The steward recognized him immediately.
That's the one, Your Grace. Sir Leire's son.
What? The one Bobert sent a letter about?
Yes. Word is he captured the Malton bandit knights one after another. Made a huge splash in the subjugation. Count Drun took a liking to him and granted him ten knights.
What? Drun? That stubborn old bear liking someone? Unheard of.
It's true. And this lad personally reined in that dragon no one else could tame.
I know that much.
Rarely, interest flickered in the Surpuk Duke's eyes.
His demeanor suggested something entertaining had finally appeared.
So Bobert and Drun both like this kid? First time for something like this...
Sir Leire's son wouldn't be ordinary.
True. He was quite the force in his youth. Though now they say he's just farming in the sticks.
Is that so?
As the steward looked puzzled, the duke chuckled and pointed at him.
Hee hee, you really know nothing, do you? You think Leire's just holed up farming in some village?
Your Grace knows something, then.
Well, yeah. I'm just leaving him be since it doesn't interfere with me. Hell, I'm practically cheering him on. But I didn't expect him to raise his son so well too.
Indeed. Time to head out, Your Grace.
The training grounds were already buzzing with arguments.
The duke eyed the scene steadily, then nodded.
Right. Russell's boy was a dragon knight too, wasn't he? Might as well let them clash in front of everyone.
Soon after, the Surpuk Duke appeared on the training grounds and bellowed.
Just what do you think you're doing!
It was all theater, of course, but the gathered noble youths trembled like aspen leaves.
Such was the duke's immense authority in the east.
Not just because he wielded power.
From youth, he'd racked up countless feats, and his ferocious temper had earned him names like ghost or devil.
You come to pay respects and start brawling!
Making these arrogant noble heirs quake was truly the mark of the east's overlord.
But one among them regarded the duke with calm composure.
Owen.
The sight struck the duke as refreshingly different.
Huh? Look at this one. Gutsy kid.
Given the duke's nature, Owen's poise naturally appealed more than the sniveling others.
But for now, he masked his approval and asked.
Who are you?
Owen met the duke's piercing gaze without a flicker.
Owen Leire of the Leire family, Your Grace.
So you're the Leire son making waves lately. Hmph! Does that give you the right to raise hell like a thunderbolt in my palace!
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The duke deliberately menaced him, but Owen apologized calmly.
My apologies. I'm still unfamiliar with court etiquette and protocol, leading to this minor friction.
He kept it brief because he knew the duke's temperament well—no lengthy excuses.
Plus, glancing over, Austin from the Russell family looked ready to self-destruct anyway.
And sure enough, as soon as Owen admitted fault, Austin stepped forward.
Your Grace! I apologize for the disturbance too. But as he himself said, he lacked manners and acted rudely. As a scion of the Russell house, I felt compelled to uphold propriety and correct this inferior.
Austin rattled off his self-defense.
It contrasted sharply with Owen's straightforward demeanor.
The listening duke's face darkened like a tiger's.
The other youths caught on quick, shaking their heads.
Your Grace, I was merely maintaining palace order and the east's...
Shut your trap, boy!
As expected, the duke's wrath crashed down.
Not stopping there, he cracked Austin's forehead with his baton.
Kyaak!
What kind of man yammers on like that! So you're blameless, eh!
N-no... that's not...
Crack!
Another blow.
Still got excuses left?
Finally, Austin bowed his head hastily.
No! Your Grace! Truly sorry for the commotion!
Hmph! Both of you shut up. Someone else speak. What were they talking about?
A few chimed in, revealing Austin had challenged Owen to a dragon duel.
The duke grinned mischievously.
He'd watched covertly and knew it all, but had steered it this way on purpose.
The duke commanded at once.
If you're dragon knights, settle it on dragons, not with your mouths. Since you've clashed, it's simple. I'll preside—give us a good show!
The situation had ballooned absurdly, leaving Austin wide-eyed.
He'd never intended a real dragon match.
Just scare the cocky newbie.
Now it was a duel under the east's top power's watch.
The crowd buzzed in shock.
Even so, Austin tried salvaging with excuses the duke hated.
Your Grace, how could I refuse this honor... but facing a country knight like him hardly seems proper...
Shut it and enjoy the honor.
One line from the duke folded Austin like paper.
Meanwhile, the unflappable Owen's lips curved in a faint smile.
Austin, you clever fool. Setting up the perfect stage right after I arrive at court.
For Owen, it was a golden chance to impress the duke.
He hadn't even considered losing.
No reason to refuse a foe laying out the red carpet.
Owen Leire. What say you?
I gladly accept this honorable duel. It's what I desire most.
Good. Your answers beat that Russell idiot's by miles!
Like ripping off the iron horns while hot, the duke ordered the duel proceed immediately.
What a fiery man.
Everyone, follow. We'll head out the gates to the dragon arena.
The duke strode off first, leaving the noble youths scrambling after him.
Hurry!
Let's go!
Lest the duke's ire fall on the tardy.
In the chaos, Austin—unwilling to show fear—muttered passing Owen.
Today's your funeral. Too bad arriving in Bris.
Owen, though, was grateful.
Thank you, young master.
Hm?
Austin looked baffled, but Owen truly meant it.
Grinding his own honor to boost another? Noble souls abound.
I'll go easy. No need to worry—your limbs will be fine.
Sincere, but Austin took it as taunt and bellowed.
Shut up! We'll see!
He stormed off snorting like an enraged bull.
Beyond Bris's rear gate lay a vast open field.
Unlike the front gate's crowded buildings, this spot was glaringly empty.
For good reason: it was the dragon combat training ground.
Unlike the emperor who scorned dragon knights, the Surpuk Duke still firmly believed in them.
Nothing beat dragons for stemming orc hordes—that was his creed.
What's going on?
A match?
As nobles flooded in, bystanders couldn't hide their curiosity.
To Bris citizens, dragon duels were prime entertainment.
Spotting the duke, they spread word through the city.
A duel!
His Grace is here!
Big clash incoming!
Word raced, and citizens swarmed the walls.
Watching matches from the ramparts was Bris tradition.
Soldiers let civilians climb freely on such days.
No stopping the wave of young and old.
Who's fighting who?
Dunno! Those two down there?
As noble heirs and retainers watched, Owen and Austin prepared.
The duke—now seated in a brought chair—shouted to his soldiers.
Bring duel lances and blunted swords!
Yes, sir!
Dragon duels came in one-on-one or team formats; this was solo.
Simple rules: Use blunt-tipped lances and edgeless swords to unhors—er, un-dragon the foe.
Dragons attack only dragons, knights only knights.
Safety measures.
But fierce duels being what they were, anything could happen once underway.
'Accidental' dragon chomps on rival knights were always a risk.
Austin of Russell house knew this best, sweating coldly in secret.
Am I screwed?
Outwardly the haughty Russell heir, full of bravado—but inwardly terrified, hands shaking.
Truth was, his dragon knight skills were abysmal.
Forced to ride by his father, eager for the duke's favor.
He'd resorted to every trick since he couldn't handle his dragon properly.
Meanwhile, this Owen had solo-raided that infamous bandit knight fortress.
Only now did Austin grasp the skill gap, dizziness hitting hard.
But onlookers were merciless.
Austin! You can do it!
Show that punk what-for!
Today's news will spread through the east!
The last nearly drew a shout of curses.
Damn it! That's the problem, you bastards!
Today's events would buzz the east for weeks.
Bris citizens packed the walls already.
Even passing merchants and travelers halted, gathering near.
Winner's ultimate stage; loser's nightmare.
Goddamn... no wonder my luck felt off.
No backing out now.
Austin squeezed his eyes shut, then summoned his dragon from the scroll.
Whoa! Look at that!
Woooaaah!
The crowd erupted.
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