The Storm Strikes Twice
“Duels are one of the Academy’s long and storied traditions.”
The first time Kyle heard that line, he thought it was pure nonsense. The world was already drowning in things that claimed “long and storied” histories. He couldn’t understand why the word duel belonged on that list at all.
Only later did he grasp why people said it. These weren’t life-or-death blood matches. They were carefully measured exchanges of blows meant to settle honor and give one side a clean moral victory. The reason such duels were never banned—and in fact kept flourishing—was simple: they stopped private grudges from exploding into full-blown wars between houses.
The Academy was the Empire’s finest educational institution. Naturally, every noble considered it a required stop. Noble here, noble there—nobles as common as dirt. Conflict was inevitable. When the ranks were wildly different, things stayed quiet enough. But with so many scions of every house crammed together, even ranking them properly became a headache. So when trouble flared between students, they settled it cleanly with a duel. Better that than two houses clawing each other into mutual ruin.
“There seems to be some sort of commotion.”
Elga turned her head toward the first floor as she spoke. Kyle followed her gaze across the suddenly restless banquet hall. The murmur had begun in one corner for a single reason: in the middle of this cheerful party, someone had called for a duel.
And not noble versus noble—noble versus commoner.
Noble students normally never challenged commoners. Accusations of bullying the lower ranks were a public-relations nightmare. That, too, was an unspoken rule of dueling.
So why the hell is that bastard the one who got challenged?
Ian was a commoner. He ran his mouth harder than most nobles, but a commoner he remained. The student standing in front of him couldn’t possibly be ignorant of that fact—or of what challenging a commoner would do to his own reputation. Yet the noble had still demanded a duel. That meant he had a reason good enough to weather the backlash later.
Refuse him! Don’t accept!
Commoners had no need to stake their lives on honor the way nobles did. Refusing a duel cost them nothing and hurt them in no way. The Academy even codified the right of refusal so that noble students couldn’t simply torment commoners at will.
“Do as you like.”
Of course, expecting Ian to actually do the sensible thing was probably a fantasy.
The two men pushed through the murmuring crowd and headed somewhere. Students surged after them like spectators scenting free entertainment.
Fuck.
Kyle could only cover his face with one hand. For the record, every time Ian stepped into a duel, he made a habit of breaking his opponent’s arm. The habit had earned him a nickname that sounded like something out of a mad scientist’s résumé.
The Arm Collector. Ian the Arm Collector.
“….”
Elga cast a sidelong glance at Kyle’s face. Whatever expression he wore, it was nowhere near pleasant. Word had it that this Ian fellow had also received a recommendation letter from a frontier marquis. That meant he and Kyle had arrived at the Academy together. Students who entered the same way—or through the same channel—were almost always judged as a package. Something like “Don’t disgrace the region” or “Don’t shame the family.”
“…Lady Elga. Forgive me, but I need to step away for a moment.”
When Kyle said that, Elga simply nodded. If Ian caused a scene down there, Kyle would be left in a thoroughly awkward position. There was already the matter of the young lady from House John Nassen, plus today’s desk-declaration incident. If a fellow recommendation student started acting like this on top of everything else, the damage would be complete. A recommendation letter was not invincible. If the imperial family decided the recipient was unworthy of it, they could always intervene.
“I’ll come with you, Kyle.”
“Pardon?”
“You’re going to stop the duel, aren’t you? I might be able to help.”
Mediation existed, of course. A person of higher station simply walked in and said, “Everyone, that will be quite enough—play nicely now.” The Academy was a little more egalitarian than the outside world, but it was still part of that world. No one stayed here forever; four years was the absolute maximum. After that you returned to society and had to face the same people again. You couldn’t afford to burn every social bridge while you were still a student.
…If Elga steps in, they might actually listen. She’s the daughter of the Litorio Grand Duchy, after all.
Even so, Kyle shook his head.
“What is it? You don’t need my help?”
“Probably not.”
Because that bastard Ian almost certainly threw out a provocation so vile that nothing short of the Emperor himself could call the other guy off.
Kyle muttered the thought to himself, turned on his heel, and headed downstairs.
“…Ha!”
She was dumbfounded. Speechless. Once again he had simply pushed her away. The hand she had extended had never been an opening move in some calculated transaction. She had simply offered it—and Kyle had swatted it aside without a second thought. At this point irritation should have tipped into genuine offense.
Yet what Elga actually felt, watching the man walk away, was a curiosity that only burned hotter. Curiosity… and something closer to fondness, though she was still stubbornly denying that part.
…I haven’t even had that much to drink. I’m not already drunk.
She exhaled a long sigh and dropped heavily into her chair. This was all Leto’s fault. Yes—her heart was only unsettled because of that idiot. That was the story she told herself as she picked up the glass in front of her, accompanied by the foolish thought of how different things might have been if Kyle had been her childhood friend instead.
“Tisha!”
“Kyle!”
Students poured out of the banquet hall into the garden in a noisy flood. Two of them, swept along by pure chance, finally managed to catch each other’s hands.
“What is this all of a sudden?! What’s going on?!”
“I-I don’t really know either. By the time I got there, things were already like this!”
“Did you at least try to talk Ian down?”
Ian would ignore Kyle’s words without a second thought, but Tisha was different. If she offered an opinion, that man would actually listen.
“I tried, but I got swept up in the crowd before I could even speak to him. I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have anything to apologize for. Still—this is bad. Of all places, a duel at a party like this.”
“Exactly! People say dueling at an event like this is a serious breach of etiquette!”
Which meant the noble student who issued the challenge was either a complete thug… or Ian had provoked him with something truly vicious. Honestly, the second option felt more likely.
Asking for details is over. Just stop it. A proper apology should be enough to make this go away.
Kyle didn’t particularly mind Ian dueling on any other day. But a duel at the freshman welcome party? Nothing else would draw eyes quite so thoroughly. All he wanted right now was for the talk about himself to die down before anyone started stirring up new trouble.
“Ian!”
Kyle finally shoved through the students and seized Ian’s shoulder. Honestly he wanted to grab him by the collar, but that could wait.
“You’re here.”
“I am. So—you’re dueling?”
“You heard right.”
“What did you say to him? What on earth did you say that made someone challenge you on a night like this?”
“Some guy who looked completely mediocre kept swaggering about his swordsmanship, so I gave him a little comment.”
“I’m asking what the comment was. What exactly did you say?!”
Kyle prayed it hadn’t been something as blunt as “Your skill is complete garbage.” He desperately hoped the provocation had at least been something that could still be talked down.
The next words shattered that hope completely.
“I told him if his parents were clapping and cheering over something that pathetic, they probably didn’t know the first thing about swordsmanship.”
“…You actually said that?”
“Yeah. I really said that.”
“….”
Across every age and culture there were words you simply did not say. Family insults—especially ones that dragged parents into the mud. Even a thoroughly unfilial son would see red the moment someone went there. Kyle finally understood why the noble had lost his temper and demanded a duel. Any other noble would have done the same. Some might have tried to kill Ian on the spot. If the swordsmanship was mediocre, just say it was mediocre—why the hell drag the parents into it?
An apology isn’t going to fix this.
And Kyle’s prediction landed perfectly.
“An apology? Ha! An apology has to come from the man himself! Sending a substitute to say ‘sorry, let’s pretend the duel never happened’? A moment ago he was talking like some deep authority on the blade, and now he’s afraid of being exposed? I’m afraid the duel is going to happen whether you like it or not!”
The noble freshman who had received Ian’s parental insult was white-hot with rage. He of course ignored Kyle’s request that they let it slide just this once.
“I don’t understand why you keep trying to stop the duel. If you’re so worried about that man, then fight in his place! Wouldn’t that solve everything?”
“Excuse me? That’s…”
“You can’t? Ha! And yet you still have the nerve to ask me to call it off? Birds of a feather flock together—so a coward and a weakling have been putting on airs together, is that it?!”
In that instant something inside Kyle’s head went snap.
The coward was clearly Ian. The weakling was supposed to be him. Weak? Weak? Was this bastard serious? And he’d even used “birds of a feather” to lump Kyle in with Ian? The same category as that guy? Wow. That crossed a line so far it was no longer visible.
“Fine.”
“What?”
“The duel. I’ll take his place. Let’s go—you and me.”
“Ha! Now, of all times?! Well… fine. If that’s what you want! State your name!”
“Kyle. Kyle of John Nassen.”
“Very well. Kyle of John Nassen—on behalf of that man earlier, I challenge you to a duel!”
Immediately afterward, the noisy garden fell silent for a single heartbeat.