Northern-Style Duel
"Then let's go first."
To leave the villa palace room ahead of everyone with Daniela, I hooked my arm through hers. But blocking our path was none other than the owner of this villa palace—the head of the victorious heroine's House de Bosch, Baron Remi de Bosch. His rat-like mustache stretched long, and the look of utter shock on his face when he burst into the room and saw the chaos was priceless. His narrow eyes and protruding philtrum didn't inspire any fondness. But those eyes hid enough cunning schemes to make you wary. I wasn't a physiognomist, but he looked downright sleazy.
"Aigoo! Your Grace! What in the world happened here?"
"And who might you be?"
"I am Remi of House de Bosch, who governs the territory where this villa palace stands."
He greeted me pretending not to know, but Remi answered nonchalantly. With my arm still linked through Daniela's, I tried to exit the room. But someone behind us was making a racket. The Crown Prince wanted revenge for his humiliation. He couldn't just attack from behind, though.
"Hey!"
He called me to a halt. The Crown Prince chucked something at me. It hit my back—a badge-like thing. Rolling on the floor, it turned out to be a ring. The Crown Prince's seal, emblazoned with the imperial crest.
"What did you just throw?"
"What else? An imperial ring! Even a country bumpkin like you should know what that means."
"Ha, you really want to duel?"
I was dumbfounded. Daniela and I both sighed; was he in his right mind? But the most stunned was Leor. Northern duel customs might differ from the South's, but challenging one here? Unbelievable. It had been a decade since the last duel, maybe.
"Unbelievable. To think a man could be this foolish."
"Right, Your Grace."
"Indeed, you want to defend your honor, don't you, Imperial Crown Prince."
Remi de Bosch almost seemed to have anticipated this. Cartina exchanged a few glances with her father, then boldly stood by the Crown Prince's side. So you're in agreement too.
"You won't run away like a coward, will you?"
"Hahaha! I understand the urge to flee from someone like me."
I glanced back and forth between Remi, Cartina, and the Crown Prince. Remi sidled up to the Crown Prince and whispered something. The Prince listened intently, then chuckled snidely.
I turned to Daniela. "Is dueling in the South different from the North? Enough to hold a conference about it?"
"Is Northern dueling somehow different?"
"Who knows. Probably similar to the South."
"In the South, the higher your status, the more you appoint a proxy, and duels follow set rules."
What was that supposed to mean? The Crown Prince finished his huddle with Remi, puffed out his chest, brimming with confidence. I whispered to Leor. Southern duels must work differently. Leor looked just as baffled. Only Daniela seemed worried.
"He'll probably drag it out to a time, place, and people that favor him."
"That's not a duel."
I asked, puzzled. So proxies come first in Southern duels. I had Leor, so no worries there, but I wanted to teach them a real lesson. Time to show them a Northern-style duel.
"Appointing a proxy—is that the Southern rule?"
No answer came when I asked.
"It's different from us."
"Those country hicks wouldn't know noble culture anyway."
"Even a gelded pup doesn't duel like that. They just bark at each other."
I slowly approached the Crown Prince. Northern dueling was brutally simple—and the consequences severe. Northern law banned duels in principle, but this was the South, so who cared.
"Leor, there sure are a lot of cowards in the South, huh?"
"Y-yes! Your Grace."
"It's like a pup barking to seem fierce."
"Y-yes. A pup barks, but it doesn't become a wolf."
I stood face-to-face with the Crown Prince. Northern challenges didn't involve rings or staking honor. Proxies were a humiliation in themselves. Duels were banned for a simple reason: bullies loved tormenting the weak. Northern duels were that vicious.
"You've challenged me, so how about a Northern-style duel?"
"Northern style?"
"Yeah. Scared? Want me to use one hand?"
I spun my right hand idly as I spoke. Leor muttered nervously behind me. Leor, you don't trust me enough. I'd dueled plenty as Northern Grand Duke—never lost. In the North, duels meant wagering what mattered most to a man.
"In the North, no proxies, no armor, no sharp swords."
I descended the stairs, stripping off layers of clothing. The guards panicked but didn't stop me.
"Come on. What're you waiting for?"
"Wh-what is this madness?"
"You wanted a duel. I'll show you the Northern way."
He looked flustered. Shirtless, I faced him squarely. Northern duel rule one: spears or blades only once, at the end.
"Grab a spear and come down here. You want to duel, right?"
"Th-this!"
"Time to show this dumb blond pup how scary a wolf can be."
The Crown Prince came stumbling down the stairs, panting. Good guts. Or maybe he just couldn't swallow the humiliation. Rule two: strip off anything restrictive, like shirts. He mimicked me, tossing his off. Scrawny. A body so thin and pale it barely passed for male—more like a woman's.
"Northern duels are bare hands only. No one, no thing interferes."
"Ha! Just like beasts."
"Hiding behind proxies who might die—can't call that manly honor."
I smirked. The Crown Prince, obsessed with his honor, didn't look handsome anymore. Who was the beast here?
"Leor! Be my second!"
"Y-yes! Your Grace!"
Leor hurried down. He pulled the Crown Prince and me close. Facing off, the Prince finally realized what he'd done. Why weren't the de Boschs stopping this? Daniela was trying to, with Marquis Roland planted firmly beside her.
"You think it's right to stand by during such rudeness? Marquis Roland!"
"How dare you call my name so casually! Are you blind?"
They'd make a fine duel pair too.
Leor gripped our shoulders and sat us down. At the start, you charge like beasts, grappling bare-handed till one falls. That was Northern dueling. The winner could behead the loser or inflict a mortal wound—permitted spoils. That's why I'd banned it.
"Th-then, begin!"
How to win? Simple: incapacitate the opponent. Beat 'em dead, knock 'em out.
Leor slowly stood us up and slapped our backs. Normally flags and rituals, but this was urgent.
"Know how to win?"
"Wh-what?"
"Beat me till I can't get up, or make me say surrender."
I explained during the lull. The Crown Prince snorted and charged. Even Northern kids fought better. Amateur stance—he'd never thrown a real punch. Good at sitting in chairs, though.
"Yaa!"
Weird kiai with a wild swing. Whoosh—whoosh. Honestly, he'd flunk out of the Northern army. If he sought command here, duel challenges would flood in.
I didn't dodge. Instead, I pulled his fist to my forehead with my head to my chest. Crack. My head rang too. My mouth bled inside. But,
"Arghhh!"
Shrieking, he clutched his right hand, shaking his wrist, glaring. Who punches head-on? His wrist seemed sprained; he couldn't fist properly.
"That's it?"
Wasted effort stripping. Hands on hips, I waited. He'd grit and charge again. As he did,
I punched toward his body. Can't ruin that pretty face, right? My fist nailed his solar plexus dead center.
"Urk... bleghhh..."
"H-hey!"
I instinctively backed off. Glanced at Leor—totally flustered.
"Y-Your Highness! Crown Prince!"
Didn't even feel like it landed.