The Victor Claims the High Seat
The person who would sit in the highest seat already seemed decided. The Crown Prince was vomiting up everything in his stomach. How long would it take to clean this mess? I started glancing around at the onlookers. To anyone watching, it would look like I was just bullying the weak. His gaunt frame, gasping for breath, writhing in pain—it was pitiful even to me, his enemy. Leor felt the same. He could be this weak, huh.
"What do we do?"
"According to Northern duel traditions, we have to keep going until surrender or collapse..."
"Yeah, probably."
To draw out the Crown Prince's surrender, I approached slowly. He shot me a glance and realized something was off. Probably suspecting some scheme cooked up by the Northern Grand Duke. But we were in the thick of a Northern-style duel—a pure one-on-one deathmatch where no one else could interfere.
"What're you gonna do? Surrender?"
"Urgh..."
"Feel better now that you've emptied your gut?"
The Crown Prince couldn't come any closer. But Leor had no intention of calling it quits. With the Crown Prince staggering back to his feet, he figured we had to finish it properly. I didn't want to go easy either, but.
"What the hell are you doing to His Highness the Crown Prince! You Northern hicks!"
"What? Did you just call us hicks?"
"Yeah! How dare you harm His Highness's sacred body!"
With all this commotion, I needed to wrap it up clean—no mercy. To grab the half-dead Crown Prince from behind, I clamped down on his body. A feeble punch flew my way, but it barely grazed my face without any real weight behind it. Time to end this. I hoisted the Crown Prince up and flipped him over, exposing his back.
"Your Highness!"
"Your Grace!"
Shouts erupted from both sides. Even Daniela was yelling. Cheer for me instead. The Crown Prince and I tumbled across the floor. Naturally, he was pinned beneath me. I sat on his back like it was a damn chair. Total domination. But Leor still wasn't ending the duel. Keep going from here?
"L-Let... let me go!"
"It's a duel!"
That side was chaos too? A crowd had gathered before I knew it. Well, if word got out that the Crown Prince and the Northern Grand Duke were throwing down one-on-one in a villa palace room, even I'd be curious enough to show up. Then give the audience a swift conclusion.
"Leor, this is the last one. Watch close—see if he surrenders or passes out."
"Y-Yes, Your Grace."
"Good."
I snaked one arm around the Crown Prince's neck—his hands had been neatly folded until then. With my other arm, I locked down the one I was holding. Like a noose tightening, I readied to choke him out. How many times had I won like this? I clamped my legs firm around his body. Then, with a sharp twist—whoosh—his body spun with mine.
"Gr... gruuuugh—!"
"Pass out. Just do it."
It didn't take long. A proper chokehold on the neck, and anyone blacks out in seconds. The Crown Prince thrashed, desperate to break free. But I felt the strength ebbing slowly from his body. They rarely drop all at once. Most fade out gradually. The Crown Prince was just human, after all.
"Leor, check him!"
"Y-Yes!"
Leor rushed over to confirm the Crown Prince's state. Out cold. I released the choke. His neck was bright red. Victor of the Northern duel. Leor started proclaiming the win, but I could barely hear over the racket.
"Leor, wrap it up."
"Y-Yes, Your Grace!"
I grabbed my discarded clothes and dressed. Now they finally get the basics of who sits high. As I straightened my outfit, I climbed the stairs. Actually, Northern duels traditionally end with the victor meting out fitting punishment to the loser. Sometimes even beheading. That's why they got banned—went too far. Too many took it to needless murder. Whatever, not the point now.
"So, it's settled who sits in the high seat, right?"
"Yes, Your Grace."
"Good. This is the proper spot."
I checked my clothes' fit—crisp and neat—then headed to Daniela and Marquis Roland. Still pandemonium here. Just as the Crown Prince was being carted off, the Bosch girl and Baron Remi scrambled down the stairs after him. But I had unfinished business.
"Where do you think you're going?"
"Wh-what! Why block us?"
"I won the duel. I outrank the Crown Prince for the high seat. No complaints?"
"Urgh..."
Classic villain grimace. I blocked the Bosch path until they bowed their heads. Want to pass? Show respect. They'd get the message. The Bosch girl and Baron Remi dipped their heads.
"Burn this into your minds. You're just a family with no real imperial ties—yet."
"Y-Yes, sir."
"So why keep insulting us? Is a Southern baron's house above a Northern duke's?"
"No, sir."
"Hope this is your last slight. Bosch girl. Baron Remi."
They mumbled their final replies. Their schemes wouldn't end here. No doubt. They'd likely pushed for this duel too. Tossing the ring? Calculated. They might demand a rematch or cook up fresh plots. Plenty on my plate anyway.
"Plenty of guests. So why's everyone clogging the stairs?"
I said, eyeing the crowd. Only then did people scatter down or head out. Oddly, the nobles bailing all seemed at odds with Daniela. But some lingered. Probably angling for Northern ties.
"Anyway, this settles it. Everyone here witnessed the duel."
The Crown Prince was hauled away; servants started scrubbing his vomit. Time to tidy the message.
"At least remember this: with Wintergard present, you rank below the Crown Prince."
One line. I took my seat and scanned the room. Few deep ties with Southern nobles, so names escaped me.
And.
"Marquis Roland."
"Yes, Your Grace!"
"You—down too."
"Pardon?"
"Go on down."
He grumbled, glanced around, then descended. Old revenge sorted. Maybe sending Daniela North earned me the duke's seat. But kicking her out? Fair payback.
"Long live the Northern Grand Duke! Long live! Long live!"
Perfect reward.
—
"Disgusting Northerners. They didn't pull that off all on their own."
"Right, Cartina. Hicks. Sneaky ones at that."
The Bosch crew huddled by the Crown Prince. His eyes were open, but his mind was blank—spacing out, stewing on how to humiliate the Northern Grand Duke.
I couldn't take it anymore. How many times had they insulted the imperial house?
"Any plans?"
"Send another assassin?"
"Not enough. Kill the Northern Duke now, and we'll be the prime suspects."
"Tch. Timing sucks."
The Bosch family spun new webs. The Crown Prince still zoned out. In that cramped room, schemes bloomed and withered. Rematch on hold—they eyed the real prize.
"One thing's clear: snatch the Bart gold mines, and we win."
"Spot on. That's the endgame."
"Split the Bart family from the Northern Duke, then."
"Nah, impossible. Zero chance."
Key was seizing the Bart gold mines somehow. Rally other houses, and victory tilted their way. But how?
"I'll handle it. Court the other marquis heirs."
"Southern admiral types?"
"Exactly. Those young lords will listen to me."
If loyalties lingered, how far could Cartina climb with the Crown Prince in tow?
The Crown Prince stirred.
"Ca-Cartina! My love! Don't... let me prove love's power one more time!"
"Your Highness."
Cartina clasped his hand, easing him back down. She soothed him, no worries. But her schemes were just kicking off.