Four Rings and a Traitor's Debt
Haiben van Braina.
Today, he would spar with the swordsman Celine had brought along.
Stretching his body, Neville let the quiet air of dawn wash over him. Loosening up his muscles mattered. If they stiffened mid-run, he wouldn't be able to move at all.
He rolled his ankles, slapped his cheeks a few times with his palms, and ran. Until his lungs burned like they would burst. Until his exhausted body shook uncontrollably. Until his legs refused to lift and his stride turned clumsy. Past the point where his brain flooded with pleasure and forced his body back into motion, right to the edge of collapse.
Then he spun his rings.
Aura surged through his blood channels, forcing his creaking body to keep moving. As he pushed himself into the state of no-mind, memories of his past life rose to the surface.
Father of the House. Of course my father knew I would lose. He should have stopped it—by beating me down himself, if he had to, or by casting me out entirely.
But he couldn't.
I didn't understand it at the time. It was only when I learned the whole truth that I finally saw it. Father loved Neville. Loved his child. Loved me.
He must have believed it was a father's burden to shoulder his son's pathetic failure.
The result was the broken engagement. Worse—the compensation for the annulment was paid by House Valkian. That was the price of defeat.
And Celine, the woman who had come to him in his despair, had said:
'I'm sorry, Neville. But I never imagined you'd become this weak…'
When Neville—when I—heard those words, I apologized. Apologized for being weak.
My father's rage erupted on the spot. The woman who had ruined his son. The pathetic son, so bewitched by her that he'd actually said sorry. He couldn't have borne it.
The real problem was that the Duke of Braina had seized on it. Celine had probably predicted everything down to this moment. The declaration that she was leaving the First Prince's faction for the Second Prince's—backed by blackmail aimed at the Duke of Braina's own daughter. And Father was told, to his face, that he was a disappointment to the First Prince.
After that, I was stripped of my succession and shut away in my room, living as a broken man. Taking the heir's seat from me, too, must have been a kindness of sorts—he thought I couldn't endure the infamy and humiliation that would follow.
Not this time.
I would not disappoint my father. I would not let his position waver because of me.
The morning sun climbed. Sweat drenched him from head to toe, but his mind had never been clearer.
"Celine…"
Starting today, I'll tighten the noose.
One thing had changed from before. Neville quietly stepped back to observe the situation. It was his place to stay out of it anyway—so if anything, that was a relief.
"A pleasure, Duke Valkian."
"You've come a long way, Duke Braina."
A seventh-circle archmage. Haiben van Braina. The moment he shook hands with Father, the mana in the air quivered like a mad thing.
"I didn't expect you to come in person."
"There's a family matter to settle. And I had a feeling you'd take issue with the terms of the duel."
"I'm rather curious how you predicted that."
Kaiser's red eyes fixed on Celine.
A chill ran down her spine. Celine hid her trembling hands behind her back. Those eyes could freeze her solid where she stood. Cold sweat trickled down her spine.
…A monster.
An eighth-star swordsman. A man they said stood within arm's reach of the legend called Grand Swordmaster.
'You'll get there soon enough too… Starting today.'
Celine dug her nail into her thumb and broke into a radiant smile.
"Duke Valkian, it's an honor! I do hope our two houses will grow even closer after today."
"That's hilarious."
A frigid silence. Haiben frowned at the blatant remark.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"Exactly what it sounds like. Traitor."
"…What?"
Here we go, Neville thought, loosening his shoulders.
"You've been exchanging rather interesting letters with the Second Prince, haven't you, Celine van Braina. Key intelligence on the First Prince's faction, and their weaknesses. And judging by how long you've corresponded, you even use pet names—'Hen,' was it? How family-like."
At Kaiser's low voice, the surroundings fell quiet. Only Neville walked unhurriedly across the space and took his place at his father's side.
"Trying to drink our family's blood under the pretense of a duel was bad enough, but treason on top of it. Truly impressive."
"Th-that's—"
"Silence."
It was Haiben who cut Celine off. His daughter was not yet capable of talking her way out of a situation like this. If Valkian already held the letters, there was no escape for them. Short of declaring war, they had no choice but to hear him out.
And then there was the man standing at Kaiser's side with perfect composure. Neville de Valkian. Contrary to his reputation, he was cold-blooded—neither taking Celine's side nor showing the slightest alarm.
"What do you want?"
"I didn't think you'd bother denying it."
"Given the circumstances. Young Duke Neville hid his teeth well. He truly is a Valkian."
Celine was genuinely thrown. Something about all of this was wrong. This was not what she had predicted. The exposed facts couldn't be denied—and if they weren't, that monster Kaiser would crush them right here. But Neville. The gullible fool Neville wasn't defending her? He hadn't been deceived by her—he'd been the one deceived?
"You flatter me."
"…What?"
You're exactly right. That was how the answer came across. The smile Celine had been using as a mask cracked apart.
"He's my son, but he's vicious. Spent four years rotting his father's patience from the inside, then waited for the right moment to strike. And he even made an interesting offer. Say it yourself, Neville."
"Of course, Duke Braina. Do you admit to attempting to bring down House Valkian, the First Prince faction's principal power? To acting as a spy, feeding intelligence from the First Prince's faction to the Second's? And to plotting to insult the heir of House Valkian and destroy the house with your own hands?"
"Th-that's true, but—!"
"Quiet, Celine van Braina. I wasn't asking you."
"Neville. How could you say such things to me?"
"Celine. Stay out of this for now."
"Father! There's clearly been a misunderstanding!!"
"Celine—!!"
When Haiben shouted, Celine retreated a step, a single tear sliding down her cheek. Her fingers tightened on the fabric of her dress.
'He's lying… how… how did he know it was all an act?'
She muttered inwardly, resenting the father who had yelled at her. But the hurt of that paled before the misery of realizing she had been the one deceived. Celine trembled with rage.
"Neville de Valkian. Impressive."
"As I said, you flatter me. So—do you admit it, then?"
"Whether I do or not, a Valkian would tear into us tooth and claw. You'll have stashed the evidence somewhere too. Do you truly intend to break us here? You'd best think carefully. House Braina does not fall easily."
He wasn't wrong. It was the empire's greatest magical house. In his past life, it had defected to the Second Prince's faction and thrown the balance of power into chaos through its aggressive campaigns. Of course, Celine's contributions—seducing the male leads and folding them into the faction from behind the scenes—had counted for a great deal as well.
But still.
"Weren't you in the First Prince's faction in the first place because every other magical house already was? That Magic Tower, especially. If it comes out that you were a spy, the supplies you've been receiving at bargain prices will be cut off. Will you be all right with that?"
The First Prince's faction had been overwhelmingly dominant, after all. He was the eldest son, capable, and warm-hearted. Anyone could see he was the heir apparent, and everyone had believed it would be so—had Celine not schemed to put the Second Prince on the throne and clutch the real power from the shadows.
"…Why bring that up? Are you mocking me?"
Haiben pressed his weight down on Neville. For daring to provoke him—and to keep his own momentum from slipping.
The pressure of the seventh circle. There was no way Neville, known as an eighth-star swordsman, could withstand it. He would collapse in terror, or crumble to his knees.
"How dare—"
Kaiser moved to intervene—but Neville calmly spun his rings.
"I'll offer you a chance."
The way the two men looked at Neville changed. One with delight, one with fury. The reason was the same: both had noticed it at the same moment.
Four.
Four rings—Shadow Rings and Sun Rings together—spinning in unison, holding back the pressure of a seventh-circle archmage.
"…A chance?"
"The swordsman you called a glutton. If he defeats me in the duel, I will not report the truth to the First Prince's faction. We will pay the compensation for the broken engagement ourselves, and shoulder the disgrace as well."
"…And if you lose?"
"House Braina keeps Bulldog—the ancestral treasure of House Valkian currently in your possession. You receive the mining rights to the mana mine. And finally, the compensation for the broken engagement—paid by us. Of course, the truth goes to the First Prince's faction either way."
Haiben deliberated.
'No report to the First Prince's faction. And we'd even be spared the disgrace.'
Neville's reputation was trash to begin with. But Celine's was not. She was a beautiful daughter, raised in nobility. If he could bury her reputation along with the dishonorable truth of her espionage, he had to accept.
Certainly, Bulldog and the mining rights were a heavy loss. But the swordsman they'd prepared was a five-star knight. Even if Neville had hidden his strength, even if he'd reached four-star, he couldn't possibly win.
And yet his instincts whispered to him.
'Neville… there's something very wrong with that whelp.'
Just as Haiben hesitated over his choice—
"Fine! Let's do it!"
"Celine!!"
"Father! We have nowhere to retreat anyway. And there's no way Neville can beat our swordsman."
So she's done pretending. Neville murmured under his breath. Celine shot him a furious glare.
"And Neville—how could you deceive me like that? We were engaged, of all things."
He swallowed the curse that rose to his lips. His anger flared anew—at this worthless woman, and at his past self for ever falling for her.
"Funny. Why did you do it to me, Celine? We were engaged, of all things."
An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. The moment her own words came flying back at her, Celine's face flushed red. She had only just realized how pathetic the things she'd spewed actually sounded.
"Duke Braina. Do you accept? I'm told your man is a three-star swordsman, but I'm happy to call him four-star if you prefer."
"…Enough. Let him fight as he is."
Retracting the claim now would only make him look pettier.
"Then shall we head to the training grounds?"
Neville led the way, and the rest followed. Anna and Helena, who had been waiting outside, fell in behind—Anna at the very rear, Helena trailing Kaiser with a worried expression.
"…He can win, can't he?"
Haiben asked the knight standing at his side.
"Of course, my lord."
Huben, knight of House Braina—a promising talent trained directly under the duke.
Magical houses rarely maintained knightly orders; they preferred to raise mage corps instead. But the Duke of Braina had built one. Magic and the sword—the ambition to wield both. It was a move steeped in the aspiration to become the empire's foremost house, and in practice it had paid off: they had unearthed a lost breathing technique powerful enough to devour most knightly houses and taught it to their men.
It came with a severe side effect, but they had endured it for the sake of honor.
Which was why Huben brimmed with confidence. Even if the young duke had hidden his strength, it was obvious his body had never been tempered through real hardship. And there was no one in that ducal house who wanted this as desperately as he did. There was no way he would lose. Even a four-star swordsman was nothing against a five-star—even if he could only spin three rings.
Before anyone noticed, they had arrived at the training grounds. Neville had long since finished loosening up; he simply swung a wooden sword in lazy arcs as he waited for Huben.
"Big brother…"
Helena approached him anxiously and rested a hand on his shoulder.
"Shall we make another bet? Anything you like, as stakes."
"…No. Just please don't get hurt. That knight is strong."
Is he, now. Neville answered with a small laugh, ruffled her hair, and walked over to Kaiser.
"I won't disappoint you."
Kaiser gave no answer, only a nod. Neville smiled, turned, and faced Huben.
"Hello there, eunuch."
"…What?"
Close enough that only the two of them could hear. Huben's eyes wavered.
Neville gave him no opening, spinning all four rings in an instant. Black aura blossomed from his body.
In his past life, too, he had spun the Sun Rings and Shadow Rings together. Strangely, no matter how many rings he spun, the aura that rose was always black. Thanks to that, even now he could fight at full power without anyone catching on.
"You people are all eunuchs, aren't you? Can't even use what you've got—so I'll relieve you of it today."
"You little—!!!"
Huben flared his blue aura with ferocious intensity—though even then, he spun only three rings. The momentum of his spinning rings was blisteringly fast, yet—
The two swords, moving so fast they seemed to vanish, collided midair with a violent crack.