by Hyougetsu
I grabbed my dueling opponent’s arm as he stepped forward. He was some lord, but I’d already forgotten his name. A swordsman was at their weakest when they took a step, as they were forced to balance on just one leg. As long as I took advantage of that moment, even a novice like me could win. Of course, it took a werewolf’s kinetic vision to be able to accurately follow someone’s movements with that level of precision. And it took magically enhanced reflexes to react in time. Thankfully, I possessed both. I yanked my opponent’s arm forward while sweeping his legs out from under him with a low kick. This was a technique old man Vodd had taught me.
“Uwaaaah!?”
Without any way to brace himself, the noble was sent flying as my pull propelled him forward. We were dueling in Eleora’s courtyard, and there was a fountain directly behind me. My opponent splashed right into it, sending up a spray of water. After a few seconds, he rose to his feet, sputtering. I calmly drew my sword and leveled it at his nose. Soaking wet, the noble dropped to one knee and hung his head.
“I admit defeat...”
The noble ladies and their attendants in the audience cheered. I gave them a polite bow, then proffered a hand to my opponent.
“Are you hurt?”
“Miraculously, I appear to have sustained no injuries... except for my pride, that is.”
“I have prepared a fresh change of clothes for you. After you have dried off, would you like to join me for tea?”
I smiled at the noble as I pulled him to his feet. Though the capital was filled with schemes and plots, and assassinations were an everyday occurrence, it was only the highest-ranked nobles who actually participated in these machinations. Most of the middle and lower-ranked nobles had nothing to do with national policy or diplomacy. They were primarily concerned with increasing their own rank. When they weren’t chasing their ambitions, they were either indulging themselves, or spending time managing their lands and people. Since they had a lot of free time on their hands, many made duel watching a hobby. Even more people came to watch my duels than normal, too, because I was a foreigner.
“Lord Veight, please duel me next!”
“Sorry, but he’s already promised to duel me.”
“Lord Clodief, wasn’t your last defeat just two days ago? I should take priority.”
Oh, I give up... At least let me eat food first, though. I was an amateur when it came to swordsmanship, so I mostly fought bare-handed. But thanks to my magic and my werewolf-enhanced perception, I could take anyone on in a one-on-one duel without needing to transform. Honestly, though, it felt like cheating. As if I was just bullying those weaker than me. It made me a little guilty.
That was the reason why I’d been holding back against everyone I fought, but for some reason that had only attracted more challengers. I guess they all got bolder knowing they won’t die if they lose.
“Uhyaaaaaah!”
“Next challenger.”
“Let’s have a good fight, Lord Veight!”
There were a few challengers who genuinely tried to kill me, and I dealt with those the same way I had the Count of Slaughter. Most nobles, however, just wanted to test their strength, or duel me just so they could claim they’d fought a foreign noble. Their constant requests were filling up my schedule though, so I wish they’d stop. I was probably the first person in Rolmund’s history to hold multiple duels in one day, and I’d been doing that every day for a while now. Rolmund’s dueling style was stiff and awkward, so it was easy for me to predict my opponent’s moves. Really, I was so used to battlefield fighting that these duels were like basic practice drills to me.
As I had dozens of times before, I drew my dueling saber and parried my opponent’s slash. I then pushed his blade upward, leaving his torso wide open. With my free hand, I hit him with a palm thrust, sending him sprawling. I leveled the point of my sword at him and he shouted, “Y-Yield!”
Another one down. I helped my opponent up and looked around. The spectators were drinking tea and chatting idly as they watched. This was turning into quite the spectacle. In another corner of the garden, Vodd was teaching the defeated duelists how to fight better.
“So in your last duel, you started off well. You had a good approach, but you let him get inside your guard too easily.”
“What does that mean, O wise one?”
“The fact that he grabbed your wrist meant you were sloppy with the follow-through and let momentum carry your thrust. If you’re not always prepared to pull back, then anyone can just do... this!”
“Uwaaaaaaaah!”
Looks like he got thrown again.
Kite extricated himself from a group of noble ladies surrounding him and made his way toward me.
“Those young ladies there all invited you over for tea, Veight... I turned them all down for you.”
“Thanks a lot. You made sure to turn them down politely, right?”
“Yeah. Don’t worry, I said no in a way that won’t bring shame to the name of Honorary Count Veight.”
“Thanks, you’re a real help.”
Dealing with nobles was a lot easier because I could get Kite to turn down the more persistent invitations.
“So how many duels do I have left today?”
“Ser Lekomya is the last opponent you have left for... Hm?”
Kite suddenly looked up. Come to think of it, something did feel strange. The atmosphere had been relaxed a second ago, but now it felt strained. A lone man walked over to me.
Rolmund had a strict social hierarchy, so I could tell what his rank was just from the way he was dressed. He was just a mere knight, but I recognized him. He’d been Viscount Whatever-sky’s second during my duel with him.
I guess he’s holding a grudge over that duel. Meaning he probably wants a fight. I got to my feet and waited for him to cross the courtyard. The man who’d been the Count of Slaughter’s second stopped in front of me and bowed.
“I am Ser Barnack, the knight who served as Viscount Schmenivsky’s second in his duel the other day.”
Though he acted casual, he showed no openings at all. He was obviously a skilled fighter.
“I’m glad to see you again, Ser Barnack. Allow me to formally introduce myself. I am Honorary Count Veight.”
I offered him a chair, and he sat down.
“Have you heard of what happened to the Viscount?”
I nodded.
“He went to Lord Doniek’s mountain villa to recuperate, correct? I would like to visit him, but that would likely be difficult.”
Barnack smiled slightly.
“Indeed. Incidentally, I came here today to request a duel with you. Officially I am here for personal reasons, but the truth is I was ordered to duel you by Lord Doneiks.”
“He wishes for a duel between representatives of our respective factions?”
In Rolmund high society, you could appoint a representative for your duel. However, there was little meaning in a duel won by using a representative, so few nobles elected to avail themselves of that option. Barnack must have noticed the confusion in my expression, as he then said, “Lord Doneiks is in the line of succession. His position prohibits him from dueling directly. This is the only method available to him.”
Makes sense.
“In that case, what is the pretext for this duel, Ser Barnack?”
“To restore Viscount Schmenivsky’s honor, naturally. It would not be so strange for there to be someone willing to fight on his behalf.”
I could tell from his tone and the smell of his sweat that he really was just fulfilling his duty. No personal feelings were involved. I got to my feet.
“Very well. When would you like to hold this duel?”
“That is for you to decide, as I am the one who issued the challenge.”
“Then let us hold it now.”
He didn’t look too keen on dueling himself, so I figured I might as well get it over with.
Barnack and I chose our swords. As usual, I chose a simple military dagger.
It was the closest I could get to fighting bare-handed. That being said, the dagger was a pretty potent weapon. It was used to deliver finishing blows in battle. On the other hand, Barnack chose not a dueling saber, but a soldier’s blade. It was very different from the fancy weapons nobles preferred. The tip was sturdy enough to pierce chainmail, and the blade hefty enough to cleave bone. Barnack smiled in appreciation as he studied the blade.
“You possess some fine weapons, Lord Veight.”
“They are all weapons chosen personally by Her Highness Eleora.”
Eleora was the kind of person who fussed a lot over what tools she used, and she took good care of the ones she picked. One of her favorite sayings was “An ill-maintained weapon is more dangerous than any enemy.” I was inclined to agree with her outlook.
Barnack and I took our stances. I held my dagger in my left hand, with an underhand grip. My right arm and right leg were slightly forward. Seeing my stance, Barnack muttered, “Are you planning on pulling me in with your right hand and dealing the finishing blow with that dagger in your left?”
He saw right through me. In a real fight, I’d use tackles and kicks as well, but those were bad manners in a sword duel. Since I could only use my hands, my tactics were limited. I kept my stance as it was, and grinned.
“Who knows?”
Barnack stared at me for a few seconds, then silently adjusted his stance. Instead of a thrusting stance, he’d taken a slashing one. The moment the arbiter announced the start of the duel, Barnack shot forward. There wasn’t even the slightest bit of delay. My enhanced vision was still able to follow him, but had I still been human, he would have disappeared completely from sight. I quickly moved to dodge his diagonal slash, but then he suddenly changed the angle of his stroke.
“Ngh!?”
I barely managed to avoid the slash aimed at my neck, but my shirt collar got cut in the process. My turn now. Or so I thought, but before I could counterattack, Barnack flipped his wrist and swung again. His speed was inhuman. His next attack aimed low, at my flank.
“Haaah!”
Barnack’s expression reminded me of the war god statues back in Japan. Avoiding the first blow to my neck had caused me to lose my balance, so my footing was uneven. Shit, I can’t dodge this. I used one of the spells I’d prepared this morning and made my right hand harder than steel.
“Not today!”
There was a loud metallic clang as I struck down the blade. It broke in half, and the tip sunk into the lawn below. I expected that to be the end of the duel, but Barnack continued his charge. The remaining half of the blade was short enough to slip under my guard. Not good.
“Mister Veight!?”
“Veight!”
Lacy and Fahn both shouted my name.
Barnack and I glared at each other over our shoulders. After a brief second, Barnack chuckled.
“It seems it’s my loss, Lord Veight.”
The tip of my dagger was resting millimeters from the nape of his neck. When he’d come at me with his broken sword, I’d done a quick revolution and brought my left hand up to his neck. It was basically like doing a turning backhand chop, except I was holding a dagger. Realizing the match had been decided, Barnack had held back his attack.
Had he not stopped, I would have been forced to drive the dagger into his neck. I’d actually feared turning my back to him for the split second it had taken to do that revolution. Barnack was as skilled with the sword as Baltze, and Baltze was the strongest swordsman I knew. The only reason I’d been able to defeat Barnack without transforming was that I’d used magic. And if we fought again, there was no guarantee even that would save.
Barnack smiled and handed me the broken remains of his sword.
“You’ve bested me, Lord Veight. You clearly have far more battlefield experience than I do.”
If by bested, you mean used hardening magic to cheat. While I doubted anyone else had noticed, I was certain Barnack had realized I’d used magic there. But instead of calling me out, he just bowed his head.
“I am truly blessed to have had the opportunity to cross swords with someone as skilled as you. That was a wonderful match.”
“The pleasure was all mine. Never have I fought someone so dexterous with a blade. Just who are you?”
While we were talking, the audience burst into cheers.
“Did you see that? The Astral Fencer outdueled the Sword Saint!”
“Indeed, that was an epic match.”
“I never realized a duel between two masters looked so sublime.” Wait, hold on, I don’t recognize those terms. “Sword Saint” was probably referring to Barnack over here. That fact alone was quite a surprise. The sword saint was quite a famous title. But that explained the series of feints that culminated in a multi-stage attack. Even when I broke his sword, he’d kept going. I could certainly see why he was called the sword saint. But that aside, what the heck was this astral fencer nonsense?
“Hey, Kite...”
“Are you truly so surprised that you’ve been given a nickname, after all the duels you’ve participated in?”
Kite sighed as cleaned up the dueling field. I mean I guess that makes sense, but... A deep voice interrupted my musings.
“Ser Barnack is the Doneiks family’s swordsmanship instructor and a master of the Sashimael style. And yet, you defeated him easily. Who in Sonnenlicht’s name are you?”
Who are you?A well-built young noble walked into the courtyard. He was heading straight for me, and he was trailed by a large group of hangers-on.
“Veight, I’m pretty sure that’s Lord Doneiks’ second son, Prince Woroy. He’s fourth in line for the throne.”
So that’s the second son of Rolmund’s most ambitious family. What does he want with me? The other nobles who’d been watching the duel started backing away. It appeared the Doneiks faction was more estranged from the others than the remaining two. Or at the very least, everyone was scared of this Prince Woroy.
Honestly, he was so buff it was hard to believe he was a prince. His muscles rivaled those of the Garney brothers’. Though his gait was unrefined, it was undoubtedly the gait of a warrior. I got to my feet and bowed.
“It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am Veight Gerun Friedensrichter. Would you happen to be Prince Woroy?”
“That’s right. Oh whoops, that’s not very polite of me. Let me introduce myself properly.” The prince chuckled softly. “I am the second son of the Doneiks family, Woroy Bolshevik Doneiks Rolmund. Well met, Lord Veight.”
He gave me a charming smile. Prince Woroy sat down in an open seat and shouted to one of the nearby servants, “I wish to talk with Lord Veight awhile! Bring me some food, I don’t care what it is!”
Eleora’s servants, who’d been watching the duels, hurriedly bowed and brought out sandwiches and tea. While the other nobles and servants were cowering, Prince Woroy smiled at me and said, “What do you say to a game of Shougo?”
“Shougo” was Rolmund’s version of chess. Its pieces were split into “warriors” who had long ranges of movement like rooks and bishops, and “strategists” who had more limited movement ranges like kings but could move in more directions. If a strategist-type piece captured an opponent’s piece, the player could then put it back into play on their side, like in shogi.
While I knew the rules of shougo, I hadn’t ever played it before. Hiding my trepidation, I shook my head.
“I sincerely doubt you came here to play a game with me. Let us move straight into the main topic if you please, Your Highness.”
“Oh, not a fan of pleasantries? Perfect.”
Prince Woroy nodded happily and said, “My dad... oops, I mean Lord Doneiks employs many fighters, but Ser Barnack is far superior to them all. Just who are you?”
“A mere vice-commander.”
“Vice... commander?”
“Correct. I am Her Highness Eleora’s Vice-Commander.”
I accidentally gave my standard reply and had to quickly smooth
it over. Did he buy it? Prince Woroy’s smile widened, and he leaned back leisurely in his chair.
“You have guts, saying that to the son of Lord Doneiks.”
Oh good, he thinks I’m just stating my loyalty. Despite me plainly stating that I was part of Eleora’s camp, Prince Woroy’s smile didn’t fade.
“You really are an interesting fellow! Tell me a story, Veight!”
A story? What story? While his sudden request caught me off-balance, I was used to dealing with guys like these thanks to my experiences with the Garney brothers.
“In place of a story, allow me to apologize to you for causing such a disturbance the other day. I did not mean to duel one of your father’s retainers, but in order to protect Lady Eleora’s honor, he left me no choice.”
Prince Woroy looked confused for a second, then waved his hand dismissively.
“Oh, him. Never mind him. In fact, I should be the one apologizing to you. Someone in his position shouldn’t have done what he did. Anyway, surely you have a few interesting stories to tell. Anything will do, so tell me one.”
What is with this guy? What kind of story would a jock like him enjoy anyway?
I took a closer look at the prince. Everything from his sword to his boots were designed for practicality over fashion. His clothes were built to last, not to look good. Had he lived in modern-day Earth he probably would have worn exclusively camo gear. I smiled and said, “Would you like to know the secret to dueling then?”
“Now that sounds interesting.”
I glanced over to where Vodd was still tutoring nobles.
“It’s simple. The sword style they teach for dueling is extremely rigid. There are so few patterns that reading your opponent is a trivial matter. Compared to the ferocity of a real battle, duels are nothing.”
“A real battle, you say? You speak as though you’ve experienced many of those.”
Prince Woroy sounded almost jealous. He was probably the kind of guy who enjoyed warfare. He sighed, then looked around to make sure no one else was within earshot.
“A prince from the male line like me isn’t allowed onto the battlefield. If only I’d been born to a female branch of the line, like Eleora.”
