Chapter 6

"If you've got a problem with it, then fight me."

"W-What did you just… say?"

Count Cornwell, who had been shouting furiously moments ago, stared with wide eyes.

"A duel has been declared, so what exactly are the knights standing around doing?"

Ignoring his voice, I addressed the knights stationed throughout the conference hall.

"W-Well…"
"What are we supposed to do…?!"

Caught off guard by the sudden situation, the knights panicked in confusion.
Though they bore the name of Leinrant, most of them had been raised with the collateral branches' funding.
They probably had no idea whether they should obey the branch count who raised them, or me.

"What the hell are you all doing—?!"

The shoulders of the confused knights flinched.
It was Dunkel, dressed in full uniform, roaring at them.

"A descendant of Leinrant has declared a duel. Does this look like a joke to you?!"

Snapping back to attention at their superior's voice, the knights all drew their swords at once.

KAAANG—!

The sound of dozens of swords striking the ground echoed simultaneously.
Only then did the nobles gathered in the hall realize something had gone very wrong.

"W-Wait, Young Master Klein! A Trial by Combat? That is…!"

I already knew what he was about to say.
An obsolete law. A forgotten custom.
That was what he wanted to argue.

'You think I'd let you escape that easily?'

Sneering inwardly, I added one more sentence.

"A man who calls himself a lord of the North rejects the North's ancient traditions?"

"Th-That's not…!"

Hearing my words, Count Cornwell hurriedly looked around.
The people seated where his gaze landed were old veteran warriors wearing fur clothing.
They were not the Leinrant collateral branches that had aligned themselves with the Empire, but neutral local powers.

'There's a reason I escalated this matter to this extent.'

Seeing Cornwell hesitate instead of immediately refuting me nearly made me smile.

'Go ahead and refuse. Let's see what those old bastards think of the collateral branches afterward.'

The northern local lords were people rooted in this land even before House Leinrant existed.
Fundamentalists who treated old customs and traditions as sacred.

"Hoh… to think someone still remembered that ancient tradition."
"I can't even remember the last time I heard the sound of swords declaring a duel."

Just as expected, they looked at me with fascinated eyes, as though this entire situation intrigued them.

"Grr…"

After observing their reactions, Count Cornwell let out a low groan.
There were already many local lords who disliked how the collateral branches had sided with the Empire.
If he rejected the Trial by Combat now, the branch families would be placed in a politically disastrous position.

'The moment this meeting was convened, you were already in the palm of my hand.'

Just as I thought that, my father, Duke Heinkel, who had been silently watching our exchange, rose from his seat.

"We cannot ignore a tradition passed down since the founding generation."

After speaking, Heinkel alternated his gaze between me and Count Cornwell before personally declaring:

"The declaration of the legitimate bloodline of Leinrant has been recognized. As the Seventh Duke of Leinrant, I hereby guarantee this Trial by Combat."

"Y-Your Grace…!"

The moment the Duke himself approved it, confusion spread even further among the collateral branch faction.

"According to the law, all evidence and accusations presented thus far are now rendered void. Only the outcome of the duel shall determine guilt."

At Heinkel's words, Cornwell, who had been clutching his head, abruptly looked up.

"Then the evidence the main house presented until now…?"

"Without exception, all of it is dismissed."

At that, Count Cornwell's lips curled upward.

'He probably thinks this turned out for the better.'

Evidence of hiring mercenaries.
And the circumstances of disappearing alone with me, the second young master.
If one really examined the matter, it was the collateral branch that stood at a disadvantage, not me.

'Originally, they probably intended to delay judgment for three or four years and quietly bury the incident through the Empire.'

A tedious and troublesome process.
And now I had supposedly lost my temper and demanded a duel instead.
From their perspective, this was probably a stroke of luck.

"H-Hahaha! Excellent! Yes, very good!"

Laughing loudly, Count Cornwell strode toward me.
Regardless of the truth, he was still a father who had lost his son.
There was no way he intended to let me walk away unharmed.

"The duel will take place in one week. On our side, we intend to send Sir Randel as our champion. Would that be acceptable?"

I nodded at Cornwell's proposal.
Neither my swordsmanship nor my necromancy was fully complete yet.
And if I killed one of the branch faction's core counts outright, the other collateral branches would immediately become cautious.

'I need to draw attention in a controlled way, then buy time to build my own power.'

Thinking that, I nodded.

"Randel? You mean Randel of Grimdel?"

Meanwhile, after hearing the champion's name, Dunkel frowned and asked:

"So you know him, Sir Dunkel. He's an exceptionally talented man."

"You intend to send an Imperial knight into a northern duel?"

"An Imperial knight? Not at all. He is now officially a knight of our House Cornwell."

Though Dunkel spoke stiffly, Count Cornwell merely answered shamelessly.

"You know the name?"
"He's a knight who distinguished himself in the Battle of Grimdel Plains."

"If he's famous enough for even the North to know him, then why'd he leave the Empire and come all the way here?"

When I whispered the question to Dunkel, he answered with a grim expression.

"He was expelled. On his return journey, he attacked a civilian home and assaulted the widow living there…"

"Hah. Birds of a feather flock together."

While we whispered quietly, Cornwell twitched the corner of his mouth and asked me:

"But Young Master, won't you appoint a champion of your own?"

At that, my eyes narrowed.

"A champion?"

"Sir Dunkel serves directly under His Grace, so he would be inappropriate… but there is one suitable person, is there not?"

The qualifications to appoint a champion were simple:
A blood relative of the duelist, or a knight sworn into their service.

'Delline. He's trying to use me to drag out the Leinrant heir.'

Even now, the bastard was scheming.
The man really was a snake.

"He's right, Count Cornwell."

I turned at the voice from behind me.

'Ah, seriously… please don't.'

Delline stood there with his fists clenched tightly.

"I find it difficult to believe Klein killed Dalton, but even so, I do not think my brother is lying."

"If that is the case?"

The moment he saw Delline visibly worked up, Cornwell immediately tried to provoke him further.

'If only his political instincts were even half as good as his talent with the sword and physical ability…'

Delline couldn't even control his expression in front of a political enemy.
I appreciated him trying to protect me as my brother, but this would only make things worse.

"I shall stand as champion and prove my brother's innocen—"

"I will not appoint a champion."

I cut him off immediately before he could continue.

"Klein, this is reckless!"
"This is my problem. You're not involved."
"How is this only your problem?!"

Delline continued trying to stop me, but I looked straight at Cornwell and declared firmly:

"I… will personally fight in the duel."

In a Trial by Combat, the will of the duelist was absolute.
Not even the Duke who authorized the duel could interfere.

"Hah… what a very… courageous decision."

At my firm response, Count Cornwell smacked his lips and left the conference hall without losing his smile.

"Even if you decide to appoint a champion on the very day of the duel, I won't object, so feel free to tell me anytime, Young Master! Hahaha!"

Watching Cornwell disappear, I quietly let out a sigh of relief.

"Klein! You…!"

After everyone in the hall had left,
Delline approached me and grabbed both my shoulders.

"What the hell are you doing all of a sudden?! A duel?! You…!"

"Thanks for worrying about me, but this wasn't some thoughtless decision. I actually have a chance."

As I said that, I brushed Delline's hands away.
At the same time, my gaze remained fixed beyond his shoulder—toward my father, Duke Heinkel.

I lowered my head in gratitude.
Without Duke Heinkel's guarantee, this Trial by Combat would never have even been approved.

Seeing that, Heinkel gave a small nod before turning and walking out of the conference hall.

The direction he headed toward was the training grounds.

The meaning was simple.

'He wants me to prove whether I can actually win this duel.'

Thinking that, I looked back at Delline, who was still trying to persuade me.

'Right. If I'm going to tear this family apart and rebuild it anyway, sooner or later I'll have to reveal my hand.'

A bastard child born from a non-human mother.
A cursed child who once called himself Archimond.
Even so, I couldn't simply cast aside the people who had kept me alive until now.

"Listen to me, Klein! Even now, if you appoint a champion—!"

"Brother."

At the title he had never heard from me before, Delline froze.

"H-Hey, did you just call me brother…?"

'Perfect timing. There's something I need to draw out of this guy anyway, so a little sparring won't hurt.'

Thinking that, I looked at him and spoke.

"Could you spar with me once?"

One side of the training grounds.
Heinkel watched Delline and Klein standing there holding blunt practice longswords.

"Do you regret it?"

At the voice addressing him, the Duke turned his head.

"Dunkel."

The black-haired knight had approached him.

"I'm a pathetic father. My child is walking to his death, yet instead of stopping him, I pushed him forward."

"…Young Master Klein will not die."

Though Dunkel said that, the Duke shook his head.

"Klein doesn't know how to use a sword. This is no different from suicide."

"Then why did you permit it?"

At Dunkel's question, Heinkel replied:

"How could I possibly stop a child stepping forward for the honor of his dead mother?"

The Trial by Combat between Cornwell and Klein.
But its true focal point was not the assassination accusation against Klein.

It was the honor of Klein's mother, Duchess Claire.

"Under normal circumstances, I would have intended to stand as champion myself."

"Your Grace."

"I know. If I stepped forward out of personal emotion, the ducal house's prestige would only suffer further."

As Heinkel spoke, his sigh deepened.

"When I brought Klein back from the church into the ducal household, there was tremendous backlash."

Recalling the past, Heinkel clenched his fist.
A prince despised as the cursed child of a foreign race, the reincarnation of Archimond.
If he not only kept such a child alive, but protected him again now, even the remaining support base of the main house would begin to waver.
That was exactly the outcome the collateral branches wanted.

"If he wins the duel, their opinions will change."

Dunkel's words had merit.
A duel for the restoration of Duchess Claire's honor.
If Klein won, Cornwell's faction would have no choice but to acknowledge Claire not as some foreign woman, but as a noble lady of the ducal house.
Klein's standing would also rise after crushing the momentum of the collateral branches.

Still, Heinkel shook his head bitterly.

"The opponent is a formal knight. This is an unwinnable fight."

The difference between a knight who wielded mana and an ordinary man who could not was absolute.
Even a newly appointed low-ranking knight could fight dozens of elite soldiers.
And their opponent was a veteran formal knight who had crossed countless battlefields.

For Klein, who had never held a sword before, it was impossible.

"In the end… I'll simply be forced to watch Klein die."

A situation where he had to preserve the family at the cost of his child's life.
That helplessness twisted Heinkel's expression.

"I swore I would protect this family… yet in the end, I can't protect anything."

Deep regret filled Heinkel's face as he spoke.

"Haaap—!"

KAKANG!

Meanwhile, Delline charged at Klein and unleashed a storm of sword strikes.
His intention was to completely suppress Klein at once and stop him from insisting on fighting personally.

KAANG—!

A frontal strike smashed against Klein's sword to break his posture, followed immediately by a middle thrust.
Then Delline twisted the sword path and slashed diagonally across Klein's body.

KANG—

With a clear metallic clang, Klein's body was flung backward.

"Did he just… block every single one of Delline's sword paths?"

Watching the sparring match, Heinkel's eyes widened.
Delline's blade was overflowing with powerful mana.

"Even a formal knight would struggle to hold a sword after taking that three times… so how in the world…?"

"Agh, my back…"

Muttering that, Klein casually dusted himself off and stood back up.

Seeing that, not only Heinkel, but even Delline's expression turned strange.

"There's no need to worry, Your Grace."

As Dunkel's voice sounded out, Klein adjusted his stance and immediately rushed forward.

KIRIRIRIK—?!

Klein's sword moved with a bizarre sound.
A direct frontal strike, a middle thrust, then a perfect diagonal trajectory.
It was identical to the swordsmanship Delline had used moments ago, without even the slightest deviation.

"Kgh?!"

Startled, Delline hurriedly blocked the attack, but Klein immediately stepped in even deeper.

"Wait… don't tell me that technique is…!"

Now within Delline's range, Klein settled into position.

Sword path.
Direction.
Even the exact point where force should be applied.

PIIIING—!

The sword Klein swung tore through the air.
It was a terrifying speed that even Heinkel himself might have missed had he not been fully focused.

"That's impossible…!"

The Duke doubted his own eyes.
The secret art of Meteor Sword—the technique he himself had created and mastered—was unfolding from Klein's hands.

"Young Master Klein… has never been the type to fight battles he can't win."