Chapter 40

“Wilhelm of Geol! I present myself before Your Highness, Duke, leading thirty knights, one hundred heavy infantry, and four hundred light infantry!”

“Joseph of Bidel! I present myself before His Highness the Black Prince, leading thirty knights, fifty heavy infantry, fifty light cavalry, and three hundred foot soldiers!”

“Kenneth of Bildberg! One Ogre Knight! Thirty knights and one hundred heavy infantrymen…….”

In the great hall of the Saxon ducal castle, lords from across the northern lands were each reporting the knights and soldiers under their command.

The great lords seated upon the throne… swearing allegiance before the Black Duke.

The northern nobles gathered for the Duke of Saxony, the foremost great lord of the north and one of the Three Dukes.

“Moreover, our Geol family’s eldest son, Ves, will surely fight for Your Grace in this battle…!”

“As Father said, we, the Geol family, are prepared to sacrifice our lives for His Grace the Duke!”

The nobleman who appeared to be the father spoke, and a young man clad in armor knelt and thrust his sword into the ground. It was a plea common to any society: “Please look kindly upon my son.”

“Our second son, Yones of House Kenneth, has also commendably gathered a hundred men from his own mercenary company…”

And Count Geol was surely not the only one seeking such advantage. Thus, the Duke of Saxony spoke calmly.

“I am ever grateful for your loyalty.”

Battles do not begin overnight. While lords gathered at their castles and soldiers stayed in their barracks, reorganizing their formations in preparation for the coming conflict… the process of rallying subordinates and gaining the favor of factions was also an indispensable task for a great lord.

The camaraderie and socializing among the nobles during this time were also indispensable rituals. Which faction to align with, which noble to curry favor with. In that regard, the northern nobles and their sons knew exactly who they needed to align with.

“We humbly greet the Black Prince!”

“Prince Dale! I have heard much about your legendary feats in the Black and White Rotation!”

“I am Beth, eldest son of the Geol family! I long to fight alongside you in battle and witness that valor!”

‘That’s politics for you, I suppose.’

People began vying to praise Dale’s fame, and Dale smiled appropriately.

“You all are truly dependable.”

A smile befitting an eleven-year-old child.

“Oh my, Young Master Dale!”

“You’re even more handsome and gallant than people say!”

“I never imagined you’d be such a fine and splendid young man!”

“Even at such a young age, you are truly noble and manly!”

And there were the young noble ladies, sparing no effort to fawn over him desperately. At most, they could be fourteen or fifteen years old.

“With battle imminent, did the Lady personally come here?”

Dale asked, and the young ladies answered in unison.

“It is our duty as young ladies to support the men so Father and Brother can focus entirely on the battle.”

A wise and sharp reply. The daughters of noble families, too, were desperately trying to fulfill their duties.

“I see.”

Dale nodded impassively. Then, watching the endless stream of people pouring toward them, he smiled bitterly to himself. Truly, there was nothing more exhausting.

“Prince Dale.”

It was at that very moment.

Amidst the constant stream of flattery, a voice of substance was heard for the first time.

“I hear that despite your young age, you possess a skill that is in no way inferior to that of mature knights.”

At that voice, Dale lifted his head.

A man clad in black armor with a light patina of rust, a sword at his waist. Barely past twenty, perhaps. A faint trace of youth still clung to him, making it clear at a glance he was the scion of a noble house.

“Yo, Yones! You bastard!”

Simultaneously, another man, unable to hide his bewilderment, came running breathlessly. He appeared to be the nobleman’s father.

“Young master, what an utterly rude way to speak!”

But Dale waved him off without a care. At a single gesture from Dale, the man’s father hastily shut his mouth.

“The second son of the House of Baron Kenneth, Lord Yones, you said.”

“That is correct.”

In response to Dale’s question, Lord Yones knelt and performed the knightly courtesy. The commotion in the hall subsided, and all eyes turned to them.

“Do you have something to say to me?”

“The empire’s foremost genius…”

Lord Yones spoke.

“I have heard that the young prince of House Saxon possesses overwhelming talent in both sword and magic, unmatched by any other.”

Sword and magic.

“At that age, he led the Black-White Rotation to a great victory, staining the blood of the Knights of St. Magdalena red.”

“It’s thanks to the Saxon swordsmen’s efforts.”

“I’ve heard that even if a flock of crows pecked at them day and night for a week, the enemy corpses wouldn’t diminish.”

“Is there anything else you wish to say to me?”

Lord Yones nodded in response to Dale’s question.

“Might you be so kind as to teach me a few moves with that sword of yours, my lord?”

Murmurs.

His words sparked commotion from all sides. It was essentially the same as challenging the eldest son of House Saxon to a duel. In a sense, it was like exposing the truth behind the boastful tales circulating about Dale.

It is not an action the son of a minor lord should dare take against the son of a great lord.

“You bastard!”

“How dare you be so utterly disrespectful to the young master!”

“Your Grace, this young upstart doesn’t know his place and is spouting nonsense!”

“Drag him out of the city at once!”

Fingers pointed at Lord Yones from all sides, yet not a flicker of emotion crossed his face.

‘Huh.’

Dale opened his mouth, feigning interest. The commotion ceased.

“The second son of House Kenneth, Lord Yones. I hear you command a hundred mercenaries.”

“As a knight-errant on a quest, I’ve assembled this mercenary company from scratch, every last detail.”

‘A mercenary company.’

The second son of the baron’s house. Following the law of primogeniture, inheriting the estate would be difficult. That’s why he’s resorting to such a gamble-like move to prove himself.

To assemble a hundred-strong mercenary company as a knight-errant without any backing shows he’s not half bad.

‘He might be quite useful.’

Above all, his guts appealed to me.

“Agreed.”

Dale nodded, his decision made.

“I accept your challenge to a duel.”

Under the witness of Duke Saxony, the duel between Dale and Sir Yones was arranged on the spot.

Right here, in the great hall of Saxony Castle.

The Duke of Saxony sat upon his throne, expressionless, looking down upon the two men.

The lords present and their sons were those who would fight ‘under his and his son’s command’. Therefore, demonstrating Dale’s skill before them was something even the Black Count could not refuse. No, rather, it would be an excellent opportunity to firmly establish the hierarchy.

This was only possible because, as a father, he was certain Dale could win.

Regardless of the arguments, it is a well-known fact that Dale is excessively young. Therefore, it was necessary to clearly demonstrate his true nature before the Northern Lord.

That the cruelty and infamy of the ‘Black Prince’ were by no means empty claims.

Swoosh.

Dale’s opponent, Lord Yones, drew his knight’s sword. Seeing this, Dale spoke.

“You are aware, I trust, that my sword is no ‘ordinary blade’.”

In that place where not even a breeze stirred, his black surcoat fluttered.

“I too have heard of the ‘Shadow Blade’ possessed by Confucius.”

A blade of darkness that could be freely manipulated in form, moving without being touched. Strictly speaking, it was a sword bordering on the heretical path for a knight, but Dale had always aspired to be a mage.

“Use your aura.”

“……!”

A flicker of unease crossed Sir Yones’s face at Dale’s words. He knew full well the gravity of using aura in a duel.

“This is an order.”

Dale replied coldly. Once the decision was made, there was no turning back. As if to say just that.

“Understood.”

The aura began to circulate throughout Lord Yones’ body. He was not yet a knight skilled enough to wield the aura blade.

‘Nevertheless, his control is remarkably precise.’

Assessing his condition dispassionately, Dale spoke.

“Give it your all.”

Simultaneously, the shadow beneath his feet materialized and rose, orbiting Dale in the shape of a blade.

‘That is the sword of the Black Sage…’

Shadow blades.

Seeing those strange and ominous blades, Lord Yones swallowed hard. After swallowing, he adjusted his grip on the hilt.

Kenneth Yones.

At sixteen, he roamed the continent as a wandering knight, shaking off his obscurity. Starting from the bottom, he rose to become the captain of a hundred-strong mercenary company. By the time he turned twenty, he had mastered the use of aura despite never receiving formal training in the art.

With his resolve set, Sir Yones stamped his foot on the ground.

‘I cannot lose to some brat who had everything handed to him from birth.’

Born the second son of a minor noble house, he had nothing, relying only on his sword to rise to this position.

And yet, compared to him, the eldest son of Saxony, the foremost great feudal lord of the North, dared to flaunt his ‘talent’!

That fact was so infuriating I couldn’t bear it.

I wanted to prove that even those who have nothing can defeat those who have everything. I refused to bow down before the world’s absurdities and injustices.

Clang!

Sir Yones’ sword swung. Blade met blade. And each time he deflected the swirling, pitch-black blades from all directions, an inexplicable sense of unease began to fill Sir Yones’ chest.

The ‘Black Prince’ gazed at him without a shred of emotion.

Manipulating the blades of darkness generated from the shadows beneath his feet with effortless ease.

Swords clashed, retreated, surged forward, clashed again, parried. Swords clashed endlessly, and only after dozens of such exchanges did I vaguely understand.

“Ah, ahh…”

From the very beginning, the ‘Black Prince’ hadn’t even seen someone like Lord Yones.

His target wasn’t me, but solely the Northern Lord and his sons watching this duel. To prove his name before them all. He had merely designated Lord Yones as the sacrificial lamb.

A sacrificial lamb for establishing hierarchy.

He was overwhelming them like a child at play, flaunting his powerlessness.

‘There’s no way….’

In front of a knight wielding aura, a mere 11-year-old brat was acting all nonchalant? It was nothing short of a public execution, a complete humiliation.

‘I can’t let this stand…!’

In his agitation, Sir Yones swung his sword with even greater desperation. A killing sword, aimed to strike down his opponent with all his might.

Clang!

The blades clashed once more.

Clang! Clang!

It was not the sound of blade meeting blade.

It was a feeble sound, like swinging a sword at a ‘massive wall that could never be crossed.’ A wall so vast and colossal that one dared not even look up at it. The Wailing Wall stood towering before him.

Before long, the battle had become nothing more than Yones’s one-sided struggle.

Only then did he realize.

The ‘Black Prince’s’ talent, the finest in the empire, did not stem from petty reasons like being born into a powerful house or receiving a good education.

That was the very embodiment of absurdity.

That overwhelming talent seemed to symbolize the very essence of the world’s unfairness.

Realizing that fact, all I could manage was a hollow laugh. Continuing this sword fight was pointless. I could feel it in my bones. The gap wasn’t just overwhelming—it bordered on despair.

“My…”

The strength drained from the hand gripping the sword hilt.

“I concede.”

Simultaneously, the shadow blades orbiting around Dale froze in mid-air.

“My victory.”

Dale spoke.

“Is this all you’ve got?”

Before Dale’s question, Lord Yones could say nothing.

“…….”

Silence descended. It was an incredibly long and heavy silence.