WLYV 43

Chapter 43

The Day of the Honor Duel

Standing at the podium, Lorencia watched as Teyshar stepped back a single pace. She let out a quiet breath.

Her eyes swept quickly over the crowd gathered at the training grounds. Then her lips slowly parted.

“I am Lorencia of House Heredian.”

It was her first time standing before so many eyes, and nerves fluttered in her stomach. Still, she spoke clearly, one word at a time.

She had carefully prepared her speech, listing all the good things about Luanse for this very day.

“His Highness Prince Luanse took in someone like me—a mere illegitimate child…”

Each time she spoke of his virtues, she could almost feel how satisfied Luanse must be, listening.

“When you pour too much water into a cup, it spills over.”

“He cared for me, who was abused, together with my half-sister Illina.”

“And when the water spills, someone wipes it up with a dry cloth.”

“His Highness threw down a white glove to defend the honor of a bastard like me.”

“The rag that wiped the water is wrung, twisted, and twisted again until not a drop remains.”

“I was told I had to marry Lord Roryrolls, but thanks to His Highness, that marriage never happened.”

“The rag, wrung dry, will tear and be thrown away.”

“His Highness is the hope of powerless people like me.”

Finishing her words, Lorencia smiled at the audience.

Teyshar, who had stepped back earlier, came forward and offered his hand. Accepting his escort, Lorencia stepped down from the podium and took her seat.

Tension filled the training grounds as Luanse and Roryrolls stood face to face.

Teyshar looked up at the two men. They glared at each other, drawing their swords with heavy seriousness. He instinctively closed his eyes, then opened them again.

If one of them had at least shown remarkable swordsmanship, it might have been an exciting match to watch. But from what Teyshar had seen, Luanse’s sword skills were average at best.

Even so, the reason he had confidently thrown the white glove at Roryrolls was likely because he thought, “I can win against someone like him.”

Teyshar found that reasoning plausible.

Luanse took his stance, sword raised, but Roryrolls—his stomach protruding—could barely hold his sword properly. He looked almost like a pig awkwardly trying to walk on two legs while clutching a blade.

“Honestly, this might be the least exciting duel I’ve ever seen.”

“Really? I’ve never watched a duel before, so I’m kind of excited. Who do you think will win, Marquis Spencer? Everyone’s betting—let’s make a wager too.”

“If I had to guess, I’d say Prince Luanse will win.”

“But if he loses, won’t the nobles mock him behind his back?”

“Undoubtedly.”

At Teyshar’s reply, Lorencia’s heart began to pound painfully.

“I just remembered something His Highness once said to me.”

“What did the Prince say to you, Lady Lorencia?”

‘Lorencia, I don’t care if people mock me. I’d endure any ridicule—for your sake.’

“He told me he’d gladly be ridiculed by others for my sake. If he loses this duel, just as you said, people will indeed mock him. But surely he won’t lose to Lord Roryrolls… will he?”

Teyshar glanced sideways at Lorencia’s cheerful face, then sighed quietly as he looked back at Roryrolls.

‘I’ll take his place in the duel.’
‘Master, I wish I could take his place as well.’

In truth, Teyshar had secretly approached Roryrolls and offered him a large sum of money in exchange for letting someone else fight as his stand-in.

But Roryrolls refused, saying that if by some chance he won, he wanted to claim that honor for himself.

Teyshar had been puzzled. He could lose his life—yet he said he could win. Has he given up on both money and life? Or has he gone mad?

And so, the day of the duel arrived. Roryrolls appeared at the arena with only a single sword.

Teyshar regretted not being able to take his place, but he respected the pride Roryrolls showed as a noble, even knowing he would almost certainly lose.

“Look, Marquis Spencer—the duel’s starting!”
“Yes, Lady Lorencia.”

From the center of the arena, Duke Rox von Retia, commander of the First Imperial Knights of the Ishter Empire, stepped forward as the duel’s referee.

“On the 29th day of the tenth month, year 454, at three o’clock in the afternoon, His Highness Prince Luanse von Ishter and Lord Roryrolls Stofu shall begin their honorable duel. The victor shall be bathed in glory, and the defeated must accept their loss with humility. May the goddess Ella’s mercy shine upon their crossing blades!”

That was the formal declaration: the victor would regain lost honor, and the loser would humbly accept defeat, earning the goddess Ella’s blessing for fair combat.

When Duke Rox stepped back, the duel began.

Luanse raised his sword before his chest. Roryrolls mirrored him, blade held upright. They stood far apart, glaring.

“Marquis Spencer, why are they just staring at each other like that?”

“That’s a probing phase—each is waiting to see who strikes first.”

“Who do you think will make the first move?”

“Prince Luanse will attack first.”

Just as Teyshar said that, the two suddenly closed the distance between them. Maintaining a short gap, they searched for an opening. Then Luanse tightened his grip and charged forward.

“Haaap!”
“Hiyap!”

Clang!

The sound of colliding steel echoed across the arena. Roryrolls had blocked Luanse’s first strike.

A sly smile crept across Roryrolls’ face.

“That was quite a heavy blow, Your Highness.”
“Impressive, Lord Roryrolls. Honestly, I thought you’d send a substitute for this duel.”
“I had several offers, but I refused them.”
“Who would volunteer to stand in for a piece of trash? Especially in an honor duel? Funniest thing I’ve heard lately.”

At Luanse’s mocking laugh, Roryrolls’ face twisted in visible anger.

Indeed, several had offered to take his place—especially Teyshar and an elderly man with white hair, likely his butler, both offering huge sums.

He had wanted the money. But he couldn’t forget what Lorencia had said to him that day.

“Why are you daydreaming mid-duel, Lord Roryrolls? Focus!”
“My apologies. I was thinking of Lady Lorencia.”
“You dare speak her name in my presence?”
“For her sake, I will win this duel and reclaim my honor.”
“You have a real talent for comedy.”

Luanse bent his knees, lowering his body. Then, straightening them, he thrust his sword forward as if to pierce Roryrolls’ throat—

Lorencia, watching the duel, smiled faintly. She whispered softly, her eyes on Luanse’s boots, words no one else could hear:

“[Slip.]”

At that instant, Luanse’s feet slid out from under him. He fell flat on his face.

Gasps of dismay rose from the crowd.

“Ugh.”

Roryrolls fought back laughter, smirking as Luanse scrambled up, using his sword as a cane. His face was redder than an apple, his teeth clenched in shame.

“Are you all right, Your Highness?”
“Damn it.”

Duke Rox approached, worry on his face.

“Your Highness, it would be wise not to underestimate Lord Roryrolls.”

Luanse glared coldly at Roryrolls, then readied his sword again. But this time, Roryrolls moved first—charging with his blade raised high.

Luanse braced himself as the heavier man came barreling toward him. Roryrolls swung furiously, slashing with all his strength.

The repeated clang, clang of colliding steel rang harshly through the arena.

Roryrolls kept raising and striking, again and again. Luanse, calm and composed, blocked every blow. Soon Roryrolls’ breathing turned ragged—his stamina nearly gone.

That was Luanse’s chance.

He lifted his blade and swung hard. Roryrolls, sensing the attack, stepped back to dodge, bending his waist—

—but too slowly. The edge of Luanse’s sword grazed his bulging stomach.

“Kugh!”

Roryrolls doubled over in pain. Luanse’s face broke into a victorious grin.

But Roryrolls suddenly used that crouched posture to spring forward, twisting his wrist and striking upward into Luanse’s open guard.

The tip of his blade barely grazed Luanse’s hair—

—and Luanse, in his panic to dodge, tripped over his own feet and fell backward clumsily.

The arena fell into stunned silence again.

This time, he couldn’t rise as quickly. The first fall could have been a mistake; the second, he could no longer excuse.

Humiliation pierced him like a sword.

Roryrolls’ lips curved into a wide, triumphant smile.

He remembered the words Lorencia had whispered to him the day Prince Luanse had struck him with that white glove.