The man who had sneered at Shan looked to be in his early to mid-twenties. His sturdy build beneath his extravagant clothes and the well-developed muscles of his arms suggested considerable training.

“Show some courtesy to a guest who has come a long way, Baron Rugen.”

After a brief silence fell over the banquet hall, Kladek spoke in a voice that seemed to be suppressing anger. But the man addressed as Baron Rugen was anything but cowed. Instead, he raised his chin defiantly.

“But I haven’t said anything untrue, have I, brother-in-law? The only war Pendia has seen recently was that clash between the princes. He didn’t even fight in it—he ran away. When could he have killed so many people? Surely he didn’t round up peasants to cut down.”

Judging by that form of address, the young baron appeared to be the countess’s younger brother.

To be fair, his argument had some merit. Unlike other countries, where bandits abounded and conflicts between people were frequent, Pendia offered its warriors few opportunities to kill other humans. With monsters everywhere, even criminals struggled to leave towns and villages and form gangs.

Even those who participated in the rare wars would have difficulty killing a hundred people. Since Shan had no such military record, there was ample room to dismiss his words as a young boy’s boasting.

The problem was that harboring suspicions and voicing them openly were entirely different matters. To tell a knight at a gathering like this, in effect, “Aren’t those feats you’re boasting of lies?” was a grave insult.

Every noble and knight nearby—even those who had regarded Shan with marked disapproval—was visibly taken aback by the remark. And for some reason, Shan noticed that the baron kept glancing to one side.

Amid the silence, Shan took a moment to choose his words, then answered in as measured a tone as he could manage.

“I’ve never considered killing people anything to be particularly proud of. Young Lord Blois asked, and I answered with what I could recall. If you’re asking whether I truly possess the skill to do it, I can demonstrate.”

At this polished version of “Want to fucking die?” a smile appeared on the young baron’s face, as though he had been hoping for precisely that response.

“Just what I wanted. Let’s see what this knight from abroad can do, shall we?”

“What form would you prefer?”

“Anything. Lances, swords, or even fists. You must be tired from your long journey today, so let’s do it tomorrow.”

“I wouldn’t mind doing it right here and now.”

“Yurk! There is a limit to my patience! Get out of here this instant!”

As the exchange threatened to turn into an immediate duel, Kladek exploded, roaring at the young baron. Yurk turned toward the head of the table, looked displeased, then bowed deeply.

“Yes, my apologies for spoiling the mood. This incorrigible wastrel will take his leave.”

Then he shouted at Shan, “I’ll come for you tomorrow!” and walked straight out of the banquet hall.

* * *

After the ruined banquet petered out, Kladek invited Shan and Sherin into a sitting room. There, to Shan’s surprise, he bowed his head.

“I owe you a profound apology, Sir Shan. I have no excuse.”

High nobles of a count’s standing were ordinarily so proud that they scarcely bowed even before a king. The apology was humbling even to Shan, who was relatively insensitive to the pressures of rank.

Still, that was one matter, and this another. Ultimately, an apology from someone other than the offender meant little.

“I don’t believe this is something you should apologize for, Count. But that man just now was, I take it...”

“My foolish brother-in-law. He is also one of only four barons in Pales.”

Baron Rugen, Yurk Jul, was not only a baron himself and Count Pales’s brother-in-law, but also renowned as the most skilled warrior in the region. In short, he possessed both power and martial strength—the two qualities most important in a man.

“Oh...”

“He may be nothing compared to proper knights elsewhere, but he’s always been the local king of the hill here. He was tolerable while my father-in-law was alive, at least. But ever since inheriting his title a few years ago, he’s become so insufferably conceited that I can’t control him.”

Kladek shook his head in bewilderment, saying that Yurk normally stopped short of outright outrageous behavior, and he had no idea what had gotten into him today.

“Yurk has always boasted that he could make a great name for himself if only he left this cramped little Pales. Then a famous knight arrived from outside, and apparently he wanted to prove himself, even if he had to pick a fight to do it.”

“I don’t think that was all, Uncle.”

“What do you mean, Your Highness?”

Sherin, who had been listening beside them, spoke with a weary expression.

“That fellow kept looking my way from the moment the banquet began. And after picking a fight with Sir Shan, he put on this swaggering expression as if to say, ‘Look how impressive I am’...”

Saying it had been unbearable to watch, she gave a small sigh and added,

“Surely he didn’t actually think that made him look attractive.”

In other words, the baron had abruptly picked a fight with Shan because he wanted to impress Sherin. Men did, after all, commit all manner of irrational, stupid acts to attract women’s attention.

If he had fallen for the princess at first sight and wanted to defeat the knight who had accompanied her from outside to demonstrate what an impressive male he was, everything fit.

Troubled by a motive even more absurd than he had imagined, Kladek rubbed his face with his hands, then addressed Shan.

“I cannot order the two of you not to fight. Your honor was insulted first, Sir Shan.”

If he used his authority as count to punish his brother-in-law and prevent the fight, people would surely think Shan had hidden behind the count because he lacked the courage to fight. In short, now that the other man had openly challenged him, a fight was unavoidable.

“But... might I ask you to spare his life? He is a terrible fool, but he is still my wife’s only brother. And one of the few skilled knights in this land.”

Since they were effectively relying on his protection, he could have made it an order. Instead, Kladek asked politely and bowed his head once more.

Shan had a soft spot for people like him. After a brief hesitation, he nodded.

“Very well.”

“Thank you. That puts my mind at ease. As long as you don’t leave him crippled, I won’t object even if he is badly injured. No, perhaps that would be better... It might tame that wild colt’s temper a little.”

His tone suggested that the possibility of Shan losing had never even crossed his mind. In truth, that was the normal reaction to a warrior who had slain an ogre. That Baron Rugen fellow had simply let a woman turn his head and robbed himself of his reason.

Sherin said she still had more to discuss with the count, so Shan left the sitting room first. Outside, he noticed someone hovering beside the door. It was Blois, the count’s son.

“Ah, Sir Shan!”

“Have you come to see His Excellency?”

“No, I wanted to see you. That happened because I brought up something I shouldn’t have...”

Shan did not think the commotion had been the boy’s fault. That Baron Rugen had seemed desperate to pick a fight from the start.

As Shan stood silently, the boy fidgeted with a guilty expression, then asked,

“You’re fighting my uncle tomorrow, aren’t you?”

For a moment, Shan wondered whom he meant by his uncle, then was reminded that the lout from earlier was this quiet boy’s close relative. Having no family himself, he was often a step behind when trying to picture these complicated noble family trees.

“Yes.”

“Will you kill him?”

“No. I don’t intend to kill him.”

“R-really?”

He had ample justification to kill the man, but aside from the count’s request, the thought of killing a close relative of a boy who admired him left him uneasy. Hadn’t he felt guilty killing the capital’s watchmen merely because some among them had once admired him?

At Shan’s answer, Blois laid a hand on his chest and sighed in relief.

“Thank goodness...”

“You must be close.”

“Yes. Father is busy, so my uncle used to play with me a lot. We’d go riding together and things like that. If he fought because of me and died, I’d be terribly sad. I wish you two didn’t have to fight at all.”

Young as Blois was, he seemed to understand that this was impossible under the circumstances.

After talking a little longer and parting ways, Shan returned to his assigned room and lay down on the bed.

‘It’s complicated. Someone who’s bad to one person can be good to someone else.’

Once, he had been able to judge everyone in simple terms. Anyone who treated him well was a friend; anyone who pointed a blade at him was an enemy who deserved to be torn apart. Once he had defined them that way, there was nothing left to worry about.

But the older he grew, and the more people he met and interacted with, the more complicated the world became.

Suddenly, he thought of the families of the Altoan explorers he had killed in the past. Was this how one gradually became an adult, by taking these things into account one by one? Perhaps one day he would no longer be able to kill anyone lightly...

While he pondered these things, evening drew near, and Roden and the others arrived belatedly in the city of Pales. Unlike Shan and Sherin, who had come straight by carriage, they had washed, eaten, and rested thoroughly at the harbor before walking for several hours, which had delayed them.

Despite the sizable influx of people, there was no immediate problem with lodging, thanks to the count having cleared unused spaces such as the castle towers in advance. In the long term, of course, they would have to build homes of their own.

After Roden came up to the castle and reported a few minor incidents from their short journey, Shan told him what had happened at the banquet. Roden let out a small sigh.

“We’ve only just arrived, and already there’s no peace.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Still, I don’t think it’s such a bad thing.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Both the princess and the count want you to command Pales’s army eventually, don’t they? You’ll need the authority to match. The reputation you’ve built elsewhere counts for something, but people are creatures who need to see things with their own eyes to believe them.”

In Roden’s view, overwhelmingly defeating the strongest warrior in Pales was an opportunity to bolster Shan’s authority—and Sherin’s as well.

“Look at it that way, and I’m almost grateful the fellow picked a fight.”

“But killing him would be a problem. You’d lose the count’s trust, and the other influential people in Pales would take a dim view of you too.”

“I know. I told you, I’m not killing him.”

Everyone kept asking whether he would kill the man, making Shan feel like some sort of murderer. He shook his head in displeasure.

“I do intend to teach him some manners, though. That stubborn attitude won’t do us any good in future battles.”

Of course, Sir Darkal had told him not to persuade allies through violence. But Shan believed even he would have understood if he had seen a wastrel like that. At the very least, he intended to give the man such a thrashing that he would never dare meet Shan’s eyes again.

It certainly had nothing to do with the fellow showing an interest in Sherin and strutting about. Absolutely not.

* * *

The following morning, once breakfast had had some time to settle, Shan headed for the training ground inside the count’s castle. Count Pales, his retainers, and the domain’s senior officials had already gathered there.

His opponent, Baron Rugen Yurk, was warming up with a few light swings of his sword. He sneered,

“You’re late. I thought you’d run away.”

“Hardly.”

Ignoring the provocation, Shan moved lightly to warm up.

A short while later, the count, who was serving as witness, personally proposed the rules of the duel.

“First we must decide the conditions for victory... I believe the ‘first blood’ rule would be best.”

The rule he referred to was simple: the first person to bleed lost. It was the best way to avoid the risk of an accidental death during a duel.

Shan, however, objected.

“I would prefer the ‘incapacitation’ rule.”

“Isn’t that excessive?”

“It will be fine. I can control my blows well enough.”

As its name suggested, incapacitation meant that whoever could no longer fight lost—whether through death, unconsciousness, or admitting defeat. It was the sort of rule reserved for people so consumed by mutual hatred that they could not bear to leave their opponent alive.

“You...”

“Surely you aren’t frightened.”

Stung by the mild provocation, Yurk nodded and said, “Fine!” Probably because Sherin was watching beside the count, shading herself with a parasol.

Next, they agreed to fight with edgeless feather swords, wearing ordinary clothes rather than armor. They could use spirit to knock aside or break their opponent’s weapon, but using it to pierce or cut the body was forbidden.

Knowing that his opponent possessed exceptional magical devices, Yurk had no reason to oppose these rules either.

Once all the rules were settled, the two swordsmen faced each other. The use of feather swords did nothing to diminish the tension. For a knight, killing an unarmored person by imbuing a piece of steel with spirit was a trivial matter.

“Whew...”

Looking at his opponent, Yurk took a deep breath and dispelled the last tension from his body.

Yes, he could win this. Whatever accomplishments the boy boasted of, wasn’t he still just a child half a head shorter than Yurk?

Yurk had been praised as a genius since childhood and had never found an equal in Pales. He had occasionally sailed beyond its borders to hunt monsters, and had even killed a troll. All he lacked compared to the brat before him was the opportunity to encounter powerful monsters.

“Begin!”

At the count’s declaration, Shan and Yurk advanced toward each other. But while Yurk cautiously assumed a stance with his sword raised overhead, Shan merely trudged toward him, holding a longsword meant for two hands in one.

It was so far from anything resembling a fighting stance that veins bulged on Yurk’s face.

‘You think I’m a joke? I’ll start by smashing one of your arms!’

He stepped forward and unleashed the swordsmanship he had trained in for well over a decade. A feather sword was faster than an ordinary longsword, and his strike moved almost too quickly for ordinary eyes to follow. The spectators gathered around cried out in surprise.

“Urgh!”

But after steel rang against steel, a low, deep cry of pain echoed across the dueling ground. Struck precisely in the shoulder by a sword tip, Yurk staggered back.

“One.”

Holding his two-handed sword in one hand, Shan had placed it in precisely the right spot to parry Yurk’s attack and counter simultaneously. Such finesse was possible only because the gulf between their skills was as vast as that between heaven and earth.

Enraged, Yurk swung again, but the result did not change. Downward cuts, thrusts, diagonal cuts, rising cuts...

To every elaborate attack, Shan responded only by extending his feather sword, parrying as needed, and thrusting back.

As long as he placed his sword in the right position at the right moment, he needed neither strength nor speed. The principle of leverage allowed him to overwhelm his opponent with little effort.

Even imbuing his blade with the spirit to cut through or shatter the opposing sword was pointless. Each time, Shan countered by filling his own blade with the resolve to endure without breaking.

Before long, Yurk staggered back, feeling deep bruises forming all over his body.

“W-what in the world...”

It felt less like fighting a swordsman than a mage.

Realizing that his opponent’s skill was far beyond anything he could match, Yurk’s face darkened with defeat. Was he really going to lose to such a small boy in front of the count, everyone he knew, and the girl he had fallen for at first sight?

It was almost impossible to accept, but even a fool could see the overwhelming gap between their abilities. In truth, everyone had known it all along. He was simply the only fool who hadn’t.

As his opponent faltered backward, Shan gripped his sword with both hands for the first time.

“That should be enough to demonstrate the difference between us.”

“W-wait—”

Yurk knew instinctively that he needed to admit defeat immediately, turn around, and flee. But the instant he opened his mouth, Shan’s sword struck him squarely across the lips, moving at a speed utterly unlike his earlier leisurely motions.

Several white teeth flew from his mouth along with a stifled scream.

“Mmmph!”

“Healing miracles can grow teeth back, so it’s fine to break a few...”

Covering his agonized mouth with his left hand, Yurk dropped his sword and raised his right. Holding an open hand high was the way to surrender when one could not speak.

But before his hand was halfway up, Shan’s sword struck his shoulder precisely, dislocating the joint. A burning sensation tore through him, his right arm fell limp, and tears sprang to his eyes.

“Aaargh—”

“Who gave you permission to surrender?”

The third blow struck his shin. With one leg broken and unable to support him, Yurk collapsed helplessly to the ground.

He had already lost his sword, and blood was spilling from the places he had been struck. Had the duel not been governed by the incapacitation rule, his defeat could have been declared on the spot.

But Shan continued to beat the fallen Yurk without mercy, breaking the bones throughout his body one by one while keeping him just conscious enough not to pass out.

After his shoulder, he felt his elbow, forearm, and fingers break in turn. Next came his ribs, thigh, the top of his foot... Shan’s control was so precise that Yurk could feel only the bones breaking, which made it all the more terrifying.

He heard people nearby asking whether they should stop this, but Shan’s sword did not pause.

‘Spare me! Spare me!’

He mumbled through a mouth full of shattered teeth, covering his lips with his hand. Only after another blow broke the back of that hand did he curl up on the ground, unable even to make a sound.

As he lay there being beaten, all four limbs shattered and incapable of resistance, a powerful hand seized his hair. Being dragged along sent pain through every broken bone, drawing an animal howl from his throat.

Holding Yurk by the hair, Shan walked a few steps and shoved his face into the ground. A pungent stench of urine filled his nose.

When Yurk realized it was the urine he had released during the beating, shame and anger rose within him. But the moment he struggled to lift his head and met Shan’s two green eyes, every one of those feelings turned to terror.

At the sight of Yurk hanging his head, not daring even to meet his gaze, Shan smiled in satisfaction and raised his sword.

“Good. Unless you’re a monkey, that should be enough to make you remember.”

With that incomprehensible mutter and a heavy blow to the back of his head, Yurk finally lost consciousness.

* * *

Though dozens of people were gathered around the dueling ground, it was as silent as if no one were there. Looking down at Yurk, who lay unconscious with his face in his own piss, Shan was privately impressed.

‘He’s quite a bit better than I expected.’

He had thought the man merely a fool who strutted around Pales, but with this much skill, he could hold his head fairly high even among Pendia’s knights. Of course, he was still pathetic compared to the royal knights.

Having concluded that brief assessment, Shan approached Kladek, lowered his sword to the ground, and bowed respectfully.

“It is over, Your Excellency.”

“Ah... The victor of this duel is Shan of House Barendil. As stipulated beforehand, the defeated Baron Rugen must subsequently visit him and offer a formal apology for his discourtesy.”

As the count spoke, Shan surveyed the nobles and knights of Pales gathered around him. Judging by the way every one of them avoided his eyes, he seemed to have made a firm first impression.