[Lifespan Remaining: 1 day, 6 hours, 40 minutes.]
‘I was in there for quite long, huh…?’
Noct adjusted his gloves as well as the rapier sheathed by his side.
Noelle was behind him, already treated, but hesitant.
“Young Master…are you really ready?”
“As ready as I’m going to be.”
Noct turned to examine her.
The swelling on her cheek had subsided after treatment, but there were still some faint marks where chain had cut into her wrist.
He had refused to take another step until they released her.
Apparently, while he was inside, Vivienne had questioned Noelle about everything he had done since the previous morning.
What he had learned, what they had discussed, and why he had suddenly decided to enter the pool.
Noelle refused to answer, and somewhere along the way, that refusal had become grounds for “insolence”.
“Does it still hurt?”
“It’s nothing, Young Master.”
“That wasn’t what I asked.”
“…A little.”
Noct nodded, then looked down at the rapier hanging by his side.
He adjusted its position so the hilt wouldn’t catch against his coat when he drew it.
“Why do you bring that, Young Master? You’re not practiced with a sword at all…”
“I’m aware.”
Knowing how to cast a spell wouldn’t help if Rosse reached him before he could finish.
A hand around his throat, a blow to his stomach, even being forced to stumble at the wrong moment could interrupt an incantation.
But having a blade between himself and Rosse might buy him enough room to finish a spell.
“I only need it to keep him back.”
Noelle looked as though she wanted to argue, but her gaze drifted toward the entrance instead.
“You didn’t have to bring the duel forward because of me.”
He turned to face her properly.
“They hurt you because you wouldn’t tell them about me.”
“That was my decision.”
“And this is mine.”
Noct glanced at her once more before looking away.
“Next time, tell them.”
“Young Master—”
“Tell them what I ate. Tell them which grimoire I was reading. Make something up if you have to—”
“Just…don’t let them do that to you again.”
The maid remained silent, letting a small smile slip.
Noct turned back, returning a smile.
“Wait for me here.”
“…Please come back in one piece.”
“I’ll do my best.”
***
The raised seats surrounding the arena were almost completely occupied.
Members of the branch families sat beside one another, while knights formed a line below.
Even the servants had found places to watch from the corridors overlooking the grounds.
Apparently, everyone had somewhere to be until there was a chance to watch him lose his inheritance.
His eyes moved toward the central viewing platform, where an ornate chair stood.
It was decorated heavily, but its owner was missing.
‘Father isn’t here.’
Not that he had expected otherwise.
Amon de Arcadia had been absent for most of the original Noct’s life.
His youngest son defending his position wasn’t going to change that.
Vivienne sat beside the empty chair, with Rosse’s mother close enough to speak into her ear.
Both women watched him enter.
Noct looked away first, turning his attention toward the other side of the arena, where Rosse was already waiting.
The moment their eyes met, his expression darkened.
The distance between them was considerable.
Enough to cast a spell before Rosse could reach him, provided he didn’t waste time.
His hand briefly touched the rapier at his side.
Across from him, Rosse noticed.
“You think that’s going to help?”
“We’ll find out.”
“Enjoy standing while you still can.”
“I am, actually.”
Before Rosse could answer, Vivienne rose from her seat, her commanding presence forced everyone to pay attention.
“Silence.”
Noct lifted his gaze toward the viewing platform.
“Rosse de Arcadia has submitted a formal challenge against Noct de Arcadia’s position among the five recognized heirs,” she announced.
“Both parties have agreed to bring the Rite of Contention forward.”
A man seated below the platform lowered his pen toward a sheet of parchment.
“If Noct loses, he will surrender his Arcadian Plaque. His position as a recognized heir, along with the privileges attached to it, will pass to Rosse.”
Noct reached into his coat.
The plaque rested against his fingers.
Only a short while ago, showing it had been enough to make the guardian knight step aside.
Without it, the next door could remain closed no matter how loudly he shouted.
And Noelle could be reassigned with a few words from the woman standing above him.
“Do you understand these terms, Noct?”
“I do.”
Then she turned toward Rosse.
“And you accept the obligations of the position should you prevail?”
“Of course, First Lady.”
Finally, her attention returned to Noct.
“As the challenged heir, you may name the reward you seek for successfully defending your position.”
A few people leaned forward.
Noct could almost guess what they expected:
Money.
An apology.
Perhaps some humiliating demand directed at Rosse after what had happened outside the sanctum.
He had considered the last one.
But there was something he needed more.
“One item from the family treasury.”
Vivienne’s expression barely changed.
“The treasury contains possessions that are not mine to give away. Name the item before asking me to approve it.”
“Ambrosia, that’s all I want.”
“Ambrosia,” Vivienne repeated.
“You understand that it is not an ordinary restorative?”
“I do.”
“And you believe you have a use for it?”
“I wouldn’t ask otherwise.”
He had named it in front of everyone.
Now he needed an answer just as public.
“If I win,” he continued, “the Ambrosia will be released to me. Will you authorize that?”
“If you successfully defend your position, you will receive the Ambrosia from the treasury,” Vivienne confirmed at last.
Maybe she knew that it wouldn’t pose a threat to her, or that she thought it wouldn’t be able to treat Noct.
Even if the item didn’t belong to her, she gave her word so easily.
‘She doesn’t think I’m going to win…’
Then a knight stepped forward, announcing the rules.
“The Rite of Contention will end upon surrender or incapacitation. Those are the only conditions of victory.”
His gaze moved from Rosse to Noct.
“If either participant is unable to continue, I will call the match. Once that happens, all attacks must cease immediately.”
Noct glanced toward the knights stationed along the arena.
At least someone would be there to enforce it.
If not, then the other side couldn’t strongarm him with everyone else in the stands.
“Do both participants understand?”
“I understand,” Noct replied.
“Likewise,” Rosse said, barely looking at the knight.
“Then take your positions.”
Noct stepped back onto his mark.
Across from him, Rosse loosened his shoulders and raised one hand.
Whatever anger he had brought into the arena, he seemed quite comfortable standing there.
Noct drew his rapier, allowing himself to feel comfortable with it in his hand.
‘Here we go, just like I practiced.’
“Ready…?”
“Begin!”