Ian found the current situation deeply uncomfortable.
Whether Glen knew that or not, the person directly involved remained perfectly composed.
Even his steps seemed far lighter than Ian’s.
“...Are you not worried, Brother?”
“Hm? About what?”
“The sparring match. Sir Tylan has turned it into quite a spectacle.”
Tylan had changed his match against Glen into a public sparring match.
He had informed his uncle, Viscount Javiko, about it. The Viscount had then relayed the matter to the Duke and formally requested that the match be held.
Naturally, the Duke had intended to refuse with an appropriate excuse. However, after hearing that Glen himself had proposed the match, he had severely reprimanded his son.
***
“What the hell were you thinking? The moment I begin to think you have improved, you go and do something this idiotic!”
The Duke was already in a foul mood because of the conference, and his son’s foolish actions caused his anger to erupt.
Glen felt his skin prickle beneath the genuine fury radiating from his father.
Come to think of it, his father was a quasi-superhuman who stood only one step away from becoming a Sword Master.
The pressure released by someone of his calibre when truly enraged was difficult for an ordinary person to withstand.
That was precisely why Glen had always been terrified whenever he saw his father during his days as a good-for-nothing.
Now, however, admiration came before fear.
Was Father always this powerful?
“Do you believe I will lose?”
“Have you become conceited merely because you became a full knight slightly earlier than most? Tylan is older than you and has been a full knight for longer. You were thoroughly defeated by him before. What the hell did you learn from that experience?”
Faced with his father’s thunderous anger, Glen decided that a lengthy explanation would be unnecessary.
He looked his father directly in the eyes and spoke honestly.
There was no need for pathetic excuses.
“I am confident. Please watch me.”
“...Haa.”
Seeing no trace of hesitation in his son’s eyes, the Duke released a long sigh.
“You will take responsibility for those words. You must.”
***
“Father appeared extremely angry... yet you seem completely unconcerned, Brother.”
“That is right. He summoned me separately and demanded to know what I was thinking.”
“...What did you tell him?”
“I simply asked him to watch.”
Ian stared at him in disbelief.
Glen, meanwhile, had appeared thoroughly unconcerned from the beginning.
“Was that all?”
“Why? Do you also think I will lose?”
“No, that is not... I do not, but considering what happened before...”
What do you mean, you do not?
Glen grumbled inwardly, but he did not reprimand his younger brother.
What could he do?
Ultimately, these were all seeds he himself had sown.
At the same time, he was reminded of just how difficult it was to overcome another person’s preconceptions.
“Ah, you have arrived. Young Master Ian is here as well.”
Sir Nedain approached them.
Now that Ian looked at him, Nedain’s expression was perfectly calm as well.
That only puzzled him further.
Strictly speaking, Glen was Nedain’s swordsmanship student. Was the man not worried at all?
“Quite a crowd has gathered. Did they summon every knight, maid, and member of the household?”
“The servants of House Sailharn certainly seemed busy spreading the word.”
“And everyone came simply because they were invited? They have far too much time on their hands.”
Nedain gave a faint laugh at Glen’s indifferent reaction.
“It is not an event one sees often.”
“Ah, then are they taking wagers as well?”
Glen stopped on his way toward the sparring ground and asked the question.
Nedain’s expression became awkward.
“There has been some talk of it among the knights.”
“Who did everyone bet on?”
“...Are you not going?”
“Do not change the subject. What is the split?”
“...From what I heard, approximately two to eight. Naturally, you have the smaller share, Young Master.”
Damn it. What a disloyal bunch.
Glen muttered under his breath.
“What about you?”
“Pardon?”
“Who did you bet on?”
“I am the Vice Commander. I cannot involve myself in gambling.”
“What gambling? Do you also think I will lose?”
“...You, Young Master? Are you joking?”
Only after his instructor looked at him as though the question were absurd did Glen begin walking again.
He added one final remark.
“Ah, I will open the betting properly myself, so make certain you place a wager later. You too, Ian. Also, write down the names of every knight who bets on me.”
After Glen disappeared while saying something incomprehensible, the two remaining men exchanged puzzled looks.
“Open the betting...? What did Brother mean by that?”
“I am not certain, but it appears he intends to cause some manner of commotion.”
“Still... are you truly not worried, Sir Nedain?”
“Worried about what?”
“That Brother might lose.”
At Ian’s honest question, Nedain merely raised the corners of his mouth.
“You will understand once you watch.”
***
“I am surprised you did not run away.”
Tylan glared confidently at Glen from across the sparring ground.
“Why would I need to?”
“Even if you wanted to flee, you could not. The entire estate knows about the match now.”
“Yes. I heard your people worked very hard to spread the news.”
“I asked my uncle to arrange it. Do you like it?”
“I did not at first, but now that I think about it, I am grateful.”
“Hmph. You are pretending to be composed. After today, you will be too ashamed to show your face. The Lion Knights’ honor will be ground into the dirt, and your great father, the Duke, will look as though he has swallowed something foul.”
A faint laugh escaped Glen at the childish mockery.
“Why are you concerned about that?”
“...Let us begin.”
Tylan had attempted to seize the advantage by provoking Glen before the match, but it had no effect.
This Glen was entirely different from the good-for-nothing who had once charged at him in a rage after only a few taunts.
If anything, Tylan felt as though he were the one being drawn in.
“Ah, before that, I have a proposal.”
“A proposal?”
From this point onward, Glen deliberately raised his voice.
“Now that so many people have gathered, why do we not make the occasion a little more entertaining?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Your household worked so diligently to assemble this audience. Consider it my way of repaying them.”
He surveyed the surroundings once before continuing.
As expected, his father was also watching from one side.
“I believe adding a wager would make this event far more enjoyable.”
Glen’s gaze was already directed at the Duke.
“...A wager? Are you suggesting that we stake money on a sacred contest between knights?”
Before the Duke’s expression could fully darken, Glen hurriedly continued.
“A sacred contest? This is merely a lighthearted, friendly sparring match. A friendly match intended to strengthen the bond between House Repent and House Sailharn.”
What the hell is that damned son of mine thinking?
The Duke was suppressing his anger and preparing to refuse when someone else spoke.
“I believe it is a rather reasonable suggestion.”
Viscount Javiko stepped forward.
Glen’s proposal was quite appealing to him as well.
“As Your Grace is aware, people already place wagers on matches between knights in secret. The same is undoubtedly happening here. In that case, why not follow Young Master Glen’s suggestion and conduct the wagering openly? Naturally, excessive amounts should be prohibited. It would merely be a little entertainment.”
Needless to say, Viscount Javiko was certain that his nephew would win.
That was why he had ordered his servants to spread word of the match throughout the estate in the first place.
In truth, nearly everyone watching believed they already knew who the victor would be.
Nevertheless, good-for-nothing though he might be, Glen was still the eldest son and heir of House Repent.
If Tylan openly humiliated him here, Glen might develop an excessive grudge against his nephew.
But what if the spectators earned money from it?
They would undoubtedly be grateful instead.
At the same time, the reputations of both the Duke and that good-for-nothing would sink even deeper into the mire.
“Betting on a match between the eldest sons of two houses... That would be a rare sight even in the Empire.”
Count Shupchenko, who had been watching with interest, also appeared to approve.
While everyone waited for the Duke’s response, he silently stared at his son.
Glen met his father’s gaze with an expressionless face.
It almost appeared as though the two were conversing with their eyes.
After a brief silence, the Duke clicked his tongue and spoke.
“...Tsk. I permit it.”
“Oh!”
“Ha ha! This should be entertaining.”
The atmosphere around the sparring ground immediately became heated.
Tylan’s face, however, flushed red.
He believed he had been insulted.
“What the hell is this...?!”
“Wait, Tylan. Listen to me.”
Viscount Javiko approached him and whispered several words into his ear.
Tylan soon accepted the explanation.
“...Haa. Understood.”
“Good. Since everyone has agreed, let us postpone the match briefly.”
During the short delay that followed, Viscount Javiko enthusiastically organised the wagering.
With the Duke’s permission, he even mobilised House Repent’s servants to collect and record the bets.
He personally wagered several Gold Coins.
Considering that ordinary wagers were usually conducted with Silver Coins, it was a considerable sum.
He intended to distribute a portion of his winnings among House Repent’s people after the match.
Surprisingly, the Duke also wagered several Gold Coins on Glen.
Once the elders of both houses placed their bets, the spectators began joining one after another.
In the end, the total amount collected went far beyond the level of mere entertainment.
“Seven Gold Coins and one hundred and twenty Silver Coins, with the betting split at approximately three to seven.”
Viscount Javiko smiled in satisfaction.
With only a few more Gold Coins, the sum would equal the combined monthly wages of every servant employed by his house.
He had been concerned that too much money would be placed on his nephew, but fortunately, the distribution had settled at a reasonable ratio.
As the wagers indicated, most people expected Tylan to win.
That was despite the fact that the majority of participants were members of House Repent.
They knew how arrogantly the old Glen had behaved while relying entirely on his talent.
Furthermore, had Tylan not already crushed him once before?
In a way, the result was only natural.
“May we proceed like this, Your Grace?”
The Duke, who had been silently standing with his arms crossed, nodded.
“Then let us resume the match. Ha ha. I must admit, I am looking forward to it as well.”
***
“You have certainly caused an entertaining commotion.”
The two men stood facing each other once again.
Tylan glared at Glen as though he wanted to kill him.
“I do not find it particularly entertaining.”
Glen was not in a pleasant mood either.
Necessary though it had been, playing the clown was not something he wished to repeat.
“Did you see the betting split? I suppose some still wagered on you merely because you are the eldest Young Master of the house. Thirty percent, no less. I cannot tell whether they are stupid or simply stubborn. I suppose an idiotic master inevitably influences his inferiors.”
Now that the spectators could not hear him, Tylan was simply saying whatever he pleased.
Glen had no intention of reacting.
“I see.”
“Are you not ashamed as the person involved? Even if you are only nominally the duchy’s heir, you should at least consider your family’s position—”
“Do you fight with your mouth?”
After answering dismissively, Glen turned toward Sir Dimit, who had stepped forward as the referee.
Tylan’s expression twisted instead.
“...You bastard.”
Receiving Glen’s gaze, Sir Dimit spoke.
“The match will continue until one participant is incapacitated or declares surrender. However, attempting to kill your opponent is prohibited. I will intervene whenever necessary.”
Sparring matches between full knights and those above them were ordinarily conducted with steel swords rather than wooden ones.
Naturally, the blades were considerably duller than those used in actual combat.
“You had better stop me properly, Sir Dimit. I am extremely angry with your precious Young Master. I may end up beating him half to death. A beating is the best medicine for an idiot.”
Glen merely nodded at the referee’s formal warning, while Tylan sneered.
The referee, naturally, maintained an expressionless face.
“...Then the match will begin.”
The two men drew their swords and stepped forward.
After several seconds of tense confrontation, Glen spoke.
“Listen.”
Tylan did not answer.
He was considering how he could break Glen’s legs without giving the referee cause to intervene.
Regardless, Glen continued.
“Remember this. The next time you look at me with those eyes, I will kill you.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
The instant Tylan finished speaking, Glen charged.
Startled by the speed, which far exceeded his expectations, Tylan hurriedly swung his sword.
CLANG—!
The two longswords collided with a deafening metallic cry.
Mistaking it for a contest of strength, Tylan poured even greater force into his blade.
“What...?!”
Glen stepped diagonally to the left and guided Tylan’s sword away to his right.
The pommel of Glen’s sword, naturally raised by the motion, slammed into Tylan’s forehead.
A crisp impact and a strangled groan erupted simultaneously.
“Guh!”
Tylan’s head snapped backward, leaving him completely defenceless.
Glen then swept one of his legs aside with his right foot, easily knocking him to the ground.
The movements flowed together seamlessly, as though they had been planned from the beginning.
“You fucking bas—”
THUD—!
Finally, Glen kicked the fallen Tylan in the head with all his strength.
The figure that had been writhing with rage immediately went limp.
He had lost consciousness.
SHING.
Still wearing an indifferent expression, Glen slid his sword back into its sheath.
The entire match had lasted less than five minutes.
Moreover, the two had exchanged only a single clash of swords.
Tylan lay face down on the dirt, his limbs sprawled out and completely motionless.
“Are we continuing?”
The massive, expressionless Sir Dimit approached and examined him.
He immediately delivered his verdict.
“Tylan Sailharn is unconscious. Therefore, the victor is Ron Glen Repent. The match is over.”
After the flat announcement, Glen looked around.
Every face was frozen in stunned disbelief.
Viscount Javiko, in particular, still appeared unable to comprehend what had happened.
To one side, Glen saw his father staring with widened eyes.
Oh?
So Father can make an expression like that.
“WOOOOOOO!”
“Young Master Glen won!”
“Ron Glen Repent knocked Tylan Sailharn unconscious!”
In the next instant, the sparring ground erupted into complete pandemonium.