News of the duel between Roan and Alfonso spread among the soldiers in an instant.
In the tense atmosphere, the soldiers of House Dragonbane began exchanging opinions.
“Hey, Bake. What do you think?”
One soldier asked in a curious voice.
“About what?”
The soldier called Bake answered curtly. He wore an indifferent expression, as though he were used to conversations like this.
“Who do you think is going to win?”
The first soldier asked again, a hint of impatience in his voice.
Bake thought for a moment before speaking.
“What’s there to ask? Of course their knight is going to win. I heard their knight even has the epithet ‘Storm Knight.’ Our knight, on the other hand, apparently doesn’t have an epithet at all.”
The soldiers around him nodded at Bake’s words. Bake was a fairly seasoned soldier, and most of the others trusted his judgment. Most of them bobbed their heads as though his explanation made perfect sense.
At that moment, a young soldier cautiously joined their conversation.
“But Mr. Bake, just because someone has an epithet doesn’t necessarily mean he’s stronger, does it?”
The young soldier was a thirteen-year-old boy named Charles. He had been dragged into service through conscription, but perhaps because he had dreamed of becoming a “knight” ever since he was little, he had adjusted fairly well to life as a soldier.
Bake turned toward Charles and said,
“Hey, kid, you only say that because you don’t know any better. An epithet is incredibly important to a knight. People even say a knight without an epithet isn’t a real knight, you know?”
“Really?”
“Yeah, I’m telling you. So you’d better not get your hopes up too much. We’re definitely going to lose.”
At Bake’s words, the surrounding soldiers lowered their heads and sighed.
Of course, they rather liked the character of the knight named Roan. They had heard that he had challenged the enemy knight to a one-on-one duel in order to reduce casualties among the soldiers. From a soldier’s perspective, there was no way they could help but find such an offer deeply admirable. Roan’s courage and sense of honor had captured the soldiers’ hearts in an instant.
But that was one thing, and this was another. From Bake’s point of view in particular, although Roan seemed to be a man of good character, it was obvious that his skill fell far short of the enemy knight’s. As he had said earlier, among knights, whether or not one possessed an epithet was one of the most important measures of a knight’s ability.
‘…Hmm, no matter how I look at it, I don’t think he’s going to lose.’
Unlike the other soldiers, however, young Charles was predicting Roan’s victory. That was only natural, because in his eyes, Roan was truly an extraordinary knight.
Roan’s gleaming armor looked as though nothing could pierce it, while his sharp sword looked capable of cutting through anything. More than anything else, his piercing eyes and thick forearms were enough to send chills down Charles’s spine just from looking at them. To Charles, Roan looked like a hero from legend.
‘Sir Roan must be an incredibly powerful knight.’
Charles thought with absolute certainty. In fact, when he had first seen Roan, he had nearly fainted. Roan looked exactly like the knight Charles had only ever imagined in his dreams.
Ever since he was little, Charles had wanted to become a magnificent knight like Roan. In that sense, Roan seemed utterly perfect. Charles believed that Roan would definitely win this duel. His heart was filled with respect and admiration for him.
“Oh! It’s starting!”
At that moment, one of the soldiers shouted, and everyone turned to look ahead.
Charles looked forward as well.
He saw a knight emerging from the castle, and the back of Sir Roan as he rode out alone to meet him.
‘Sir Roan!’
Charles clenched his fist, his eyes sparkling.
He had no intention of missing even a moment of Roan’s performance.
***
Around noon.
When the appointed time arrived, Alfonso Monroy left the castle certain of victory. His manner brimmed with confidence, and a smile of anticipated triumph rested on his face.
But what was this? The moment he actually came face-to-face with the knight named “Roan,” he began to feel intimidated for some reason. The opposing knight was far more imposing than he had expected.
The smile vanished from Alfonso’s face, replaced by growing tension.
‘Th-they said he was an unknown knight! No matter how I look at him, he doesn’t look unknown at all!’
Alfonso swallowed dryly as he looked Roan up and down.
For one thing, Roan was enormous. Enough to make Alfonso wonder what on earth he ate. His shoulders looked twice as broad as those of an ordinary man, and his forearms were like tree trunks. Alfonso felt an involuntary urge to take a step backward.
On top of that, even at a glance, his armor and equipment were clearly of the highest quality. Judging by their finish, they might even have been dwarven-made. His armor gleamed in the sunlight as though it had been blessed by a god.
Above all, his eyes were exceptionally fierce. Granted, it was harder to find a knight—a human weapon—with gentle eyes, but Roan was extreme even by those standards. It was almost as if the savagery of a monster had been mixed into his blood. Roan’s gaze seemed to bore deep into Alfonso’s soul, making him shrink back.
The one fortunate thing was that the horse Roan rode looked to be of very poor quality. Perhaps because it was quite old, gray hairs showed here and there, and perhaps because it had endured plenty of hardship, its joints were damaged and its body was covered in scars. Alfonso found a small glimmer of hope in that.
A horse’s ability played a considerable part in a duel between knights. If he exploited that weakness properly, he might even be able to win with ease. Alfonso let out a small sigh of relief at the thought.
“…Thank you for accepting my proposal. I am Roan Brighton.”
At that moment, the knight named Roan greeted him politely.
His voice was deep and resonant, and his courteous manner stood out.
For an unknown knight, he was remarkably well-mannered. Alfonso felt a trace of goodwill toward him and nodded.
“A pleasure. I am Alfonso Monroy. I bear the epithet ‘Storm Knight.’”
He mentioned his epithet, subtly trying to flaunt his superiority.
“…Pong-Pong Knight?”
Roan, on the other hand, was startled.
A Pong-Pong Knight! Did knights of this era really take pride even in an epithet like that?
“Grr! Not Pong-Pong Knight! I said Storm Knight!”
“Ah, of course. My apologies. I misheard you.”
“Hmph!”
Alfonso’s mood abruptly soured. He did not know exactly what “Pong-Pong Knight” was supposed to mean, but for some reason, it made him feel like a husband whose wife had taken control of the household finances and left him doing dishes day in and day out.
Alfonso cleared his throat and continued.
“Before we begin the duel, I have one proposal. I shall give you a chance to surrender before the tip of my sword pierces your honor.”
Alfonso said this while stroking the hilt of his sheathed sword. Yet even he did not particularly expect Roan to surrender. The words he had just spoken were, after all, merely the customary exchange knights made before a duel.
“I refuse. By my family’s honor, I swear that before the sun sets today, your armor shall become my trophy.”
Roan knew that custom just as well. After flatly rejecting Alfonso’s offer, Roan likewise rested a hand on his sword.
“I shall give you time to offer your final prayer.”
“Then my prayer shall be for your soul. Now, draw your sword! May God watch over our duel! Soon, only the righteous shall remain alive!”
SHING—!
Immediately afterward, Roan and Alfonso drew their swords at the same time.
The two blades flashed in the sunlight as they were pointed toward one another.
Tension filled the space between the two knights.
“Hyah!”
A moment later, as though neither could bear to let the other move first, they spurred their horses forward and charged.
At last, the duel between the two knights had begun.
***
Around the time the duel finally began, Adeline clenched both fists as she felt her heart pounding.
“Sir Adeline.”
At that moment, a boy approached her. It was none other than Paul, Roan’s Squire.
“Squire Paul.”
“I heard you skipped your meal, so I asked the soldiers to bring some bread and jerky. Please, have some.”
As Paul spoke and handed her the food, Adeline stared at him with curiosity. For some reason, Paul looked no different from usual. His attitude made it seem as though what was happening now were merely an ordinary part of everyday life.
“Squire Paul, you do not seem particularly nervous. Are you not afraid that your lord, Sir Roan, might lose?”
Her question was reasonable. Roan’s opponent was, after all, a knight who bore the epithet “Storm Knight.” Knights with epithets were often highly skilled, which meant he could be an equally dangerous opponent. Yet Paul merely chuckled.
“No. I’m not afraid at all! I’m certain Sir Roan will win.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because I know just how strong a knight Sir Roan is!”
Despite Paul’s answer, Adeline’s doubts remained. Of course, she also knew very well how strong Roan was. She had even fought him in a duel herself. But no matter how she looked at it, the man he had to face now was the “Storm Knight.” He was certainly not an opponent an unknown Wandering Knight could afford to take lightly.
Perhaps noticing what she was thinking, Paul continued with a smile.
“No, Sir Adeline. You still don’t know exactly how strong Sir Roan is. I’m probably the only one who does, you know?”
Paul said this with his chin raised high. A mischievous gleam shone in his eyes.
For some reason, Adeline found his expression terribly irritating. It was almost as if he were saying, ‘You don’t even know that?’ She pursed her lips and gave him a displeased look.
She was about to say something to him.
But at that very moment, the sound of sword striking sword rang out across the battlefield.
CLAAAAANG—!
The sharp metallic sound sliced through the air. Everyone’s gaze snapped toward the battlefield at once.
“Oh! Looks like things are really getting started now! I mean Sir Roan’s display of prowess!”
At Paul’s words, Adeline turned her gaze back toward the battlefield. Now there was a trace of anticipation mixed in with the worry in her eyes. Was it because of what Paul had just said? She found herself quietly hoping for Roan’s victory.