Keldric and Sir Henri entered the inn called The Wind Rose. Behind it, the stables had a decent-sized open space.
Sir Henri and Sir Alan headed there. Sir Alan, who had been staying at the inn, took the lead with long strides.
Keldric glanced uneasily at Sir Alan, who was stomping as he walked.
Sir Alan practically had “I’m furious” written on the back of his head.
It was understandable—after all, the situation had spiraled out of control because Sir Henri had suddenly charged in while they were attempting a peaceful introduction.
Keldric approached Sir Henri, who was also walking briskly with irritation, and whispered to him.
“Sir, have you lost your mind? What was that all about?”
“What? Sir Keldric, don’t you know? Those Brittas knights need a good beating to establish proper order!”
“Wait, what are you even talking about…”
“Besides, those Hawksworths insulted our family grievously.”
“Insulted? Grievously?”
“Yes! Can you even imagine the things the Hawksworths did when they visited our lands?”
Sir Henri gnashed his teeth furiously, the grinding sound so loud it was clear even to Keldric’s ears.
At this point, Keldric couldn’t help but feel curious about what had made Sir Henri so enraged.
Though Sir Henri was a rather hopeless knight who chased after women and lacked financial sense, he wasn’t the type to suddenly trample on another knight’s honor.
For him to lose his temper like this, Keldric began to suspect that the Hawksworths must have committed a crime as severe as killing someone from the Candeillon family.
“If an honorable knight is this enraged, surely there must be a just cause. Although, I won’t know until I hear it.”
“I’ll explain it to you.”
Sir Henri’s explanation went as follows:
The Barony of Candeillon, located in the northeastern region of the Frankish Kingdom, was famous for its high-quality grapes, producing wines renowned even in neighboring areas.
Its reputation even reached across the sea to the Kingdom of Brittas. As a result, several knights from Brittas were invited to the 49th birthday banquet of Baron Candeillon.
Among the guests was the former head of the Hawksworth family, accompanying the son of the Earl of Bankershire.
“Our family’s wine is not something those Brittas knights should dare evaluate. They ought to just drink their fill and leave marveling at its taste!”
Keldric already felt uneasy.
He had only wanted to hear the reason behind the duel, but the story was already veering off into irrelevance, leaving Keldric feeling drained.
“Are you listening, Sir Keldric?”
“…Yeah, I’m listening. So, what happened next?”
“Then that brute of a Hawksworth knight took a sip of the wine and said, ‘Candeillon wine would suit the tables of commoners well.’ Can you believe it?!”
“Uh, well…”
“Not only that, but he complained that the bread was too tough! That bread was meant to be softened by dipping it in wine!”
To summarize, the former head of the Hawksworth family attended the Candeillon family’s banquet. During the feast, he belittled the Candeillon wine by comparing it to cheap wine and went on to criticize the toughness of the bread, which was traditionally meant to be enjoyed with wine.
For this unforgivable humiliation of the Candeillon family, Sir Henri believed the offender deserved death.
This guy’s insane.
Keldric shook his head in disbelief.
Not that he couldn’t understand Sir Henri’s perspective. During this era, it was customary for noble families to serve only the finest and most luxurious dishes when hosting a banquet.
The food served to esteemed guests at such banquets represented the hosting family’s prestige.
In particular, the Barony of Candeillon, renowned for its grape varieties used in winemaking, took immense pride in its wine. For a family famous for their wine to have their best selection compared to a cheap, crude drink consumed by peasants lounging around—such an insult was bound to sting deeply.
The bread was a similar matter. A family celebrated for its wine would naturally pair it with bread that complemented the drink. Simply tearing into the bread and complaining it was too tough demonstrated not just ignorance but also a lack of basic courtesy.
In conclusion, Sir Henri’s immediate hostility upon hearing the name Hawksworth wasn’t entirely without reason.
However, that reasoning made sense only within the context of the era. From Keldric’s perspective, it was utterly absurd.
Publicly humiliating the host family by criticizing the quality and taste of their hospitality at a banquet? Yes, that was deeply offensive.
Complaining about bread without understanding its purpose in the meal? Absolutely a breach of etiquette.
But did that justify drawing weapons and challenging someone to a duel the moment you met them? Keldric wasn’t sure he could answer that with a straight face.
And why was Sir Henri confronting the descendant of the Hawksworth family about something done by the previous head of the household? Keldric couldn’t make sense of that either.
“At any rate, Sir Keldric, today is the day I finally put an end to the humiliation of that fateful moment. That fledgling knight who knows nothing of wine will get what he deserves.”
“Right. I’ll cheer you on.”
“Thank you. Your support means a lot to me.”
After all, it wasn’t Keldric who would be fighting.
There were limits to how much he could care about others’ affairs. In just three days, he’d be trading blows in the tournament arena himself.
Keldric had enough on his plate. This time, it was better to simply sit back and watch. Trying to mediate this situation unnecessarily could end up making both Sir Henri and Sir Alan resent him.
And while he might have been named as a witness, digging too deeply into the reasons behind their quarrel could itself be seen as an insult.
☩ ☩ ☩ ☩ ☩ ☩ ☩
Behind the inn, the open space next to the stable was neither too large nor too small.
Inside the small fenced area, there was nothing but hay, making it an ideal spot for two knights to duel once the hay was cleared.
To Keldric’s eyes, it seemed as if the space had been created for this very purpose from the start.
“Everyone, step back. This is an honorable duel between knights.”
Calling it an “honorable duel” seemed a stretch, given the lack of grandeur and the petty reason for the fight, but Keldric brushed it off and led the attendants and Sir Alan’s squire backward.
Meanwhile, Sir Henri and Sir Alan, now wearing their helmets, stepped into the center of the clearing, weapons in hand.
Sir Alan’s helmet was a great helm similar to Keldric’s. From within the tin-can-like helmet, a muffled voice rumbled.
“Keldric, I am ready. However, I wonder if that petty, cowardly Frankish knight is prepared.”
“You talk a lot for someone who might wet himself in defeat,” came the retort.
Keldric stepped forward with a slightly exasperated expression.
The improvised arena was quiet. A few people who had been drinking in the inn had come out to watch, but Keldric had sent them away to preserve the dignity of the knight who would lose here.
“Hmm… Since this duel was arranged suddenly, let me briefly explain the rules.”
No underhanded attacks. No killing the opponent. No striking the groin. No gouging eyes. No using certain lethal joint locks. No ignoring an expression of surrender. And above all, no disobeying Keldric, the witness to this duel.
A flood of rules, enough to make anyone shake their head, spilled out of Keldric’s mouth.
He thought it was sufficient, but given that the two knights radiated murderous intent, strict rules were necessary.
“…These are the rules for this duel. Any objections?”
“None.”
“Neither do I. Let’s get on with it.”
With a reluctant nod, Keldric stepped out of the arena.
Although he wore armor as a formality for overseeing the duel, he had no intention of getting caught up in the fight about to unfold.
“This duel is a glorious occasion granted by God to resolve the discord between the Hawksworth family and the Candeillon family—”
“Hold on, hold on! Sir Keldric! Why did you mention that Brittas knight’s family first?”
“…Fine. This is to resolve the discord between the Candeillon family and the Hawksworth family. May the honorable knights representing both families respect each other’s prowess and uphold their family honor.”
The two knights nodded silently.
The tension emanating from the knights holding their weapons was overwhelming. Even the attendants, who had seen their masters fight countless times, looked a little pale.
“Knights, draw your swords! Fight for your honor!”
At Keldric’s shout, the duel began.
☩ ☩ ☩ ☩ ☩ ☩ ☩
The first to move was Sir Henri.
With his mace slung over his shoulder and his shield raised in front, Sir Henri closed the distance boldly, in stark contrast to Sir Alan, who cautiously observed the situation.
“Oh….”
Keldric marveled inwardly at the sight.
He had assumed Sir Henri’s actions would be unremarkable, simply relying on intuition, but it turned out that Henri’s form was well-grounded.
Having wandered the empire for three years, it was likely he had participated in several territorial battles.
Moreover, he wasn’t from some impoverished knightly house—he was the son of Baron Candeillon, meaning he must have trained in a decent environment since childhood.
“Alyssa, who do you think will win?”
“The outcome of the duel is known only to the divine. I dare not presume.”
“For someone saying that, you seem quite entertained.”
“…….”
Just as Keldric pointed out, Alyssa, standing to his right, appeared deeply engrossed in the duel.
While knightly duels weren’t particularly rare, they were usually events reserved for nobles or those directly involved.
If commoners or unrelated individuals happened to watch and word of the loser spread in a negative light, it would bring unparalleled humiliation.
Not only was Alyssa captivated, but so too was Sir Alan’s squire, standing to Keldric’s left, watching the duel with great interest.
“You don’t seem worried,” Keldric remarked.
“Ah, noble Sir Keldric of the honorable Bellaf family,” the squire replied.
“Are you not concerned about Sir Alan’s potential defeat?”
“I have no reason to worry. Sir Alan will not lose.”
The squire’s loyalty was remarkable. The young boy’s eyes sparkled with admiration as he gazed at Sir Alan.
“Regardless of the outcome, I hope both Sir Henri and Sir Alan fight honorably.”
“Thank you for your kind words, Sir Keldric.”
Keldric shifted his gaze back to the duel.
Sir Henri and Sir Alan stood about three paces apart, locked in a standoff.
Though Sir Henri had quickly closed the distance with his shield forward, he did not move closer than this.
“Come at me, you cowardly Frankish knight!”
The reason for his hesitation lay in Sir Alan’s weapon.
It was a poleaxe, a unique weapon resembling a polearm with an axe blade, nearly as long as Sir Alan himself.
Too small to be considered a two-handed axe yet versatile enough to slash as well as thrust, it was a peculiar weapon.
Its length was not excessive for infantry use but sufficient for man-to-man combat.
This was why conscripted serfs and mercenaries often preferred spears; the outcome of a fight often hinged on reach.
As Sir Henri adjusted his mace and shield cautiously, Sir Alan swung his poleaxe decisively.
Whoosh!
“…….”
The heavy attack that sliced through the air missed its mark, glancing off Sir Henri’s shield. Still, it seemed the shield wouldn’t hold for long.
With its axe blade, Sir Alan’s poleaxe could easily cleave the shield apart, leaving Sir Henri without any means of defense.
Keldric watched the duel with great interest.
Moments ago, he had done his best to prevent this from escalating, but now that the duel had begun, there was little to do but spectate.
‘Damn. Why is this so entertaining?’
Keldric began to understand why knights were so obsessed with fighting.
If the two most entertaining things in the world were watching fires and fights, then watching someone else fight was even better than participating yourself.
The duel grew increasingly captivating.
Sir Henri, after deflecting several attacks with his shield, began to show signs of urgency as the shield’s durability waned. Finally, he decisively closed the distance.
“Urrahhh!”
Clang!
With a textbook ox stance, Sir Henri thrust his mace forward, grazing Sir Alan’s helmet.
Henri had aimed for Alan’s shoulder, hoping to deliver a powerful blow that would weaken his grip on the weapon. The problem was that Alan had managed to twist his body just enough for the attack to miss its mark.
However, forcing his body into such an awkward position disrupted Alan’s stance as well.
With the gap between them now gone, the two knights inevitably became entangled on the straw-and-mud-covered ground.
“You bastard! How dare you insult me!”
“That’s my line! I’ll send you to meet your harlot of a mother!”
“Fine! You filthy Frankish dog! I’ll make you vomit out last night’s wine!”
Sir Henri attempted to wrest the poleaxe away, while Sir Alan resisted, trying to initiate a grappling match.
The once-proud duel between knights had devolved into a petty, undignified wrestling match in the mud. Insults about each other’s parents flew freely, adding to the chaos.
And yet, that made it all the more provocative and entertaining.
Sir Alan’s squire watched his mentor roll around in the mud with trembling eyes, while Sir Henri’s attendants stood frozen, utterly absorbed in the fight.
The same was true for Keldric and Alyssa.
“Ooooh…!”
“My goodness…”
It was just two armored men rolling around in the mud, but the sheer novelty of it made it irresistibly fascinating.
“Just like that, Sir Henri! Twist his arm!”
“A-ah! Sir Alan! You must escape! No, no, don’t let it happen!”
“Sir Henri! Kick him—there!”
“That’s against the rules!”
“Sir Alan! Sweep his legs and bring him down!”
Amidst the pungent stench of horse manure wafting from the nearby stable, the ridiculous and messy duel dragged on.
None of this stopped Keldric from enjoying the show.
“Pick up your weapons! No, wait—don’t! Keep fighting like this!”
After all, watching a fight was always the best part of any battle.