“But this gentleman…”
Antonio narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing Green from head to toe for quite a while, yet found almost no trace of hidden magic on him. His expression darkened.
So, that feeling from before wasn’t an illusion after all.
Hmph, this fellow really is hiding his strength.
But so what?
A commoner is still a commoner.
Perhaps they can rely on individual ability and make some progress for a while, but the limitations born of a humble background mean they could never reach the heights that those of noble blood can attain.
For example, the core of the floating battleship within me.
Both are Legends, yet the power inside is worlds apart.
A Legend who commands a Domain can effortlessly slay an ordinary Legend.
As a Legendary mage, plus with the floating battleship core within me, I dare say—even a peak Legend might not be my match.
It’s the perfect chance to rid the Crown Prince of a thorn in his side.
Thinking of this, Antonio smiled.
His smile was dazzling; every gesture exuded the grace cultivated by the noble class, as if Green’s impassioned speech moments ago was nothing but a trivial provocation.
“Mister Bard.” The envoy from the Imperial Capital sneered coldly. “Under what name do you intend to challenge me to a Duel?”
He glanced at the squad captain, who lay on the ground convulsing from the pressure moments before, and Antonio explained leisurely, “After all, as far as I know, there’s never been a precedent in the Empire for a commoner to challenge a noble to a Duel as an individual.”
Green fell silent for a moment at those words.
Antonio was indeed correct.
Duel.
Among the Empire’s upper echelons, especially for those nobles who hold family honor and personal dignity as the most important things in the world, Duels are as commonplace as breathing.
Even though the Empire’s Tribunal has repeatedly decreed that nobles—especially those in important positions—are forbidden from settling disputes through private Duels, such measures have had little effect against the prevailing social tide.
In fact, in the Imperial Capital, nearly every month a noble dies on the dueling grounds, becoming the talk of the city.
As for the reasons behind Duels, they’re as varied as can be—from petty grudges and love affairs to territorial succession and family rank in court, anything can be a pretext.
But there’s one thing that’s almost unheard of—a commoner’s honor.
“Green, Mr. Green, I… I’m fine…”
The squad captain on the ground painfully raised his head, pressing hard on the wound that threatened to burst with blood. Gasping, pale, he tried to stop Green, “The envoy is right, after all, this medal of mine… was only… only awarded by the district commander, it doesn’t really count.”
Yet, even as he spoke of being fine, the captain’s smile was bitter and his eyes desolate.
According to Imperial law, a true medal carries an inviolable sanctity and dignity—but only if it’s “real.”
Those authorized by the Ministry of Military Affairs, handed out by ministers, the Prime Minister, the Regent, or even the Emperor himself, are the only medals truly recognized by the Empire.
As for medals given out as rewards by individual units, they’re just honorary tokens, nothing more.
Even so…
Sigh. I had wanted to take it home and show my mother—her useless son had finally made something of himself.
But compared to Mr. Green, or Her Highness’s future prospects, what is the dignity of a mere soldier like me worth?
With that thought, the squad captain looked at Green with hopeful eyes, wishing he’d use this as a step to back down and not truly clash with the envoy from the Capital.
“Oh?” The envoy, hearing the squad captain’s “agreement,” looked at him with even greater disdain, no sympathy or kindness at all.
A commoner is a commoner, so spineless.
Didn’t this guy seem to treasure that medal just moments ago? How can he change so quickly?
Tch, I can’t let the conflict I worked so hard to incite dissolve so easily.
But now that even this commoner has grovelled, how am I to stir up further conflict?
Antonio looked at the silent, downcast soldiers below the stage, realizing that they seemed to sense the envoy’s ill intent, but he didn’t know how to proceed. Bored, he turned away—only to see the fury burning in the eyes of the Princess at his side.
There it is!
Didn’t this Princess just ask me about the honor rewards for those sacrificed commoners and when their applications would be approved?
Hehehe…
With a plan forming in his heart, Antonio grew even more smug. He raised his head, his voice calm and unruffled, and said, “By the way, it seems some of you were curious just now. Why, aside from delivering a new mission, I gave you not a single reward for your victory?”
A question.
Antonio smiled as he answered himself, “Actually, the answer is very simple.”
For some reason, he didn’t state the reason directly, but instead turned to Old Martin beside him and asked,
“Vice Commander Martin, you once served as a history professor at the Royal Military Academy—do you recall, how many casualties did our Eighth Corps suffer in the battle with the Orc Kingdom at Heim Forest?”
Caught off guard by the abrupt question, Old Martin froze for a moment, but his mouth answered instinctively, “Because the Eighth Corps commander was undisciplined and greedy for merit, disregarding the General Staff’s warnings, our forces suffered a crushing defeat—resulting in 1,065 tragic deaths.”
1,065?
Hearing that number, Green was instantly suspicious.
Hadn’t Andy mentioned in passing that the entire Corps was wiped out in that battle?
A Corps has at least fifty thousand men—even with depleted ranks, at least thirty thousand casualties, right?
“Haha, worthy of a professor from the Academy. That’s absolutely correct.”
Antonio looked down from above at the dazed squad captain, who was numbly gathering the remains of his medal, and coldly said, “Hey, you may be just a squad captain, but you should have some common sense. Aren’t you curious how a nearly annihilated Corps is recorded in history as only losing 1,065 men?”
“Wh-why?” The squad captain paused in gathering the scraps, a trace of heartache in his eyes. As he tried to piece together the fragments, wondering if a craftsman could mend them, he asked.
Bang.
The captain’s hands spread open, and Antonio’s oppressive aura forced him down once more. The fragments he had painstakingly collected scattered everywhere.
Swish, swish, swish.
Watching all his hard work go to waste, the squad captain was bewildered. Trembling, he looked at the envoy—once a figure of imperial honor—who now only made him feel hopeless.
“Because your sacrifice is utterly worthless.”
Worthless…?
“Don’t understand?” Antonio’s expression grew even more mocking at the captain’s confusion. “You cannon fodder—even if you die, no one will care.”
“The true outcome of a war…”
Boom, boom, boom, boom.
The stone floor began to crack and collapse.
Antonio’s unfathomable magical pressure bore down upon the supposedly sturdy fortress, making it seem on the verge of collapse.
“…is always decided by a few key individuals.”
Looking at the captain’s ashen face, Antonio’s sneer was unmasked, his ridicule laid bare.
“Since victory has nothing to do with you, the Empire’s honor…” Antonio looked over all the soldiers present, coldly and mercilessly declaring, “is destined to have nothing to do with you rabble!”
Cannon fodder?
No one cares if we die?
The squad captain’s eyes widened in disbelief at the envoy’s words. But… but as he recalled Green turning the tide single-handedly against the barbarians, he couldn’t help but feel a reluctant agreement.
Yes… Our power is so small and insignificant…
But even so!
He remembered the commando who had risked his life in battle to save him from certain death.
The squad captain struggled to raise his head again.
“No, Lord Envoy, you’re wrong!” His voice was tiny, but held an unbreakable resolve.
“Yes, we—we can’t change the outcome of the war, but our sacrifice itself isn’t meaningless!”
He shouted with all his strength, even as the crushing magic bore down on him.
“A single drop of water may change nothing, but a hundred, a thousand, ten thousand—even an endless stream—can form a river, a lake, even a mighty ocean!!”
Boom!
The squad captain stood up.
Not because of a miracle, but it was a miracle all the same.
Antonio looked at Green.
Finally can’t sit still any longer?
I’ve been waiting for this.
“Lord Envoy, I’ve found my reason for a Duel.”
Green smiled politely. “Your Highness Teresa, may I ask—what is the penalty for violating the Spirit of the Late Emperor?”
“Um… death?” Teresa answered in confusion, not understanding why Green was bringing up the law now. With this envoy’s authority, even if he broke the law, who could punish him…
Wait, could it be?
It is!
Green yawned. “Of course, I know, Lord Envoy, you’ll say a mere Major like me has no right to judge you. But, sir, do you remember there’s something in this world called… Trial by Combat?”