A clear, sunny noon in early spring.
It was time for everyone to finish their morning tasks.
The farmers sweating in the fields.
The woodcutters laboring at the foot of the mountains.
The shepherds piping in the meadows.
The brewers fermenting alcohol at the distilleries.
Even the housewives wrestling with laundry by the riverbanks.
For all the territory's residents, it was a moment to set down their work and enjoy lunch and a brief rest.
But today was a little different.
At the training grounds attached to Baron Frontera's mansion.
A special and rare event was about to unfold in that vast open space.
"Hey, how do you think the duel will go today?"
"Duel? It's obvious, isn't it?"
"You think so too?"
"Of course. There's no way Lord Lloyd beats Sir Neumann."
"Thanks to that, we're in for a treat. When else do we get to watch something like this?"
"Heh, yeah. When else do we get to see that young master—who throws tantrums every damn day—rolling in the dirt?"
Farmers who had skipped their fieldwork gathered at the edge of the training grounds, murmuring among themselves.
Nearby, groups of housewives who had delayed their lunches chatted in clusters of three or five.
"Still, I'm a bit worried."
"Worried? About what?"
"Young Master Lloyd. What if he actually beats Sir Neumann? He'd get even more arrogant."
"Oh, come on. Why worry about that?"
"Why not? I heard even Sir Ulrich got beaten senseless by Young Master Lloyd."
"But this time it's Sir Neumann."
"Hmm. So you think Lord Lloyd has no chance?"
"That's right. Sir Neumann's the strongest in our territory. Lucky for us—we're in for a good show for once."
...That was the gist of it.
Countless territory residents had gathered at the training grounds to watch the duel.
Most of them expected Lloyd to lose.
They cheered for Sir Neumann's victory.
The Lloyd they knew was no swordsman.
Until recently, he'd been drowning in booze every day—not even two months ago.
And that wasn't all.
He was always at the forefront of every trouble (?).
You could count on one hand the residents who hadn't suffered from his antics and misdeeds.
*Please, let me see that bastard Lloyd get his ass kicked today.*
Then maybe he'd finally behave.
No, he damn well better.
That was the honest wish of most of the people gathered here.
But it wasn't like there were zero residents rooting for Lloyd.
"Still, Young Master Lloyd hasn't caused any trouble lately."
A young shepherd boy said cautiously.
The woodcutters around him immediately shot back.
"Hey, kid. People's true nature doesn't change."
"Huh? But it's true."
"Sure, it's true. But so what? Does a couple months of good behavior mean it's over? No way. He has to keep it up for us to believe him."
"But he installed ondol in our house."
"Tch. It wasn't free."
"But it was so warm and nice."
"Ugh, no way, no way. What do you expect from a shepherd boy?"
"I'm not lying. It's real."
"Fine. I signed up for that distribution contract or whatever too, so I'll see for myself once it's installed. Let's just watch for now."
"Yes, sir..."
Of course, among this minority quietly rooting for Lloyd were the baron and baroness.
Baron Frontera had even called aside Sir Neumann, one of the duelists, for a special request.
"Listen, Sir Neumann."
"Yes, my liege?"
"Take good care of my son today."
"Understood. No need to worry."
"Good, thank you. He's been rude to you, but he'll be the one you serve someday. So go easy on him—don't injure him too badly."
"I'll keep that in mind."
...Something like that.
In short, not a single person gathered at the training grounds today expected Lloyd to win. And the moment Lloyd appeared, their expectations turned to certainty.
"Young Master Lloyd has arrived!"
A mansion servant shouted.
All eyes turned to the training grounds entrance.
Lloyd strolled in casually.
Holding a shovel in one hand.
"...Huh?"
Everyone's eyes widened.
A shovel.
This was the training grounds.
Lord Lloyd was supposed to duel here today.
So why was he carrying a shovel instead of a sword, axe, or spear?
"Hey? Did he schedule construction here today?"
"What are you talking about?"
"The ondol work Lord Lloyd's been doing lately."
"You're saying they're doing it here? No way."
"Right?"
"Yeah, right."
Soldiers freed from construction duty for the day murmured among themselves.
It was an incomprehensible situation.
Meanwhile, Lloyd calmly took his position in the center of the training grounds.
Under the bright sunlight, the shovel in his hand finally came into clear view.
The shovel was made of solid steel, handle to blade.
There was only one meaning to that.
It wasn't a tool or an implement—it was a weapon.
As if confirming everyone's guess, Lloyd declared toward the baron seated at the head table.
"I, Lloyd Frontera, son of Arkos Frontera, am prepared for my duel with Sir Neumann."
It was a clear and resounding declaration of readiness.
The baron furrowed his brow.
"You're prepared for the duel?"
"Yes."
"Your weapon? Did you bring it?"
"This is it, as you can see."
Lloyd grinned and held up the steel shovel.
"...."
He'd hoped otherwise, but no.
He'd thought his son was finally getting his act together.
He'd hoped he was turning onto the straight path.
But his eldest son was still out of his mind.
*To think he'd approach even a duel with such a lax attitude.*
The baron ground his teeth in secret.
His disappointment ran deep.
He looked at Sir Neumann with a hardened gaze.
He gave a slight nod toward Sir Neumann.
*You can go hard on him. Help him get his head straight while you're at it.*
*Understood. Gladly, if you command it.*
Sir Neumann, grasping the baron's intent, nodded back.
It was exactly what he'd hoped for.
No, what he'd desperately wanted.
To roughly handle the insolent young punk who dared act high and mighty toward him.
That desire intensified into a burning wish the moment he saw Lloyd's stance.
Murmurs rippled through the crowd of residents.
Lloyd had assumed a bizarre, unfamiliar pose.
He gripped the shovel handle with hands spread wide.
Left hand just below the blade.
Right hand near the top of the handle.
He calmly bent his arms naturally.
It looked like he was half-embracing the shovel, aiming the blade tip right at them.
From Sir Neumann's perspective, it was just an awkward, unheard-of stance!
Unable to bear it, Sir Neumann twitched his nose.
"Lord Lloyd, have you forgotten? This is a duel."
"Yeah, I know."
"Then what is that stance?"
"Yeah, it's my fighting stance."
"Are you mocking me with childish games right now?"
"Yeah, no."
"Then what are you doing?"
"What, you don't get it? I'm holding this to bash your head in."
"...You'll regret that answer."
"Yeah, suit yourself."
"...."
Crunch!
His teeth ground involuntarily.
Sir Neumann turned away, chewing on his rising fury and sense of insult.
He addressed Baron Frontera.
"I am also prepared for the duel."
A chilling declaration in a frosty voice.
The residents gulped at the cold edge in his tone, clenching their fists without realizing it.
Somehow, they felt this duel would fulfill their wishes (?) perfectly, and anticipation swelled.
Finally, the baron's proclamation rang out.
"I, Baron Arkos Frontera, hereby declare the start of this fair duel between the two."
The duel was officially underway.
At that instant, Sir Neumann bared his fangs.
He kicked off the ground like he'd been waiting.
*Insolent pup! Time to show you your place!*
Whoosh!
Sir Neumann's feet moved lightly and nimbly.
He pushed off the earth.
His body surged forward.
It was a concise, swift advance beyond ordinary human limits.
Before the duel, the distance between Sir Neumann and Lloyd was about four meters.
Sir Neumann closed that gap in a single bound!
"...Whoa!"
Exclamations burst from the watching residents.
Before they faded, Sir Neumann's sword moved.
Still sheathed.
He swung the scabbard itself with ferocious force.
*First, I'll break a few bones nice and easy!*
A rabid dog needed a good beating with a club.
Besides, he'd long lost interest in this pathetic backwater fief anyway.
So he'd crush this clueless prodigal young master underfoot once and for all, he resolved viciously.
*Vent all this built-up stress! The baron won't even blame me! Then I'll leave this dump—just like we planned! Kuhaha!*
A rosy future unfolded in his mind.
He thought of his accomplice.
Others called him a real estate scammer.
But not in his eyes.
*It's a legitimate business!*
That businessman had gotten intel on Frontera Territory through him.
Used it to seize Baron Frontera's assets.
In return?
He'd received a hefty payoff from the "businessman."
And that wasn't the end.
The man had promised: ditch this backwater and come to me.
He'd get treatment befitting his talents.
*Of course! I'm not the type to rot in a hole like this!*
The ambition that always writhed in his chest.
His dream of glory with just a sword.
That dream was now within reach.
Of course, first he had to stomp the arrogant brat in front of him.
*Like this!*
Whoooosh!
The sheathed longsword cleaved the air with menacing speed.
From upper right to lower left.
A diagonal slash.
Lloyd's left collarbone lay at the end of its path.
*Collarbone first!*
Cruelty gleamed in Sir Neumann's eyes.
He was certain.
A novice like Lloyd couldn't possibly block this strike. Not with that ridiculous shovel stance.
Everyone thought the same.
Baron Frontera, with his stern face.
The baroness, hands clasped tight.
All the spectators shared that certainty.
Everyone except one: Haviel.
*Lord Lloyd's stance... it doesn't look like a joke.*
Haviel watched Lloyd with narrowed eyes.
Lloyd's pose looked awkward, unfamiliar, bizarre.
Yet it felt strangely stable.
Comfortable.
Not the stance of an amateur.
Nor one tried just once or twice.
*But he's never used it in our training sessions.*
Had he practiced in secret?
One thing was clear.
*No doubt about it. That's a stance designed purely for real combat.*
Realization sent chills down his spine.
This duel might end the opposite of everyone's expectations.
And the next moment, Haviel's premonition proved spot on.
Swish!
The steel shovel, still until now, suddenly moved.
It rose in a clean arc.
Intercepting the diagonally descending sword.
Clang!
A simple, efficient motion—deceptively easy-looking.
But even as his attack was blocked, Sir Neumann felt no worry.
*Just a lucky block!*
He dismissed it as beginner's flailing.
Meanwhile, he?
He was a low-grade Sword Expert.
He could wield mana that a young master like Lloyd couldn't dream of.
*I'll shatter that pathetic defense with raw power!*
Fwoosh!
Sir Neumann's eyes turned fierce.
His longsword glowed faintly.
Mana infused the blade.
A sliver of sword aura formed.
But the next instant—
The faint aura vanished.
No—it was absorbed by the steel shovel touching the sword. Transferred.
Even mana drained from his own body, his mana heart!
*...What?*
Sir Neumann's eyes bulged in shock.
At the same time, the steel shovel moved.
Clang!
"....!"
It slid his longsword aside.
Like swatting an annoying fly.
He tried to resist.
But he couldn't.
Power ebbed from his body like a receding tide.
Then the shovel head lunged at an odd angle.
Thwack!
"...Pfft!"
A brutal impact to the face.
Blood sprayed from his mouth.
Sir Neumann's head snapped violently to the side.
(End of Chapter 14)
Read more on "novelshub.org"