"Then we'll take our leave first."
I offered Daniela my arm and moved to escort her out of the villa's chamber.
But our path was blocked.
Standing before us was the lord of House de Bosch — the family that owned this villa and whose heroine had claimed victory — Baron Remi de Bosch.
He had swept into the room with a long, rat-like mustache trailing from his face, and the expression of utter bewilderment he wore at the sight of the chaos before him was something to behold.
Narrow eyes, a philtrum that jutted out prominently — not a face that inspired warmth. But those eyes looked more than capable of harboring scheming thoughts behind them.
I'm no physiognomist, but the man looked contemptible.
"Oh my! Your Grace, the Grand Duke! Whatever has transpired here?"
"And who are you?"
"I am Remi of House de Bosch, the lord of the domain in which this villa stands."
I had asked as though I didn't know him, but Remi answered without the slightest discomfort.
I moved to leave the room with Daniela on my arm.
But someone behind us was making a great deal of noise.
The Crown Prince wanted to repay this humiliation. He couldn't very well attack from behind, though.
"Hey!"
He called out to stop me.
The Crown Prince flung something at me — it struck my back and clattered to the floor. Something like a badge.
Rolling across the floor was a ring.
A ring bearing the imperial crest — the Crown Prince's token of challenge.
"What exactly did you just throw?"
"What do you think! It's the imperial ring! Even a country bumpkin ought to know what that means!"
"Ha. You actually want to duel?"
I was dumbfounded. Even Daniela let out a sigh — we both wondered if he had taken leave of his senses.
But the most stupefied of all was Leo.
I wasn't sure whether dueling customs differed between the North and the South, but to issue a challenge here, of all places — it was beyond comprehension.
It had been roughly ten years since my last duel, come to think of it.
"Unbelievable. I didn't think any man could be this foolish."
"Indeed, Grand Duke."
"Very well. You wish to defend your honor, Crown Prince of the Empire."
Had Remi de Bosch somehow anticipated this turn of events?
Kartina exchanged a few glances with her father, then stepped boldly to the Crown Prince's side.
So you're in agreement as well.
"You wouldn't be thinking of slinking away in disgrace, would you?"
"Ha ha ha! I can understand the temptation to flee from me."
I looked between Remi, Kartina, and the Crown Prince in turn.
Remi de Bosch had drawn close to the Crown Prince and was murmuring something to him.
The Crown Prince listened with apparent seriousness, then broke into a smug chuckle.
I turned to Daniela with a question of my own.
"Is there something different about southern dueling customs compared to the North? Enough to warrant a conference like that?"
"Is there something different about northern duels?"
"I'd have thought they were more or less the same."
"In the South, the higher one's rank, the more proper it is to appoint a proxy. The duel itself must follow a prescribed set of rules."
What does that mean.
The Crown Prince finished his consultation with Remi and puffed out his chest with visible confidence.
I leaned toward Leo and exchanged a quiet word. Apparently southern dueling customs are rather different.
Leo looked equally at a loss.
Only Daniela seemed genuinely worried.
"He'll likely choose the time, the location, and the second that favor him most."
"What kind of duel is that?"
I asked, genuinely puzzled.
So southern duels begin with putting a proxy forward first.
I had Leo, so there was nothing to worry about on that front — but I wanted to make a point.
There was only one way to do that: show them a North-style duel.
"Is fielding a proxy the southern rule?"
When I asked, no answer came.
"Different from us, then."
"Honestly, what would a pack of country savages know of noble customs?"
"Even a neutered hound doesn't duel like that. They only bark at each other, don't they?"
I walked slowly toward the Crown Prince.
The northern way of dueling is simple enough.
But the consequences are severe. Under northern law, all duels are in principle forbidden — but this is the South, so that hardly matters.
"Leo. There are far too many cowards in the South, wouldn't you say?"
"Yes — yes, Your Grace!"
"Rather like dogs barking to frighten someone."
"Y-yes. A pup that barks cannot become a wolf for all its noise."
I came to stand directly before the Crown Prince.
A northern duel is not called with a thrown ring or a pledge of honor.
The moment a proxy steps in, it is no different from an admission of shame.
The reason duels were banned in the North was, in truth, simple enough.
There were always those who used them to torment the weak.
That is how brutal northern duels are.
"Since you've issued the challenge, I'd like to settle this the northern way. What say you?"
"The northern way?"
"Yes. Are you frightened? I could fight you with one hand, if you prefer."
I rolled my right hand in a slow circle as I said it.
Leo muttered something behind me, clearly flustered.
Leo, you really don't trust me enough.
Since becoming Grand Duke of the North, I had fought several duels and never once lost.
To duel in the North means staking what matters most to a man.
"In the North, there are no proxies, no armor, no sharp blades."
I descended the steps and began removing my outer garments, one layer at a time.
The guards were taken aback, but none moved to stop me.
"Come down. What are you waiting for?"
"W-what is the meaning of this?"
"You wanted a duel. Let me show you the northern way."
Bewilderment.
I stood bare-chested and faced forward.
First rule of a northern duel:
A spear or blade may only be used once — at the very end.
"Take up a spear and come down here. You said you wanted to duel."
"Y-you—!"
"I'll have to show this foolish golden-haired pup just how frightening a wolf can be."
The Crown Prince came clattering down the steps.
Well. He has nerve, at least. Or perhaps he simply cannot endure humiliation.
Second rule: remove your upper garments so that clothing and other things do not interfere.
Whether he was following my lead or not, the Crown Prince stripped off his shirt entirely.
He was slight.
A thin, thin frame. His skin was so pale that his body looked less like a man's and more like a woman's.
"In the North, a duel is fought with bare hands alone. No one may intervene — no person, no object."
"Ha! No different from animals fighting."
"Sending another man forward to die for your honor — that is not something a man does."
I gave a faint smile. The Crown Prince's face, consumed entirely by obsession with his own honor, was difficult to find handsome. Who was the animal here, exactly.
"Leo! Come and stand as my second!"
"Yes — yes, Your Grace!"
Leo hurried down the steps.
He called the Crown Prince and me to stand close together. Face to face with me now, the Crown Prince was only beginning to grasp what he had gotten himself into.
Why wasn't House de Bosch intervening?
In fact, the one holding them back was Daniela. Marquis Roland had planted himself squarely at her side.
"You would stand by and watch such insolence? Marquis Roland!"
"How dare you address me by name so freely! Have you no eyes in your head!"
That pair could use a duel of their own.
Leo gripped both our shoulders and seated us in position.
The moment it began, you threw yourself at the other man like a beast and fought with bare fists until one of you could no longer rise.
That was a North-style duel.
The victor was permitted to take the loser's head, or inflict a mortal wound — both were sanctioned under northern dueling custom.
That was precisely why I had been forced to ban it.
"Th-then — I shall begin!"
So how does one win? The method is simple.
Make it so your opponent can no longer move.
Beat him until he can't get up, or knock him unconscious.
Leo slowly brought us to our feet and gave both our backs a sharp slap.
Ordinarily there would be banners and a good deal more ceremony.
But this was an urgent situation, so.
"Do you know how to win?"
"Wh-what?"
"Beat me until I can't stand, or make me say the word 'surrender.' That's all there is to it."
I explained the rules while I had the chance.
The Crown Prince let out a snorting breath and charged.
Even northern children don't fight like this.
A stance that had never thrown a proper punch in its life.
As I suspected — the only thing he's good at is sitting in a chair.
"Hiyah!"
He came at me with a strange battle cry, throwing wild punches. Whoosh — whoosh —
Honestly, a man like this wouldn't last a day in the northern army.
If the Crown Prince ever tried to claim military command in the North, the duel requests would flood in like a tide.
I didn't dodge the Crown Prince's fist.
Instead, I tucked my chin to my chest and let it connect squarely with my forehead.
Crack —
The sound rang out. My own head rang with it, naturally.
The inside of my mouth split.
But —
"Aaaaaugh!"
He clutched his right hand with a howl.
Shaking his wrist, the Crown Prince glared at me.
Who in the world leads with their forehead like that.
His wrist appeared to have bent on impact — the Crown Prince could no longer make a proper fist.
"Is that all?"
I went and took my shirt off for nothing.
I stood with both hands on my hips and waited for the Crown Prince to come at me again.
He'd have to grit his teeth and charge once more.
But the moment the Crown Prince lunged again —
I drove my fist into his body.
Well — I couldn't very well ruin that handsome face of his.
The punch aimed at the Crown Prince's torso landed squarely in the center of his stomach, right at the solar plexus.
"Uuuuugh..."
"Whoa — whoa!"
I couldn't help stepping back.
I looked at Leo. He appeared thoroughly alarmed.
"Y-Your Highness! Crown Prince, Your Highness!"
Didn't even feel like I did much.