"Grand Duke
Lorist nodded and turned to Reddy and
Reddy glanced at Count Borlede. "Master, we'll wait down here. Wishing you a hundred victories, Master."
Lorist waved a hand without replying, dismounted gracefully, and strode up the hill.
Little Lonely Hill had no proper path leading to its summit. The lower slope still had some greenery — a smattering of weeds and scrub, along with plenty of slippery moss and lichen. Past the midpoint, though, it was all gray-white rubble and sallow rock. Water was scarce up here, so grass and trees were rare; only the occasional tuft of withered roots poking out from between the stones.
The summit was composed of several massive slabs of gray-white rock. There was no path upward, but that was no obstacle for Lorist. He set his foot into a hollowed stone pocket, launched himself higher, drove his sword into the rock face, and used the leverage to vault up — in just a few movements he had scaled the highest point. The top offered nearly a hundred square meters of flat space. There were a few crevices between the rock slabs, the widest spanning two or three meters, and the surface was uneven, but none of that mattered to Lorist. It was, in truth, an excellent place for a duel.
What puzzled Lorist was that the Storm Sword Saint, who had set off ahead of him, was nowhere to be seen. Standing atop the highest rock, with the mountain wind billowing his cape behind him in a sharp crackling flutter, he gazed in every direction. The sky was vast, the horizon wide, the view unobstructed. In the direction of Brouvia City, he could clearly make out the entire battlefield — in the black square formations of the Commercial Alliance's forces, small black dots were streaming out, advancing toward the Norton Family's troops arrayed in a single long line. Faintly, the sounds of battle cries, horns, and war drums drifted over.
A rustling of fabric came from not far away. Lorist turned to see the Storm Sword Saint rising into view from behind a rock formation on the far side. Perhaps not expecting that Lorist, who had departed later, had already reached the summit first, the old man's weathered face flushed faintly red.
"Getting on in years, the body's not what it used to be — Your Grace will have to forgive an old man's slowness," the Storm Sword Saint said with a thick-skinned sigh, then offered Lorist a slight half-bow. "Grand Duke Norton, my respects to you. I'm truly grateful that you accepted my challenge. It spares this old man the embarrassment of losing face before the world..."
Lorist was somewhat surprised by the old man. What kind of act was this? Right now he looked courteous and amiable, the very picture of a kindly old man — a far cry from the arrogance and domineering manner he had displayed at the welcome banquet for the Commercial Alliance envoys hosted by the
"Uh..." Lorist suddenly realized he could not remember the old man's name. He recalled that at that welcome banquet, the envoy — some Baron or Marquis, someone named Kri-something — had introduced the old man as Master Ma-something-or-other...
After racking his brains for a good while, he still could not recall. He also felt it would be awkward to simply address the man as Storm Sword Saint, so Lorist simply drew his sword, baring his teeth in a grin. "Shall we get started then?"
The sooner he dispatched this, the sooner he could be done with it. Lorist was still thinking of rushing back to the battlefield, worried that some flaw might have appeared in his tactical arrangements. But to his surprise, the old Storm Sword Saint actually waved his hand and sat down. "No rush. Let me rest a while first. An old man's body can't compare to a young fellow's strength and vigor — you'll have to let this old man catch his breath first."
Lorist did not know whether to laugh or cry. What kind of nonsense was this? The old man was acting as though they were old acquaintances, chatting away and sitting right down with complete nonchalance. He certainly had nerve — not the slightest fear that Lorist might seize the opportunity to launch a surprise attack. Then again, with nearly fifty meters between them, by the time Lorist charged over, the old man would already have his domain deployed and ready. No wonder he could afford to look so confident and unfazed.
Fine. If the old man wanted to rest first, let him rest. There was no rush for this one moment. Lorist casually drove his sword into the rocky surface of the mountaintop, not bothering to sheathe it, and turned back to survey the battle unfolding around Brouvia City.
From the lonely hilltop, the Mana Hill Plains looked like a vast chessboard laid out before him. But this board had already been claimed by the Commercial Alliance forces for roughly two-thirds of its area. Square-shaped battle formations dotted the entire plain, stretching boundlessly to the horizon. The foremost formations had shrunk into tiny black dots, gradually closing in on the noticeably thinner single-line formation of the Norton Family's forces. Between the two sides, scattered across the open ground, were numerous small dots — and upon closer inspection, they turned out to be enormous shield wagons. Behind and around those shield wagons, countless tiny figures scurried about, using the wagons' cover to charge toward the Norton Family's battle lines.
The Norton Family's forces appeared to have repelled a wave of attacks from the Commercial Alliance, or perhaps a probing assault — many of the small figures lay motionless on the ground. But from the square formations up front, even more figures were emerging, pushing those tiny black shield wagons to launch yet another charge against the Norton Family's lines. Meanwhile, from the formations further back, countless figures were inching forward with row upon row of long-armed trebuchets...
"—the confidence. Look, the current situation on the battlefield clearly shows the Commercial Alliance forces maintaining the initiative. These three hundred thousand-plus troops are the Commercial Alliance's true elite. Granted, your family's forces are well-trained, Your Grace, but they are outnumbered by half, after all..." The Storm Sword Saint on the other side was also watching the battlefield, and had struck up a conversation with Lorist as though they were old friends.
Lorist curled his lip. "Are you done resting? If so, let's get on with our duel."
The Storm Sword Saint was taken aback. "Why are you in such a rush for a duel, Your Grace the Grand Duke? Don't tell me you want to return to the battlefield?"
Lorist didn't answer, but the expression on his face gave away his thoughts.
The Storm Sword Saint smiled bitterly. "Brother — oh, no, Your Grace the Grand Duke — truth be told, even though I sent you that challenge, I don't actually want to fight you..."
Lorist looked thoroughly confused. "If you don't want to duel me, why did you send a challenge in the first place?"
The old man patted the rock beside him, let out a long and inexplicable sigh, and finally spoke. "Brother, do you know why the very first thing I said when I came up was to thank you for accepting my challenge and saving my face?"
Lorist shook his head, thinking to himself: You want a beating? Fine, I'll oblige. I was just worrying about how to find you, old man, and here you come on your own accord. If I take you out, the Commercial Alliance loses its backbone — why on earth would I turn down such a good deal?
"Brother, you probably haven't been a Sword Saint for very long, so there are some things you haven't figured out yet. That's fine — you'll understand in time." The old Storm Sword Saint turned around and started reassuring Lorist.
Lorist was at a loss for words again. "But what does that have to do with our duel? Last time we fought to a standstill and both ended up wounded. Now that your injuries have healed and you've challenged me, it's obviously for revenge. And I feel our last fight was unfinished business, so there's no problem with me accepting your challenge."
But the old Storm Sword Saint burst into hearty laughter. "I sent you a challenge, Brother, but I don't actually want to fight you. Because I know full well that crossing swords with you is nothing but torment, and I'd probably get hurt all over again. These old bones of mine can't take another beating. Everyone knows that last time I infiltrated the Andinak Kingdom's army, intending to kidnap Oggsero I and the kingdom's nobles and bring them to
Lorist still didn't quite understand.
The Storm Sword Saint explained, "We Sword Saints are among the very peak existences on the Galentea Continent. We have transcended the noble class that rules the continent, and no one wishes to offend us. By the same token, unless it's a conflict between nations, Sword Saints generally don't want to cross paths with one another, and formal challenges or duels to the death are exceedingly rare. For the likes of us Sword Saints, determining who's superior holds no real meaning — there are only a handful of us across the entire continent, so what's the point of being number one in the world? We're different from you, Brother. You're not only a Sword Saint but also a Grand Duke with a territory, whereas the rest of us are simply enshrined on high — our status may be lofty, but we wield no real power."
"In the eyes of the world, we Sword Saints are supposed to live in seclusion, dedicating ourselves to refining our swordplay and
"When Sword Saints challenge one another, it doesn't work like how you simply accepted without hesitation, Brother. The challenged Sword Saint can demand that the challenger agree to certain conditions before accepting the duel. That's why public duels between Sword Saints are so rare, and those on good terms usually spar privately instead. You didn't make things difficult for me this time, and this old man is deeply grateful. I'll be sure to repay the favor someday."
All right, Lorist finally understood. The old Storm Sword Saint had issued this challenge essentially as an excuse to have a chat — he didn't actually want to fight Lorist to the death. As long as he could return unscathed this time, he could boast about fighting Lorist to a draw, which was far better than fleeing in humiliation like last time. Besides, given his position, he didn't need to go all out for the Commerce Alliance.
But Lorist was a different case. As the old man had said, his status might be lofty, but he had no territory or real power. Lorist, on the other hand, was both a Sword Saint and the Grand Duke of Northland, carrying the fate of an entire family on his shoulders. Since the old man wasn't planning to fight him, Lorist intended to head back down the mountain to the battlefield at Brovia City.
"Hey, Brother, don't tell me you're planning to return to the battlefield right now?" the old man asked.
Lorist raised an eyebrow and tightened his grip on his sword hilt. "Are you trying to stop me?"
The Storm Sword Saint shook his head. "Brother, you're a Sword Saint. Why exhaust yourself in these mundane wars? Even as the Grand Duke of Northland, you can't possibly lead the charge in every battle. Since you chose the same day as our duel to challenge the Commerce Alliance's armed forces to battle, that shows you have tremendous confidence in your family's military. Why not stay here and see what the result turns out to be? After all, on a battlefield of this scale, even we Sword Saints can't accomplish much..."
Lorist laughed. "Old man, did you perhaps make some kind of promise to the Commerce Alliance? Something to do with me?"
"...their duel couldn't possibly have ended that quickly..."
"Is that so?" Lorist's eyes flashed with cold light. "Do you really think you can stop me from leaving?"
"Brother, I admit I'm no match for you, but if I really wanted to stop you from leaving, you wouldn't have it so easy. We both know how our last fight went. If I didn't care about settling things one way or the other and just kept pestering you, you wouldn't get away so easily. This old man simply doesn't want to tire himself out. Besides, risking my neck for those merchants of the Commerce Alliance isn't worth it..."
"What did they promise you?" Lorist asked, somewhat curious.
"The Duchy of Ganglinia." The old man was blunt about it. "It's not that they offered me some benefit — I'm the one who agreed to challenge you and keep you tied up until this battle is over. In return, I demanded that those merchants hand over the Duchy of Ganglinia, which they had destroyed, as my territory."
Lorist thought about it for a long while but couldn't remember where the Duchy of Ganglinia was.
"The Duchy of Ganglinia was originally a vassal state of the Kelia Kingdom. Its area was about the size of one of your kingdom's provinces, located in the southern part of the continent, quite close to the Qigeda Kingdom." The Storm Sword Saint gave Lorist a geography lesson.
"Are you sure the Commerce Alliance will actually hand over that duchy to you as territory?" Lorist asked.
"I think at the very least they wouldn't dare deceive a Sword Saint. As long as I fulfill my promise and withdraw in one piece — not gravely wounded like last time — those merchants wouldn't dare try anything. If you and I fought each other to mutual destruction again, those merchants would probably be the happiest of all." The old man was still quite clear-headed.
"Hey, old man, even if you get that Duchy of Ganglinia as your territory, aren't you afraid the two Sword Saints from the Roman Empire and the Havistan Khanate in the southern part of the continent will come knocking? I heard the last time the Kelia Kingdom fell, it was those two Sword Saints who teamed up to force you away..." Lorist suddenly felt a spark of curiosity about the old man's past.
"Haha, brother, the truth is, the Kelia Kingdom's downfall was because the irreconcilable conflict between me and the king made it impossible for me to stay any longer. Even though I'm a Sword Saint, I couldn't very well take action against a king who had gone mad — after all, I do have to protect my reputation. Those two Sword Saints wrote to me, informing me that their two nations were preparing to send troops against the Kelia Kingdom. So I took the opportunity to leave that troubled land and simply watched that idiot lose his kingdom."
The old man told Lorist a startling fact — one that was completely different from the rumors.
"So you see, just being a Sword Saint comes with plenty of helpless frustrations. It's best to be like you, brother — both a Sword Saint and a lord, so you can actually live free and at ease. That's also the main reason I used the challenge against you to force those merchants into agreeing to my terms and handing over the Duchy of Ganglinia to me. So I'm hoping you'll do me this favor."
Thunder rumbled from the distant battlefield — startling as a lightning strike. Looking over from the hilltop, the battlefield was shrouded in smoke, with firelight flickering like flashes of lightning. The Commercial Alliance forces, once arranged in neat formations, were now engulfed in black smoke and flames. Faint screams and wails blended together with the thunder into a single terrible chorus.
Lorist let out a sigh of relief and sat down. Now it was the Storm Sword Saint's turn to be puzzled. "Hey, brother, aren't you heading back to the battlefield?"
Lorist chuckled. "The battle's already decided. The Commercial Alliance forces have lost. There's no need for me to rush back right away..."
"How is that possible?" The old man leapt to his feet and squinted into the distance. Though the battlefield was blanketed in smoke, he could still make out the Commercial Alliance forces retreating in disarray, while the Norton Family forces sounded their horns long and loud — the cavalry corps on both flanks sweeping in to encircle them...
"Ah!" The old man suddenly let out a strange cry, drew his sword, and began hacking wildly at the rocks beside them.
"What are you doing?" Lorist asked.
"Hurry — leave some sword marks on the rocks around you!" the old man panted. "Two Sword Saints dueling here — we have to leave future generations something to marvel over, some material for their reflections. So we need to set this place up as a scene of a brutal confrontation. You go left, I'll go right. We'll each add fresh marks over the other's slashes — that way people will actually believe it..."
...