Chapter 89
'Even if it's a training sword, that doesn't mean it can't pierce the skin!'
If he was killed by a single blow, he intended to pretend that he had not expected to die so easily.
But there was no need to worry about that.
Kang!
The sound of the two swords clashing echoed throughout the training ground with a sharp and disturbing noise.
'Did he reject her?'
Edmund, whose attack had been easily blocked, couldn't hide his astonished expression. He believed that Laszlo would have taken several steps back even if he had managed to block the attack.
But Laszlo deflected the sword, which carried the intent to kill, with an expressionless face.
It was unclear whether he was feeling bored, angry, sarcastic, or tense.
Edmund could not have known that.
Of course, he didn't have time to think about that.
Laszlo, immediately after blocking Edmund's attack, suddenly lunged with his sword.
"Yes!"
It was not an elegant or artistic dueling style; it resembled a crude and direct dueling style, and his sword did not come close to the speed of Edmund's swords.
However, every strike, every movement, was a very serious threat, and the direction of the sword was difficult to predict.
In fact, even if the direction was discovered, it would be difficult to repel the attack.
Bang! Kang! Chaeyoung!
The loud sound of successive blows continued to fill the air.
Laszlo was striding towards Edmund, brandishing his heavy sword, while Edmund was hesitantly retreating and struggling to parry Laszlo's blows.
When Lazlo paused his attack, Edmund would rush straight ahead, but his swift and flexible sword was constantly being deflected by Lazlo's unconcerned sword.
“But… Sir Milton’s style seems more elegant…”
“That’s true, but he can’t break through his defenses.”
For those unfamiliar with the art of fencing, the scene was very strange.
Edmund's sword cut through the air in several directions, and his foot left many marks in front of Laszlo. He struck with the sword.
The noble fencing technique was traditional, but it was combined with ingenious and complex movements, which greatly raised its level.
In contrast, Laszlo seemed to be taking it in stride, yet Edmund's blows strangely headed where Laszlo placed his sword, hitting him every time.
But for the knights who realized that Laszlo was reading Edmund's moves accurately, this duel was a confrontation between two completely different levels.
"Oh my God, it's amazing..."
“Indeed. We’ve heard that Sir Crissius was terrifying on the battlefields, but this…”
"Oh my God, what will happen to the deputy commander's reputation now?"
“But it was the deputy commander who started the challenge, wasn’t it? He was rather prominent in the cavalry regiment, and he was also trying to get the position of commander of the Imperial Guard, wasn’t he?”
Spectators were talking with their hands covering their mouths, while Edmund was unable to believe the situation he was in.
'Am I to lose? To this lowly mercenary? Me, the skilled knight?!'
He began to realize the potential consequences of this defeat.
If he loses to Laszlo, his father, Count Milton, and also the Marquis Winblier, who supported him, will not forgive him for it.
The trust that has been built on all those years may collapse.
'Damn it! Why did you accept this?!'
But the regret came too late, and he could not go back now.
He clenched his teeth and raised his concentration to gather all his strength and focus it on his sword.
"I will change the course of the battle in the final strike!"
He remembered the praise he had received from his fencing teachers and knight commanders, imagined the situation that would turn in his favor, and pointed his sword at Laszlo.
Then, with his eyes fixed on Laszlo, he quickly drew the sword in the opposite direction, which he expected his opponent to see first, in order to evade him.
He certainly couldn't have blocked the blow that way. He should have succeeded.
but…
Kang!
Laszlo didn't even look in the direction Edmund attacked from, and simply blocked Edmund's blow, causing Edmund to fail and drop his sword from his hand.
Tick… tick… rolling…
As Edmund's sword fell to the ground with a snarling sound, the crowd screamed in silence, not daring to breathe.
“…to drop your sword so easily?”
“……”
“Speed is not everything. True strength should be concentrated only when you are stabbing the enemy. There is no need to waste your energy for no reason. A slim waist may look beautiful, but it is a weak point for a rider. Strengthen your core and legs.”
While replying to Edmund, Laszlo offered his advice while holding his sword.
The Imperial Guards who were watching around the training ground were nodding their heads in approval, but Edmund did not hear a word of Laszlo's words.
"Damn it... that despicable bastard! Because of him, everything is going against what I want!"
Edmund was so angry that he no longer bothered to hide his facial expressions. He watched as Laszlo picked up his sword, which had fallen away from him, furious and determined to take revenge.
If others had seen it, they would have considered the scene a noble one.
The seemingly cold commander of the Imperial Guard gives honest advice to his deputy and hands him his sword.
But when Laszlo handed the sword to Edmund, he whispered to him in a low voice that the others could not hear.
“Instead of trying to trap me, you would do better to improve yourself first, Sir Milton.”
Then he took two steps back and asked him calmly:
"Shall we continue to the third round?"
But Edmund, who had been glaring angrily at Russell, gritted his teeth, turned around, and left the training ground without saying a word.
People looked at him with surprised faces as he walked away, but Edmund never returned.
“Hmm, Sir Milton seems to have been very upset.”
Laszlo whispered to himself, and only at that moment did people begin to see Edmund in a different way.
“I thought he was a polite and courteous person, but he is not.”
“There have been rumors before that Sir Milton was jealous of Sir Crises.”
“Sir Crises seemed to be in an embarrassing situation. He was trying to help and offer advice, but Edmund left him without even replying.”
As public opinion shifted, Laszlo smiled slightly and returned his sword to its sheath.
Remember what Idell had told him before.
“The idea of demonstrating your skills solely through your actions, without engaging in verbal battles, is not always helpful in the wars of society.”
“Does that mean I should participate in this farce of intrigue and gossip, and talk here and there?”
“Not always. But when the time comes to teach your opponent a lesson, you must deliver a knockout blow, even if you have to use his own tactics.”
“You… have a scarier side than I expected.”
At that time, he only thought that this lady was not as innocent and naive as he thought in high society, but today he understands the matter well.
'The advice of someone who survived the battlefield should not be underestimated.'
Edmund, who relied on a few words to trap the enemy, had lost a part of his dignity.
But Laszlo made little effort to change public opinion, while Edmund was shattered in everyone’s eyes.
***
"We are delighted to see you again, Marchioness!"
“Welcome, Dolores. And who is this?”
“This is my daughter Catherine. Catherine, give my regards. This is the Marchioness of Winbler.”
The front entrance to the Marques Winbler family's house was filled with friendly greetings.
Because the Winblair family had been holding so few parties lately, this small afternoon tea party had become an opportunity for the ladies and daughters of allied families to visit the Marquis's house with valuable gifts.
Amidst this crowd, Angela was smiling a nervous smile.
'Why did Mrs. Marchioness Winblare invite me? It's true I can't refuse, but I don't know why I'm here…'
The Bliss family, strictly speaking, were closer to the nobles close to the emperor.
Although most people do not follow such distinctions in invitations, at small tea parties like this, usually only close friends are invited.
Since none of Angela’s acquaintances were at this party, it was clear which group the guests belonged to today.
However, Angela withstood this anxiety strongly.
'Don't be stupid. There's no harm in making a good impression on the Marchioness of Winblayer. Even if she's invited me to put pressure on our family, it's still best to be friendly.'
For this reason, perhaps my grandfather, Earl Bliss, had ordered Angela to accept the invitation this time as well.
He even gave her expensive gifts.
“Oh, please come in, miss. You are Miss Angela Bliss, aren’t you?”
"It is an honor for me that you remember my name, ma'am."
"How could I forget you? You're famous in noble society. Hohoho!"
Contrary to expectations, the Marchioness of Winblair was very friendly with Angela.
She not only gave her a place close to her, but also cared if she was comfortable or needed anything all the time.
Angela began to realize that there was another intention behind Makizeh Winbler's actions.
'If she only cares about me this much because I'm famous in high society, then it makes no sense for her to ignore me all this time. There must be another plan behind this.'
Angela smiled a forced smile, waiting for the Marchioness of Winblayer to begin talking about the main topic.
After they had drunk a cup of warm tea, the Marchioness of Winblier approached Angela at a moment when the latter had become slightly distracted.