I saw how it was. According to how Volkwin and Yeager talked about factions, there was no family with a more ambiguous position than the Weatherwoods family. In the first place, the Weatherwoods family participated in the war, but didn't receive any benefit afterward. Besides, since they hadn't participated in any social event during the last 4 years, they couldn't be classified in either the Pro-emperor or the Pro-Raphael faction despite being members of the noble council. Furthermore, despite having boarded the Black Ragel for the noble council meeting, Viscount Weatherwoods had only hung out with upper-class members like Volkwin and Yeager and not with the aristocracy for three days.
Was I wrong? My intention was to stay under the radar and not draw unnecessary attention, but my attempts turned out to be a complete failure. I didn't take into account that moderation on my part and moderation on Viscount Weatherwoods' part are considered completely differently and have very different standards. Since it was said that playing was the only job for a noble, you thought you could just play, eh?
I didn't know what my expression was, but as if to comfort me, Volkwin spoke with a comforting voice. "Of course, not all of these people are here to see you just because your position is ambiguous." Yeager patted my shoulder and chuckled.
"Who would have thought this guy was a member of the prestigious aristocracy? You don't look like them at all, Gray. Sometimes even I'm surprised by you."
It's not that I was surprised. No, I was confused. As I thought, Yeager was very sharp. "Does that mean I'm not worthy?"
"No, it means you have free will and you're funny." Volkwin abandoned the game. As if he had been waiting, Yeager bet everything he had at stake. "You're funny, Gray."
"I see. Your face is also a bit weird."
"I've never seen an aristocrat like you who treats everyone equally, regardless of rank or family. Even if they pretend not to, they moderately draw a line between us. 'This person is on a level good enough for me to be friends' or 'this person's status isn't worth my time.' Everyone seems to think like that. Except you." Yeager's eyes, while he smiled, had an expression of amazement. You could tell he had inspected a large number of people with them.
"By the way, from what I've heard, funny people lead an exhausting life. Especially for someone so good-looking and with such a good position as you, people always have expectations."
"Ah, you speak from your own experience? Did you have any expectations placed on me?"
"I'll exercise my right to remain silent on that issue." Then, the cabin doors opened again.
The stewardess, who appeared carefully behind the door, approached our table without looking at the side where others were gathered. "Look, there comes another visitor." With the horse, Yeager completed his card deck. Full. It was the third best card in imperial poker. Normally, this guaranteed the outcome. "I guess so." Feeling abstract energy outside the door, I put my cards on the table. "But this visitor seems troublesome."
"What?"
"Straight flush." If the Full was the third best card, the straight flush was the best card. "...no, what? Wait, how is it...?" While I swept the bets on the table, Yeager checked my cards with surprised eyes. Meanwhile, the stewardess who approached me whispered in my ears, "Viscount Weatherwoods. You have a visitor."
Once again, I could feel the aura outside the cabin, pulling up the corners of my mouth. I had been waiting for this for four days, since I set foot on the Black Ragel. It was all thanks to this person that I silently watched how this meeting became as big as it was now. I wanted them to bite the hook that was Viscount Weatherwoods. As my sixth sense was unusually developed at that moment, I was confident that I would be able to recognize him the moment I saw them. Whether they were clients or not.
"Duke Berkley Gratten?" The noise in the cabin disappeared in an instant. The tables so scattered were suddenly arranged. His gait was neither slow nor fast. A skilled warrior had his own rhythm. In that sense, visitor number 17 who visited me possessed unmatched momentum.
"I'm embarrassed. It seems as if I had thrown a bucket of cold water on everyone out of thin air." Sword Master, Duke Jurian Berkley Gratten. There was no number so insignificant in this world as his age. The man always maintained his youthful appearance, looking somewhat over thirty years old. In a way, he now looked younger than fourteen years ago. He had a new face in many ways.
The sword master I met on the battlefield was like a flare of fire. Now he seemed as calm as a frozen lake in winter. Even standing, his posture was straight and seamless. His quiet green eyes looked at me without any hesitation. He was a sword master. An ordinary warrior like me could never measure his inner feelings. However, the sixth sense, which had crossed the first level of mental and physical control over the body, unearthed a single hidden emotion in those highly refined eyes. This man had been waiting to see me. He knew Viscount Weatherwoods. The sword master was... he was the client I was looking for.
"Ahem." I swallowed deep. Was this not simply the worst card they could give me? The assassin butler was wrong. It was Jurian, not Jean, who was the client and owner of the secret "Clone" guild. And Jean was probably also convinced she had become the true owner of Clone. In reality, she was only a decoy. The Duke of Berkley Gratten, sword of the imperial family, could not keep the private organization that was the guild under his name due to a treaty with the royal family. He cleverly found a loophole in the treaty and named Jean as the guild master. It was truly amazing. My past relationships had connected with my current life in a surprising way.
It was something that occurs once in a lifetime, but I learned to use the sword with him and we went to the battlefield together, facing life and death. The nostalgia of that time was so strong that even now I was glad to meet Jurian again. But he's the monster who's currently trying to exterminate us, isn't he? As expected, a maid's life was not easy. The Duke was the first to approach me.
"I'm glad to be able to meet you like this, Viscount Weatherwoods. I am Duke Jurian Berkley-Gratten. Call me whatever you find most convenient, whether Duke Jurian or Duke Berkley Gratten." Rising from the chair, I quickly checked my posture. My way of walking. The habit of looking at my right hip for my sword. The slightly thrown back shoulders... I must not reveal any of that. I shook his hand with no intention of hiding my nervousness. Thus it would be more natural. "Gray Weatherwoods here. It's an honor to meet a sword master."
The Duke, looking towards the table, smiled. "Straight flush. You won with a good hand."
"I was lucky."
"Humility is a great virtue. I'm glad I came after the match was over. If you don't mind, could you give me a bit of time?" I could see Yeager's burning gaze. I don't know why you're acting like this, but don't be a fool and get him out of here immediately, seemed to be what he was trying to convey. I ignored his gaze and looked at the silent swordsman for a moment. I guess my reaction wasn't what you expected, right? The Duke was a man who was in no hurry. He replied to me with a small smile as he looked at me, as if he were judging me.
"It's nothing too hard. My daughter, Jean, wished to have a mock duel with the Viscount and, if it suits you, Viscount Weatherwoods, I hoped you could guide my daughter, who still lacks many things."
The murmur of voices around was growing. Apart from that, there was a question that came to my mind. If it were a simple duel request, Jean could have come herself. That the Duke comes in person... is he the type of person who pressures his opponent into submission with his power? Furthermore, with the intention of doing a simple favor for his daughter? There was no way. Yeager, who silently listened to our conversation, stepped forward when he heard this.
"I think you've mistaken something, Duke. Gray is not a knight."
"Ah, is that so?"
"Look at his palms. What knight in the world has such soft palms? Ha, ha, I think Miss Berkley Gratten might have misunderstood because my friend's personality is a bit strange." Yeager, who opened my hand, waved it from one side to another as if it were a fan, but the Duke didn't seem much interested in whether my hands were soft or rough.
"Viscount Weatherwoods."
"Yes."
"What do you think of yourself?"
I replied with a smile. "If you ask me what I think, I'd reply that I can hold a sword even if I'm not a real knight." Volkwin tapped me on the back of the arm with a bewildered voice. "Gray?"
The Duke asked me with a soft but firm voice. "You mean you're willing to be my daughter's opponent, even if you've never learned to use the sword?"
"Your Excellency. Honestly, I don't know why you've come to ask me this favor. Isn't it ridiculous? Asking a non-swordsman to duel with an excellent swordsman. With all due respect, I can't help feeling you're here to mock me." Despite my harsh criticism, the Duke did not lose his relaxed smile.
"That's why I tried to take you outside separately and then make the proposal."
"I understand. As the Duke has personally come to ask me a favor, I cannot ignore your 'please.' No matter how problematic, absurd and unreasonable that request may be." I gave a particularly strong accent to the word please. If it wasn't my illusion, the Duke's smile deepened. By now he should have noticed the reason why I was doing this.
"If there is any price you desire, you can tell me immediately, Viscount Weatherwoods." If you say so.