"I accept your request. However, if Miss Jean Berkley is defeated by me, please deprive her of her right to succeed." If I wanted to distance myself from the fish here, I'd have to show them a bigger fish. This was the philosophy of a maid who didn't work without pay.
"Who...?" At that moment, Yeager practically jumped out of his seat and pulled my arm. Don't bother me or get in my way. "Ah, ha, ha... um. Your Excellency, you may not know this, but this friend of ours has been sick for a long time, so his mental capacity is a bit..."
"There is no problem with my brain."
Volkwin, who also stood up to join, ignored my denial and continued hurriedly, "I think his brain has melted a bit."
"It's not melted."
"Yes, the problem is most likely due to melting." Who on earth were they talking about? Fortunately, the Duke seemed to have a clear intention to listen to me.
"Let me ask you a question, Viscount Weatherwoods. Doesn't it seem too arrogant to speak of our family's succession with such lightness?"
Oh, Your Excellency is asking me again what I think! You definitely have the high virtues of a sword master. How grand! When I gave a thumb up, Yeager's and Volkwin's expressions turned paler. I lied with all my heart and with a voice mixed with deep concern.
"I know that the decision to decide who will be the next duke of the family depends solely on you, Your Excellency, and Your Majesty the emperor. It is a noble position granted to the guardians of the imperial family and the empire, so essentially the safety and future of the empire depend on your family. So, as an imperial citizen, how can we not worry about the next Duke of Berkley Gratten? Therefore, I cannot bear to see a successor who lost a mock duel against the amateur Viscount Weatherwoods, who has only picked up a sword a couple of times, ascend to the position of next Duke of Berkley Gratten."
As if he were watching a joke from his grandson, the Duke nodded and encouraged me. "That's a good reason. Keep talking."
"That's all." One of the sword master's eyebrows moved a bit.
"The point of all this is that the Duke and Miss Jean are asking me, the novice of all novices, to participate in a mock duel. Honestly, it's very scary. Ah! I'm really very scared!"
"I think the Viscount has been learning to play somewhere."
"And the conclusion is that I accept that ridiculous request from Your Excellency. Yes, sure. I need to add one more condition. I don't want there to be spectators, not even Your Excellency, the Duke. Do you think it's a loss? Of course it is. There is a solution for this mock contest that generates no profit. Should I tell you? That is, Your Excellency can forget your request, isn't it easy?"
Assuming the conditions were met, there would be no problem with the mock duel. In fact, she could deprive Jean of her right to succeed with ease. But that didn't mean she was desperate enough to reveal her sword skills. She could deprive Jean of her position in some different way. But would the Duke really do that?
"Your condition is that a mock duel be held without spectators. And if the Viscount wins, I will deprive my daughter of the right to succeed, isn't it so?" Even listening to it with my own ears, I realized it was not at all beneficial to the other party. And if my prediction was correct, the Duke would not allow this to happen.
"Jean Berkley Gratten." It was an unwise decision. From outside the room, a tall woman with silver hair entered and stood before us. "Yes, sir."
"Will you accept Viscount Weatherwoods' terms?" My tongue clicked unconsciously. "If you ask so openly in a place like this, you're basically telling her to accept it."
As expected, the Duke didn't care about Jean at all. I realized this a bit after discovering that his identity was that of the Client. If he really cared about Jean, he would have dragged me out and told me to duel with her from the beginning. For the Duke, Jean Berkley Gratten was a card he could dispose of when he wanted. The same occurred on the battlefield. The sword master was a man who had no qualms about sacrificing some cannon fodder for the sake of the majority. On the battlefield, he always achieved the perfect victory, even if that involved a considerable sacrifice. For the sword master, who had used thousands, or even tens of thousands of lives as bait for his tactics, sacrificing a successor was no big deal. But would Jean yield to his pressure?
"I accept. There's nothing wrong with your argument. If I, who am supposed to defend the empire in the future, make a mistake, it would mean I am not qualified to be the guardian of the empire. Therefore, I accept the terms set by Viscount Weatherwoods." She accepted it. No matter how good she was with the sword, it was a ridiculous bet. As expected, had she been corrupted by her sword?
"Well, if you say so, shall we go up to the deck together?" The Duke, who quietly stole my chair, gave an order to Jean. "Jean, Viscount Weatherwoods doesn't seem to have a sword, so lend him mine."
"I see." Why did he have to lend me his sword? It was a very heavy burden.
We left the cabin and met the curious spectators in the room. But just before leaving, my feet froze in place. "Viscount Weatherwoods." I looked at the Duke again. The Duke, who was sitting comfortably with his legs crossed and wearing a suit at that moment, not armor, asked, looking fixedly into my eyes, "Have we met before? Haven't we met before somewhere?"
"It cannot be. It's the first time I see you." I left the place without waiting for his response. I didn't forget to walk with the strangest steps I could manage.
When we reached the deck, the tourists, who had been submerged in relaxation during the night, were returning to the cabin under the stewardess's guidance. The deck, full of romantic lighting, garden tables and the night air, had become instantly silent thanks to that. I lost myself for a few minutes in the glorious view of the galaxy embroidered in the sky.
"Thanks for your patience, Viscount Weatherwoods." When I turned my head to Jean's voice, a long, heavy gray sword flew towards me. The scabbard, full of scratches of glory, definitely belonged to the Duke's sword.
I pulled the sword after a brief sentimental moment. The bright and sharp silver blade shone in the starlight. And, it was quiet. I wondered how a sword master's sword resonated. I guess the owner of the sword has to be the one to strike it for me to hear something. How long had it been since I had had a sword in my hands? It seemed that years had passed, but... This shouldn't be my body. My heart almost cried with pleasure.
I had the illusion that my heavy hands were as light as a bird's wings. It was a sword I had never wielded before, but in my hand it felt as if it had been mine from the beginning. No, it didn't feel like a sword, it felt as if it were an extension of my arm. When I suddenly felt a look and turned, I saw Jean looking at me in silence. Jean seemed completely focused on my every little gesture. She also seemed a bit nervous. I asked her something, "Aren't you interested in the Duke?"
"...it's hard for me to understand what you're asking me."
"There's no great meaning behind my question. I only say it because it doesn't seem that he normally accepts such terms." Jean, who blinked as if puzzled, replied a moment later. "It's not that I'm not interested. It's simply not my priority right now."
"Aha." In other words, the status of Berkley Gratten's successor was no more than a means to her own ends. There was a reason why the Duke did not hesitate to use his heirs for his plans. Regardless of their skills, he probably didn't want any of his successors to become close to him.
"To achieve your top priority... hm, I guess the duel with me plays an important role."
"It maybe or it maybe not."
"Do you think I'm a swordsman?"
"Yes."
"Then, Miss Jean, I have a request, not a condition for you. I want only Miss Jean to know how I move in a fight."
"I'll keep it in mind." Jean's attitude was so serious and polite that I didn't dare make a joke.
"Okay. Let's start." After finishing looking at the Duke's sword, I put it back in the scabbard and held it on my right hip. Then I walked to the center of the combat area and told her, "If you make me draw my sword, you win."
Jean's eyes turned cold, as if she thought I was looking down on her. Oh, was that going too far? "I withdraw what I just said. After drawing the sword, you win if I hit it twice."