Lord of Caldera - Chapter 131

Chapter 131: Chapter 131

When he had read the treaty, he hadn’t fully understood the Duke’s intentions, but he had guessed. Perhaps the Duke didn’t care for his daughter as much as he seemed, or perhaps there was something more pressing than her suffering.

But that wasn’t the case. The Duke hadn’t forgotten or chosen to overlook her pain. He had merely restrained himself to reach this moment.

“I am not forcing you! I challenge you solely to settle the grievances between us! If you do not wish it, turn back! Return to the comfort of your castle and fulfill our agreement!”

Run back to your office and focus on establishing the trade route if you’re scared. The Count sneered at the provocation. Did he think that would work?

“You think I won’t?”

There was no reason to accept the duel. The Count wasn’t an elf who would throw his life away over pride and honor. He was a human who made rational decisions by weighing the pros and cons. If the Duke expected him to respond like an elf, it was a grave mistake.

“I say again! If you won’t accept, go back! But if you will, come forward! What will you do?”

“I…”

The Count opened his mouth to refuse, but suddenly, someone gave his horse a firm slap on its haunches.

“Neigh!”

“Huh!?”

The startled horse bolted forward, taking him straight to the Duke. The Count, pale, clutched the reins tightly, but it was too late; the horse stopped right in front of the Duke. The Count looked at the Duke, whose gaze was filled with fierce satisfaction.

“A true man of honor, Valdemar Herning! To accept this duel!”

“No, that’s not…!”

“Look!”

Sylas’s booming voice cut off the Count’s protest. Turning toward the castle walls, Sylas shouted.

“The Count has accepted the duel, making this a fair fight! No matter who loses their life, the agreement stands, and there will be no war!”

“…!”

The Count, face ashen, looked at Sylas. Was he the one who slapped the horse just now?

“No! Who will dispute him now?”

The Count looked around frantically. But nearby were only Sylas, Rey, and Toby. None of his knights were present.

Rey and Toby met his gaze indifferently, as if to say, “What are you going to do?” The Count’s body trembled.

“It’s a trap!”

Where had the trap started? Was it from when Sylas took the princess hostage? Or was it after he was captured and “persuaded”?

But that didn’t matter now. He had to deny the duel and retreat, even if it meant disgrace. Surviving was better than dying.

“No, this is…!”

“The Count has entered the duel!”

However, his declaration was drowned out by the booming voice from atop the castle walls.

“A tribute to his great courage! Blessings upon the Count’s blade! Praise him, everyone!”

“…?!”

The Count looked up in bewilderment. His face twisted as he saw who was shouting.

“What are you all doing!? Show your support for the Count!”

The young nobles and soldiers looked at Leon in astonishment, some with confusion. They were close enough to the walls to have seen the Count advance.

“Wasn’t that an accident?”

“Didn’t Sir Sylas slap the horse’s haunches?”

But Leon put on a steely face, determined to turn the mood into one of support. He glared at the soldiers he had brought with him.

“What are you doing? Shout! Now!”

“L-Long live the Count!”

“May the Count have the glory of victory!”

The soldiers, unsure but under Leon’s command, reluctantly began cheering.

“Glory to the Count! Victory in the duel!”

“Glory to the Count! Victory in the duel!”

As Leon continued the chants, thirty soldiers began to shout in unison, and soon the call spread throughout the castle. Even the forces from other families found themselves joining in, swept up in the collective energy.

“Wait, is that what we’re supposed to do?”

“They’ll stop if it’s wrong. Let’s just follow along.”

The cheers echoed through the entire fortress like wildfire. The Count trembled, unable to comprehend what was happening. He could accept that the young Winslow was behind this, but why weren’t the representatives of the other families stopping it?

“Could they all be in on it?!”

A sinister thought gnawed at him, but in reality, the others were merely stunned.

“What’s going on? Why’s this happening all of a sudden?”

“Should we intervene? But what if the Count really did accept the duel…?”

The uncertainty made it difficult for them to act, especially since it wasn’t their own family’s affair. As the duel seemed more likely to proceed, the Count, desperate, yelled in denial.

“No! No, this is a mistake!”

“Glory to the Count! Victory in the duel!”

“Glory to the Count! Victory in the duel!”

The Count’s protests were drowned out by the soldiers’ cheers as the Duke approached him from behind.

“Now, let’s get started. We’ve delayed long enough.”

“Wait, wait!”

“Die here without disgrace.”

The Duke uttered his intent, spurring his horse forward. The Count, pale, reached for his sword. Though he didn’t lack confidence in his skill, he was old, and it had been years since he’d risked his life in battle. More importantly, he was vastly inferior to the Duke, known as the “Sword Duke.”

“I-I won’t draw my sword! Are you really going to strike down an unarmed man?”

“Then it’s a contest of sword-drawing. My favorite.”

The Count’s last effort to avoid the duel was futile. Without unsheathing his sword, the Duke charged toward him. From afar, it would look like a quick-draw duel, meant to end in a single strike. The Count, gritting his teeth, reluctantly touched his sword.

“Damn it! These wretched fools! So much for negotiations!”

“Silence.”

In one swift motion, both the Count’s and the Duke’s swords were drawn, a flash of steel gleaming as the Count’s head flew into the air.

As his consciousness faded, the Count’s severed head caught a final glimpse of Sylas, who was smiling brightly.