“S-Sabelli-nim. H-Hello.”
“Boy. There’s no need for greetings between us.”
Anya looked as though he had something to say. After contemplating for a while, the boy finally confessed.
“Actually… I’m still having difficulty gathering mana properly.”
Sabelli stroked the boy’s brown hair.
“It’s alright. Everything has its time.”
Today, Tildyen boasted a refreshingly clear winter day without a single cloud. Though each exhale produced visible breath, the cold, clean air actually helped clear the mind. As time passed, Anya unconsciously searched for someone among the growing crowd. His husband was nowhere to be seen. He thought it was absurd that he didn’t know the name of the flame, nor his husband’s name.
The training ground, which had been quiet at dawn, now resembled a bustling marketplace. Stable boys and guards stopped in their tracks to watch. Anya took in the sight of the distant Beriela Mountain Range. He slowly turned to absorb the gloomy, gray Tildyen Rock as well. Finally, he regarded the faces of the knights who had burst into the palace like a fallen meteor and brought him here.
Everything seemed to flow as slowly as if time had stopped. Perhaps he had developed some lingering attachment, thinking this might be his last moment. But rather than mere attachment, the feeling was more refreshing and exhilarating.
“I hope to see you again.”
Sabelli caressed Anya’s leather armor with his wrinkled hands. Anya stared blankly at the old man’s rough face. No one had ever spoken such warm words to him before. Like cotton slowly absorbing water, a resonance rose from deep within his heart. Tildyen was a strange land—frightening, frivolous, and also warm.
“Get your hands off, Sabelli.”
Evernight appeared behind Sabelli, carrying several items. Anya hadn’t expected him to come… All the men at the training ground were following Evernight with looks of admiration and respect. Evernight dumped several swords in front of Anya.
“Choose a sword.”
Sharp blades piled at his feet like a grave mound.
“Oh, bringing swords personally? You’ve grown so considerate, Evernight.”
Sabelli casually uttered words that sent chills down the spine. Evernight gave a short snort.
“Does a husband who has driven his partner into a duel of honor seem considerate to the scholar’s eyes?”
It was impossible to tell if he was mocking himself or if he was stating a fact. He rarely revealed his emotions on his face. The same was true now.
Anya carefully examined the swords. There was one as smooth and white as elephant ivory, another as dark as night, and even a long sword as tall as Anya himself.
“Try holding them. There’s still time.”
As he said, the duel was scheduled for noon when the sun was highest, and Rips Mohan had not yet arrived. Rips Mohan… For days, he had been picking fights in the most cowardly ways at the wooden dining hall. He had even tripped Anya during training, causing him to fall face-first into the mud. Though Anya understood why the man hated him so much, he was no saint.
Among the heavy and thick swords, Anya found one exceptionally thin blade. He wasn’t sure how he noticed it among the others.
The gold-copper coated handle was blackened with oxidation in places, but the blade itself was very thin and sharp as ice. Anya gripped the sword as if entranced. It was light and well-balanced, like a wooden practice sword.
“Hmm, very good.”
Sabelli commented from the side. Anya held the sword high. Impossibly, it seemed translucent, as if sunlight could pass through it.
“Th-Thank you.”
Anya bowed to Evernight. It must be his personal possession. The training ground he had visited at dawn just in case had only heavy and large weapons. Anya’s and Evernight’s gazes locked. The man’s blue eyes had a different atmosphere than when seen under the moon the previous night. He thought the eye color matched well with the fear of winter and the night-like North.
‘If… just if… I win this duel, I’ll ask for his name.’
He felt it was okay to expect at least one reward for the outcome.
“Commander, Rips Mohan has arrived. It’s time.”
A knight ran up to deliver the message. True to his word, Rips Mohan was entering the training ground through the entrance, accompanied by the cheers of his followers. Like Anya, he wore a chain vest over leather armor and carried a spear at his side. His spear was as tall as Anya and had a massive blade attached to its tip.
“The duel will begin shortly.”
A horn pierced the air.
Without realizing what he was doing, Anya ran to Sabelli and embraced him. He was surprised by his own impulsiveness, but felt he would regret it if he didn’t. Fortunately, Sabelli hugged him tightly. Though a musty smell emanated from his tattered robe, to Anya it was more fragrant than any scent he had ever known.
* * *
A winter day with particularly strong midday sunlight.
“I wish to begin the duel of honor in the presence of the First Goddess and the master of Tildyen.”
Shouts erupted from everywhere at the training master’s proclamation.
“May the gods bestow mercy and justice upon Anya Evernight, the young master of Tildyen Rock, and Rips Mohan, knight of the great Tildyen.”
The training master nodded to Anya and Rips Mohan. Both picked up their helmets from the ground and put them on. The helmets, covering the entire face except for the eyes, had the cool touch of iron and smelled of metal.
Once again, the horn echoed.
Despite countless hours of training, now that the duel was about to begin, Anya’s hands trembled so much he could barely hold his sword. Anya repeatedly swallowed dry saliva as he drew his sword. Likewise, Rips Mohan drew his weapon.
‘Don’t be afraid, don’t tremble, like flowing water.’
And like a feather. Anya tried not to grip the sword handle too tightly or too loosely. When the training master stepped back, only Anya and Rips Mohan remained in the wide space. The crowd, which had been shouting excitedly, suddenly fell silent. Most were sitting informally on the ground, while Evernight and the senior knights sat in chairs on the platform overlooking the training ground. Servants and maids lingered near the entrance, unable to come inside.
“Claicest raped my wife.”
As soon as the duel began, Rips Mohan lunged forward quickly. His massive spear came close enough to slash Anya’s chest in an instant. Anya raised his sword, performing the defensive move he had practiced thousands of times daily. Having barely succeeded in the defense, sighs escaped from here and there. The sword and spear clashed in the air with a “clang.”
“He cruelly murdered my son.”
While their weapons were locked, Rips Mohan laughed as if deranged. Anya frowned at the tremendous vibration and thrill of power traveling up the back of his hand. It was harder to withstand than he had imagined, and he was instantly consumed by fear.
* * *
“Admit your guilt, and I’ll end this painlessly.”
Rips Mohan growled, grinding his teeth. As he knocked away Anya’s sword, Anya instantly tumbled backward. Once again, sighs escaped from the audience. A stinging pain rushed to his elbow as it scraped against the ground. In his chaotically spinning vision, Anya caught sight of Evernight’s face, resting his chin on his hand, watching him indifferently.
A person who gave both hope and despair. Before Anya could fall into contemplation, the spear flew at him again. Lying down, Anya rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding the attack.
Huff, huff. Death had approached and retreated from right before his eyes. Anya opened his mouth and drooled.
“Admit it and face death with honor, Claicest.”
Rips Mohan spun his spear in the air. He had lived as a carpenter, holding a hammer all his life, but from the moment he came to Tildyen Rock, he refused to even look at similar tools or weapons. He chose the spear, the weapon most distant from a hammer, as his main weapon.
Anya crawled on his knees, coughing onto the ground. He had hit his head when he fell, making his scalp hurt and his stomach queasy.
Was it truly honorable to admit to something he hadn’t done and die? Rips Mohan’s words seemed plausible at first glance but were closer to sophistry. Anya rose to his knees. He picked up the sword that had fallen to the ground and corrected his posture again. Standing sideways, he held the sword at length. It was a textbook stance that he had practiced more than thousands of times.
‘A one-handed sword.’
Knights who used one-handed swords weren’t very common. Piercing steel armor required tremendous strength, which necessitated using a large and heavy sword.
‘Well, how could that youngster use a two-handed sword anyway?’
Rips snorted, rolling the spear shaft between his fingers before adjusting it. Every time he saw Anya, Rips Mohan felt intense guilt and anger—helplessness at his inability to do anything back then, and rage toward the Claicest family who had thrown his life into the gutter in an instant.
When he heard that the man would be coming as the mistress of Tildyen Rock, Rips Mohan couldn’t sleep a wink. He had to endure the ghosts of his wife and son all night long.
Rips Mohan’s spear had a range as long as its length. To attack him, one had to get close, but before getting near, the spear would come flying as if to stab.
