A Duel of Wits and Blades

Wawalde was utterly speechless.

He felt the Lady had so warmly offered Sovenia a graceful exit, yet Sovenia had instead stepped on that very ladder to climb all over their faces.

He was about to intervene and correct her.

The Lady, however, spoke first, her hands clasped together, her eyes sparkling.

“Miss Sovenia. Truly, you are a legendary elf, speaking your mind so directly. Facing a challenge and rising to it—this is the very courage the God of Light delights in.”

She then turned to the Grand Helm Knight, her tone still gentle, though her words were anything but.

“Sir Raymond, you see, the elven lady is merely responding to your challenge. An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth—is this not what the Holy Scriptures teach? Knights, sheathe your swords. They are our guests.”

Sovenia froze.

This was wrong.

Completely wrong.

In her estimation, these humans should have been incensed, drawing their swords. Wawalde, that foolish dog, would then be forced to fight them one by one until they were all dead, leaving her free to claim this castle as her base.

It would be just like when Wawalde had previously taken six gold coins from Sir Gernon under the pretense of “donations for a righteous cause.”

As for whether Wawalde would roar, ‘Why do you force me to reveal my Demon Lord form?’, she didn’t care. Wawalde had fallen, their values were now aligned, and she would even be pleased by the ease of it all.

Why was this Lady still so friendly? What aspect had she misunderstood?

The Grand Helm Knight abruptly drew his sword, its blade glinting coldly in the candlelight.

“Enough!”

His voice resonated from within his armor: “I have had enough. A beggar impersonating a hero, an elf with blade-like ears, spouting such insolence here.”

“I demand a duel with them, a true duel.”

“Excellent! I adore humans with such bloodlust.”

Sovenia’s ears immediately perked up.

Yet the Lady’s voice remained calm. “Raymond. You were the one who issued the challenge first.”

The Grand Helm Knight took a step forward, his boot thudding dully against the flagstones.

“What of it? They have insulted this castle, insulted the Lady, insulted—”

Sovenia also drew her sword. “Come! Today, blood will flow regardless of its origin!”

Wawalde quickly stepped to her side, his gaze silently urging her to be quiet.

She ignored him.

She said, “A death match.”

“Isn’t that what you wanted?”

Wawalde’s voice was barely a whisper. “Miss Sovenia.”

Sovenia likewise lowered her voice. “He wants to kill us, so we will kill him.”

“We are here for a mission.”

“What’s wrong with killing him after the mission is done?”

Wawalde took a deep breath.

Over the next few minutes, Sovenia watched as he and the Lady engaged in a diplomatic dance, one deflecting, the other responding, effectively defusing the volatile atmosphere.

The final outcome was neither a death match nor the “grand death match” she had proposed. Instead, it was to be a spar with blunted weapons, both parties clad in armor, where a surrender would immediately halt the combat.

Sovenia found it incredibly dull.

The Grand Helm Knight retrieved a long-handled axe from the wall. Its blade had been blunted, yet the axe head remained heavy. He was clad in a full suit of gleaming plate armor, which seemed utterly out of place in the dilapidated castle.

Sovenia, however, felt a flicker of ‘amusement’ return.

Wawalde, by contrast, only had his damaged round shield and a broadsword with its blade removed.

The Lady’s voice drifted from the side. “Remember. No fatalities.”

The Grand Helm Knight did not reply.

Their weapons clashed. Ten paces separated them, and the Lady had barely opened her mouth, having not yet declared the start.

The Grand Helm Knight suddenly raised his long-handled axe, gripping the end of its haft with both hands. Like a rabbit, he lunged at Wawalde, covering the ten-pace distance in the blink of an eye.

His speed was astonishing, unlike someone encased in full plate armor. The long-handled axe descended with brutal force.

This was no mere spar; it was an attempt to kill.

The Heiress opened her mouth, as if to shout something.

Sovenia’s hand went to her sword hilt, a slight smile playing on her lips.

Excellent.

With this, the foolish dog would finally start killing, and the base would be hers.

The Lady stood rooted to the spot, her smile unwavering, seemingly unreactive.

“Thud!” A dull crash of metal echoed through the hall.

Sovenia blinked.

Wawalde’s shield was angled defensively before him, allowing the axe head to slide along its surface, deflecting to one side as he simultaneously closed the distance.

Fast.

Too fast.

The Canine Helm Knight clearly hadn’t anticipated this outcome. He tried to retreat, to create distance, but Wawalde was swifter.

His shield flew from his grasp, his broadsword clattered to the floor. Wawalde himself ducked low, wrapping both arms around the Canine Helm Knight’s waist.

The Canine Helm Knight lifted a leg, kicking towards his head.

That kick landed squarely on Wawalde’s shoulder, the dull thud of an iron boot against flesh making Sovenia wince.

But Wawalde did not release his grip.

Enduring the kick, he channeled power from his core, hoisting the entire Canine Helm Knight onto his shoulders.

Then, he slammed him violently onto the ground.

Flagstones cracked, dust billowed, and a shallow indentation formed where the Canine Helm Knight’s back had struck.

The hall fell silent for a moment.

The Canine Helm Knight’s hand had already gone to his waist, pulling out a disc-shaped dagger.

The other two knights simultaneously drew their swords, their tips aimed at Wawalde.

“Stop!” The Lady’s voice rose sharply. “The victor has been decided.”

The Canine Helm Knight lay on the ground, his chest heaving, the dagger in his hand still not lowered.

The Lady called out again, “Raymond.”

The dagger finally clattered to the floor with a sharp ring.

The remaining knights sheathed their swords.

The Lady’s smile returned to her face, radiating warmth as if nothing had transpired.

She clapped her hands. “It seems the prowess of you two is beyond question. Someone, prepare dinner. Tonight, I shall dine with our two brave warriors.”

****

Dinner was simple.

It consisted of a pot of mushy lentils, a few slices of black bread so hard it could kill, a meat broth to soften it, and a small dish of pickled radishes and onion paste.

Sovenia gazed at the food before her, then at the faded purple gown the Lady wore.

This attire was completely at odds with her noble status.

Wawalde, fearing she might utter another outrageous remark, took the initiative to converse with the Lady from the moment they sat down, firmly controlling the conversation.

The Lady was initially quite reserved with him, her answers brief, her gaze occasionally drifting towards Sovenia.

Gradually, however, her demeanor shifted.

Wawalde’s conversational skills were indeed impressive. He chose his words carefully, observed all courtesies, and spoke of the Holy Roland Empire’s history and customs as if recounting treasured memories.

Sovenia listened, all the while stuffing the unpalatable lentils into her mouth.

The Lady’s voice lowered slightly. “…That tall, slender figure always appears in the graveyard behind the castle.”

Wawalde set down his bread. “The mission description mentioned it.”

The Lady’s gaze drifted towards the small window.

“Yes. It constantly spies on my daughter’s room. Elina’s room faces the graveyard, and every night, she sees that shadow standing among the tombstones.”

“Has anyone died because of it?”

The Lady’s voice was soft. “Three teams. Three teams sent by the guild, all perished at its hands. People from the manor also frequently die because of it.”

Wawalde remained silent for a moment. “I’d like to see the bodies.”

“There are no bodies.”

“Not a single one?”

The Lady shook her head. “That thing… it leaves no corpses. After those adventurers entered the graveyard, they never returned. We searched the entire graveyard and couldn’t even find a single bone.”

Sovenia continued her struggle with the black bread. The more she chewed, the more she doubted whether this was truly sustenance fit for humans.

Wawalde pressed for more details, and the Lady answered each query. Their conversation gradually shifted from the mission to other topics.

A hint of nostalgia entered the Lady’s voice. “My husband was a valiant knight.”

“Oh?”

The Lady lowered her head, her fingers tracing the air above her thigh, where the ‘Scriptures of Light’ should have rested. “He died eighteen years ago in a holy battle.”

“Eighteen years ago…”

Wawalde’s expression changed.

His voice held reverence. “The Holy Blood Roland War. Your husband was a truly honorable knight.”

Sovenia, still battling to swallow her bread, found herself comparing the bread’s toughness to the “Holy Blood Roland War.”

The Holy Blood Roland War, or as the demons called it, the Great Blood Nightmare Sacrifice.

It was a Pyrrhic victory, a battle she had personally commanded. That very day, she had used Black Claw’s third wish to obtain the Genie in a Bottle…

The Lady continued, “My eldest son also went to the front lines last year, to participate in the holy war against the demon invasion. But…”

Her voice hitched.

“He has yet to return.”

Wawalde reached out and gently patted the Lady’s hand. “My Lady, please accept my condolences.”

The Lady looked up, her eyes moist. “If only you truly were a hero.”

‘Oh, he would be, and he’d chop off my head too.’

Sovenia continued to eat.

Wawalde and the Lady conversed in gentle, polite tones. Sovenia listened, all the while stuffing black bread into his mouth, chewing with evident relish.

She began to wonder if, given that foolish dog’s appetite, everything tasted good to him. Perhaps her own culinary skills hadn’t truly conquered his stomach after all.

The Lady’s voice pulled her thoughts back. “…Therefore, I hope you two can cooperate with my knights. The request is simple: you will go to the graveyard, and if you encounter that thing, blow this brass horn.” She handed it to Wawalde.

“Just hold on until my knights arrive.”

Wawalde took the brass horn and nodded.

****

After dinner.

An almost blind old woman led them through the corridor to two cramped rooms.

The rooms were tiny, each containing only a bed, a table, and a chair. Straw, emitting a musty odor, lay piled in the corner.

Sovenia stood at the doorway, gazing at a room smaller than her prison cell in the Demon Realm.

Wawalde’s voice came from beside her. “Miss Sovenia. Care to talk upstairs?”

She turned and followed him up the castle’s round tower.

The wind at the tower’s summit was strong, whipping her silver hair wildly.

Wawalde leaned against the battlement, looking down at the manor below.

He shook his head. “Some of your statements are truly outrageous. A death match? A grand death match? Offering your head for a righteous cause? Are you serious?”

“Didn’t you use that very pretense to get six gold coins before?”

Wawalde sighed. “If I had known, I would have held back. Then I wouldn’t have led you astray.”

Sovenia said, “That Grand Helm Knight wanted to kill us.”

“But you shouldn’t escalate the situation either.”

Sovenia’s tone was flat. “He wants to kill us, so I’ll find a way for you to kill him. Is there a problem with that?”

Wawalde sighed again.

He said, “We are adventurers, here to deal with that tall, slender figure, collect three gold coins, and then leave. We’re not here for wanton slaughter.”

Sovenia did not reply.

She walked to the edge of the battlement, looking down at the knight’s domain below.

It wasn’t vast, but it wasn’t small either. There were wooden walls, a castle, civilian houses, a church, and a river.

Sovenia said, “I want a base.”

“A base?”

Sovenia’s gaze fell upon the distant river.

‘A place to live. Where I can bathe, sleep safely every day, and wake up to a training ground.’

‘When training makes me tired and sweaty, there’s a river to wash in. And a permanent kitchen, so I don’t have to carry that black pot every day.’

She paused.

“This place has all of it.”

Wawalde said, “What you’re describing, isn’t that a home?”

Sovenia savored the word.

She said, “Perhaps. In my opinion, this is the best home there could be.”

“Do you want a home that badly?”

The wind swept in through the battlement, making her squint.

She said, “You will leave me. And I believe it will be soon. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be rushing to teach me the ways of the Human Realm without even hurrying on your journey.”

Wawalde did not deny it.

Sovenia continued, “It would be best if I could have a home while you are still by my side.”

Wawalde chuckled helplessly. “I can’t possibly kill a martyr’s widow.”

‘This widow might well be my own creation,’ Sovenia thought.

She said, “It’s fine. Even if you only kill that Grand Helm Knight, you’ll get his plate armor. Then no one will look down on you.”

Wawalde smiled.

He said, “You will have a home in the Human Realm. By the way, what do you think of the Lady?”

Sovenia considered this. “I haven’t thought much of it, I just feel like this place is dangerous.”

“What seems strange?”

Wawalde’s gaze fell upon the small chapel below. “She seems very devout. Yet she ate dinner without attending evening prayers.”

Sovenia followed his gaze.

At the chapel door, emaciated people queued, entering the crooked door one by one.

She said, “So humans have such customs. By the way, are you going to pray later?”

“I think it’s better if I don’t enter a church right now.”

Sovenia glanced at him.

‘Oh, right. He’s essentially a demon now, a Demon Lord at that.’

She said, “Alright. Then let’s go train. Do you have time?”

“The sun is about to set now.”

“You can see at night anyway, can’t you?”

Wawalde nodded.

They turned and descended the narrow staircase.

At the bend of the stairs, a figure blocked their path.

The Heiress stood there, holding an oil lamp, her expression still arrogant.

Her voice was cold. “You two. I advise you to leave.”

Wawalde stopped. “Miss?”

The Heiress said, “This mission is not for you. You are not strong enough.”

Wawalde’s voice remained gentle. “Your kindness, Miss, is touching. But I must ask, since you are so kindly advising us, what is the real truth?”

He lowered his voice. “Forgive me, but could you reveal a little? Otherwise, it would be difficult for us to report back.”

The Heiress’s expression wavered for a moment.

She whispered, “If only you truly were a hero.”

Sovenia rolled her eyes inwardly.

‘Here we go again.’

The Heiress opened her mouth, seemingly wanting to say something.

An aged voice drifted up from below the stairs. “Miss Elina.”

The almost blind old woman had appeared there at some point, her cloudy eyes turning towards them.

The old woman said, “It’s getting dark. It’s time to return to your room and rest.”

The Heiress closed her mouth.

She cast a glance at Wawalde and Sovenia, then turned and left, the oil lamp’s light flickering on the walls, gradually disappearing down the corridor.

Sovenia wasn’t too worried; given the strength of her subordinate, she didn’t believe this small place could produce any truly dangerous individuals.