The Scapegoat and the Duel

Noren found the young maid who had informed her about the banquet in the main hall. After stating her purpose, the maid led her to Ryan’s recovery room.

“Knock, knock.” She rapped on the door, but received no response.

With a gentle push, the door, unlocked, swung open.

Noren stepped into the room, which mirrored her own living quarters precisely: a narrow-slit window, a table, a chair, and a large bed.

On the grand bed, a figure lay silently, utterly still, as if deceased.

“Ugh! It stinks!” Tolke covered his nose and mouth, unwilling to enter the room, lingering at the doorway.

His voice, muffled by his hand, emerged in a choked whisper, “Did he… did he soil the bed?”

“It does seem to carry a faint odor.” Noren advanced a few steps toward the foot of the bed, and a subtle stench of urine and feces permeated her nostrils.

‘Ding-a-ling!’ A soft alarm bell chimed in her mind.

‘This is bad!’ Noren suddenly realized. With a swift movement, she darted out, slamming the door shut with a resounding ‘thump,’ then grabbed Tolke and rushed back to her own room.

“Nor… *huff, huff*…” Tolke gasped for breath. Having not rested well the previous day, merely running a few steps now left him winded.

Once his breathing steadied, Tolke asked, “Weren’t we going to see Ryan? Why did we come back?”

Noren gnawed at her thumb, a flicker of irritation crossing her face. “Ryan is dead. Igor isn’t with him. If we had stayed there, we might have been made scapegoats.”

Something else occurred to Noren. “That young maid just now knows we went to Ryan’s room. Perhaps we should silence her immediately.”

Tolke advised, “The maid is innocent. She shouldn’t have the courage to accuse you.”

Noren, her nose twitching in exasperation, retorted, “What kind of person do you take me for? Ryan’s death has nothing to do with me. Do I need to kill that maid? Wouldn’t killing her only confirm my guilt?”

Tolke scratched his hair awkwardly. “Haha… You’re right.”

“Knock, knock.” A quarter of an hour later, a knock sounded on the door. A strange female voice from outside called out, “My lord, please come to the main hall on the first floor. Sir Kovan requests your presence.”

Noren and Tolke exchanged glances, a silent thought passing between them: ‘Here it comes!’

****

Main Hall

Sir Kovan sat on the Count’s throne. Castle guards and the Count’s inner-court knights stood along both sides of the hall. At a long table nearby sat a cleric from Unichov, the castle steward, the court physician, landed knights, and Igor.

In the very center, several maids and manservants trembled fearfully, like lambs awaiting slaughter, among them the young maid.

“Lady, please wait by the side.” Upon Noren’s arrival, Sir Kovan gestured towards the long table, where an empty seat had been left beside Igor.

Noren took her seat, feigning ignorance as she inquired of Igor, “What’s happened?”

Igor’s head hung low, his dead eyes devoid of emotion. His parched lips parted and closed. “Bro… brother… is dead…”

“Dead!” Noren gasped, covering her mouth in feigned shock. “How could he have died? A mere arrow wound couldn’t possibly kill a strong knight, could it? Did the court physician not treat him?”

Noren immediately cast suspicion upon the court physician, diverting attention so that the true mastermind behind Ryan’s death wouldn’t immediately accuse her.

Igor’s pupils constricted. Beneath his lifeless expression, a nimble mind whirred. ‘Why would she question Ryan’s cause of death? Isn’t dying from an injury the most normal outcome? Did I reveal something?’

Noren and Igor’s impromptu performance captured everyone’s attention.

Sir Kovan, about to speak, was interrupted when the guilt-ridden court physician sprang to his feet with a ‘thud,’ overturning the wooden chair behind him with his violent movement.

“Ryan’s death is God’s will! I used the most orthodox methods of treatment, and countless people have recovered under my care! Is it possible that God wishes to take a soul without the consent of a humble believer like me?!” Brother Paine, the court physician, roared with a ferocity that bordered on madness, spittle flying, stunning everyone present.

Sir Kovan had been greatly displeased by Brother Paine’s interruption, but the physician’s hysterical outburst forced him to temporarily suppress his anger and instead attempt to placate him.

Sir Kovan cleared his throat with a “Cough, cough,” drawing everyone’s attention before stating, “Brother Paine is the Count’s personal physician, and his medical skills are recognized by the Count. Furthermore, I was present during the treatment, and it was evident that Ryan had improved significantly after Brother Paine’s care, so…”

Everyone present leaned forward eagerly, awaiting Sir Kovan’s next words.

Sir Kovan did not rush. Instead, he nodded to Brother Paine and motioned with a downward hand gesture for the cleric to sit.

Once the cleric was seated and no longer drawing attention, Sir Kovan’s expression became exceedingly stern, and every word he uttered was heavy with gravitas: “Someone… committed… murder!”

“Hush—” A commotion erupted in the hall. Everyone present was utterly incredulous; someone had dared to commit murder within the castle of Count Otta, the ‘Fair’!

And the deceased was a nobleman who had only just arrived as a guest!

Upon hearing Sir Kovan’s words, Igor was instantly drenched in cold sweat. To prevent anyone from noticing his distress, he abruptly slumped onto the table, wailing, allowing his sweat to pass for tears.

“Ah—my poor brother! This damned murderer!” Igor bawled, dramatically shrugging his shoulders with feigned sobs.

Observing Igor’s display, Noren raised an eyebrow, thinking to herself, ‘So heartbroken? Really? Are Bohemians truly so fraternal? I don’t quite understand. My blacksmith father said the Duchy of Bohemia practices fratricidal succession, isn’t that just a convenient way to eliminate your own brothers? Logically, there should be no shortage of infighting among noble siblings, so for someone like Igor to love his brother so much is truly rare…’

Sir Kovan also wore a sorrowful expression. “Please accept my condolences. Ryan will enjoy eternal life in the Kingdom of Heaven, under the loving grace of the Heavenly Father.”

The cleric present clasped his hands together, intoning solemnly, “Amen.”

Infected by the atmosphere, others also made the sign of the cross, and a chorus of eulogies echoed through the hall.

Sir Kovan seized the opportunity to observe the crowd, searching for a suitable scapegoat. He scanned the room, then his gaze met Noren’s. Her limpid eyes blinked, green irises like a calm lake.

Sir Kovan averted his gaze. The golden-haired princess was a scion of the Golden Lion; to treat a lion as a lamb to be bullied would invite the pride to tear him open!

Sir Kovan continued his search, his eyes sweeping over the servants in the center.

‘Aha!’

A young maid knelt, hands clasped, her expression frantic. Was she atoning to God for Ryan’s murder?

‘Alas, God would not forgive her, and he himself would have her burned in the Count’s name.’

A smile touched Sir Kovan’s lips. He hoped Igor would appreciate the scapegoat he had found for him.

“Alright, faithful of Christ, subjects of the Count, and servants of Olomouc, I believe we should continue with the interrogation.” Sir Kovan halted the endless prayers, raising a finger to point at the group of servants in the center of the hall.

He declared, “Maid Triss, tell us about the last time you saw Sir Černý’s son, Ryan.”

“Yes,” the maid, who had been kneeling, stood up and spoke clearly, “As I stated earlier, I delivered a late-night dessert and a jug of wine to Young Master Igor, as Sir Kovan instructed. However, Young Master Igor was at the time attending to Young Master Ryan’s sickbed and had no appetite, so I left.”

“Late-night snack?!” A cleric mumbled, “How preposterous! These people, seduced by Satan, do they not know the fast of the deep night?”

Sir Kovan cast a fleeting, understated glance at the cleric, then nodded to Maid Triss before pointing to the manservant beside her. “You, continue.”

The manservant bowed respectfully. “Esteemed Sir, lords, young masters, and ladies present, when I saw Young Master Ryan…”

The manservant recounted his story in an orderly fashion, and the subsequent servants also fully described their last encounters with Ryan. Each of them had their own witnesses to corroborate their accounts, proving they had no motive for murder and no opportunity.

However, when the young maid began her testimony, she was met with refutation and suspicion.

“Maid Yasha, you claim to have only gone to notify Young Master Igor about the banquet yesterday evening and did not enter the room. However, according to the head maid, you were assigned to clean the main hall this morning but vanished for a period of time. When you reappeared, Ryan was discovered dead in his room.”

Sir Kovan regarded the young maid with a cold, severe gaze. Every word he uttered was like a verdict from a judgment scroll, sealing her guilt.

“Esteemed Sir, I, I, I…” The young maid collapsed, distraught, her teeth chattering, her small face deathly pale with terror.

“Speak! Witch Yasha!” Sir Kovan roared, his face contorted in a grimace. “What kind of sorcery did you use to curse and murder a knight-to-be, causing him to die a silent, tragic death?!”

“God can bear witness! I, I, I…” The young maid bit down on her lower lip, still unwilling to utter a single word.

“Burn her!” The court physician rose furiously, shaking his fist, and hurled the wine glass at Maid Yasha. The wine splashed far, landing on Noren’s sleeve.

Noren: (*•́へ•́╬*)

“Yes! Burn her!” “Burn her to death!” “Witch vermin!”

The crowd was incensed, eager to tear the young maid limb from limb, chop her into mince, throw her to the dogs in the forest, and then burn the dogs over a fire to kill the maid a second time!

Sir Kovan smirked, secretly glancing at Igor, who was also stealthily looking back at him.

Their eyes met, and they nodded in silent understanding.

“I heard she has a younger brother,” Triss suddenly announced loudly, as if afraid no one would hear her. “Could their whole family have learned witchcraft?”

After a brief silence, the crowd erupted in an even greater frenzy:

“Damned witches!” “Burn, burn, burn!” “Purge the evil with fire!”

An inner-court knight drew his sword with a ‘clang,’ striding menacingly towards the young maid. The other servants scattered in fear, terrified of being caught in the crossfire.

“Noren.” Tolke couldn’t help but softly call Noren’s name. The young maid had steadfastly refused to reveal that he and Noren had been to Ryan’s room, and her resolute character had earned the Northman boy’s favor.

“Hmph—” Noren sighed helplessly. “I know.”

As they spoke, the inner-court knight had already reached the young maid. He raised his broadsword high with one hand, and amidst the excited shouts of the crowd, his arm, with the sword, slashed straight down.

“Duang~~~” A crisp clang of metal echoed through the hall, reverberating endlessly. Everyone instinctively covered their ears as their eardrums throbbed.

The broadsword, having been flung into the air, clattered to the ground with a ‘clink.’ The inner-court knight clutched his right wrist, grimacing as he knelt on one knee.

Noren executed a flourish with her sword, casting a contemptuous glance at the knight before her. Her red lips parted slightly. “Clown.”

Under the astonished gazes of the crowd, she slowly sheathed her sword, speaking unhurriedly, “Ryan’s death has nothing to do with her. She left the hall because I called her away. If she killed Ryan, then I am an accomplice.”

Though Noren was reluctant to get involved, Ryan’s death and the sleeping potion from yesterday made her feel like she had a thorn in her side.

She could have spoken earlier to prove the young maid’s innocence.

However, the conspirator was lurking in the shadows, orchestrating his schemes. Only by escalating the conflict and provoking a greater disturbance might the mastermind be lured out from behind the scenes.

Noren’s sharp gaze swept across everyone in the hall, her voice ringing out powerfully, “If anyone wishes to accuse me of being a murderer, then, in the sight of God…”

She met the furious eyes of the knight, the cleric, and Brother Paine, her lips curving slightly as she uttered two words, clear and slow, in a defiant challenge:

“Duel!”