Chapter 37
I was born into a family of knights, so I will accept the duel.
Frieda's bold declaration made Ray's eyes bulge.
"W-why!? Huh? Why!? L-let's talk this over and persuade him first..."
As Ray nervously offered this suggestion, Frieda shook her head firmly.
"No. Now that my brother has issued a challenge, he will not back down."
Saying this, Frieda stepped forward.
Surely Henrik would stop her, but instead, he picked up a large shovel that had been left out in the garden.
"Very well. That said, there is only one sword here—the one I'm carrying..."
Henrik tossed the sword hanging at his waist to Frieda's feet.
He himself gripped the shovel in place of a sword.
"I'll go easy on you. You may use my sword."
"Then I shall take you at your word."
Frieda picked up her brother's sword, drew it from its sheath, and held it in both hands.
The entire sequence of movements was smooth, making it obvious that she was accustomed to handling a sword.
(Eek... Ah, what on earth is happening...? No, seriously, what is this? What kind of situation is this...!?)
He had been talking with his fiancée when her brother suddenly appeared and challenged him to a duel.
When he tried to refuse, for some reason, his fiancée accepted the duel.
And now, right before Ray's eyes, the brother had readied a shovel and the sister a sword, and they were glaring at each other.
To put it mildly, he had no idea what was going on.
"Frieda. You do understand what it means to point a sword at your older brother, don't you?"
"Yes. I intend to do everything in my power to secure my own happiness. If my brother intends to stand in its way... I see little reason to show mercy."
At Frieda's forceful words, Henrik's sharp gaze softened, revealing the face of a feckless older brother.
"Couldn't you show some mercy there?"
"No."
"I see... Then it can't be helped."
Henrik sighed and lowered his eyes.
But when he raised them again, they no longer belonged to a feckless pretty boy.
If anyone familiar with the war of more than fifty years ago had been present, they would have trembled and said,
──Those are the eyes of the War Wolf of Valmvelk.
He was holding a shovel rather than a sword, but the murderous intent radiating from his entire body was genuine.
"Come at me with all you've got! Frieda Blanke!"
"Then, Brother... here I come."
Without the slightest hesitation, Frieda closed the distance between them and thrust at her brother's shoulder.
However, Henrik deftly deflected the tip of Frieda's sword with the shovel's handle, then knocked the blade upward. Anyone with a weak grip would have dropped their sword from that single blow.
Frieda barely managed to hold on to the sword, planted her feet, and launched another slash.
"Hah!"
"Too weak!"
Henrik bellowed and easily parried Frieda's slash. The shovel's handle was made of metal, so cutting through it would be difficult.
When Frieda tried to put some distance between them, Henrik immediately closed in and shouted as he brought the shovel down.
"I won't accept a man who says any girl will do!"
While dodging the shovel's blow, Frieda raised her voice as well.
"Please rest easy, Brother! I thought any wealthy man would do, too!"
"Could you not say that so bluntly!?"
The War Wolf's face once again turned into that of a pathetic older brother. However, there was no hesitation in the hand wielding the shovel.
Frieda dodged a blow that would certainly have broken a bone if it had landed, then swung her sword.
"What would be the point of lying about the truth!?"
"Could you at least mind appearances!? We are a knightly family, you know!"
"You were always saying that honesty is a virtue, Brother!"
"Use it selectively, depending on the time and place!?"
Despite the utterly tensionless exchange of words, the sword and shovel continued to seek each other's vital points with precision.
As Ray stood helplessly wondering what he should do, the siblings' fierce bickering and duel continued.
"Just come home at least once, all right!? Grandfather's worried too—he keeps saying, 'Curse mages are scary, you know!'"
"Please rest easy, Brother. Curse mages are surprisingly human and delightful. You and Grandfather, who try to solve everything with violence, are much more dangerous."
"Isn't that a little too harsh toward family!?"
"In fact! Right now! You are trying to resolve this matter through violence, Brother!"
Henrik let out a strangled grunt as Frieda swung her sword horizontally.
He lightly leaped to avoid it, then readied his shovel again.
"At any rate, if you're going to break off the engagement, sooner is better. Time once lost never returns... Come home, Frieda."
Though he spoke sadly, her brother continued to swing the shovel without pause, and Frieda muttered expressionlessly,
"Farm implements, the stable, repairs to the outer wall..."
Henrik fell silent as though she had struck a sore spot.
As she brought her sword down on him, Frieda announced in a ringing voice,
"Just as lost time never returns... neither does the money already spent on my preparations, Brother!"
"I said I'd pay that money back! I did! You replaced everything on your own!"
"Stimulating the economy enriches the people! As their lord, you should be pleased!"
As the financial troubles of Valmvelk were increasingly laid bare, Ray trembled with tears in his eyes and screamed,
"S-stop... stop it... Don't fight over meeeee!!"
＊ ＊ ＊
"Ray's got some nerve, being able to say that in a situation like this."
As he spoke, Raul clipped off the roses that kept sprouting one after another with a pair of gardening shears.
Glen asked as he industriously plucked off the petals.
"So, why are those people fighting, anyway?"
"How can you call that a fight, Glen Dudley?"
Cyril, who was plucking the petals with more careful movements than Glen, said with an exasperated look.
"My master would call it 'within the bounds of a fight,' I guess."
The line offered a glimpse of the 〈Barrier Mage〉's extreme education.
Cyril fell silent with a sour expression, while Monica gathered the petals into a bag and interjected.
"Um... shouldn't we... stop those two...?"
The Blanke siblings' battle grew more and more fierce.
The argument itself was utterly ridiculous, but the sounds of the sword and shovel colliding between their exchanges were very real.
Isaac stopped plucking flowers and turned his attention to the Blanke siblings.
"We probably should stop them, but it won't be easy."
Frieda's movements were impressive, especially for a woman, but even more frightening was her brother, Henrik Blanke.
He wielded a shovel that was not even a proper weapon as though it were an extension of his own limbs.
(Those movements... He trains not only in swordsmanship, but in spear techniques as well.)
If he had been wielding his actual weapon, a sword, this fight would surely have ended long ago. That was how obvious the difference in their abilities was.
Even now, although they appeared nearly evenly matched, Frieda was gradually beginning to be pushed back.
(...He's even stronger than I'd heard from the rumors. The Margrave of Valmvelk.)
Isaac pondered this as he observed Henrik's movements.
If the Ridill Kingdom and the Empire went to war, Valmvelk would be the first territory the Ridill Kingdom invaded.
The War Wolf of Valmvelk, once famous for his bold and valorous deeds, had grown old and withered, while his grandson was said to be a feckless pretty boy... but apparently, that information needed to be revised.
(Well, I have no intention of starting a war... Could we instead form an alliance under the pretext of taking measures against dragon calamities?)
The siblings' argument made it clear that Valmvelk's finances were strained. If it was not a prosperous land, even a little support would earn them a great deal of goodwill.
(Since it would be unwise for the retired Second Prince to openly lead an alliance, perhaps I should ask Bridget to have Albert take the lead in moving the negotiations forward.)
As Isaac considered this while plucking petals, a sharp metallic clang rang out.
Henrik's shovel had knocked the sword from Frieda's hand.
It was hardly time to be plucking flowers anymore, but Isaac decided to watch for a little longer.
＊ ＊ ＊
Before Frieda could reach for the sword on the ground, Henrik pointed the shovel at her brow.
"Come on, let's go back to Valmvelk, Frieda."
"No, Brother. I am not going back to Valmvelk."
"I see..."
Henrik muttered with a trace of sadness, then looked down at Frieda with a stern expression.
"Then it cannot be helped... I'll knock you unconscious and take you back."
"W-wait, wait...!"
Ray cried out in a shrill voice and leaped in front of Frieda, his face draining of color.
Henrik's gaze grew even sharper.
"Stand aside, Lord Albright. It is no longer your concern."
"N-no, please don't, I don't like pain...!"
Henrik intended to take Frieda back even if it meant knocking her unconscious with a punch.
So Ray desperately stretched out his trembling arms to shield Frieda.
Ray hated violence and was terrified of Henrik... but Henrik was still probably better than the 〈Barrier Mage〉, the embodiment of irrationality, and the battle-crazed 〈Cannonball Mage〉. Probably.
When Ray looked up at Henrik, trembling, Henrik spun the shovel around in his hand.
"I have no intention of marrying my sister off to a weakling like you. If you want Frieda, prove your strength by defeating me."
"......Nnngh!"
The tip of the shovel was pressed against Ray's throat as he stood rigid, drenched in a cold sweat.
A drop of sweat trickled from his forehead into his eye, distorting his vision.
(...Scary, scary, scary, scary, scary.)
"Can't you even offer a single objection!? You coward!"
Henrik's sharp shout pushed Ray's fear to its limit.
A sound like something snapping came from deep inside his head.
And then──
"Ah, ah, a... ah..."
The curse marks etched all over Ray's body writhed and crawled silently over his skin. Thin, black, snake-like curse marks surfaced on his pale cheek.
Ray covered his face with his hands as he trembled. But the curse marks continued to spread.
──Curse magic is strongly affected by emotion.
The overwhelming fear had broken through the restraint holding Ray back.
"Aah, ah, ah, aaaaaaaaaah!!"
And from the 〈Abyss〉, the curse welled forth.