Chapter 43: A New Alliance

Tyrang blinked and asked again.

“…What did you say?”

“Are you deaf? It was a very classic Empire method.”

A duel?

Tyrang widened his eyes in disbelief.

No matter that he was part of a third-rate Knight Order, he was still the commander.

For someone at the Sword Owner level like him, losing to a mere novice Knight made no sense.

Surely the opponent knew that? And yet, requesting a duel?

“…Are you serious?”

“Too much talking.”

Glenn narrowed his eyes and gripped his sword tighter.

Judging by his expression, it seemed he was serious.

“Such arrogance—very well. Rameld Dvor Tyrang, I will accept your duel.”

If that was the case, then this was an opportunity.

Facing the entire Lion Knights would be burdensome, but just one reckless fool was different.

After all, Glenn had been the original target from the start.

“D-Doryeon-nim! What are you thinking—?”

Nedian hurriedly reached for Glenn in the sudden situation, but Glenn only shook his head.

“Don’t worry.”

“No, Doryeon-nim, Tyrang is commander-level. Wouldn’t it be better if I stepped in instead?”

At Nedian’s suggestion, Glenn shot him a glare that could only be described as ‘looking like a thief caught in the act.’

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“…Huh?”

“Never mind, I’ll handle this. Watch carefully.”

That sneaky little mustache guy seemed like he wouldn’t be satisfied until he physically beat the brat down.

And Glenn was somewhat confident.

***

A short while later, two Knights stood facing each other with drawn swords.

The surrounding gazes were mixed with worry, curiosity, anticipation, and unease.

It was obvious—but few predicted Glenn’s victory.

The weight of being a Knight Order commander was never trivial.

“Don’t be ridiculous, arrogant novice.”

“Worry about yourself first.”

Tyrang clenched his teeth.

A faint aura shimmered along his blade.

Though he couldn’t draw an Owner-level aura in blade form, this was more than enough.

No, for a proper Knight who couldn’t even handle aura properly, this was probably overkill.

Having made up his mind, Tyrang charged forward.

One solid strike would be fatal to his opponent.

As expected, Glenn’s sword reflexively blocked the aura-laden blade.

Hmph, foolish boy. I’ve won.

Inside Tyrang’s head, he saw the opponent’s blade being sliced and the look of panic on his face.

But—

Clang!

“W-What is this?”

To his surprise, Glenn’s sword blocked Tyrang’s attack.

But his blade showed no aura.

…What was going on? How?

Before Tyrang could panic, Glenn pierced toward his side.

As if he’d planned it from the start.

Much faster than expected.

Clang!

This time, Tyrang swung his sword with reflective aura, and once again Glenn’s blade met it.

Tyrang quickly created some distance.

“You bastard! What kind of trickery is this?”

“Hah, you really have no idea what trickery is, do you?”

Offense Parry.

That arrogant Empire brat couldn’t possibly know the techniques of wandering Knights.

Glenn smirked faintly and charged again toward Tyrang.

And again, the blades clashed—

Clang—

This time Glenn’s blade was cut.

But it was Tyrang who panicked.

Got you.

Glenn’s emerald eyes shone like a predator’s.

“Ugh?”

His center of gravity shifted because he’d unexpectedly applied strength in that direction.

“Damn it—cough!”

A moment of imbalance.

Seizing the chance without hesitation, Glenn’s palm gripped Tyrang’s Adam’s apple.

His hand was already dripping with fresh blood.

“Counterflow.”

With a faint smile, the blood magic was cast.

“Cough—guh!”

Blood spilled from his mouth and nostrils.

At this rate, there was no chance he’d escape defeat.

When Tyrang swung his sword with reflective aura again—

Glenn used the forearm of his other hand to raise it and block.

Escaping was harder than expected.

His eyes gradually reddened.

“Grrk, p-please spare me—”

Glenn’s gaze turned cold as ice.

Naturally, he had no intention of letting this guy live.

If anything, he was considering how to kill him more painfully.

“Commander!”

“That guy’s using trickery!”

Several members of the Order of Ryuten shouted and stepped forward.

They seemed ready to intervene if necessary.

“How dare you!”

Nedian wasn’t standing idly by either.

Drawing his sword, he warned the advancing knights one by one.

“Who dares interfere with a Knight’s duel? Does the Empire know nothing about honor?”

Their fierce gazes halted the Ryuten knights in place.

Meanwhile, Tyrang was now completely on his knees.

“Gurgle…”

As the victor was about to be decided—

Suddenly, someone stepped in.

“Stop!”

Glenn turned his head and was surprised to see Princess Isabelle.

Along with her escort knights and Sasha, the Ryuten knights’ commotion intensified.

Isabelle took a breath and spoke.

…Did she rush over?

“If you kill him now, it will provoke Francis.”

Glenn only showed a blank expression.

“So?”

Pretending not to understand even though she clearly did.

Isabelle bit her lip slightly and continued.

“My father’s actions are still ambiguous. So it’s dangerous to confront Francis’s forces head-on now. You understand what I mean, right?”

“I understand.”

“That makes sense.”

“This is a matter of justification. It won’t be good if we hand them the justification first. If you kill him, Francis will use that justification to attack us.”

“Before that—there’s one thing I want to confirm. Are the Princess and I truly cooperating?”

What was this about?

Isabelle frowned.

“Huh? We just talked plenty in that carriage. What are you suddenly saying?”

“Then I suppose we’re already in the same boat.”

“Why do you keep saying such obvious things… Wait, what are you thinking—”

Crack!

Without answering, Glenn twisted Tyrang’s head.

The man’s neck bent unnaturally, and he collapsed to the ground.

“The victor of the duel is me.”

Not a battle, but a duel.

Whether to take the opponent’s life or not is purely the victor’s decision.

At his declaration, the Ryuten knights only showed hollow expressions.

“Sigh.”

Meanwhile, Isabelle sighed in exasperation.

Her gaze was fixed on the red-haired man.

What a shameless guy.

***

“Cl-Clemens.”

Saintess Monica’s eyelids rose.

Clemens, too, breathed out a sigh of relief without realizing it.

“…Are you awake?”

“Yes—what on earth…?”

“He fainted. But he’s regained consciousness now.”

“Ah…”

So he’s not dead—perhaps the goddess wills it.

Monica blinked and looked around briefly.

Judging by the situation, Clemens must have saved himself.

She quietly expressed her gratitude.

“Thank you, Clemens. But… seeing you like this, you’ve really grown.”

In her memories, Clemens was still like a little brother.

A reckless boy, one might say.

At that thought, a faint smile appeared at the corner of his mouth.

“When are you going to stop talking about the past? It was four years ago already.”

“That’s right. Back then, I was just a rude kid, but now—”

He swallowed the words about ‘being a proper man.’

Some unknown embarrassment overwhelmed him.

Monica and Clemens first met five years ago in the Empire.

At that time, she was on a pilgrimage and rescued him when he was near death.

Back then, Clemens had a very different feel.

Fearful, wary, and overly defensive.

Like a wounded stray dog.

“A foolish time indeed. Saintess, you were as beautiful as ever back then—frankly, I was surprised.”

“You’re saying strange things.”

The unfamiliar embarrassment grew stronger.

…Now that she thought about it, wasn’t she practically hugging him?

She hastily sat up and faced Clemens.

Though smiling, his eyes were filled with concern.

“Is something wrong?”

“Huh?”

“Your face looks troubled. Is there something on your mind?”

Monica’s hand gently stroked Clemens’s cheek.

Though a hint of embarrassment surfaced, seeing her sincere gaze made him momentarily choked up.

Yes, he had always worried about others.

She was still a good person. Unlike himself.

“No, it’s just… sometimes I wonder if I’m really hearing the goddess’s voice.”

An honest fragment of truth slipped out without him realizing.

Though awkward, he showed no signs of hesitation.

Instead, a somewhat determined expression took hold.

“All clergy have similar worries that keep them up at night. Of course, I have them too.”

“…Is that so?”

He was surprised to hear she had similar concerns.

To Clemens, she was a role model among clergy.

“But… even if you don’t hear her voice, you don’t have to despair.”

Nodding gently, she spoke cautiously.

“Even if you can’t hear her will… we can still do good. We can consider what we think is right and follow it. To put it simply—yes, you have a conscience.”

Conscience.

At that word, Clemens’s pupils wavered.

“Conscience? You mean that?”

Sensing his hesitation, Monica continued as calmly as possible.

“Yes, I know. It’s not exactly a word fitting this twisted era. But surprisingly, there are still people who contemplate it and follow it. I’ve seen it myself.”

“Do you mean ‘right’? That following my conscience is ‘right,’ just as the goddess said?”

“You were a good child then and you still are now, Clemens. So following your conscience probably isn’t wrong.”

“…Thank you.”

Monica was a good person.

If she called him good, then what about himself?

…He wasn’t sure.

“Think about it. If you follow your conscience now—when you meet her later, will she scold you?”

If I follow my conscience…

Clemens looked up briefly.

The sky was clear and bright. Not a cloud in sight.

It felt as if someone was smiling down at him.

He lowered his gaze and met Monica’s eyes.

“…I think she’d be pleased.”

For the first time, a smile spread across his lips.

***

With Tyrang defeated, the Order of Ryuten lost all morale.

Even if not, the situation had turned far too disadvantageous.

Nedian subdued the members through his subordinates.

Meanwhile, Glenn gathered those necessary to assess the situation.

First was Isabelle with her composed expression, and then Clemens, who looked somewhat different than usual.

The three started discussing at one corner of the square.

“What kind of discussion? Is there any point?”

“Since you’ll do as you please anyway.”

That was the tone laced with reproach.

Glenn shrugged at the glare.

“It’s a formality. We can hear the wise Princess’s opinion.”

“Are you whining now?”

“Surely I wouldn’t.”

“Then what are you thinking? I already told you, it’s dangerous to meddle with the Empire now.”

“Is this about the 7th Corps?”

“Exactly. The ‘Iron-Clad Knights’ came as the 7th Corps commander at the Arrian border. What do you think that means?”

Isabelle’s concerns were clear.

If Francis ran rampant, he could drag even the 7th Corps of the border into the conflict.

It wasn’t impossible.

If they had justification, the Empire wouldn’t hesitate to intervene.

From that perspective, the current 7th Corps commander who was a Sword Master was extremely dangerous.

But Glenn merely smiled faintly.

“Don’t worry. The Iron-Clad won’t side with Francis.”

“…What do you mean? What’s your basis?”

“Well, it’s just a hunch.”

“Are you joking with me?”

“You’ll see soon enough.”

Isabelle’s frown deepened at his brazen answer.

She wanted to argue more, but now wasn’t the time.

The situation was already unfolding.

“Sigh, fine. But… why did you call this person?”

She cast a displeased look at the blond Paladin.

Clemens only bowed his head slightly.

“You’ll understand soon enough. But what about Saintess Monica?”

Her question was loaded with meaning.

Clemens shot him a sharp glare.

No hesitation in his reproachful gaze.

“She passed out earlier. It was too much for her.”

“Truly an accident I didn’t anticipate.”

“All accidents can’t be predicted. Though you can prevent them.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“Why did you bring her here in the first place?”

“Well—”

Clap-clap!

Unable to tolerate any longer, Isabelle slapped the table.

“Save that argument for later. Let’s get to the main point.”

Though still displeased, Glenn had no choice.

“…So, what now with Jan?”

“What do you mean?”

“Tyrang’s rebellion is a fact. Will you continue under Francis?”

The Paladin paused in thought.

But not for long.

“High Priest Francis is not a messenger of the goddess’s will—he openly mocks her. I cannot follow such a man.”

His voice was firm and resolute.

Isabelle’s expression turned to surprise.

“Why did you think this only now, after staying silent all this time?”

“Are you really asking because you don’t know?”

The answer came unexpectedly from Glenn.

He looked at Isabelle and gestured to one side.

Following his direction, she saw a carriage.

The rider was surely the same female cleric named Monica.

Isabelle recalled the two women who had been awake earlier in the square.

“…Ah.”

“…Ah, no way?”

“It’s the most convincing reason.”

Clemens frowned at their conversation.

“What an unpleasant assumption. Well, we just realized it. Saintess Monica helped with that—”

“Yes, let’s leave it at that.”

“No need to explain further. I understand well enough.”

Clemens’s frown didn’t ease.

Regardless, Glenn moved to organize the situation.

“To sum up, we will temporarily withdraw. Our opponent will, of course, be High Priest Francis.”

Those listening nodded in agreement.

“Let’s come up with a plan.”