Inside the De Vere Estate, Count Graham and Count Laurence were engaged in conversation with a few other nobles. Although the gathering was small, the attendees were all influential figures - the kind who could shift the tides of power with a single word. Count Graham stood tall, exuding confidence as he greeted his guests, his voice smooth and measured. For him, this was merely an opportunity to forge new alliances. The trial Robert was involved in was a minor distraction, not something that concerned him.
“Caunt Laurence, I must apologize that you had to get involved in this incident, I hope we still can have a chat once all this is over?”
Count Laurence had agreed to serve as an official judge for the duel, making any discussion of the matter off-limits. However, once it was all over, Graham still planned to resume their negotiations. Their previous conversation had been cut short by Roland before it could gain momentum, and Graham was determined to rebuild the trust that had been lost. Once Robert lost the duel, everything would finally return to normal. In a way, it was for the best as once the young man was out of the picture, his daughter would have no more excuses. In Graham’s mind, the duel was perhaps a better solution to this problem that would be resolved in just an hour.
"We will see how things unfold, Count Graham. I trust you'll cooperate if the young man somehow emerges victorious in the bout, yes?"
For a moment, Graham was taken aback by Laurence's insinuation. The idea of someone of a lesser class and level winning such a duel was unprecedented. There was a reason why no one without a higher-tier class and level ever invoked this law as it was practically impossible to win. After a brief pause, his lips curled into a smug smile, and he replied.
"Count Laurence, you have a talent for jesting! But of course, if the young man is somehow victorious, I won’t pursue the matter further. You know I respect the laws of the land. But do tell, do you think the boy stands a chance?"
Graham was a shrewd man, and even he sensed something off about the situation. His suspicions were soon confirmed by Laurence.
"Mmm... Well, don’t you find it strange that they invoked that old law and this quickly? I didn’t even have a chance to listen to any witnesses! While the young man might be naive, that gentleman with him certainly wasn’t. I can’t help but wonder if there’s some kind of plan in motion... How interesting, wouldn’t you agree?"
Count Laurence grasped his protruding belly and let out a jolly laugh as the other nobles around them listened and nodded in agreement. Count Graham chuckled along with the rest of the nobles in an attempt to mask his unease. However, Count Laurence’s words gnawed at the back of his mind. It was true that this man called Wayland was troublesome. Even his well-trained men could not pierce through his magic. Even now he was unable to confirm what they were making in that workshop nor what Robert was given for the duel.
Graham’s smile faltered slightly as he glanced away from the small group of nobles. In the distance, he spotted the mother of the young man who had dared to try and seduce his daughter. She, along with a few others, had gathered within his estate. Their presence irritated him, but he was obligated to grant them access to the arena. Her status as the second wife of a mere Baron added to his disdain. The boy who had caused all this trouble was clearly of little importance to his father, destined for nothing more than the rank of a knight - someone unworthy of further thought.
The nobles around him continued their chatter, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing in his mind. Graham’s gaze shifted back to Count Laurence, who was still laughing heartily, his belly shaking as he shared a joke with another guest. Graham’s eyes then met those of Leopold, his most trusted retainer, who gave a subtle nod. The preparations were complete, and they could soon make their way to the dueling arena. Graham had ensured the man set to face Robert had been equipped with the finest items for the occasion and there was no chance the opposition could match them. Victory, in Graham’s mind, was all but assured.
Soon the time came for them to move to the dueling arena. Graham had a special balcony for himself, Laurance, and some of the nobles in higher positions. The others which consisted of mostly merchants, lesser nobility, and also some knights filtered in slowly, taking their seats around the arena. The sun was now fully risen, casting long shadows across the floor, and the time for pleasantries was over. Every eye in the arena would soon be on the Count’s Knight and his opponent Robert.
The man arrived with an entourage of three squires trailing behind him. One of his attendants carried a large flag bearing the crest of the De Vere household. Count Graham's knight, Sir Gerhard, stepped forward, clad in gleaming white mithril armor, his face set in a proud, almost disdainful expression. A seasoned warrior, Sir Gerhard had been handpicked by the count not only for his combat prowess but for his unwavering loyalty. His confidence was palpable, his demeanor suggesting the battle was already won before it had even begun.
From the stands, some spectators cheered while others stood in awe of the magical armor he wore. It was clear at a glance that the count had spared no expense. The knight's mithril armor shimmered in the morning sun, casting dazzling reflections across the arena. Each step he took echoed with the assurance of a man who had already savored victory without drawing his sword.
One squire waved the De Vere flag as he circled the arena, while the other two presented Sir Gerhard with his weapons: a gleaming sword etched with intricate runes along both the blade and hilt, and a large enchanted teardrop-shaped shield. Sir Gerhard accepted both weapons, and the squires helped him secure his helmet. Once fully equipped, he raised the shining sword high into the sky and turned to face his lord.
"Your Lordship, I dedicate this battle and its victory to you!"
Count Graham watched with a proud, self-satisfied smile as Sir Gerhard addressed him. His knight's display was exactly what he had hoped for - a demonstration of superiority, power, and loyalty that would reinforce his position among the gathered nobility. The spectators murmured in approval, impressed by the costly magical armor and polished ceremony.
However, not all eyes were on Sir Gerhard. Further away from the merchants and lesser nobility stood a group of women, their attention fixed on the closed gate at the opposite end of the arena. Through that gate, Robert Arden, Gerhard’s opponent, would soon enter.
“What do you think?”
One of the younger women asked quietly.
“I’m not sure... but we can trust the Professor, right? He helped Luci against Viola, after all…”
Marlein whispered back to Atasuna, careful to keep her voice low so Lucienne wouldn’t overhear. The group had gathered to support Lucienne through this tense event, but uncertainty lingered. Sir Gerhard looked dangerous, and as mages, they could sense the immense power radiating from his enchanted armor. It was without a doubt, top-tier and fashioned by a master craftsman.
“What are you two mumbling about?”
Before Marlein and Atasuna could dwell further on their doubts, Margaret cut in, her foot stamping down with authority. She was clearly annoyed, her fierce expression conveying that their hesitation was misplaced.
“Everything’s going to be fine! Let’s just watch. The Professor wouldn’t have arranged this unless he had a plan! We have to trust him.”
Margaret declared with confidence, her voice loud enough for others to hear. Marlein and Atasuna exchanged glances, ashamed of their doubts. They nodded, feeling a bit guilty for questioning one of their allies. Margaret, seemingly the only one in high spirits, exuded certainty. Her bold words even caught the attention of some nearby onlookers, who began murmuring about this mysterious Professor.
“I’ve heard there’s some madman from the Institute involved in this…”
“Do they really have a strategy? There’s no way a tier 2 knight can beat a tier 3… right?”
“Sure they can’t… Unless, of course, they cheat.”
The people started buzzing with excitement and speculation as the atmosphere in the arena grew increasingly charged. Whispers of potential tricks or hidden advantages swirled among the nobles and spectators alike. The duel was only part of the intrigue; the real focus was the enigmatic figure supporting Robert. Known to many as an eccentric madman, this person added a layer of fascination to the event.
“Hey, it’s starting! Be quiet!”
As the gate on the opposite side of the arena began to creak open, a hush fell over the crowd. This was no grand entrance for a celebrated knight; it felt more like the arrival of a prisoner or a beast, and the reality of what was to come was not far off. Initially, there was silence, as if Robert himself were absent. Then, the sound of heavy, unnatural footsteps reverberated from the entrance, and a massive armored figure began to emerge.
“By the gods, is that really a knight?”
“Did they put armor on an orc?”
“Is that a monster? Perhaps a golem?”
The murmurs in the crowd intensified as Robert stepped into the arena, encased in the experimental runic power armor. The imposing figure was almost unrecognizable, its bulk exaggerated by the intricate layers of metal and glowing runes. Even among seasoned knights, such a sight was unheard of. Robert’s silhouette, framed by the morning light, looked like a cross between a knight and a giant metal golem.
Whispers echoed through the stands as the magical mechanisms inside the armor clicked and whirred with each step. Every movement of Robert's new suit was accompanied by a strange unfamiliar noise, the runes ever glowing on the dark frame as they were utilized. The crowd, initially stunned into silence, erupted with shouts of excitement and disbelief.
"What sort of sorcery is this? Did they really bring a golem to fight between Knights?"
“What’s with that massive black shield? It looks like a coffin…”
“And that sword should not be held in just one hand…”
One nobleman gasped while enjoying front-row seats next to Count Graham. Count Lawrence on the other hand wasn’t sure what he was seeing. He was not a specialist in the field but a golem could not take the place of a convict.
“What is the meaning of this?”
Graham was enraged at the sight of the supposed golem. It was clear this was the contraption his enemy had been working on, but he couldn’t understand why they would mock him with it. The laws were clear: golems couldn’t be used in such a fight. Yet, for some reason, the mage either believed it was allowed or thought Graham wouldn’t do anything about it. It was as if the mage was trying to bully him - a count into allowing this to happen. But before Graham could voice further complaints, the voice of the madman everyone had been talking about finally rang out.
“Ah my esteemed noble lords and ladies, I’m sure you’re baffled by this magical armor but I will assure you, it is not a golem and does not break any of the rules enforced in this duel.”
The man's voice boomed in all directions, as though amplified by some sort of sound system. He wore the institute's signature robe, and his face was concealed beneath a shiny metal helmet. Rather than walking, he hovered forward slowly. With a casual wave of his hand, he commanded the large ‘golem's’ helmet to lift, revealing that it was, in fact, Robert Arden who was controlling the bulky armor.
The audience’s gasps grew louder as Robert’s face emerged from beneath the heavy helmet. Whispers of disbelief rippled through the stands, a mix of awe and confusion spreading among the nobles and onlookers. It wasn’t a golem after all as Robert Arden was somehow controlling the rune-powered suit. However, Count Graham quickly raised concerns after sensing the true power behind the floating mage.
"Professor Wayland, what is the meaning of this? Do you think I can’t see what’s happening here?"
All eyes turned to the mage, who hovered forward, now facing the stands where Count Graham sat. His chief knight, Leopold, stepped forward, hand on his sword, ready to spill blood at his lord's command.
"I’m not sure what you mean, Count Graham."
Professor Wayland replied, his tone measured but his voice sounding deep and menacing.
“Hah! Do you take me for a fool? That armor is clearly being controlled by you, just like the other machinations you’ve used before!”
Graham’s voice rang out, accusingly, as he pointed at the professor. He had seen the floating contraptions surrounding Wayland and even the mechanical golem spiders he had unleashed in the past. Graham had done his research; the professor was a master of runes, and to him, this massive machine was merely another remote-controlled creation.
“Is this true, Professor Wayland? I’m sure you know the rules if that is indeed a golem, I’m afraid I will have to disqualify Sir Robert from this duel…”
This time Count Laurance chimed in. He was still the judge for this whole event and he could instantly pronounce Graham to be the victor even without any duel taking place.
“I assure you, your Lordship. This is no golem and I am not controlling it to any degree. But if you have doubts, why not let the court-appointed mage analyze the apparatus? If it truly is a golem, their expertise will make it evident.”
It had been ten days since the initial verdict of the duel. Count Laurance, who had maintained a neutral stance in the matter, had called upon the expertise of a court magician to ensure fairness. The magician, a Tier Three spellcaster, stood among them, ready to analyze anything that might be out of place. Along with several other mages, his role was to ensure that no one used mana from outside the arena, which would soon be encased in a protective barrier to prevent any interference.
“If I were attempting to control this armor from here, I’m certain it wouldn’t escape the notice of my fellow mage colleagues.”
Wayland added in a mocking tone and then gestured toward the court-appointed mages.
“Isn’t that so?”
The court-appointed mages, who had remained silent until now, exchanged uncertain glances. The lead mage, a stoic older woman clad in silver robes, stepped forward. Her staff, adorned with glowing gemstones, tapped lightly against the ground as she approached the center of the arena. The crowd grew quiet, watching her every move. She came to a stop before the bulky armor that was almost twice her size.
She pointed out with her staff in the direction of the armor, the gems glowing brightly as she activated several spell effects. Everyone held their breath as the mage's magic probed the intricate runes and mechanisms embedded in the suit. Her eyes narrowed in concentration, seeking any hint of external control or foul play. Seconds stretched on, and tension hung heavy in the air. Count Graham's face remained stern, but his fingers twitched impatiently. Wayland on the other hand, gave no sign of concern, his posture exuding calm confidence.
"Your Lordship…”
Finally, the court mage withdrew her magic and turned to face Count Laurence.
“Yes? Speak.”
"I detect no external mana flow or signs of remote control. The armor appears to be an unconventional suit of armor, as recognized by the world system, rather than a golem as some have claimed. It does have a large reservoir of mana in its back, which I assume is the weapon's power source. Nevertheless, it is neither a golem nor being manipulated from a distance."
A wave of murmurs swept through the audience, but Count Laurence raised a hand for silence.
"Very well, if the armor is deemed legitimate. The duel shall proceed."
Count Graham’s lips thinned, his frustration barely concealed. He cast a cold glare at Wayland, who remained unfazed, his helmet reflecting the sunlight. Graham’s thoughts raced as this contraption was far beyond anything he had anticipated. But it didn’t matter. Sir Gerhard was a seasoned warrior, equipped with some of the finest magical items in his arsenal and he had been further enhanced with blood crystals. No amount of armor, no matter how advanced, could make up for a difference in skill, experience, and class. He consoled himself with this thought, though a flicker of doubt lingered in the back of his mind.
Sir Gerhard, too, seemed to have grown impatient. He had stood quietly, watching the proceedings with a dismissive air, but now that the duel was confirmed to continue, he shifted into a combat stance. His eyes shone red beneath his visor as he sized up Robert, who stood still in his bulky suit of runic armor. To Gerhard, this opponent was nothing more than a foolish boy hiding behind a metal shell.
"I’ll end this quickly! For my Lord!”
Gerhard shouted while Roberts's helmet made its way back onto the large frame to reconnect it. Soon a shimmering blue dome of magical energy began to form around the arena, sealing it off from any external interference. The protective barrier was there to protect the onlookers from harm but also to prevent any outside manipulation. Now that the two combatants were sealed inside, it was time for the duel to start and only one of the men would be leaving it alive…
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