Chapter 35

"I will accept your request. However, if Miss Jean Berkeley-Grayton loses to me, please strip her of her succession rights."

To make this side move, the other side has to put up something bigger.

That's what a maid who doesn't work for free is.

"Whoa!"

At that moment, Yegersee suddenly stood up and pulled my hand firmly.

What is it, don't interfere and get lost.

"Ah, hah, hmm. Your Excellency, you might not know, but this friend has been suffering from a long illness. So his brain is a bit—"

"My brain is fine."

Volkwin, who had also stood up, ignored my answer and hastily continued.

"His brain seems to be a bit melted."

"It's not melted, I tell you?"

"Yes, it seems to have melted and caused some problems."

Who am I talking to right now?

Fortunately, the Sword Saint seemed to have a clear intention to converse with me.

"I have just one question, Viscount Weatherwood. Don't you think it's too presumptuous to talk about the succession of our family?"

"Ah, Your Excellency is asking for my opinion again! Truly, you are the Sword Saint. A man of great magnanimity."

Raising my thumb, Yegersee and Volkwin's faces turned even paler.

With a voice mixed with deep concern, I lied with all my heart.

"I know that the next Duke of Berkeley-Grayton is solely up to Your Excellency and His Majesty the Emperor. It is a noble position given to the guardian of the royal family and the empire. The safety and future of the empire depend on your family. As a citizen of the empire, how can I not worry about the next Duke of Berkeley-Grayton?"

"……"

"Thus, I cannot stand by and watch the successor who loses a mock duel to this Gray Weatherwood, who has only swung a sword a few times, become the next Duke of Berkeley-Grayton."

The Sword Saint, as if watching a child's antics, nodded repeatedly, encouraging me.

"That's a reasonable reason. Please continue."

"That's all."

The Sword Saint's eyebrow twitched slightly.

"The point is, Your Excellency and Miss Jean are 'requesting' a mock duel from this Gray Weatherwood, who has only swung a sword a few times. It's truly a frightening prospect. Ah! It's frightening indeed!"

"Viscount, it seems you've learned your acting somewhere."

"And the conclusion is, I will accept. Your Excellency's absurd request."

"……"

"Ah, right. I have one more condition. I will not accept any spectators, including Your Excellency."

"……"

"Do you think it's a loss? Of course, you would. There is one solution to this unprofitable mock duel. Would you like to hear it? It's simply for Your Excellency to 'retract' the request. Isn't that easy?"

Assuming the conditions are met, there's nothing bad for me if the mock duel proceeds. I can strip Jean of her succession rights with gratitude.

But I'm not so desperate to reveal my sword skills.

Jean's succession rights can be stripped in other ways.

But will the Sword Saint really do that?

"Viscount's conditions are to have the mock duel without spectators. And if you win, you will take away my daughter's succession rights, correct?"

Even to my ears, it was a condition that offered nothing good from the other side's perspective.

If my guess is correct.

The Sword Saint will not retract this matter.

"Jean Berkeley-Grayton."

It was a soft call.

A tall woman with silver hair strode in from outside the cabin and stood before us.

"Yes, Your Excellency."

"Will you accept Viscount Weatherwood's wager?"

Tsk, tsk. My tongue clicked involuntarily.

'Asking so openly in such a place is as good as telling her to accept.'

Indeed, Jean's existence is of no concern to the Sword Saint. I had a vague sense of this right after realizing he was the client.

And if he had cared even a little for Jean, he would have taken me outside and requested the duel.

To the Sword Saint, Jean Berkeley-Grayton was a card that could be used and discarded as he pleased.

'He did the same on the battlefield.'

The Sword Saint is a man who does not hesitate to sacrifice the few for the many.

The battlefields he commanded always achieved perfect victory, no matter the cost.

To the Sword Saint, who had used thousands, even tens of thousands of lives as bait in his tactics, the sacrifice of one successor was not a big deal.

But will Jean readily accept the Sword Saint's pressure?

"I will accept. There is no fault in Viscount Weatherwood's argument. If I, who must protect the empire in the future, made a rash judgment, it means I do not have the qualifications to be a guardian of the empire. Therefore, I will agree to Viscount Weatherwood's conditions."

She accepted.

'Even if you are a sword-obsessed sword demon, this is too much. Will you really accept?'

Indeed, a sword demon is a sword demon.

"Well, if you say so. Shall we go up to the deck amicably?"

The Sword Saint, leisurely taking my chair, ordered Jean.

"Jean. Since Viscount Weatherwood doesn't seem to have a sword, lend him mine."

"Understood."

Why did he have to lend his own sword so burdensomely?

We crossed the excited spectators and left the cabin.

Just before we left, my feet were momentarily held back.

"Viscount Weatherwood."

I turned to look at the Sword Saint.

Dressed in formal attire, not armor, and sitting with his legs crossed, the Sword Saint stared at me intently and asked.

"Have we met before?"

"……"

"Have we met somewhere before?"

"No way. This is our first meeting."

Without waiting for an answer, he left the cabin.

Not forgetting to walk with the strangest gait in the world.

When I arrived on the deck.

The passengers who had been enjoying the night were returning to the cabins under the crew's guidance.

The deck, which had been filled with romantic lighting, garden tables, and people enjoying the night air, suddenly became quiet.

After a few minutes of being captivated by the Milky Way spread across the sky.

"Thank you for waiting, Viscount Weatherwood."

Turning my head at Jean's voice, a large and heavy scabbard flew toward me.

This scabbard, with marks of glory all over it, was undoubtedly the Sword Saint's sword.

I was lost in a brief moment of reflection before drawing the sword. The sharp silver blade shimmered in the starlight.

And it was quiet.

'I was curious how the Sword Saint's sword would resonate. It seems the sword only speaks when wielded by a swordsman.'

How long has it been since I held a sword? It felt like years had passed...

Thump. Thump.

'My body, on the other hand, is not.'

My heart sang pleasantly.

The heavy hand felt as light as a bird's wing.

I had never swung this sword before, but it felt as if it had always been mine. It felt like an extension of my arm, not a sword.

Suddenly, I felt a gaze and turned to see Jean looking at me intently.

Jean was focused on every small movement I made. She seemed a bit tense.

I asked her.

"Are you not interested in the Duke of Berkeley-Grayton?"

"......I find it difficult to understand the intent behind your question."

"There's no great meaning. I just asked because you usually don't accept such conditions."

Jean, who had been blinking thoughtfully, answered a beat late.

"I am not uninterested, but it is not my primary goal."

"Ah."

That meant the position of the heir of Berkeley-Grayton was merely a means to achieve her purpose.

'The Sword Saint had a good reason to use her without hesitation.'

He probably didn't want to keep an heir with ulterior motives close by.

"Does the duel with me play a significant role in achieving your most important goal?"

"It might, or it might not."

"Do you think I am a swordsman?"

"Yes."

"Then, Miss Jean, this is not a condition but a request. I want you to be the only one who knows how I move in the duel."

"I will keep that in mind."

Jean's attitude was so serious and respectful that I didn't even think of playing around.

"Alright. Let's start."

I sheathed the Sword Saint's sword and placed it at my right side. Then, walking to the center of the training ground, I said to Jean.

"If I draw my sword, it's your victory."

Thinking I was underestimating her, Jean's eyes turned coldly serious.

Hmm, that's too harsh.

"I take it back. I'll draw my sword and swing it twice."