Chapter 23

Clang!

"Wow!"

"Whoosh—"

The sound of swords clashing was followed by a loud cheer.

"Our Muriel is not to be underestimated…."

Frida, unable to hear her own voice over the noise, pursed her lips and turned her head toward the training ground. Clang, clang, clang! Every time the swords clashed, Frida's body involuntarily trembled. It wasn't out of fear, but because the shockwaves from each collision were immense, even reaching Frida, who was standing far away. Dominic, who seemed to have sensed the same energy, soon turned serious. Muriel Rosivalt was primarily using an offensive style of swordsmanship, focusing more on attacks than defense. Dominic muttered to himself as he saw Muriel's sword narrowly miss Daniel's shoulder.

"Just as I expected… perfect."

The five cutting movements derived from the four basic stances were a textbook example of swordsmanship. It seemed the praise for the Rosivalt family's knights was not unfounded. Her relentless attacks targeting her opponent's weaknesses were impressive. It seemed she was trying to render Daniel's incomplete defensive abilities completely ineffective. However, this also meant that her own weaknesses were clearly exposed. Dominic smirked, as if he had known this would happen.

'Tsk. I saw it when she kept losing to the duchess. Cold calculation, my ass.'

If she had pushed through to the end, she should have seen it through, but Muriel always pulled back her blade at the last moment. It might have been because it was a sparring match and not a real fight, or perhaps she thought Daniel, who was not yet fully recovered, would back down at that point.

'No way.'

Despite having heard from the men of the house about what kind of person Duke Reinhart was, she was so complacent. 'This is why inherently kind people don't work.'

Watching Muriel's sword narrowly miss Daniel's armpit, Dominic shook his head.

"Ouch. Swinging that high, she might hurt her eyes!"

Frida, who seemed unable to bear watching, closed her eyes tightly and hid behind Dominic, shouting.

Clang, clang! The sword blades, which had clashed above Daniel and Muriel's heads, narrowly grazed each other and fell.

'Right, there's one more here. An inherently kind person.'

Scared, yet wanting to watch. Dominic stared intently at the white scalp that kept popping out and disappearing as it was swayed by two conflicting emotions. After three years, one would think he could define what kind of person the duchess was, but to Dominic, Frida was still a question mark. He knew the reason he couldn't put a period to it was not because of Frida, but because of Dominic Moli himself. His stubborn belief that such a person couldn't exist kept drawing question marks.

Sure, it's one thing to lack ambition, but is it even possible to live without desire? No, he did have desires, but they were only for others, even for those with no relation to him.

"Imagine it, Dominic. Your children, their children, living happily on the land of Utrecht that we have built. Doesn't your heart race?"

Not at all. Except for the fact that the duchess looked a little, very little, dazzling, Dominic's heart remained calm. What part of it was supposed to race? Dominic's children? Their children? The thought of children carrying his blood was terrifying just to hear. Just as Daniel hated being called a bastard, the label of 'a child abandoned by his mother' had been a burden to Dominic. His mother was a woman who abandoned her flesh and blood because she disliked her ignorant mercenary husband and entered a nobleman's bedroom on her own. Wearing expensive dresses bought with the money her ignorant husband earned, she applied white powder to her shameless face. While her husband was away at war to support her, she left her crying son searching for his mother in the arms of another woman.

The thought of having children, resembling such a cruel woman, who was told her heart was made of ice, made Dominic's face contort with disgust. To hide it, he opened his mouth, feeling he needed to say something.

"Originally, swords should be clashed in a high stance to protect oneself. If you attack from a low stance, you can neither attack nor defend."

At that moment, Muriel, who had braced the sword with her thumb, struck upward with great force. Dominic whistled at the sight. Praises and exclamations of admiration echoed from all around. Clang, clang! The process of slashing down and parrying happened in a flash. The strength of Muriel, who held the Coladar with both hands, was truly astonishing. The power of her own strength combined with the sword's force was enough to easily cut down a tree. Even Daniel, who had never lost in strength to anyone, could be seen being pushed back into the dirt. Laughter and cheers from those who had bet on Muriel Rosivalt and those who had predicted the knight's victory could be heard from all around. Most of the people gathered here had bet on her.

"It'll be over soon. The lord's strength is clearly different."

"Indeed. Still, it's impressive that he's held on this long. The Rosivalt family is no ordinary house."

Hearing the murmurs around her, Frida poked her head out from behind Dominic.

"Is, is the duke losing?"

Dominic nodded without hesitation.

"For now."

Daniel knew very well that his sword could not withstand the Coladar. So, he would soon make his move.

"But the purpose of swordsmanship is not just to compete in strength, but to subdue and ultimately kill the opponent. In this empire, the one who knows this best and does it well is the lady's husband."

"Kill? Are you saying the duke will kill Muriel?"

Just as Frida was about to step forward in shock, Dominic whistled sharply.

"Look. Now."

Frida saw Muriel deliver a powerful blow. Clang! Daniel's sword was cleanly cut.

"Wow…!"

But the cheers that erupted did not last long. The surroundings suddenly fell silent as if doused with cold water. The person with the cut sword and blood streaming from his thigh, and the one calmly speaking while pressing his sword to Muriel's neck, was Duke Daniel Reinhart.

"Choose, Sir Muriel Rosivalt. Will you surrender? Or shall I end your life here?"

*** Everything happened in an instant. Despite countless people witnessing the scene, it was as if no one could fully grasp what they had seen.

"Huff, huff, huff…."

With each deep breath Muriel took, the tip of the sword under her chin pricked her skin. The Coladar, which she had been holding, was now in the duke's hand, pressed against her neck. Her mind was a jumbled mess. The duke's sword blade clearly had a crack. She had deliberately used an attack-focused style to cause this. Duke Reinhart was known for his immense strength, fast and accurate swordplay, and unshaken calm in the heat of battle. He had recovered the latter two to some extent, so she had decided to compete in strength. Even a monster like Duke Reinhart would need much more time to recover his physical strength, so she aimed to overpower him. When his body and feet were repeatedly pushed back, she knew her strategy was working. Modern swords, made with the lost technique of Damascus steel, could not withstand the Coladar. As she saw the crack in the sword blade, she increased the intensity of her downward strikes. As expected, his sword was cut. However, she hadn't anticipated that the cut half of the sword would embed itself in the duke's thigh. He could have easily avoided it, so why did he take it? In the moment of confusion, Daniel used the remaining part of the cut sword to deflect Muriel's attack and slipped under her arm, twisting her wrist. With her strength already focused downward and shocked by the duke's injury, her arm was bent, and she lost the Coladar. The Coladar, before hitting the ground, was caught by Daniel. The situation reversed in the blink of an eye. Muriel couldn't believe the series of events that led to the sword tip touching her neck. But looking into the duke's cold, reddish-brown eyes, she realized. The calmness in his eyes, as if he had foreseen all this, and the fact that he had deliberately taken the sword in his thigh to create an opening.

'He's crazy. Even if the Coladar is tempting, to throw his body into just a sparring match?'

She recalled what her second brother had said when she asked why Daniel Reinhart was invincible.

"Well, you can't figure out what he's thinking, so there's no way to deal with him?"

She lost. Acknowledging her complete defeat, Muriel let the strength in her body drain away.

"I surrender."

Thus, the sparring match ended in a fleeting and anticlimactic manner. As Dominic was about to step forward to wrap things up, a shock of white hair fluttered past him.

"Anton."

The calm and cold tone in which he called the doctor was striking.

'Wait. Cold?'

Dominic, who had taken a step, stopped and looked at the white-haired Frida, who was emitting an unfamiliar aura. When the doctor, Anton, who had been in the crowd, hurried over, Frida gave him instructions.

"Anton, go and check on the duke."

"Yes, my lady. Oh! Your Highness!"

Anton grabbed his neck as he saw Daniel, who had not waited for him, pull the sword out of his thigh.

"First, stretch your leg and sit down. I'll apply some medicine."

"Enough. The wound isn't deep, so just stop the bleeding roughly."

"That's not possible. If you don't apply medicine, your leg might rot."

Daniel, frowning as if annoyed, walked to the training ground's wall and leaned against it. Watching Daniel walk with blood streaming from his leg, Anton sighed and hurried after him. After a moment, Frida, who had been watching the two leave, supported Muriel, who still seemed dazed.

"Are you okay, Muriel?"

"Yes, I'm…."

Muriel, who had been staring at the sun slowly setting on the hill, suddenly seemed to come to her senses and grabbed Frida's arm.

"What will we do if we stay here until this time? Let's go inside. The sun will set soon."

"I know that, so don't worry. Come on, Muriel. Let's go. A warm soup from Adel will make you feel better."

"Alright, let's go inside. No, lean on me. We'll be caught in the sunset if we don't hurry."

As Muriel tried to pick her up, Frida pulled her arm and led the way.

"Enough. You're out of strength. Just walk."

"Miss, alright, let go of my arm and look straight ahead, miss."

The deepening sunset gradually colored the sky as darkness approached. Anton, who had applied medicine to Daniel's thigh and roughly bandaged it, looked up at the reddening sky.

"I'm done. I've done the emergency treatment, so I'll come to your room soon."

Without even glancing at him, Daniel, who had been watching Frida supporting the guard knight and disappearing, replied indifferently.

"Sure."

The sight of Frida pulling the arm of Muriel Rosivalt, which was twice the size of her own, was strangely irritating, causing his eyes to twitch. *** Irritating. Stopping on the stairs, Daniel frowned as he watched his wife's back walking down the first-floor corridor toward the door. It had been three days. Since the end of the sparring match, Frida had not spoken to him. Not just that, she often avoided his gaze even when they bumped into each other. Even today, their gazes had clearly met, and her displeasure was evident, yet she had ignored him and put on a cumbersome hat with a brim. There was no doubt she was angry.

"Clearly… she's angry."

"Right?"

Dominic, who had been following behind, nodded slowly, still looking at Frida.

"Definitely angry over the last sparring match."

Huffing a laugh, Daniel stepped down the stairs.

"Not at you, but at me."