The Duchy’s Madman Chapter-16

**Chapter 16**

—

The day of the sparring match.

Cain summoned his second son, Jane, to give him advice.

> “Don’t hold back.”

“…?”

> “If possible, go at him as if you mean to kill him. No—go into it with the resolve to kill.”

Jane tilted his head, puzzled.

> “I don’t mind, but… if something goes wrong, wouldn’t it be hard to clean up afterward, Father?”

> “That’s none of your concern. All you need to think about is how you’re going to stick your sword into the brat’s chest.”

Jane’s lips curled upward.

> “If you put it that way… understood. That’s the thing I do best, isn’t it?”

Seeing his son brimming with confidence, Cain nodded.

Unlike his firstborn, Ian, Jane was violent and impulsive—a notorious scoundrel in the capital.

*Because I raised him to be that way… Sometimes it’s convenient to have at least one person around who’ll act without thinking things through.*

And despite that nature, he had talent with the sword. At nineteen, he had already reached the 2nd Circle, and he might well form his third circle before long.

Considering that his upcoming opponent, Arthur Bayern, had formed only one circle, the difference in skill was vast.

For that reason, Cain was certain—not only of Jane’s victory—but that he would also be able to confirm Arthur Bayern’s true abilities through this match.

*Against an opponent with such a gap in level… there’s no way to hide one’s real skills. Even if it is the bloodline of Bayern.*

With that thought, Cain left the mansion and headed for Bayern’s training grounds.

Arthur Bayern had not yet arrived; only the Bayern retainers were present.

Not wanting to cause a stir, Cain crossed his arms and waited.

But Jane, unable to endure the boredom, began to openly provoke them.

> “That mute bastard dares to keep my father waiting?”

The well-trained Bayern retainers pretended not to hear, but their stiffened expressions gave them away.

No matter how much of a rogue Jane Dormund was, the person he was insulting now was the young master of the house.

Aside from Yonel, Arthur was the highest-ranking person here—insulting him was no different from insulting all of Bayern.

As a result, they all glared silently at Jane Dormund, but the more they did, the more he enjoyed himself.

> “Just because you hold the same kind of sword doesn’t mean all swords are equal\~ I wonder if that mute knows that\~ No, wait—maybe he’s too much of an idiot to even know thaaaat\~?”

Drawing out his words on purpose, Jane burst into giggles.

His behavior was so far beyond the bounds of propriety that even the Dormund retainers behind him clicked their tongues.

Yet Cain merely stood by and watched his son’s antics.

It was in that strained atmosphere that—

*Bang!*

The closed door swung open, and a boy stepped inside.

Jane’s laughter stopped cold, and he muttered in surprise.

> “…What? That’s the mute?”

In the meantime, Arthur approached Cain and stopped in front of him.

He didn’t bow his head or lower his gaze—he simply looked straight at Cain. As Jane came to his senses and scowled—

Arthur smiled brightly and spoke.

> “It’s a fine day, isn’t it? Don’t you think so, Count Cain Dormund?”

—

> “It is a fine day. So—are you ready?”

> “Yes. Shall we start right away?”

> “We should at least agree on the format of the match.”

Arthur smiled again.

> “Weren’t we going until one of us dies?”

At that, Cain’s eyes narrowed slightly.

Jane’s reaction was no different—his temper flared, and he started forward in haste.

> “Has this bastard lost his mind, saying that to—”

But at some point Cain’s hand had come up, silencing him and making him step back.

> “A fight to the death won’t do. This isn’t a duel; it’s a spar.”

> “Ah… is that so? So you can’t kill someone in a sparring match.”

> “Exactly. With that in mind, how about we say the loser is whoever can no longer lift a sword?”

Arthur nodded.

> “Fine. Then shall we begin?”

Cain’s eyes narrowed again.

For some reason, a strange sense of unease crept up the back of his neck.

*Why do I feel this way? This is exactly the situation I predicted.*

Arthur Bayern—smiling innocently.

Jane Dormund—brimming with anger.

And around them, more than a hundred retainers from both houses watching closely.

Everything about the scene matched his plan perfectly. There were no variables to speak of.

Shaking off the chill running down his spine, Cain murmured to himself:

*The brat’s talented with a sword. There’s no way for things to go wrong.*

Before heading to the spectator’s seat, Cain leaned close to his son.

> “If you finish this spar well, I’ll arrange a meeting for you with those young ladies you’ve had your eye on.”

> “…!”

> “Whatever you do there… I’ll let you do as you please.”

Jane’s grin spread wide.

> “I’ll obey your orders, Father!”

Cain returned to his seat.

Jane, meanwhile, spun the sword he’d half-threatened, half-coerced from the most renowned blacksmith in the capital.

> “Shameless fool!”

One knight couldn’t hold his tongue, but Jane paid no mind.

His thoughts were consumed by his father’s words just now.

It didn’t matter which young lady—should he choose the Baron Platina’s daughter?

Or perhaps the Viscount Hyson’s?

Both were beauties; either way, it would be amusing to torment them.

*Why would he make such an offer over that mute? Well… not that I’m complaining. Heh heh.*

Chuckling to himself, Jane raised his head toward the boy standing idly before him and picked up where his provocation had left off.

> “Hey, mute.”

“….”

> “I don’t know how you stopped being mute, but you’re still a mute. Got it?”

Arthur smiled.

> “You haven’t changed a bit, have you?”

> “Of course not. You’ve changed, though. So why go and get better and draw my father’s attention?”

Jane’s gaze dropped cold.

> “Don’t think this will end nicely. I’ll be taking at least one of your arms with me.”

He stopped spinning his sword, and that served as the signal for the referees to step forward.

> “Are you both ready?”

> “Yes.”

> “Then hurry up and start.”

> “…Understood. We’ll begin now.”

The referees stepped back with a bow, and the two young men raised their real swords on the wide training ground.

All around, throats bobbed as they swallowed in anticipation.

Jane’s breathing slowed for a brief moment—then he lunged forward in a flash, sword slashing toward Arthur.

“…!”

The Bayern retainers gasped, taken aback by the clean, unhesitating leap from a man known as a rogue.

The strike that followed was sharp enough to be worthy of the title *assassin*.

Unable to hold back, Anna shouted loudly:

> “Young master—!”

Her call coincided with Jane’s blade driving toward Arthur’s right arm—

And Arthur’s sword moved slowly.

At the same moment, blood spurted from the corner of Jane’s right eye.

“…Huh?”

With a startled grunt, Jane’s body pitched forward.

His off-course blade struck the ground.

“Wh-what?”

He reached toward his right eye, but the bleeding eye still saw nothing.

Alongside the pain came the realization that something was terribly wrong.

And he was not mistaken.

Arthur Bayern’s voice reached him.

> “Are you right-handed? Left-handed? Or perhaps… both?”

A flat, chilling voice.

—

**Jane Dormund.**

In his past life, he was the second son of the Count of Dormund—
the one Arthur clashed with the most, and yet the one who slipped through his grasp the most.

If Bill Dormund was someone Arthur could never kill because he couldn’t even find him,
then Jane Dormund was someone he *could* have killed, but didn’t.

That was why Arthur judged Jane Dormund to be an exceptionally lucky bastard.

*‘That aside… Jane Dormund really was trash, too.’*

If Bill had set his sights on Arthur’s younger sister,
then Jane Dormund had set his on the family fortune.

And it wasn’t just the wealth of House Bayern he went after.

Jane had also stripped the Bayern retainers of their fortunes.

Because of that, everyone who had been loyal to Bayern lost not only their homes but everything they owned;
some even went so far as to sell off their own families.

*‘Among them are quite a few of the people watching this duel right now… If Bill wounded only my sister, then Jane wounded the very name of Bayern itself.’*

Arthur had more than enough reasons to kill Jane.

The problem was *how* to do it.

With that thought, Arthur’s sword moved.

—*Shrrk!*—

Once again, blood sprayed as Jane staggered.

“…Guhhhhk.”

With a groan bursting from his lips, Jane reflexively swung his sword.

But Arthur had already slipped out of range,
and in the same breath, cut across Jane’s thigh before he could even regain his balance.

“Aaaarghhh—!”

Unable to endure the pain, Jane screamed, veins bulging in his neck.

“Why! Why won’t it land?!”

Losing his temper, Jane went berserk.

His wild swings lost all rhythm,
and that lack of form made them all the more dangerous.

But Arthur even read those erratic paths, evading them with ease.

*‘Same as before. The way he swings… and the habits that come out when things turn against him… There’s no real difference from back then.’*

Not everyone who wields a sword swings it the same way.

Each person has their own style, their own habits, their own attack paths.

And Jane Dormund’s habits seeped into his sword swings unconsciously.

That was why Arthur could avoid his strikes.

He had crossed swords with Jane countless times in his previous life.

The way Jane fought was already engraved in Arthur’s mind—
and if Jane’s skill now was far below what it had been then,
it would have been stranger if Arthur *couldn’t* avoid his blows.

So even though Jane clearly had more openings,
he couldn’t keep up with Arthur’s movements.

Meanwhile, Arthur’s sword was steadily piling wounds onto Jane’s body—

starting with the right eyelid he had sliced at the outset,
then his arms and legs,
and then his chest.

By now, Jane’s whole body was a patchwork of cuts;
it was harder to find a place that *hadn’t* been slashed.

The blood loss soon began to sap his stamina.

“Huff… huff…”

No matter how much mana allowed one to surpass human limits,
in the end, a human was still a human.

Lose too much blood, and you couldn’t remain standing.

Jane’s swings lost their initial force,
and the number of times his blade cut nothing but air increased.

And with each of those misses, Arthur’s blade would once again bite into Jane’s flesh.

“…Aaaghhh!”

Screaming again, Jane clutched his freshly cut shoulder and, for the first time, stepped back.

“You—what are you? You’re not a mute, are you? A mute couldn’t—couldn’t possibly…!”

Arthur blinked at the sight of Jane’s terrified face.

Strangely enough, Jane Dormund had said these exact same words in the future.

Arthur burst into laughter, then adjusted his grip on his sword.

*‘By now, in my past life, someone would always barge in to save Jane. I wonder… will it happen this time, too?’*

That idle thought made his eyes glint.

And then, smoothly, he thrust his sword forward.

Bleeding heavily, Jane Dormund reacted to the strike with a thought.

*‘I’m going to die?’*

A fountain of blood erupted in the next instant.

Not just a spray—
it was a literal geyser.

The surreal sight froze Jane’s thoughts completely.

Yet the pain was real enough to keep him from escaping into denial.

When he turned his head, the arm that should have been there was gone.

Instead, a human hand gripping a sword was inexplicably rolling across the ground.

“…”

Jane’s trousers turned yellow.

His fear had gone beyond the limits;
both his mind and body had slipped out of his control.

The savagely twisted expression on his face told the full story of his state of mind.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t over yet.

Arthur’s sword, having severed Jane’s right arm, did not stop—
it went straight for his neck.

“…!”

At that moment, the Bayern retainers and Dormund retainers, who had been watching in a daze, all shot to their feet.

Jane, staring at the blade closing in on him, thought:

*‘I’m dead.’*

Just as he opened his mouth,

—*BOOM!*—

A loud crash rang out.

*Clang!!!*

With the violent sound of clashing steel,
Cain Dormund had leapt into the arena, knocking Arthur’s sword upward.

But Arthur spun with the rebound,
and in a seamless motion extended his blade toward Cain’s neck.

Cain’s gaze sharpened, as if he had anticipated the follow-up.

*Clang!!!*

Once more, metal screamed—
Arthur’s sword stopped just a few finger-widths from Cain’s, blocked again.

They stayed like that—Cain staring at Arthur, Arthur staring at Cain.

In that silent exchange, Cain’s lips twitched.

Arthur spoke.

“Oh? Did I get carried away? My apologies, Count Dormund.”

Smiling faintly, Arthur lowered his sword.

“Jane Dormund didn’t declare surrender, so I might have been a little heavy-handed.
Still… jumping into the match wasn’t part of the agreement, was it?
I’m sure you can understand.”

Cain did not answer.

Instead, he looked at his trembling son—soaked in urine—and asked in return:

“You could have ended it, but you toyed with him.
And because you toyed with him, you gave him no chance to surrender. Isn’t that right?”

“Well…? I’m not skilled enough yet to say for sure.”

At that, a smile formed on Cain’s lips.

Though the curve could be called a smile,
its shape was grotesque beyond measure.

And Arthur knew.

Cain Dormund was furious.

Furious beyond belief.

*‘Ah… this is nice. Not even in my past life did I get to see Cain Dormund make this face.’*

So even though he hadn’t been able to take Jane’s head,
Arthur was satisfied enough.

He turned to the judges.