Chapter 20
“What did you mean just now?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
I reached out and gave Carlos a few light pats on the shoulder.
He jumped back like he’d been burned and quickly retreated.
What the—he’s so jumpy it’s embarrassing.
I stood frozen mid-reach, feeling awkward, while Carlos turned his head away in a panic.
His earlobes seemed red again.
‘No way it’s from the heat… right?’
It wasn’t hot—just like last time. It was winter, after all.
‘Then why…?’
Maybe he was just the type who hated being touched.
“…I hope what you said about not losing is true.”
Carlos finally spoke as I was lost in thought.
“I promise.”
“If things get dangerous, I’ll step in and stop the duel.”
“Please do.”
When I nodded, color finally returned to Carlos’s face.
Even after that, Carlos didn’t leave. He remained seated across from my desk in my office.
I wanted to ask why he was still there—but his expression was so serious, I didn’t.
Time passed, and the moment of the duel arrived.
“Commander.”
“Sir Girotti, you’re not here to drag me out in case I try to run away… are you?”
“……”
“So you are.”
With a sigh, I rose from the desk.
While Carlos and Cesare glared daggers at each other, I neatly stacked the documents on my desk.
“Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere. While I change clothes, could you two head to the training grounds first?”
I asked gently, and the two reluctantly nodded.
“I’m going to borrow a training uniform. Also, could someone fetch my sword?”
After sending Carlos and Cesare ahead, I headed straight for the armory.
“Um, Commander…”
A trainee knight stationed at the armory looked at me nervously, hesitating.
“What is it?”
“Well…”
The trainee’s face turned pale as he bowed his head deeply.
“I heard about the duel and took out your sword, but… it’s rusted.”
“……”
You’ve got to be kidding me, Elia.
A knight should at least take care of their own weapon!
“Is it too late to remove the rust now?”
“Even if we removed it, the blade’s uneven. It’s not suitable for a duel.”
“Sigh…”
I swept my hair back with one hand, imagining myself flicking Elia on the forehead in frustration.
“Set my sword aside. Is there a spare among the trainee-issued ones? I’ll take that.”
“Will that be okay? A knight’s sword…”
The trainee trailed off again.
I get it.
A knight’s sword is an extension of their body—without one you’ve grown used to, your skill won’t come through properly.
‘Especially with my injured right arm, handling an unfamiliar blade will be even tougher.’
Sure, it’d be a big handicap to fight without my own sword.
But still…
“It’s fine. Just give me anything.”
The trainee looked at me wide-eyed.
“Oh, but make sure the blade’s in good condition. I can’t stand rust. Well? Get moving.”
“Y-yes, ma’am!”
At my urging, he rushed into the armory.
Soon, he returned with a plain, unadorned sword.
“This is the smallest size we have.”
Since Elia had a small frame, he’d chosen one that fit her height.
I drew the sword with my left hand and gave a small nod.
I could feel the trainee’s eyes nervously drifting toward my right arm.
‘Still shaking, huh?’
No way I could grip a sword with that arm.
But it’s fine.
“I’m going to change now. Could you give me some privacy?”
“O-of course!”
The trainee hurried out, leaving me alone in the armory.
After changing into the uniform, I tested something with my injured arm.
“Good. It works.”
Satisfied, I left the armory and made my way to the training grounds.
“She went to Count Gonnir, and now she’s dueling Sir Girotti…”
“I still don’t get what’s going on.”
“Shh, she might hear you.”
“Let her hear. She won’t be able to show her face after Girotti defeats her.”
As I walked, I could feel all the stares and hear the whispers.
The more slander I heard, the more convinced I became—this duel was necessary.
“You really didn’t run.”
Cesare greeted me at the training grounds.
He, too, was in a training uniform with a sword at his side.
“This way—”
As he stepped forward to guide me, his eyes fell on the sword at my waist and he flinched.
What’s with that reaction?
I looked up in confusion and saw Cesare’s face stiff with shock.
“…I didn’t think you’d stoop this low.”
“What do you mean?”
“Is it that I’m not even worth bringing your real sword out? Or are you planning to justify your loss by blaming an unfamiliar weapon?”
Ah.
Only then did I realize how this looked—bringing a basic trainee sword to such an important duel.
It must’ve seemed like I was mocking the whole thing.
“I never imagined you’d drag a knight’s honor through the mud like this.”
As Cesare raised his voice, the gazes from the gathered knights grew sharper.
‘Yeah, this isn’t going to work.’
There was no way I could explain that my sword had rusted—it’d only make things worse. Failing to maintain your own weapon was just as disgraceful as taking a duel lightly.
So what now?
I quietly stared at Cesare, who was still fuming.
“Sir Girotti.”
I called his name.
“Speak. If you have anything worth saying.”
“First, I apologize for bringing a sword that isn’t mine to such an important duel. It was thoughtless.”
Cesare’s eyes widened.
He clearly hadn’t expected a sincere apology.
“What’s up with her?”
“She’s actually apologizing… seriously?”
“Shh! She’ll hear you.”
The knights gathered around us were equally stunned by my apology.
“And just so it’s clear—I won’t be using this sword as an excuse if I lose.”
I continued.
Cesare’s eyes grew even wider, and the murmurs around us intensified.
Standing at the center of it all, I gave a confident smile.
“Because I’m going to win this duel.”
“……!”
Cesare’s eyes couldn’t get any wider at that point.
I waited calmly for him to collect himself.
Eventually, he composed his expression, now more serious than before.
“Whether you mean those words or not—your sword will speak for you. After all, we are knights.”
He said it with conviction.
It was a far cry from the mocking tone he’d used when confronting me earlier that morning.
“Then both duelists, step to the center of the grounds.”
The officer overseeing the 3rd Order called out.
Following his direction, I stepped into the center and stood five paces from Cesare.
“What is about to take place is a sacred duel, guaranteed by imperial law. Do you swear that the loser will humbly accept their fault, and the winner will graciously forgive the defeated?”
“I swear.”
“I swear.”
We both responded.
“Then before the duel begins, salute your opponent.”
At the command, Cesare and I drew our swords.
We tapped our blades once in the air—clang.
“Begin the duel!”
The officer declared, and Cesare and I immediately stepped back to create distance.
Cesare saw the sword in my left hand and gave me a knowing look.
“So, you plan to fight with your left hand.”
He spoke while casually twirling his blade.
“No matter how skilled you once were, Commander… with your left hand alone, you can’t beat me.”
His eyes narrowed.
“If you surrender now, I’ll treat it as an honorable loss, out of respect for your earlier display.”
I smiled in response.
When he saw my fearless, confident smile, his brow furrowed.
“Who said anything about surrendering?”
With that, I switched the sword to my right hand—
—and charged toward Cesare like a gust of wind.
I’m not sure what her plan is?