Helping Baron Nurland with Dignity

Nurland had completely lost all noble composure by now... the one he loved had left, the arena tournament was a failure, his fief was destroyed, and the losses from the hunt had stripped him of his last reserves...

Why was his life so hard?

Henry looked at Nurland, who was now burning with shame and rage, and said, "Fine. The meeting's over. We'll settle this at the military camp with a life-and-death duel."

Henry couldn't have asked for this more. Ever since he'd activated the overlord personal panel upon coming of age, he'd felt his temper growing shorter and shorter.

And when he activated the total war panel, that nameless restlessness in his heart only grew stronger.

Now that his system panel had updated to a new version, he found himself even more irritable. Hiss... could there be something wrong with this system?

In any case, it definitely wasn't his own fault. Henry swore on his conscience that he was clearly a good and kind person—this had to be the system's problem.

Henry walked back to his seat, his face cold as he muttered lowly to Glen, "This is the first time, and the last. Don't use me as your spear. I'll kill you."

Glen's throat tightened as an inexplicable pressure surged toward him, pressing against his chest and making it impossible to breathe.

[Cunning Rogue Habit passive skill triggered: ① Enemy Fear (Dignity +1)]

"Henry, I meant no harm."

Henry's lips curled slightly upward, his eyes narrowing as he glanced sidelong at Glen. "I know. That's why I'm just reminding you—at the very least, you should have asked for my opinion."

Glen nodded repeatedly. This bone-chilling warning forced him to reassess his relationship with Henry.

Nurland returned to his seat, head bowed and trembling. All the honor and dignity he had built in his lifetime were lost in this moment—unless he could kill Henry.

But was that even possible? Nurland was certain he was no match for Henry, yet he couldn't take back the duel he himself had proposed. That would be worse than death.

Damn noble pride!

After that, everyone began discussing specific tactics and strategies—how to organize the army, how to coordinate various forces, and so on.

No one cared about the mention of Boman. Everyone just wanted to see the ruthless figure who could take down centaurs and minotaurs.

The meeting dragged on for a long time, only ending at dusk.

Finally, Count Sebastian slammed the table and decided, "Alright, it's settled! We set out the day after tomorrow, first thing in the morning!"

Everyone rose and filed out of the conference room.

All eyes turned to Henry and Nurland. Even the officers joined in to watch the spectacle.

A massive crowd—nobles and armored officers alike—streamed through the streets. Commoners who didn't know what was happening thought something major had occurred and hurried back into their homes.

When the crowd reached the military camp, people immediately began setting up the grounds for the noble duel between Henry and Nurland.

All the soldiers gathered around to watch, packed in layers upon layers. Those at the back couldn't see a thing and could only listen to the sounds from within.

"My lords, shall we disperse the watching soldiers?"

With Bain's help, Henry donned his three-layer heavy armor, hefted his greatsword, and stared at Nurland. "No need. A life-and-death duel—anyone can watch. That's the Empire's tradition."

After Nurland dawdled into his own armor, Henry asked, "So, honorable baron, as the one who initiated the duel, per the Empire's tradition, do you choose a knight's lance duel on horseback, or a duel on foot?"

Nurland's gums ached at the sight of Henry in full armor. "A lance duel on horseback, of course! A noble should die in the saddle!"

Henry smiled and said to Bain beside him, "Of course. A man about to die—I'll grant your wish. Bain, bring my horse."

The retainers on both sides helped armor the warhorses. The officers, sharp-eyed, quickly brought wooden barrier boards to set up the jousting field.

Nurland mounted his warhorse, his right hand gripping a long lance tightly. His sharp gaze locked onto Henry across the field, a glint of tears in his eyes.

'I can definitely kill this brat. Definitely. I am a warrior of the steppes, Baron Nurland!'

None of the nobles present were willing to act as referee. After some discussion among the officers, they put forward a champion banner knight, an elite cataphract, and a shielded arbalist sergeant to serve as referees and supervisors.

"Life-and-death duel, begin!"

"HYAH!!"

Both men spurred their horses into a gallop, charging straight at each other.

In the midst of the charge, Henry leveled his lance, the tip glinting coldly.

BANG!

Henry's lance struck Nurland's shield with pinpoint accuracy. The sheer force of the impact knocked Nurland straight off his horse.

Nurland's wooden shield was pierced clean through, and his left arm was wounded, blood streaming steadily.

The recoil from the lance made Henry sway slightly, but he was otherwise unharmed.

The watching officers and soldiers erupted in wild cheers. Nobles—the dead were disgraced, the victors glorified. And men of the military loved a fierce commander!

Henry dismounted, tossed his lance and knight's shield to Bain, took up a greatsword as wide and thick as an arm's length, and roared as he charged at Nurland.

Nurland rose with a pained groan, took a new shield and longsword from his retainer, and clumsily blocked Henry's attack.

CRACK!

Cracks appeared in Nurland's shield. Nurland's heart jolted in shock—what did this man eat to grow up on?

Nurland felt spots dancing before his eyes. He roared in fury, swinging his longsword with all his might at Henry.

Henry dodged easily. In his eyes, this attack was even weaker than the worst student in his class back at the academy.

Henry swung his sword in a flash—a strike as swift as lightning, aimed straight at Nurland's chest.

Nulun tried to dodge, but it was already too late. The sharp blade sliced through his outermost iron armor, and the immense force struck his body through the chainmail and cotton armor.

Nulun spat out a mouthful of blood, groaning in pain as he lost his balance and crashed heavily to the ground.

He lay on the ground, spitting another mouthful of blood that stained the earth red.

He lifted his head with difficulty, gazing at the sky, his vision gradually blurring. His heart was filled with unwillingness and despair, unable to understand why he could never surpass the people from the Royal Knight Academy.

Why? Perhaps he should never have held a grudge against Boman in the first place, allowing fear and anger to take root in his heart and grow into hatred, making him lose his reason.

Besides, Boman hadn't done anything wrong. Love, dignity, honor... it was all over.

Henry came to stand before Nulun and asked, "Are you ready, Baron?"

"Of—of course, Henry. That strike of yours should have gone for my throat."

Henry inverted his Greatsword, pointing it at Nulun's chest, and said, "My eighteen years of noble upbringing taught me that, unless on the battlefield, one must grant an opponent dignity—at the very least, leave them a whole corpse."

Nulun let out a couple of pained groans, then smiled with relief. "Thank you, Sir Henry."