The crowd parted to either side, clearing a space in the middle of the salon. It looked as though there really would be a fight.
The Empire prized martial prowess, and duels were sacred affairs. Anyone who avoided a duel would be scorned by almost everyone, whether newly risen nobles or old aristocratic families. Having someone fight in one's place might not demonstrate personal valor, but it was permitted by the rules.
In any case, word of "First Rank Elliot" had long since spread. No one really expected him to fight in person.
However, sending a substitute required the opponent's consent. In other words, if Crawford insisted on fighting Elliot, Elliot would have no choice but to steel himself and step up. Yet, to everyone's surprise, Crawford did not take the opportunity to make things difficult for Elliot. Instead, he faced Sidney, whom he had absolutely no chance of beating. From that perspective, stupid as he was, he certainly was no coward.
Well, Elliot thought he was beginning to understand why Sidney had said, "This is an invitation for me to come pick you up."
The attendants carefully brought over a first-aid kit and a weapons rack.
Most nobles chose rapiers or other elegant weapons for their duels. After all, there was quite an element of performance to the affair.
The two men about to fight today, however, seemed to have no such intentions.
Sidney and Crawford had eyes only for each other. They did not even glance at the weapons offered to them.
They would fight in the least dignified and most direct way possible.
"Crawford, I can't wait."
"Neither can I."
Before the words had even faded, and without waiting for Elliot, the witness, to announce the start, they charged forward and grappled.
There was no elegant swordsmanship,