Why Are You Angry?
A thunderous cheer soon shook the training grounds.
Lucas let out the long breath he had been holding.
Barcas wrenched the halberd free from the man's chest and turned his horse's head. As the blazing torchlight threw his handsome features into sharp relief, the crowd's cheers swelled even louder. Lucas swept his gaze over the warriors' faces, flushed crimson with excitement, then looked back at Barcas.
Even amid all that uproar, the man seemed endlessly calm. With an expressionless face that even hinted at boredom, Barcas crossed the training grounds and leapt lightly down from the saddle.
"Find out if the Gutban family has any other useful men."
Barcas handed his weapon to a servant who had rushed over in a fluster, then issued orders to Daren.
"If there's no suitable heir, look among the vassals for someone else fit to take charge of the southeastern region."
"Th-there is a fairly capable warrior among his half-brothers," Daren answered in a trembling voice. "He was originally set to join the Wolfram Spear Knight Order, but... he's also attended the academy in the capital, so he should be more than capable of serving as a lord."
Barcas removed his gauntlets and handed them to a servant, then lightly stroked his lips with a thoughtful expression.
"Bring him before me as soon as possible. If I deem him suitable, we'll hold the appointment ceremony right away."
Just then, two servants unfastened the heavy iron armor from his chest. Lightened, Barcas immediately cut through the crowd and approached him.
Lucas instinctively stepped back. When the woman he was holding onto swayed as if about to fall, he grabbed her waist on reflex.
In that instant, heat rushed to his head.
The woman's waist was so slender that even his hands—still not fully grown—could easily encircle it. Moreover, her skin, glowing white even in the darkness, carried a sweet scent he had never smelled before in his life.
What on earth is this scent?
Without thinking, he leaned his face toward her nape and sniffed—only for a sharp smack to set his cheek on fire.
Lucas clutched his face with a dazed expression.
The woman who had shoved him away glared with eyes full of fury and scolded him.
"What do you think you're doing, you perverted little brat!"
"P-pervert?" He gaped in flustered shock. "I was just trying to catch you before you fell...!"
"If you were catching me from falling, why were you sniffing me?"
Lucas's face flushed crimson. As she looked at him with contempt, an intense shame he had never felt before in his life washed over him. He raised his voice indignantly, looking wronged.
"I just thought you smelled weird...!"
This time, a searing heat spread across his other cheek. Lucas stumbled backward.
What kind of woman is this?
He had often come away covered in bruises from harsh training, but never in his life had anyone slapped him across the face like this. He scowled with humiliation and glared at the woman. Just as he was about to snap something back at her, Laina came rushing over and roughly shoved the woman away.
"How dare you lay a hand on his face, you witch!"
With the powerful arm strength honed by horseback riding, the woman's body toppled backward like a sheet of paper. Lucas, still fuming, reflexively reached out.
Just as he was about to catch her, a long arm snatched the woman up. Lucas jerked his head up.
Barcas, who had somehow already come right up to him, was holding her in his arms and looking down at him with cold eyes.
"...It seems you all need to relearn basic discipline."
Barcas muttered coldly, then added as he turned to the ashen-faced Laina.
"Both of you are forbidden from riding horses for the time being."
"Th-that can't be...!"
Barcas turned his back coldly on Laina's protests and issued orders to Daren.
"Assign them strict private tutors. Don't let them set a single foot outside the castle until they've learned proper etiquette."
Then, without even waiting for Daren's reply, he set off toward the main keep.
Behind his retreating back, the warriors' enthusiastic cheers continued. Most of the easterners, who worshiped strength, seemed completely captivated by him. In contrast, the servants, apparently frightened by the extraordinary martial prowess he had displayed, muttered prayers or crossed themselves. The nobles, too, were engaged in heated debate over the next leader's radical actions.
Leaving all that uproar behind, the man leisurely departed the grounds.
Laina, who had been watching his back with bated breath, finally let out a belated protest.
"This is so unfair!"
She looked around as if seeking agreement.
"That woman is the cause of this whole mess! So why are we the ones being punished!"
Lucas left his little sister, who was on the verge of tears, and stepped into the middle of the ruined training grounds.
The soldiers clearing away Alec Gutban's corpse naturally made way for him. Kneeling beside the blackened body, Lucas carefully examined his brother's handiwork.
The man seemed to have had his heart pierced in a single stroke. Thick blood was seeping from inside the crumpled breastplate, and from the head that appeared to have been crushed upon hitting the ground, brain matter was slowly leaking out.
When the soldiers fully removed the dented helmet, it revealed wide-open white eyes and thick lips flecked with bloody foam.
The end of the man who, just that very morning, had been hailed as the East's strongest spear-and-sword master was truly pitiful beyond measure.
"All bulk and no skill, I guess."
"That can't be."
Tyron approached his side, letting out a hollow laugh and shaking his head.
"In his teens, he beat a troll to death with his bare fists, no weapons. He was a warrior who possessed not only that monstrous strength but outstanding technique as well. No one would have ever imagined this man meeting such a hollow end."
Lucas looked up at Tyron with worried eyes.
"Won't this cause problems?"
"It was a duel accepted by both sides. If they make an issue of it, the Gutban family will become a laughingstock to everyone." He replied nonchalantly. "Moreover, while the Young Lord proposed the duel, I hear it was this man who first challenged His authority. No one will be able to criticize the Seorkan family over this outcome."
The man answered firmly, then gazed thoughtfully toward where the nobles were gathered.
"However, there might be some discord among the lords."
Lucas followed his gaze to the high seats. The local nobles seemed flustered by the fact that the administrator of the southeastern region had been replaced overnight.
Watching the murmuring nobles, Tyron added with a sigh.
"The succession ceremony might be moved up. To settle all this chaos, a strong Grand Duke will be needed."
"Why are you the one getting angry?"
Thalia, who had been curled up on one side of the bed with a sullen expression, finally couldn't hold back and demanded.
Barcas made no reply as he walked over to the shelf and rummaged through the display case. He looked as calm as usual. But Thalia could easily tell that his mood had hit rock bottom. On the way back to the room, he had maintained complete silence and not even glanced at her once.
It was absurd. She was the one who ought to be angry. Wasn't it this man who had gone off to fight without so much as pretending to listen to her?
Thalia glared at him with sharp eyes.
When the sight of that monstrous man charging at Barcas came back to her, a chill ran through her whole body and her stomach twisted in agony.
What happened afterward had given her no shock at all. She simply felt like thanking the gods that he was unharmed.
At the same time, she wanted to beat the living daylights out of this man who had made her heart race with such anxiety. If her legs hadn't been trembling so hard she was on the verge of collapse, she would have run straight over and acted on that impulse.