The Crown Prince Who Raises a Side Character

#21 Rookie Adventurer Bern (19) – Not Even a Duel

#21 Rookie Adventurer Bern (19) – Not Even a Duel

No negative emotion emanated from Bern.

His face was calm, and his tone and voice were polite and composed.

Therefore, it took a moment for others to comprehend the words that poured from his lips.

The first to react wasn’t the lord, but the knight named Gudrun who stood by his side.

“You! Are you daring to insult my lord?!”

A terrifying aura emanated from Gudrun’s body.

He didn’t draw his sword only because they were in the reception room and the lord was watching. The magic power and killing intent radiating from him were enough to cause shortness of breath in the fainthearted.

But Bern merely let Gudrun’s pressure slide off him like a light breeze.

“The word ‘insult’ comes so easily to your lips,” he remarked.

“What?”

“Sending a low-ranked adventurer is an insult. When *you* said you didn’t like it, and I agreed to leave, that’s *also* an insult. What’s next on the list of offenses? Perhaps not trembling before your bluster is an insult? If so, your subordinates must be a pitiful lot. The mental fatigue of having to react to your every tantrum must be immense.”

“You- You little whelp…!!”

*Shing!*

Gudrun, his face flushed a furious red, drew his sword.

Bern’s eyes turned cold.

Regardless of whatever sharp words he’d flung, to draw a sword within the presence of the Lord, without leave, purely based on personal pique, was a blatant dereliction of duty for a knight.

At least if Bern had drawn his own sword first, or attempted any physical harm, Gudrun could have feigned it as protection. But as things stood, there was no justification to be found.

The bespectacled treasurer, clearly comprehending the same, was aghast, and tried to restrain Gudrun.

“S-Stop, Sir Gudrun! What kind of spectacle is this, before the Lord!?”

“Spectacle? The true spectacle is standing idly by while insults are hurled at our Lord and myself! Lord! Please give the order! I will cut this man down immediately, and hold the foolish Guild accountable for their transgressions!”

“……”

The Lord’s brow furrowed with displeasure.

While angered by Bern’s insolent words, it was clear he equally disapproved of Gudrun’s actions.

However, blood runs thicker than water, as they say.

“Have your way. Though I find the sight of bloodshed indoors distasteful, so the execution must be carried out outside.”

“Understood, Lord!”

“Hey! Are you people seriously trying to pick a fight with the Guild…”

Blanca was about to erupt at the story unfolding so arbitrarily, but Bern restrained her.

“It’s alright.”

The weight of words, after all, is decided by the one who speaks them.

Though a short, short sentence devoid of additional explanation, the mere fact that Bern had uttered it was enough for Blanca to trust him.

At least, she couldn’t imagine a scene where Bern was defeated.

*

The training grounds, a little ways from the Lord’s manor.

“What’s going on? Why is everyone gathered here?”

“Lord Gudrun is going to execute an adventurer sent by the guild, apparently?”

“What? Why?”

“How should I know?”

Amidst the whispering crowd, Gudrun opened his mouth with a swaggering air.

“Even now, if you kneel and beg for forgiveness, I might just forgive you by severing one of your arms.”

His tone was as if he were bestowing some immense act of mercy, and Bern chuckled.

Just moments ago, he acted like he’d strike off his head right away. Amusing, how he seemed to want to regain his dignity after a bit of time had passed.

“Even now, if you advise your liege with loyalty, you will at least be able to protect your honor as a knight.”

“So you’re determined to drink the penalty brew to the very last drop, are you!”

Gudrun drew his sword and rushed toward Bern.

A one-sided act of violence with neither a referee to mediate, nor even a signal to begin.

An action unthinkable in a duel, but Gudrun didn’t care.

In his reckoning, this was punishment.

Wasn’t it more absurd to meticulously adhere to regulations when chastising a mere commoner?

And, that action decided Bern’s course.

*Whoosh.*

Suddenly, Gudrun’s body soared skyward.

The spectators’ minds momentarily filled with question marks at the sight.

Very few fully grasped that Bern had seized Gudrun’s wrist as he charged, tripped him, and then flung him bodily into the air; thus, the audience felt the way a reader feels when encountering a comic book with a missing page.

However, their bewilderment was nothing compared to the terror Gudrun himself experienced.

For a fleeting, stunned moment, Gudrun hung suspended in the air, and only when he realized the ground was rapidly approaching his face did he desperately twist his body and execute a roll.

He managed to avoid a critical injury, but he couldn’t prevent his armor, which had been gleaming in the sunlight, from being sullied with dust.

“W-what? What was that just now?”

“I don’t know, Lord Gudrun just suddenly shot into the sky and fell back down.”

“Did that redhead adventurer do something?”

A beat late, the murmurs of those nearby bubbled up, and Gudrun’s face contorted with humiliation as he understood the situation.

He radiated killing intent as he once again leveled his sword at Bern.

Seeing the faint shimmer of light clinging to the sword’s tip, several knight apprentices’ eyes widened.

“Sword Qi!”

“Lord Gudrun intends to fight seriously, it seems.”

If the boundary that separates a 3rd-class mage from a 4th-class is the imbuing of properties into magic itself, the boundary separating 3rd-class swordsmen from 4th-class swordsmen is the presence or absence of Sword Qi.

Just as a body imbued with mana displays athletic abilities unimaginable to ordinary people, a weapon imbued with mana is incomparable to a normal weapon in terms of lethality.

Even a crudely made sword of cheap scrap metal, when imbued with *geomgi*—sword aura—could transform into a supreme weapon, cleaving through a knight’s sturdy armor like tofu.

Just as a third-rate mage could never defeat a fourth-rate mage in pure magical combat, so too could a third-rate swordsman never defeat a fourth-rate swordsman.

How could a proper fight even be established, when one was simply sliced apart along with their weapon upon contact?

“I may have let my guard down once, but there will be no second time.”

Bern didn’t exactly answer Gudrun’s words.

He merely stared blankly at Gudrun, without so much as an inclination to draw his sword.

From somewhere, the sound of teeth grinding together could be heard, and at the same moment, Gudrun assailed Bern with a dazzling display of swordsmanship.

The orthodox swordsmanship, acquired through systematic education and training—something difficult for adventurers who honed their skills through practical experience to ever reach.

Just as the shimmering *geomgi* seemed as though it would slice and bisect Bern’s body whole…

*Shwuk!*

Once again, Gudrun’s body soared through the air.

Except, this time, it was on a trajectory too low to even attempt a recovery roll.

*Kudangtang!*

The eyes of the audience widened at the sight of the massive figure, clad in gleaming armor, rolling about with the racket of an empty tin can tossed to the ground.

“T-this, this, this is…!”

His face contorted as if he couldn’t contain the rising frustration, Gudrun continued to hurl himself at Bern.

He maintained a set distance so Bern couldn’t freely attempt grappling techniques, and he also wove feints within his swordsmanship to lure out openings.

But no matter how, no matter in what manner he attacked, the result remained the same.

Gudrun’s body was launched into the air, and then tumbled wretchedly across the floor upon landing.

Within the repeating action, rage transformed into disbelief, disbelief into astonishment, and astonishment culminated in fear.

Even for Gudrun, a boar of a man, this was the point of no return.

The devastating chasm between himself and Vern, he could no longer deny it.

“……”

Gudrun, transformed into a grimy spectacle in barely ten minutes, stared at Vern, his face utterly devoid of confidence.

Unable to attack Vern, yet equally unable to lower his sword, he stood there, an awkward statue. The Lord of Frenia roared.

“Sir Gudrun! What in God’s name is this display?!”

Frankly speaking, Gudrun wasn’t exactly the most sterling example of a knight.

Short-sighted, emotionally volatile, and prone to rampages masked as loyalty, he was all these things.

Yet, he stood as Frenia’s foremost knight, guarding the Lord, thanks to a loyalty that, at its core, wasn’t entirely misplaced, and a considerable degree of skill.

But what was this?

Against a mere adventurer who hadn’t even drawn his weapon, he’d tumbled gracelessly to the ground multiple times, and now, he just cowered, like a dog expecting a kick.

Considering a Lord’s champion embodied the strength of their territory, this disgrace dragged even the Lord’s reputation through the mud. A monumental humiliation.

Gudrun squeezed his eyes shut.

Unable to withstand his lord’s pressure, he charged at Vern, even knowing there was no chance of victory.

He almost wished to lose consciousness.

“…A grade that doesn’t even deserve a failing mark.”

If a knight like this had been among his Golden Cloud Knights, he would have crushed him with his own hands and banished him.

Forcing away the fleeting, ‘Crown Prince’ reverie that momentarily surfaced, Vern moved once more.

Gudrun’s body soared higher than ever before, so high that the spectators had to crane their necks at a right angle to follow its ascent, before plummeting back to earth.

*Klang!*

A strange pallor settled over the lord’s face as he gazed at Gudrun, lying just before his feet, a mere hair’s breadth from being crushed had his orbit shifted but a fraction.

Thud, thud.

Bern approached the lord, speaking as he drew near.

“It seems the security in Frencia leaves something to be desired. With armed ruffians constantly attacking, one can hardly avoid employing a little self-defense, even just for protection. You, too, should take care, my lord.”

*No judgment, no mutual consent, no introductions, so this is no duel, and Gudrun is no knight. He merely defended himself from a thug who attacked him. But really, this is *your* territory, can’t you manage it properly?*

Some among the onlookers, failing to grasp the meaning of Bern’s words, tilted their heads in confusion; those who understood turned a ghastly shade of pale.

And the lord of Frencia was, without a doubt, among those who ‘understood’.

“……”

After a fleeting glance at the silent lord, Bern turned on his heel.

One step, two steps, three.

The lord, watching Bern walk away without a hint of regret, eventually swallowed his pride and forced the words out through clenched teeth.

“I… wish to commission a task. I apologize for my rudeness. Please, would you be willing to reconsider and discuss things again?”

Bern mused.

*He might have made a fool of himself, but he doesn’t seem beyond redemption entirely.*

*

After that, negotiations with the lord progressed surprisingly smoothly.

Despite the humiliation Bern had inflicted, his skill had been demonstrated so flawlessly that it was undeniable.

The treasurer, whose face had looked on the verge of collapse during the height of the argument, now spoke with a courteous demeanor, a hint of color returned to his cheeks.

“The first disappearance occurred two months ago. Truthfully, we didn’t recognize the severity of the issue at the time, and neglected it. It was only after the damage had escalated that we began a serious investigation and discovered that it was, in fact, the first incident.”

The first victim was Mary, the young woman from the herb shop.

She usually went into the forest near Frenia to gather the herbs she needed, a daily routine, but one day she vanished without a trace, no word at all.

“After that, young women disappeared one after another, whether they were going to pick fruit or gather firewood, getting close to the forest. The guard went into the forest after repeated petitions from the residents, but they couldn’t find the missing women. In the end, it seemed like the story would just end with women being told to stay away from the forest.”

But it didn’t.

Even women who hadn’t gone near the forest, like the baker’s daughter, the inn waitress, the village girl who spun thread, started disappearing one by one.

When even the precious daughter of a merchant group who was only passing through Frenia for business was added to the list of missing, this incident changed from a mere problem for commoners to a major event shaking the entire territory.

“Families with young women can’t even sleep properly at night these days. It’s alright if at least one family member is awake, but if no one is, they say that no matter how thoroughly you lock the doors, it’s useless, they just kidnap the women. Thanks to that, the whole territory is extremely sensitive and exhausted these days.”

The story of a father who lived alone with his daughter, who stayed awake at night for about a week, only to lose his daughter after nodding off for a single moment, and then wailing in despair, was so widespread, the stress and anxiety the residents are experiencing is beyond words.

“Please, I beg you. Please solve this case!”

Leaving the treasurer who kept bowing his head behind, the group gathered in the small mansion provided by the territory and began to discuss the matter.

“Huh, what a bizarre and terrifying incident. If I were in a similar position, I don’t think I could sleep worrying about my younger sister.”

“Before we can even talk about defeating the enemy, finding them is the problem. What do you think, Bern?”

“Well… first, I think we should go to the victims’ families and hear about the situation back then… um?”

Bern’s head turned towards the mansion’s front gate, and a few seconds later…

Knock, knock. Someone knocked on the door.

Lenya quickly moved to open the door, and a man with unremarkable gray hair and a beard, and somehow mischievous eyes, turned his gaze to the group.

“Hmm, should I say, ‘Excuse me for intruding on the mansion,’ or ‘Welcome to the city,’ I’ve been debating it for a while, but let me start with a self-introduction.”

The man grinned, and declared in a voice filled with warmth.

“Alces Butrea. Your senior, and a loser who miserably failed to complete the request and raised the white flag. I’d like to have a little chat, do you have some time?”