Chapter 601 – Rusty Duel.

The clash between the brothers continued while everyone watched from the sides. The noble ladies hid their faces behind gem-encrusted fans, and the gentlemen smiled without bothering to conceal their interest. This was one of the moments they loved the most, when rivals fought and turned it into a spectacle. None of them truly cared which brother would be victorious, yet for some reason it seemed that Arthur was gaining the upper hand, at least for the moment.

“Bastard. If you will not kneel before your betters, then perhaps a wager is in order?”

Ivan said as he glanced at Roland, who was standing to the side.

“A wager?”

Arthur replied, already beginning to understand where this was leading. He turned his eyes toward the man standing beside Ivan. Sir Hadrian was a well-known knight, infamous for his temper. From Roland’s perspective he suited the third brother well, since that one preferred to solve every problem with brute force.

‘Hadrian, if I am not mistaken. He is an Aura Knight.’

Before coming here, Roland had gathered information on all the knight commanders and mercenaries of note who might appear. Among them were Lady Bernadette, who accompanied Julius, and the powerful mage who served as Tybalt’s retainer. In terms of strength, Hadrian was formidable and likely a more dangerous opponent for Roland than the old mage. Yet he still ranked behind the paladin and Theodore’s bodyguard, who was probably the strongest of them all.

That assessment, however, had been made when Roland possessed the entirety of his half-plate armor. The guards had confiscated his cape and gauntlets, leaving his suit incomplete. He considered the hidden spatial compartment in his boot, which still held one of his remaining elemental suits, but retrieving it was not an option. Even so, there were still ways to acquire equipment when it came to a duel.

Arthur tilted his glass just slightly, as though weighing the wager in his mind. The nobles leaned closer, hushed voices rippling through the hall. The challenge was already understood by all who stood witness. A duel. Not between the brothers themselves, but between the steel that served them.

“If that is the game you wish to play.”

Arthur said at last, his voice calm and measured.

“Then I will oblige. But we must ensure it is fair. Would you not agree, brother?”

“Fair? What fairness is owed to a mistake like you?”

He threw his hand outward, gesturing toward Sir Hadrian. It was clear that he understood what Arthur was referring to. At a glance, Hadrian’s gear was far superior, forged from pristine metal and marked with enchantments that were supposedly forbidden within the castle.

“My knight has no need for excuses. He will carve your dog to pieces, armor or no armor.”

A sneer twisted Hadrian’s rodent-like face as he stepped forward, his enchanted armor gleaming unnaturally bright beneath the chandeliers. The polished mithril was etched with runes of the highest quality, each one waiting to be activated. The bowl-cut hair framing his crooked nose made him look almost ridiculous, yet his infamy silenced any laughter. No one dared to mock him, for he was a force to be reckoned with.

Roland did not move. He stood in silence, allowing the crowd to compare Hadrian’s gleaming figure with his own plain attire. His cape, gauntlets, and several armaments had been taken from him by the guards before the ball, leaving him a shadow of what he might have been in his full suit of armor. Arthur knew this, which was why he raised his voice just enough for all to hear.

“Since our host’s guards have been so diligent in their duties, I must ask for some time to see my knight properly equipped. Surely even you, brother, do not wish this matter to descend into a farce.”

A ripple of agreement moved through the nobles. Even those who cared little for Arthur’s position knew that a duel stripped of fairness would bring shame upon the one who demanded it. Ivan’s grin faltered for a moment before he mustered up a laugh.

“Fine. Dress him up however you like. It will not change the outcome.”

Arthur inclined his head slightly, his smile sharp in a way that Ivan seemed to despise.

“Then we agree. The duel shall be held outside beneath the open sky in, how about two hours? It is only fitting that all present bear witness.”

“Two hours? Make it one.”

Ivan answered quickly, a frown on his face. He then gestured toward a servant who hurried forward and bowed.

“Give this man something to wear.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Roland observed the exchange and instantly knew that something was wrong, but he held his tongue. They were in enemy territory and had no choice but to follow the rules. The fact that he had gained even a single hour to prepare was already more than he had expected.

The servant bowed low and gestured for Roland to follow. Arthur’s gaze lingered on him for only a moment, but Roland caught the subtle flicker in his eyes, a wordless reminder to be cautious. He followed the servant out of the grand hall, past marble pillars and tapestries, until the sounds of music and gossip faded into silence.

The path twisted through narrow corridors seldom used by nobles. Dust clung to the air, cobwebs stretched across corners, and the lanterns here burned weaker. At last they stopped before a pair of wooden doors. The servant pushed them open with a creak and inside lay the so-called equipment chamber.

‘Even this place has parts like this?’

Roland was a little surprised. He had expected the innermost castle to be well maintained in every regard, yet even this place had its forgotten corners. The dust-filled chamber resembled an old storage room more than an armory suited for a knight. It was obvious to him that the servant was working under Ivan. If Roland went back to complain about this treatment, he might receive better equipment, but it was far more likely that it would only serve as an excuse to mock Arthur.

“Is there an issue, Sir Knight?”

“…No, everything is fine. Return in an hour to guide me to the dueling grounds.”

“Of course, sir. Take your time.”

The man seemed somewhat surprised by Roland’s answer but quickly bowed and retreated down the corridor. His footsteps echoed long after he was gone. Roland waited until he was sure no one was watching before moving deeper into the chamber.

The smell of dust and rust hung heavy in the room. Old helmets and dented breastplates lay in heaps along the wall, their surfaces corroded with age. Spears with cracked shafts leaned at awkward angles in one corner, their tips bent and dulled from long neglect. A rack of swords stood nearby, but most of the blades were chipped, their edges blunt and jagged. This was no arsenal for a knight but instead a graveyard of forgotten weapons.

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“Quite the treasure trove…”

Roland muttered with a sigh, prodding one of the armor racks. A cloud of dust burst into the air, stinging his nose. Nothing here was usable, of that he was certain. True metals of higher quality gave off mana or other energies, and he had already swept the entire chamber with several of his skills. None of the equipment reached tier three standards.

“A few of these look promising, but they would shatter after one proper exchange.”

He examined a sword coated with a thin layer of mithril, but the deception was plain to him. His background as a blacksmith made it easy to see that it was only a cheap replica. The faint outer layer concealed the simple iron within.

‘An inexperienced knight might take it at face value and wield it. Was that what they were aiming for?’

The items here were in terrible condition and completely unusable. A better strategy would have been to leave or perhaps ask one of the regular guards for a suit of armor to borrow instead. However, Roland was not an ordinary knight commander. He had come prepared.

‘They will probably be quite surprised when I return… I just need to make it look believable.’

Roland had no intention of leaving this room within the hour. It was impossible to make use of the rusted steel lying around, so he would instead downgrade some of the equipment he had brought with him. From his pocket he pulled out something that resembled a handkerchief. In the upper right corner was a small metallic plate shaped like a hexagon, engraved with the symbol of the Kingdom. He injected a bit of mana into it and the concealed rune activated, revealing the hidden spatial spell within.

‘They left a few guards behind, but none of them seem well versed in magic.’

After clearing some space on a dust-covered table, Roland began setting out his tools. His spatial inventory contained his runic smithing hammer along with several other useful items. Among them was a vial filled with a brownish liquid, something essential for the deception he was about to perform.

‘I just need to make it look convincing.’