Chapter 17: Scapegoat [2]
"...Huh?"
Even Ilya looked mildly surprised. Beside him, Siegfried frowned, while Elise and Lucie exchanged puzzled looks, neither of them understanding why Gilbert had nominated him instead of himself or Jerome.
Then it clicked.
Across the clearing, one of the opposing knights let out a knowing laugh.
"I see."
He turned toward his own teammates.
"Then we’ll send Helene of House Neidhardt."
This time, it was Helene’s turn to blink in surprise, pointing at herself.
"...Me?"
The meaning behind both nominations became ridiculously obvious.
Gilbert had never intended for the strongest swordsmen to settle the matter.
Within the first-year Knight Department, nearly everyone was familiar with the general standing of both Ilya and Helene.
The moment Gilbert called Ilya’s name, the opposing team’s knights immediately understood what he was implying.
"What do you say, Ilya Belozersky?" Gilbert asked. "You up for it?"
The implication was obvious.
Refusing had never really been an option. By nominating the weakest knight from each team, the responsibility for the outcome would naturally fall upon whoever lost the duel, preventing resentment from spilling over onto the rest of the group.
In other words, a scapegoat.
It wasn’t a particularly noble solution, but it was an effective one, allowing the stronger members of both teams to avoid unnecessary conflict before the expedition had truly begun.
Ilya remained silent for a moment before shifting his gaze toward the opposing side.
"Helene."
"H-Huh?"
"Do you want to do it?"
Helene hesitated.
She understood exactly why her teammates had chosen her. Within the first-year Knight Department, everyone knew Ilya’s reputation, but they also knew the reason behind it.
He had fallen from the expectations placed upon the heir of House Belozersky, a family that measured its successors against monsters rather than ordinary knights.
Helene, on the other hand, never had that sort of burden. The daughter of a Viscount, she simply lacked the talent to stand alongside the academy’s more gifted students.
Unlike Ilya, whose mediocrity was judged against greatness, Helene had always just been... untalented. In practical terms, however, the conclusion was the same.
She would probably lose.
Naturally, both Ilya and Helene understood what was happening.
No one was forcing Helene into the duel. The moment her teammates nominated her, declining had already become the most difficult choice she could make, because the burden would simply fall upon someone else instead.
If she stepped back now, the duel would still happen.
The only difference was that, from now on, she would become the teammate who refused to shoulder her share of the burden.
It wouldn’t be the supply crate her teammates remembered.
It would be the moment she turned away, confirming every prejudice they already held about her, that she was an incompetent knight, unreliable when it mattered, too timid to step forward, and unwilling to cooperate.
"If you don’t want to," Ilya said, "you don’t have to. Don’t let these kids pressure you."
"...."
For several long moments, no one spoke. The clearing fell completely silent as both teams waited for her decision, every pair of eyes fixed upon her.
After taking a slow breath, she finally looked back up and gave a small nod.
"I’ll do it."
"Alright," Ilya replied as he stepped forward. "I won’t hold back."
Without another word, the two walked into the center of the clearing.
They drew their swords almost simultaneously, their edge leveled squarely at one another.
"Begin!"
The moment the signal was given, Ilya pushed off the snow-covered ground and closed the distance between them.
Helene raised her sword to intercept the first strike before immediately stepping back to create space.
Clang—clang—clang—clang——!
Neither of them rushed to overcommit.
Ilya’s attacks remained as fundamentally sound as ever, while Helene relied on careful defense, waiting patiently for opportunities to present themselves instead of recklessly forcing an opening.
Neither possessed the overwhelming skill to dominate the exchange, and as a result, the duel gradually fell into a pattern of measured attacks and cautious counters.
The spectators quietly watched from both sides.
"...They’re pretty evenly matched."
"I kind of expected that."
Clang——!
Helene’s blade slid along Ilya’s before the two separated once more. Both of them were breathing a little harder now, yet neither had managed to land a decisive blow despite the dozens of exchanges that had already passed between them.
Then, during yet another exchange...
Clang——!
The moment their swords collided, Ilya’s blade suddenly gave way.
The upper half broke away from the hilt before spinning through the air and landing several meters away, leaving only the jagged remains of the blade in Ilya’s hand.
Helene quickly withdrew her sword the instant she realized what had happened, while both teams stared blankly at the broken weapon lying in the snow.
"...T-That concludes the duel..."
"Hold on!" Gilbert immediately retorted. "That doesn’t count! His sword broke!"
"It counts."
Gilbert frowned. "How? The duel ended because the weapon failed!"
"That’s still considered a loss," the student replied. "It’s in the academy’s regulations. A knight who loses the ability to wield his weapon is no longer capable of continuing the engagement, regardless of the reason."
He pointed toward the broken sword lying in the snow.
"Besides, weapon management is considered part of a knight’s fundamentals. Whether the blade broke because of poor judgment, excessive force, accumulated damage, or simple bad luck doesn’t change the result. Once the sword breaks, the duel is over."
"...."
"...That’s the rule," one of the opposing knights added with a shrug. "We’ve all heard it before."
Gilbert clicked his tongue but said nothing more.
The matter was settled without any further objections.
Gilbert and Jerome were visibly dissatisfied, yet even they couldn’t reasonably place the blame on Ilya. He hadn’t been decisively outmatched, nor had he embarrassed the team through poor performance.
The duel had simply ended because his sword broke, and to everyone else, it was nothing more than an unfortunate stroke of bad luck.
With the ruling finalized, the academy cargo was handed over to the opposing team.
Ilya didn’t fret over the result, walking over to Helene and extending a hand.
"That was a good duel."
Helene looked at him for a moment before accepting the handshake.
"...Did you hold back?"
"No," Ilya answered. "I really didn’t. Cross my heart and hope to die."
"...Alright."
A faint smile appeared on her face.
"I’ll see you around, Ilya. Good luck with the rest of the examination."
"Yeah. You too."
As Helene turned to leave, something caught Ilya’s attention.
"...Hm?"
There, just under the collar of her uniform, was a faint reddish mark along the side of her neck.
"Hey," Ilya called out. "Did you get a boyfriend?"
"H-Huh?"
"Your neck—"
Before Ilya could finish, Helene quickly slapped a hand over the spot before taking a hurried step backward.
"N-No!" she blurted out. "I didn’t! It’s just... an insect bite!"
She nodded to herself far more vigorously than necessary.
"Y-Yeah! An insect bite! That’s all it is, okay?"
"Uh, yeah. Sure?"
Without waiting for another response, Helene hurriedly turned around and rejoined her team.
Before long, the opposing group lifted the supply crate and disappeared deeper into the forest, leaving only Ilya’s team behind in the clearing.
"What a shame," Siegfried said as he crouched beside the broken sword.
He picked up one of the larger fragments and turned it over in his hand before glancing back at Ilya.
"This is going to be a bit of a problem. Do you have a spare weapon, Ilya?"
"Yeah." Ilya nodded. "Don’t worry. I brought another one."
"That’s a relief."
Siegfried smiled before lowering his gaze to the broken blade once more.
"...Huh?"
As he examined the fractured edge, something caught his attention. Stuck to the steel was what appeared to be a thin layer of frost, far colder than the surrounding snow, almost as though the blade itself had frozen from the inside.
He narrowed his eyes for a moment, silently wondering whether he was simply imagining it, before brushing the surface with his thumb.
"...?"
The frost didn’t quite resemble ordinary ice, nor did it feel like the residue left behind by conventional magic.
Before Siegfried could dwell on the thought any longer, a hand landed on his shoulder.
He turned around, only to find Ilya standing behind him with the same indifferent expression on his face.
The air around him seemed to grow noticeably colder.
"Something wrong, Sieg?"
"Ah... no."
He glanced at the fragment one last time before casually tossing it onto the pile of broken steel.
"Come on. We’d better catch up with the others."
"Yeah."
Comments