152 The Weight of Power
Had it not been for the insight granted by the nectar, I wouldn’t have stood a chance in a direct confrontation. I would’ve been forced to evade and counter instead. Good thing I prepared ahead of time.
William had sparred with Felicia countless times before, honing his skills in dodging and striking back with precision. If necessary, he could have employed such tactics in this duel as well.
But this was the North.
Here, brute strength was revered far more than elegant technique.
To gain true recognition, he needed to win through sheer power alone.
At least all that effort paid off.
A heavy silence had settled over the gathered spectators.
It wasn’t that they doubted the outcome of the match, nor were they unwilling to accept reality.
Rather, they simply had no idea how to react to what they had just witnessed.
Harald seemed to notice their uncertainty, for he let out a chuckle and clapped William on the shoulder.
"The duel is over. Let’s head back and have a proper conversation. If we linger here any longer, I fear they’ll remain frozen in place all day."
William turned to the crowd and called out, "We’ll be passing through. Would you be so kind as to step aside?"
"Y-Yes! Of course!"
The villagers hurriedly parted, forming a wide path for them to pass.
William stifled a chuckle at their hesitant, almost reverent behavior.
They act like I’m some sort of legendary hero.
"Come now, let’s go!" Harald urged, giving him another friendly shove forward.
It was as if he was telling William to bask in the respect he had earned.
William saw no reason to refuse. With a confident stride, he followed Harald toward the lord’s manor.
As they walked away, the eyes of the crowd remained fixed on their backs, filled with admiration and awe.
All except for one.
A single individual stood amidst the sea of faces, unable to mask the tension in his expression.
This is bad.
Palmyr clenched his fists, sweat gathering in his palms.
The fact that a sixteen-year-old boy possessed monstrous strength was concerning enough.
But an even greater problem was the boy’s political instincts.
To the ignorant masses, this had been nothing more than a duel between warriors—a contest of strength between men.
But Palmyr saw it for what it truly was.
Every move William had made had been meticulously calculated.
Though his reaction time had seemed slightly slower than Harald’s, that was deliberate.
He had chosen to let Harald strike first, matching each blow perfectly but never outright dodging.
He wanted the people to see his strength.
William knew exactly what the Northerners valued and had given them the spectacle they craved.
And now, just as he feared, the people were looking at William as if he were a deity in the flesh.
If this continues, he will become a threat to House Calix. I need to cut him down before he grows any larger.
Not through assassination.
Palmyr wasn’t foolish enough to think he could take William down by force.
But politics? That was another matter entirely.
I need to meet with him. If I can engage him in negotiations and bring up the matter of his rights, I’ll already be halfway to victory.
Unlike Dain, who had returned empty-handed, Palmyr had no doubts in his own ability to bargain.
Or rather, if necessary, he had no qualms about twisting the truth, weaving deception, and manipulating the narrative.
William, for all his talent, was still unfamiliar with the intricacies of the North’s political landscape.
If Palmyr fed him the right misinformation, it would force him to hesitate, keeping him occupied while he scrambled to confirm what was true and what wasn’t.
Clearing his throat, Palmyr spoke up, feigning nonchalance.
"Come to think of it, I never did pay my respects to the viscount properly. It would be rude to leave without doing so."
"Might be a bit late for that," one of the knights muttered, "but better now than never. And while we’re at it, we might as well greet the young lord, too."
Damn it.
Palmyr’s eyes narrowed.
The knights, who had kept their distance from the power struggle until now, were finally starting to shift their loyalties.
And their choice was clear.
"Move aside," Palmyr snapped.
Ignoring the weight of the stares directed his way, he strode toward the inner castle.
He needed to reach William first.
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But when he arrived at the lord’s manor and sent word requesting an audience with William—
A low-ranking officer greeted him instead, arms crossed in clear disinterest.
"Oh, you’re a knight from House Calix?" The man gave a lazy shrug. "Sorry, but the young lord has no business with you. I suggest you turn around and go home before you embarrass yourself."
"…!?"
Palmyr stood there, mouth agape.
A mere squad leader had just issued him an official dismissal.
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Did I mishear that?
It wasn’t unheard of for a commoner to turn away a knight.
After all, unless the visitor was an esteemed guest, it was customary to announce their arrival through a servant. If the master refused the meeting, the servant would simply deliver the message on their behalf.
But that was only when the servant was acting purely as a messenger.
Here, this lowly soldier hadn’t even bothered to inform his lord of the visit. Worse, he had laced his words with outright mockery, dismissing the knight of House Calix as if he were a mere nuisance.
"…What did you just say?" Palmyr’s voice dropped to a dangerous growl. "No—before that, why haven’t you even relayed my reason for visiting? Who are you to make that decision on your own?"
The squad leader yawned exaggeratedly. "Because the young lord already gave us instructions. I’m not explaining it twice. You should leave. Don’t make this more troublesome than it needs to be."
"…You insolent bastard."
Shing—
Palmyr’s patience snapped. Before he realized it, his sword was already drawn.
For a fleeting moment, he hesitated—had he gone too far? But no, this was an opportunity. He needed an excuse to establish dominance before negotiations began, and now, one had fallen into his lap.
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