The silence in the hall increased until all that could be heard was Dallion’s breath. In his mind, we went through what could have been, imagining his attack puncturing the Archduke’s son, or at the very least throwing him back into the wall, along with several more nobles.

Slowly, all heads turned in the direction of the Archduke, waiting for his decision on the matter. As a supreme ruler of the province, second only to the Emperor, he could do anything he wished, including punishing Dallion for the intent. Thankfully, he appeared rather amused instead.

“Yes, good call,” he said, looking at Dallion. “There might be a few who can’t deal with point and line attacks. Don’t use those in the fight.”

Itella’s makeshift shield broke apart as the weapons changed to their previous form. There was not a scratch on him, but it didn’t take one with music skills to see the fear emanating from the young noble. Up to this point, it was unlikely his life had ever been threatened, making him treat it as a game. No doubt he had suffered the effects of similar attacks dozens of times within the awakened realms—any awakened who’d passed the third gate had. In the real world, the consequences were a lot more dire, though.

“It would be a shame if the duel stopped here,” the Archduke said. “Things were just getting interesting. Show us what you have in store.”

Dallion nodded. He didn’t have the luxury to refuse, even if his left arm remained in considerable pain. He was still able to move it, and even do attacks, thought blocking strong attacks was going to prove an issue. Taking a deep breath, he changed his stance, shifting sideways with the right side towards his opponent.

The Archduke’s son was a different matter, though. The hesitation was clear. Had he not been put on the spot, it was entirely possible that he just ended it here, most likely grumbling how barbaric hunters were. His father’s reaction changed everything.

Thank you for that, one of Itella’s weapons said unironically. It’s a needed first step in making him see what life is like beyond the realms. The boy never went to war, unlike his father. Some fear will do him good.

Seconds dragged on. None of the opponents wanted to make the first move, though for various reasons. In the end, it became clear that it was up to Dallion again. Despite his current state, he had obtained the momentum, so had no choice to lose it.

This is a good learning experience for you, too, Harp said. Now you have to work for your win.

The comment made Dallion crack a smile. Only Harp could say such a thing.

“Darude,” he whispered, and charged forward.

The harpsisword did a diagonal slash aiming at Italla’s shoulder. Still slightly taken aback, the noble parried it with his right arm. That proved to be a mistake. The force of Dallion’s attack moved the noble’s arm to the left, placing it in front of the other and effectively making any counterattack impossible. The mistake was so amateurish that for a split-second Dallion considered it to be a trap. In order to test it out, he attacked again with his left arm.

There was no way such a weak attack could cause any harm, but even so, Itella blocked it with his right arm again, making his situation even worse.

He’s lost it, Nil said. Best find a way to put him out of his misery. The longer you prolong this, the more it’ll look like bullying.

He wasn’t like this during our last fight…

Wasn’t he? That also ended in a similar fashion. Back then, the only consequences were a weapon getting hurt. Not to mention that there was a mage present.

There’s a mage present here, as well.

True, but one working for his father.

There didn’t seem to be any good choices. If Dallion defeated Itella in a humiliating fashion, relations between them were going to get even worse. On the other hand, if he didn’t, he risked earning the ire of more nobles, including the Archduke’s father.

Having fractions of a second to make a decision, Dallion chose the go for a victory. Itella was a noble in name only, while the Archduke and a vast part of the elites were in practice.

All hesitation vanished. Dallion twisted, attacking his opponent with the whip blade again. Maybe Itella sensed that something was wrong, for he hesitated, but blocked with his right arm, anyway. The weapons had clearly seen the mistake of their owner, for they unfolded, aiming to protect as much of his torso as possible. That too was a mistake, for Dallion didn’t go for a slash with his harpsisword. Building on the momentum of his action, he combined athletic and acrobatic skills to do a turn with a low sweep. The back of his left leg slammed into Itella’s ankle, catching him completely unprepared. The noble’s increased body trait wasn’t able to withstand the force, giving in and causing him to topple over.

Got you, Dallion thought.

Showing no signs of mercy, he proceeded to perform a multi attack, aiming for the gaps left unprotected by his opponent’s weapons. Before the tip of the blade could get anywhere near, Dallion felt the sword be yanked out of his grip.

“That will do,” the Archduke said, holding Dallion’s harpsisword. At a snap of his fingers, a series of servants rushed to the scene, helping his son up and discretely stopping any notion of protest before it happened.

Hate, shame, and resentment oozed from the young noble. Dallion’s only hope was that it wasn’t targeted entirely towards him.

“An interesting weapon,” the Archduke said, focusing his attention on it, as if the duel had never taken place. “Three centuries old, at least. An Evanizer, I believe. Or one of his apprentices. How exactly did you get it?”

“I bought it, your grace,” Dallion replied, taking a few steps back. “By chance.”

“Must have been quite the stroke of luck. Most would find the weapon useless, but for one skilled in music…” he didn’t finish the sentence, throwing the weapons straight at Dallion’s chest.

Dallion wanted to say that his fast reaction was the reason he remained unharmed, but it was clearly obvious that Harp was to thank. The harpsisword guardian had tilted the tip slightly mid-flight, causing the blade to move away from its intended target point, sliding off his armor instead. Had she not, or had Dallion been slightly slower, this would have caused a serious wound.

“The weapon seems to think highly of you.” The Archduke leaned back. “That’s the first sign that you’re doing things properly.”

Polite laughter filled the room. For some reason, the scene reminded Dallion of his experience in Aspion’s mansion back in Dherma. Back then, the village chief maliciously wanted to prevent him from becoming an awakened to maintain his power. Here, the Archduke was using Dallion to send a warning to his own family. The really terrifying aspect of the whole thing was that, with the exception of Itella, there didn’t seem to be a note of maliciousness in the entire hall. No one was remotely concerned what would happen to Dallion one way or the other. They were just enjoying a spectacle.

So that’s what nobles are, Dallion thought. They could be nice, understanding, caring even, but at the end of the day, they were the strongest beings in the world, and they were fully aware of it. The reason Nerosal was different was because all the nobles there already had been taken down a peg or ten.

“Interesting person Evanizer,” the Archduke continued, casually. “A bit of a loner. Some historians claim he could have challenged the emperor himself, but preferred to spend all of his days making weapons. He even loved his wife and children less than his craft. Of course, he was an otherworlder. Just like you.”

Dallion remained silent.

“What do you think of my son?” The archduke continued the game.

“He’s sheltered,” Dallion replied. “With his knowledge and training, he should have been able to take me easily.”

The response caused a slight stir.

“You’re saying that I should make him a hunter?”

“I wouldn’t presume, your grace.”

“Hmm, maybe not a hunter. Maybe I should have just sent him to train a bit under March, like my brother did.” He gave Falkner a glance. Even through two halls, everyone could see Falkner tense up. “With everything going on, maybe he’ll have a chance to experience it first hand.”

A single gesture let Dallion know that he had outstayed his welcome in the main hall. With a bow, he quickly moved to his proper place. Shortly after, a servant approached, handing him a small pouch. The servant didn’t debase himself to explain what that was for, but it was pretty clear—the Archduke had found the performance amusing.

Could have been worse, Nil said as Dallion made his way to March and Eury. At least you got something out of it. Just don’t open it. Hunters are expected to be mercantile, but checking the amount here would mean you’re challenging the archduke’s generosity.

Quickly, Dallion put the pouch away.

“Could have been better,” March said, critical as always. “You gave him too much slack.”

“How many noticed?” Dallion whispered the obvious question.

“Most of the nobles,” Eury replied. “You shouldn’t be worried. They didn’t seem to mind.”

“That’s the issue with the children of nobles,” March went on, not even bothering to lower her voice. “They’re spoiled into thinking they have the strength to be something they aren’t. Get something to eat. You’ll need food for your arm to heal.”

Almost on cue, larger portions of food were brought to the hall. As much as the food was good, Dallion couldn’t enjoy it. He could feel everyone’s glances at him, as if he were an exotic pet of sorts. As a hunter this was good—it was very likely he’d get a lot more paying clients in the future. As a person, the banquet wasn’t something he was prepared for. It was just like a venus trap: alluring, shiny, slowly closing around him to the point he could only suffocate and surrender to his fate. The strong would have no problem surviving, while the weak were destined to perish. As Nil and Harp had often warned him, Dallion was in a precarious situation right now. Acknowledged as a potential threat, though not a full noble, he was going to be the target of attacks more and more. After all, the best way to eliminate the competition was before it could reach the stage at which it was acknowledged to be competition.

The conversations returned to their dull pre-duel state. Nothing spoken was of particular interest or significance. All the talk was about settlements, cities, and noble domains and the daily problems they had running them. The topic of the poison plague was not mentioned once, not were the Star cults that Dallion knew to be increasing in the province.

“Lady March.” A servant approached with a slight bow. “Your presence has been requested. Please, follow me.”

“Alone?” the woman asked.

“With your team, of course.”

“Except for him,” a new voice said. The city overseer had appeared without warning, in typical fashion. “He’s needed elsewhere.”

The servant gave the overseer a quick glance. As far as the palace hierarchy went, the overseer was nothing more than a guest, even if he ran the entire city. At the same time, even a senior servant didn’t have the authority to go against his requests without the support of a noble. Since there was none nearby, all that he could do was turn to March again.

“Quite good company you’re keeping,” the overseer noted as Dallion’s teammates left the hall, following the servant. “Little Eury was quite the prodigy. Then again, most otherworlders are.”

“You knew her?” Dallion gave him a surprised look.

“I know everyone who's been to the city. I just choose not to talk to most. Come along, it’s time to escort you to the Night Auction. A piece of advice: don’t spend all your funds on the first item. Most first timers make that mistake.”