Ch.1Voluntary Retirement (1)

# Two weeks after the Lorenz County incident. A small southern city of the Empire, Maxiburg.

Even in an unremarkable city, the sunlight still visits.

Whether donkey-drawn carts follow the ruts in the dirt road, or people drunk since midday hiccup while picking their teeth with their fingers,

Or even if someone gets thrown out through a wooden restaurant door. The only thing that visits the Empire with fairness is sunlight. Not order, not rules.

The man who rolled two meters away was clearly an old man. People passing by rushed over saying, “Oh my goodness,” but once they realized who “that old man” was, they all withdrew their hands and stepped back.

In the midst of everyone’s silence, a glove dropped at the old man’s feet.

“I challenge you to a duel.”

The man who threw down the glove was a giant who appeared to be over 2 meters tall. His beard grew thick like a chestnut burr. His small eyes, nearly buried in his flesh, gleamed with greed.

If even one of his fingers were to touch the old man’s thigh, the unfortunate elder would have to live with a bed for the rest of his life—such was the muscular bulk of this man.

“P-please spare me.”

“Will you accept the duel?”

The old man’s chin trembled.

Passersby couldn’t bring themselves to speak. None of them sympathized with the old man. He was known as a miser, a money-grubber, a terrible old man who would be buried with his money when he died.

But at the same time, the passersby were indignant. They had expected the old man to be thoroughly scammed or have his house burn down in some moderate fashion, not to meet his end by being beaten to death by a bandit knight.

“Hey, old man.” The giant bent down. “You stepped on my foot first and walked away. When I asked for an apology, you ignored me and left. I take this as an insult to me, an Imperial Knight. So I’m challenging you to a duel. Is that a problem?”

The giant pointed to the shoulder pad on his left arm. There was clearly the white rose emblem signifying an Imperial Knight.

Judging by how the border’s color changed depending on the viewing angle to prevent forgery, it was definitely genuine.

Of course, there was a possibility that he had stolen the shoulder pad itself and was wearing it, but the country folk of Maxiburg couldn’t be expected to harbor such suspicions.

“I-I apologized! I bowed my waist several times in apology, but you threw me out…!”

“I demanded a sincere apology, not empty words.”

“You demanded all my possessions!”

“You tried to damage my foot, so I deserve at least that much.” The giant snorted. “Look here. I make my living on the battlefield. If my foot gets injured, how am I supposed to fight?”

The old man clenched his fist.

“…Half.”

“Huh?”

“I’ll give you half. Half. Any more than that…”

The giant gritted his teeth and grabbed the old man by the collar.

“Ack…!”

“Let’s settle this like men. Like men. I don’t need your money. Let’s just settle this here. According to the Imperial Dueling Decree, you can find someone to fight in your place, and if you wish, I will accept the disadvantage of fighting with only my arms sticking out of a box.”

The color drained from the old man’s face.

His opponent was “Goetz.” A vicious knight. A thug in the name of knighthood. A money-obsessed man who would crawl under a gangster if paid.

But his most vicious act was precisely this kind of “duel.” He would pick a fight with someone he had been eyeing for a long time. Like now, he would wait for the old man to pass by and deliberately stick out his foot to get it stepped on.

Then he would bring up his status as a knight and demand compensation. If compensation was paid, he would call it a settlement, but if not, he would challenge them to a duel on the grounds of being insulted.

Because during a duel, one could legally kill a person.

And they said that a knight who could defeat Goetz could only be found in the capital.

However, knowing that robbing just anyone would bring harm to himself as well, Goetz sought out those with bad reputations who had accumulated wealth but were physically weak.

Like this old man. No one would fight in his place. No one would take his side.

“I’ll pay someone to duel in my place!”

The old man shouted.

“A quarter, a quarter of my fortune! It’s money I’ve saved up carefully after my wife and children died from the plague! Please, anyone…!”

No one stepped forward.

“I’ll give you a third!”

Knight Goetz folded his arms. “If you don’t clearly state your intention by the count of three, I’ll consider the duel accepted.”

“Half! I’ll give you half!”

“Two.”

Goetz’s face was full of smiles. The onlookers’ feelings were complicated.

Should they take the side of an old man they had never sympathized with, or should they just watch him get beaten to death legally in broad daylight?

Was that old man bad enough to deserve death at someone’s hands?

“One!”

Goetz’s hand grabbed the old man’s neck. That’s when it happened.

“I’ll do it.”

A man walked out from the crowd. Goetz’s already small eyes narrowed. The old man gasped for breath.

It was someone he had never seen before. Of course, Goetz was also a stranger here, but during his nearly two weeks of preliminary investigation, Goetz and his subordinates had completed a basic survey of this village.

He knew that this old man was hated by everyone, and also that there were no strong fighters in this unremarkable village.

But suddenly, completely out of nowhere, a warrior he had never seen before stepped forward. Though a bandit knight, Goetz made his living on the battlefield. He could tell by the gait, attire, posture, and the fact that the man was armed.

A breastplate protecting the chest and abdomen. Judging by the absence of shoulder pads, he seemed to prefer free arm movement.

A sallet helmet with a chin guard. Though called a helmet, it looked like a deep basin turned upside down with elongated eye holes.

Underneath, he wore brown leather garments, and Goetz, who had been the eldest son of a tanner, recognized at a glance that the leather was made from buffalo hide—soft, flexible, yet difficult to tear.

In other words, extremely rare and expensive.

The sword at his waist was a common standard Imperial sword.

A somewhat awkward handle—slightly too short for two hands, a bit too long for one hand. A round pommel at the end. But a perfectly balanced body.

It was the same type as Goetz’s own sword. That’s why what caught Goetz’s attention was the object in the man’s right hand.

A walking stick.

Anyone could see it was a walking stick. It wasn’t a six-foot staff used by apprentices in training, nor was it the type of staff used for spear training. It was an ash walking stick about 1 meter long, banded with metal, the kind an elderly person with leg pain might use.

“Why does a man with perfectly good legs carry a walking stick?”

That was also why Goetz couldn’t contain his curiosity.

“According to the Imperial Dueling Decree,” the man recited, “you can find someone to fight in your place, and if you wish, I can even fight from inside a box.”

The original text was longer and more complex, but Goetz gritted his teeth. The man before him was provoking him. Daring to provoke Goetz.

“But your limbs seem fine, and I don’t like getting into boxes. I don’t like getting into barrels either. So I’ll take on a penalty.”

“What penalty?”

Tap.

“I’ll fight with this walking stick.”

“Are you crazy?”

Goetz muttered sincerely.

“Stop talking nonsense and draw your sword. Let’s fight sword against sword.”

“Walking stick.”

“You know crazy people aren’t subject to dueling laws, right?”

“Walking stick.”

“What kind of idiot…”

“Walking stick.”

Goetz shook his head. There’s always one crazy person like this. Beating up this kind of person wouldn’t be satisfying, and there would be nothing to gain. Just as he was thinking his luck had turned bad…

“Are you scared?”

The walking stick man suddenly asked. Goetz’s eyebrow twitched.

“What?”

“I suppose you have reason to be scared. If you’re worried about breaking your foot just because an old man stepped on it once, your bones must be weaker than those of your parents lying in the ground.”

“What did you just say…”

“Seeing that your ears are failing too, it seems your time has passed. Unfortunately, Maxiburg is a poor city. For a soup kitchen, you’d have to go at least to Engelburg. That is, if you can walk that far.”

“You son of a bitch!”

Goetz was furious. But the man just planted his walking stick on the ground.

“Animals aren’t subject to Imperial dueling laws. Dogs included.”

“Draw your sword! No, even the walking stick is fine. Alright, I accept! I’ll piss on your skull today!”

“Hold on now.”

Goetz’s muscles twitched, unable to contain himself any longer. The walking stick man pointed at the old man.

“He hasn’t hired me yet. So sit nicely and wait. Don’t bite people, okay?”

Goetz, now reduced to a dog, was enraged, but while all the passersby and the old man looked at Goetz with fear, the walking stick man remained calm.

“Old man. Will you buy my services or not?”

“Can you win?”

The old man swallowed. The walking stick man sighed.

“Sir. Do the math. If I back down, you’ll die at the hands of that bandit knight. You could choose to give up all your possessions and survive, but then you’d starve to death. Instead, if you hire me, you’ll at least save half your fortune and your life. Whether I die or win. Doesn’t that make sense?”

The old man understood. The walking stick man took out a rolled-up document, an inkwell, and a quill pen from the bag at his waist.

“Sign there. Write the exact amount. If you can’t read, you can just dip your finger in the ink and leave your fingerprint…”

“I can read!”

“Then write the exact amount.”

The grumbling old man began reading the document. As he read, he made a choking sound.

The shocked old man looked at the walking stick man with a dumbfounded expression. The man put his finger to his lips.

The old man hurriedly nodded and signed the document.

“Contract complete.”

No sooner had the words ended than the walking stick man removed his helmet and threw it aside. Clank. He even unfastened the scabbard at his waist.

A face with black hair, brown eyes, and a slender countenance was revealed. He wasn’t handsome enough to be called a beauty, but his eyes were clear. The eyes of a hunting hawk.

The walking stick man lightly bounced in place, making thump, thump sounds. Goetz cracked his neck. The two men walked to the middle of the road. The walking stick man pointed to a somewhat sturdy-looking man.

“Excuse me, could you throw a pebble? You know what I mean, right?”

The man hurriedly nodded and picked up a small stone. It’s written in the law, but it’s also common knowledge often appearing in literature and songs.

A duel requires a notary. A passerby will do. And one of the passersby must give a fair signal.

Typically, a pebble is thrown between the duelists, and the duel begins the moment the stone hits the ground.

The walking stick man and Goetz faced each other at a distance of 20 meters.

The pebble rose slightly and then…

Tok.

Surprisingly, Goetz didn’t charge first. He took a defensive stance with his sword held diagonally in front of him. With his opponent holding a walking stick and himself wielding a standard two-handed sword, there was no reason to rush in.

Meanwhile, his opponent just stood there, leaning on his walking stick. No, he wasn’t just standing there. While supporting himself with the walking stick in his right hand, he raised his middle finger with his left.

“You’ve done well to survive with such a girlish chest. You must have been picking at corpses on the battlefield. You don’t live up to your size.”

The passersby snickered. A vein throbbed on Goetz’s forehead. Still, he restrained himself. He knew that letting his guard down meant death. He was also used to such provocations. But it was hard to ignore how the muscles in his right hand, waist, and both thighs were screaming.

Urging him to rush forward and cut off that arrogant man’s neck.

Right hand. Waist. Thighs. The walking stick man nodded. And suddenly charged. At an angle so straightforward it seemed stupid.

Straight into Goetz’s front, directly diving in.

Goetz shouted and slashed horizontally through the air. It was a stable slash with the center of gravity in his body. He focused more on checking the opponent than landing a decisive blow.

The walking stick man deceived with his body and avoided the sword. As expected. Hadn’t he lightened his body by removing his helmet and unfastening his scabbard? That’s why Goetz threw his left fist.

It was a technique he often used on the battlefield. First, fix the opponent’s attention on the sword in his right hand, then deliver the decisive blow with his left.

“Die!”

He felt something catch. The smile disappeared from Goetz’s face. He had aimed for the walking stick man’s face. But the man momentarily tilted his head slightly.

What should have flown toward his face merely grazed past the man’s earlobe.

‘He read me?’

The surprised Goetz ducked his head. The walking stick man thrust his arm upward from below. The tip of the walking stick aimed for his chin. Goetz pulled his chin back.

Crack.

Thanks to his build, or perhaps his body accustomed to pain, Goetz didn’t lose consciousness. Instead, he jumped backward, shaking his dizzy head.

“That was a direct hit.”

The walking stick man scratched his chin in disbelief.

“Let’s hit you some more.”

It took one second to strike both of Goetz’s knees alternately with the walking stick. One second to strike the forehead of the kneeling Goetz with a thwack. One second to uppercut his chin and knock him down. And finally, one second to push back his Adam’s apple.

Goetz fell backward. The blow to his throat from the end of the walking stick prevented him from speaking properly. All he could manage were choking, gagging sounds.

“Bandit knight Goetz von Bärringen. I arrest you under the Imperial Civil War Prevention Act. According to the law, all your possessions will be confiscated, and your subordinates will also stand trial.”

“Who… who are you to… an Imperial Knight!”

Goetz struggled to raise his head. The walking stick man showed him the scabbard. As an Imperial Knight, Goetz recognized the emblem on the scabbard. A shield engraved with two eagles—one dying, one raising its head. A torch drawn below it.

The emblem of the Security Bureau.

“I’m an Imperial official.”

In his final moment, Goetz looked up at the rooftop of the adjacent building. He saw a hooded subordinate with the sun at his back.

“Tsk.”

Fortunately, Goetz was able to see his subordinate chewing on his finger.

And then he finally lost consciousness.