A Scumbag Always Gets What He Deserves

9: The duel

Hall was paralyzed with fear. He could hardly believe what he'd just heard. His father had to know that once the duel began, Rege could take his life at any time. How could his father be willing?

The old Duke pointed at him and ordered again, "Get dressed, grab a sword, and duel!"

"Dad, I'll die! Please save me," Hall pleaded in a trembling voice. Tears mixed with snot streamed down his face.

His wretched, ugly, craven appearance provoked even deeper disgust from the knights of Grande. Beyond question it was shameful for them to serve such a man.

Standing outside the gate, the nobles watching the fun were secretly laughing up their sleeves. If the old Duke really chose Hall as the heir, they could join forces to carve up Grande's wealth in the future. Hall, that worthless wretch, was simply incapable of holding on to such a vast and rich piece of territory.

The old Duke knew what everyone was thinking. He too had realized the foundations of the Grande were crumbling.

Consequently, when the Duchess ran out of the castle and grabbed at his arms, piteously begging him not to force her son to duel, he pushed the woman away viciously.

He pointed to the two lions standing proudly at the entrance and said coldly, "Either duel or lose your position as heir, choose one. If I immediately divorce your mother, you'll no longer be the eldest son of Grande. You'll have nothing."

These words hit both Hall and the Duchess dead center.

The two people instantly froze. Their idea of muddling through by begging and crying was dashed. They realized everything they had came from the old Duke's charity, and this charity could be withdrawn at any time.

"Dad, no, I'll go, I'll duel." Hall tried to get up but fell several times. He was so scared his legs wouldn't support him.

At the old Duke's signal two manservants helped him up and sent him into the castle to dress.

A short while later, Hall came out carrying a long sword and wearing heavy armor.

Rege finally turned around to examine the other party. Seeing the armor and the sword, his lips curled with contempt, and he immediately cast a mocking glance at the old Duke.

The two items were his father's treasures. One was indestructible, the other could slice through iron like mud. As a child, Rege had dreamed of possessing them but wasn't permitted even the lightest touch.

His father said the two armaments had led him to countless victories. They were the distillation of sweat, blood, and glory. If Rege wanted them, he should use his own sweat, blood, and glory to infuse his armor and sword.

The young Rege was shaken by the words and consequently implemented this idea throughout his life. Whatever he wanted he seized with his own strength, for this was the code of a knight.

But now, these two treasures were strapped to the body of the good-for-nothing Hall. How was he qualified? On the basis of cowardice, weakness, contemptibility, and indecency?

So all the blood and glory his father spoke of was actually bullshit, right?

"The ideal is tainted, isn't it?" Rege shook his head and murmured.

The corners of his mouth turned up, as if he were smiling, but a cold and violent storm gathered in his eyes.

The old Duke sensed the change in his mood and hastened to admonish, "Stop when it's time, don't kill anyone! I'll be watching you!"

With those words, the Duke took up the knight commander's sword and waited for the fight to begin. He was the only person in the entire continent of Tortus who could fight evenly with Rege, and he had the ability to save his eldest son from his second son's blade. The moment Rege revealed killing intent, he would step in.