Charlot Mecklenburg had spent two years working in the Central Government Office of the Fars Empire, making him highly familiar with the empire’s bureaucratic processes. Drawing on his experience, he cleverly prepared three identical “legally binding” duel documents and sent one to Mostar Castle, asking for Duke Joseph’s wife and High Priest Auguslatin to witness the duel.
The Duchess and the High Priest promptly signed and returned the document. Only then did Charlot deliver the official duel document to Hughes’ camp.
Hughes made slight alterations, suggesting the inclusion of Saint Viggo of South Seraph as a third witness. Charlot, unconcerned, agreed to the modifications. Once all parties had received their copies, the formalities for the duel were complete.
The next morning, the Duchess, the High Priest, and even Baron Febollet ascended the city walls to observe the duel, eager to support Charlot.
Although Baron Febollet felt slighted by not being invited as a witness, he was nevertheless excited, muttering incessantly:
“Take down those South Seraph restorationists! They’ve stolen my money, my paintings, my furniture…”
“Hughes, you’ll die a miserable death.”
“No one steals from me and gets away with it. I curse you to fall under Charlot’s blade.”
“Charlot, give it your all! If you kill that thief who took my treasures, I’ll speak to my sister and get you another promotion.”
Charlot had already broken through three enemy encampments, forcing Hughes to abandon his siege of Mostar Castle and regroup. However, the people inside the castle still found themselves trapped, unable to escape.
By noon, Charlot and his troops, along with Dubin Alger, Yellow Bear, Anastasia, Gwen, Bancroft the Wind Wolf, and eighteen warriors from the Redback Bear Tribe, arrived beneath Mostar Castle’s walls. Charlot was fully prepared for battle, determined to end Hughes’ reign on the battlefield.
Hughes, too, had arrived, accompanied by the South Seraph restorationist leaders, assembling under the castle walls.
Both sides held deep-seated animosity, and neither was interested in wasting words. From the castle walls, the Duchess’s gentle voice rang out:
“Today, Charlot Mecklenburg and…”
A rough voice interrupted her, shouting, “Not Hughes! It’s me who will duel this murderer Charlot.”
“I am Zolman of the South Seraph restorationists, and I will bury the Behemoth Principality!”
“Charlot Mecklenburg, do you have any last words?”
Zolman’s declaration energized the South Seraph forces, who cheered wildly. Many of them were familiar with Zolman’s prowess and believed he would kill Charlot and avenge Jonan.
Charlot’s killing of Jonan had been unforgivable to the South Seraph people, and each of them longed for vengeance. They all hoped to be the ones to take down Charlot for their fallen leader.
This was Charlot’s second official duel, and he had no idea his opponent had been switched. Facing Zolman, a South Seraph restorationist leader in his fifties but still as vigorous as a youth, Charlot couldn’t help but quip:
“Who are you?”
Zolman, enraged, shouted, “How dare you not know my name?”
Zolman was indeed a well-known figure in South Seraph, and even across the empire. As the second-in-command of the restorationists, he had been second only to Jonan. If not for his age, Jonan might not have handed the leadership to Hughes.
Charlot, entirely confused, had never heard of Jonan, let alone Zolman. He couldn’t understand why Zolman was so furious at his ignorance, so he made an offhand remark that only made matters worse:
“Well, you don’t know my name either.”
Zolman’s fury intensified—he was absolutely livid.
Charlot, speaking with complete sincerity, wasn’t lying; he truly didn’t know Zolman’s name. However, Zolman knew Charlot Mecklenburg very well. The South Seraph restorationist leaders had practically memorized Charlot’s dossier.
This fact only enraged Zolman further. He roared, “I am your duel opponent! Let us settle this with blood!”
Charlot had prepared extensively for Hughes, but these preparations were now irrelevant. Annoyed by the unexpected switch, he reluctantly called for the duel document. After reviewing it carefully, he saw Hughes had made small wording changes, making the duel opponent a vague “South Seraph leader.”
Cursing inwardly, Charlot thought, These locals have learned to manipulate documents.
What Charlot didn’t know was that internal politics within the South Seraph restorationists had led to this switch. Some factions didn’t want Hughes to gain too much prestige. If Hughes lost the duel, his rising reputation would be curtailed.
On the walls of Mostar Castle, the three prominent nobles—the Duchess and Baron Febollet—exchanged confused glances, unsure of what the South Seraph people were up to.
High Priest Auguslatin, however, watched with interest. Initially indifferent to the duel, he had dismissed Charlot as just another mid-tier Transcendent. Few knew this secret, with only Hughes among the South Seraph restorationists aware. But Hughes had considered this detail unimportant, so he hadn’t warned Zolman.
Zolman stepped forward, shouting insults and accusing Charlot of cowardice for not stepping onto the battlefield.
After waiting over ten minutes, Charlot finally entered the arena and remarked:
“I always thought my duel opponent was Hughes. Is your internal infighting so severe?”
“Hughes actually sent you to die on purpose?”
Zolman, already furious, was even more enraged. Initially hesitant to face Charlot’s impressive battle record, Zolman’s confidence soared when he learned Charlot was only a low-tier Transcendent. Reading about Charlot’s youthful embarrassment of streaking through the streets only deepened his disdain.
“I’ll beat you until you streak again!” Zolman bellowed, thinking it was a potent insult.
Charlot’s face darkened as he glanced at Hughes, who shrugged indifferently. To Hughes, exposing Charlot’s past was a necessary sacrifice to unify the South Seraph people, and he felt no guilt.
Taking a deep breath, Charlot reassured himself:
“Maybe these old stories will cost me a marriage with Annie, but with my current position, I might not need to live off a woman anyway.”
“Today, every single one of these bastards must die.”
“Even if I have to summon an Evil God, I won’t let them live.”
In an instant, Charlot adjusted his mindset. Drawing the Blood Rose, his battle intent burned brighter than ever before.