Two young men, neither particularly handsome, were suddenly flung into the air and landed amidst the crowd, provoking a chorus of startled screams.
Charlot Mecklenburg landed on the ground and realized that he was the only one left in the dueling field. By simple deduction, the two individuals he had just fended off and sent flying must have been the duelists of this confrontation.
Hmm, they were absurdly weak.
Then, he caught sight of a certain Miss Soumet.
It wasn’t any of the Soumet women he was familiar with—not Menielman Soumet, nor Dolores Soumet.
Fine then!
He also didn’t recognize this third Miss Soumet.
This Miss Soumet had a strikingly heroic demeanor that surpassed any noblewoman Charlot had met at the ball. She possessed a vitality uncommon among typical young women, akin to the captivating charisma of a Yue opera actress Charlot often came across online before his transmigration—an enigmatic mix of cold aloofness and charm.
She wasn’t dressed in an ornate, extravagantly tailored gown befitting a ball but instead wore an outfit entirely incongruous with the occasion: hunting attire. A snug, short-waisted jacket, well-fitted leather trousers, and a pair of slightly dusty boots gave her a vibrant and vivid presence.
This Miss Soumet initially wore an expression of impatience, but Charlot’s sudden descent and his bare-handed defeat of the two duelists left her momentarily surprised.
Inwardly, she couldn’t help but muse:
“No wonder Susie said she had prepared a surprise for me! I thought it’d be another dull and cliché duel, but she went all out with such a dramatic twist. This must have cost her quite a sum!”
“Our relationship isn’t even that close. Why would she spend so much on me?”
“Still, it’s dreadfully boring.”
“This sort of theatrical duel for a woman’s favor is beyond tiresome. Even with the added drama, it’s still... unbearably dull.”
“I already turned her down...”
Charlot soon realized he had become the center of attention. Looking at the unfamiliar "Miss Soumet," he felt a bit embarrassed, chuckled awkwardly, and was about to explain when someone called out:
“I, Julanser, am willing to challenge this gentleman to a duel for the honor of Miss Soumet!”
A young man, about twenty-seven or twenty-eight, strode confidently into the field. The crowd hurriedly parted to make way for him. It was clear that this Julanser held considerable prestige within the Ingrima Empire, likely coming from an extraordinary family.
Miss Soumet’s expression immediately darkened. She said, “Thanks, but I don’t need men fighting duels for me.”
Julanser gave her a slight bow and replied with elegance, “According to the traditions of the Ingrima Empire, a duel need not require a lady’s consent as long as both gentlemen agree.”
Charlot quickly interjected, “Pardon me, but may I decline?”
The words had barely left his mouth when Charlot realized his mistake. In both Fars and Ingrima, refusing a challenge was the mark of a coward. On the contrary, those who bravely accepted, even in defeat, would earn admiration.
Of course, this applied to standard duels.
Unofficial duels without a signed duel agreement typically prohibited fatalities.
For life-and-death duels driven by deep-seated hatred, a formal legal process was necessary. These could also involve seeking allies. On the Old Continent, blood feuds held significant importance. If one party refused, the law permitted the challenger to kill the other by any means, including assassination.
Unsurprisingly, Charlot’s words incited peals of laughter and a wave of mockery. Whispers of derision and disdainful remarks labeled him a coward, with some even targeting his appearance.
Julanser, however, maintained his composure and said graciously, “If you swear to never pursue Miss Soumet, I will permit you to forgo this duel.”
Charlot took a deep breath, suppressing his rising frustration, and replied, “Apologies, but if you were to use her full name, I might concede. Since you only said ‘Miss Soumet,’ however, I cannot back down.”
He picked up a rapier from the ground—the weapon of one of the previous duelists. With a casual flick, he tested its balance. It was a fine blade, though poorly wielded by its former owner.
Charlot’s statement drew a palpable reaction from the crowd.
Miss Soumet looked mildly surprised but soon said, “Are you from Fars?”
Charlot nodded and replied, “Yes.”
Miss Soumet nodded knowingly. “No wonder you charge ahead so recklessly!”
“My name is Aurora Soumet.”
“Menielman is a distant cousin of mine. Our family branches separated generations ago when we moved to the Ingrima Empire.”
Although she recognized this misunderstanding, Aurora Soumet wasn’t the type to hold a grudge. Still, she couldn’t resist a tinge of bitterness and added, “The First Rose of Fars truly never lacks duelists.”
Though it sounded like praise, the remark was a pointed jab at a particular individual’s pride.
If Menielman Soumet were present to hear it, she would undoubtedly bristle like a cat whose tail had been stepped on.
The Imperial Rose Incident was a deep scar in Menielman’s past, one she wished to avoid forever.
Too many young men had died because of it.
The origins of the incident were equally disgraceful.
Of course, this comment was also a stinging critique of nearly all noblewomen on the Old Continent, delivered with a powerful and unrelenting sting.
Compared to noblewomen who had to spend their own money hiring duelists for the sake of appearances, the countless men willing to challenge Saint-rank combatants or even die for Menielman Soumet spoke volumes. It was as if the First Rose of Fars towered like a mountain above every noblewoman of the Old Continent, casting a suffocating shadow.
No matter how beautiful or confident these women were, they could not compare to the sheer number of men who would duel for Menielman. Anyone uttering the phrase “The First Rose of Fars truly never lacks duelists” delivered an unparalleled insult.
As a man, Charlot could never fully grasp this sentiment.
Aurora Soumet realized her comment had inadvertently backfired, leaving her feeling strangely stifled.
Julanser remained silent for a long moment before bowing deeply to Aurora Soumet. When he finally straightened, his tone carried a hint of fervor:
“This gentleman from Fars, please allow me to challenge you to a duel for the honor of Menielman Soumet!”