Tristan shook his head, snapping out of his violent imagination. He watched Den approach one of his guards to collect a sword.
'Remain calm. We can't kill him,' Tristan chanted inwardly.
He had spoken about his option of killing them and all. And although he remained capable, he understood for a fact that battling more than 5 men at their level would be annoying.
All those at the table moved out of their seats the moment Den unsheathed his blade. Except for Lucia. She shocked herself at how calm she could be. Or was it just her trust in Tristan? He could never lose that fight.
"You've chosen such hardship boy. All for her. I desire to understand why this is so," Den already entered a stance not minding the fact that his opponent hadn't.
"Truth is. I don't want weak men to take her. Weak and foolish men," Tristan stated, quite bluntly.
"And you consider me foolish?" Den frowned, reaching a new level of feeling insulted.
"You have three wives. No sane man would do that. So yes," Tristan responded unapologetically. "You're likely to use her however you want, and I'd rather die than watch such happen."
His words were blows to Den's ego. But most especially because they were true. For a fact, his father had forced him to take the offer. His brothers had also encouraged him.
Besides Lucia was a fair maiden for a woman her age. Had he known he'd face such he'd have never agreed.
"And here I was doing this as a show of goodwill to the less fortunate. You all truly are thrash," Den spoke those words with every bit of malice and ill intent. He wondered why his opponent had not entered a stance.
"We don't want your pity," Tristan responded feeling he and Lucia had been insulted.
"But you need it. Why else would this old man come begging my father to allow him to offer his only daughter," Den gave a mocking smile. "Filth begat filth."
"You take that back!" Lucia's words slammed into their ears bringing forth their attention to her.
She stood, eyes wide open as tears streamed down her cheeks.
Tristan saw this and felt his string of rationality gradually wear thin.
"Oh-oh. The young lady has revealed her wretchedness. You all deserve no form of merit," Den spat, revealing his genuine opinion on the matter.
"She doesn't mean that," Lord Ior chipped in frantically. Somber. Den burst into laughter at that point, almost completely forgetting that Tristan stood before him.
"This is hilarious don't you all think?" The young master spoke glancing at his guards. They kept their gazes lowered, however. Except master Ged.
The others came from backgrounds no less than that or worse. They had learned to live with the young master's privileged attitude.
Den saw his guards and furrowed his brows recalling some of their backstories. He clicked his tongue and focused on Tristan again, ignoring Lucia's tear-filled glare.
"Why don't we take this up a notch? We'll fight publicly, and the loser would have his clothes stripped from him. But if I win you will not take her hand in marriage." Tristan explained, drawing gasps from the mouths of his audience.
"I already don't want that bitch. Her eyes are ugly." Those words stabbed through Tristan's chest, but he didn't address the young master's insult again.
"If you're scared then we can do it here. If not, I shall lead you to the town's center and we will have our duel there."
Den felt his ego get hurt again and his pride fueled his imagination even if doubts started to appear.
'Young master, you shouldn't," Ged spoke up, unable to have that anymore.
"I accept it," Den announced disgusted by his personal guard's intrusion.
"You should keep shut Ged. I'll handle all this myself," Den hissed.
"Lead the way," he commanded, and Tristan did just that, regardless of Lord Ior's protest.
The man started to beg at some point whilst Lucia left for her room. Tristan understood the consequences of his actions if things went bad for the young master.
Nonetheless, he'd keep his promise to himself. He'd rather die than watch a weak man take her only to treat her as the fourth.
The guards standing watch outside the feast chamber followed those two men, uncertain about what actions to take.
Tristan led them out of the mansion, through a few streets, and finally arrived at the central point of the town.
The gray statue of a winged lady adorned with a blue crown unfolded in their eyes and around it was a significant amount of space, enough to set up a small party of about 50 people.
The news about their journey through the streets of Medrial spread like wildfire. And soon several townspeople peeped through their windows or were there physically.
"You've decided to make a fool yourself publicly," Den snorted, entering another stance, and the people gasped.
"Before we move on do you promise to leave Lucia and the town in peace if you lose?" Tristan asked doing all he could to keep Lucia okay. Even if he knew it was all futile. He preferred to lie to himself.
"I swear by my family's name that I will not hurt Lucia or the town of Medrial," Den placed his right hand on his chest—feeling confident in his ability to win.
Tristan's expression, however, disturbed him. The seemingly unbothered gaze of those black eyes felt like they stared into his soul. knowing fully well what he had in mind.
"You can choose the rules of our duel," Tristan revealed nodding to the man's earlier words.
A tinge of smugness appeared on Den's features at that announcement, but he hid it expertly to not lose face before the townspeople.
His confidence spiraled now that he was to choose the rules. Surely he would pick something that suited him. And he did.
"The first to be forced to their knees," Den announced and Tristan could almost see where things were going.
A grin appeared on the young master's face, but an equally wide grin appeared on Tristan's.
"It's fucking annoying trying to play calm. Now that we're here let's end this." He drew his sword entering a high guard.