SODTAM | Ch 16

Episode 16 – A Man Like You, and You Call Yourself My Husband

The morning went by smoothly.

When lunchtime came, I wondered where to eat, then decided it would be nice to have it in Jave’s room for a change.

While watching the nanny feed him baby food, I ended up eating more than usual myself, leaving me full and satisfied.

I told the nanny to take a short break and stayed behind to spend some time with Jave.

That’s when it happened.

“Madam!”

The head maid rushed in, pale as a sheet.

I froze, startled, and Jave crawled over, grabbing my arm.

“You need to come right away.”

“What’s happened?”

“I didn’t see it myself, so it’s hard to explain…”

“Say only what you know.”

The nanny, hearing the maid call me, had already hurried back inside.

I kissed Jave on the forehead and handed him over, though he tried to cling to me.

“There’s a fight in the training yard.”

My heart dropped.

Normally, if knights fought, the captain or vice-captain settled it themselves.

For the head maid to come running like this… it had to be serious.

Would it be just some squabble among the knights before they left for the border tomorrow? Or maybe someone was badly hurt?

Whatever it was, the peaceful morning was shattered.

I grabbed the shawl I’d left aside and asked:

“How big is the fight? Are there injuries?”

“I’m sorry, madam. I don’t know the details. Only that His Highness the Prince and the Duke are fighting each other.”

“…What?”

My steps stopped dead. Thinking I’d misheard, I asked again.

“They said His Highness the Prince and the Duke are fighting in the training yard.”

The training matches had started lighthearted, meant to boost morale and amuse the knights before they left for the border tomorrow.

Half the knights were chosen by lottery to duel against someone who hadn’t been picked.

Since everyone had seen each other’s skills while living in the estate, it worked well enough.

The maids cheered on the men they fancied, while young servant boys who dreamed of knighthood huddled in the corner, eyes shining.

The duels went on round after round, ending with O’Hill raising his sword in victory.

The yard erupted with cheers.

But then, fired up by the excitement, Hilbardo walked into the center.

“I want to stretch my body a bit, too.”

The knights went wild at the thought of seeing the Empire’s living legend duel.

O’Hill, however, winced.

“Your Highness, I’ve already fought twice today…”

“So what?”

Even when Hilbardo promised to go easy or use only one hand, O’Hill still begged off. Finally, he gestured for someone else to step forward.

But every knight avoided his gaze, not daring to accept.

“No one at all?” he asked.

Silence.

He was about to leave, disappointed, when a voice rang out.

“I’ll do it.”

Ryan Stroud stood from where he’d been watching.

The knights froze. Behind him, the Stroud captain looked like he might faint.

Everyone knew the Duke’s sword skills weren’t in the same league as Hilbardo’s.

And Hilbardo wasn’t the type to hold back just because Ryan was his younger brother.

This duel could easily turn deadly.

“Hm.” Hilbardo studied Ryan, who now stood before him.

“It isn’t fair to duel the Duke in swordsmanship.”

Ryan’s pride cracked. He glared up at his taller brother.

“I won’t take special treatment. We’ll duel properly.”

“Then I’ll use only one hand.”

“No. No conditions. Fight me seriously.”

Ryan hated the thought of being pitied.

‘I won’t lose. Not to him.’

The referee knight, sweating, brought over two swords and asked once more if they really wanted to go through with it. Both agreed.

The signal flag went up—then steel clashed in an instant.

Knights split into two sides, cheering for Stroud or the Imperial Prince.

But Ryan quickly started falling behind against Hilbardo’s sheer strength. So he opened his mouth to needle him.

“I know why Your Highness came to the Stroud estate.”

Their blades screeched against each other, then broke apart again before clashing anew.

“You wanted something of mine, didn’t you?”

“You know me well.”

Hilbardo’s grip tightened, emotion heating his blade.

Ryan smirked.

“Your Highness. Violetta is mine.”

Hilbardo faltered for a split second. Ryan’s body surged forward, his rhythm broken.

“The Emperor himself gave her to me. Violetta is the Duchess of Stroud. Forever.”

Hilbardo stepped back, his expression icy.

The knights couldn’t hear their words, but they could see his fury.

“You think she’ll stay by your side forever? That I won’t take her?”

Ryan’s taunts backfired. Hilbardo now drove the conversation.

“I haven’t taken her not because I can’t—but because she doesn’t want me to.”

“Stop bluffing!” Ryan shouted, his sword wavering.

In that brief slip, Hilbardo lunged, his blade pressing to the end.

“Violetta is enduring this rotten marriage—enduring you—because that’s what she wants. A man like you… and you dare call yourself her husband.”

If he shifted his sword even slightly, Ryan’s life would end.

Hilbardo wanted to spill as much blood as Violetta had tears.

“So treat her well. Before I kill you myself.”

His lips pressed tight, straining to hold his temper.

Ryan sneered through blood.

“A Prince who covets his brother’s wife… what would people say of the Empire’s hero if such rumors spread?”

“Those rumors would hurt Violetta, not me.”

And indeed, people were cruelest to her. When whispers spread of the Duke’s affairs, no one blamed him—they blamed her.

“It doesn’t matter,” Ryan hissed. “She’s already covered in filth and gossip.”

That was it. Hilbardo snapped, hurling his sword aside.

Ryan tossed his own away, too.

“You have no right to say that,” Hilbardo growled.

“No one has more right than me,” Ryan shot back.

“You bastard.”

Hilbardo grabbed his brother’s collar and punched him hard.

The referee panicked, shouting for them to stop, but it was like watching men fight to the death.

O’Hill and Baron Kristi rushed to break them apart, but the fists kept flying.

Then—

“Stop this at once!”

Violetta burst into the yard, having run there the moment she heard.

Hilbardo’s fist froze mid-swing. He let Ryan drop to the ground.

The Duke spat blood, glaring up at his brother as if to say: Watch. She’ll choose me.

“You two—what on earth…?” Violetta faltered, words dying at the brutal sight.

Kristi quickly hurried over, pulling Ryan up. Violetta rushed to his side too, offering her handkerchief.

Hilbardo refused help from O’Hill, hiding his bleeding hand behind his back.

“The duel is over. Both His Highness and the Duke need treatment,” the referee announced, dripping sweat.

But no one in the crowd moved an inch.

As Kristi helped Ryan limp away, Violetta bowed politely to Hilbardo.

“I apologize, Your Highness. I’ll send the physician to you.”

But even as she spoke, her eyes never left her husband.

And that—hurt Hilbardo more than any wound on his body.