Bowen, the referee, stands beside the two of them and verbally confirms the rules.
All figured out, so Almark and Polois nod silently.
After finishing pale confirmation, Bowen raises his hand gently, seeing each of them nod.
Along with that, the name of the athlete is introduced in a female voice in the venue.
First, the name of Polois was read out.
Normally I would bow my head or raise my hand to go with it, but Polois didn't do either of them.
After the name was called, Polois gracefully took three steps back.
The audience turns to see what begins.
As the audience watches, Polois slowly lifts the sword in his right hand, pointing the tip of the sword perfectly at Almark.
Your left hand is on your hips.
Then slowly wield the sword thrust against Almark on his left shoulder.
The spare eye, including the grin, remains directed at Almark.
For a moment.
At the next moment, Polois waved down his sword once and for all, poking his sword tip at Almark once again with a pinch straight.
"Merrick, the Stutz family owner, is the second son, Polois!
Poloise's well-attended voice echoes through the venue.
Ooh, the twist and applause comes from the audience.
"It's the name of a traditional duel of the nobles of the Kingdom of Galais."
Torque, who was watching in the backup seat, explains to the Galeins.
"When a nobleman comes to a duel with pride and honor, you name him."
"You're a guy who does flashy things."
Deg glanced at me.
"Cool."
I also add my honest thoughts.
"I can't do it to civilians. It's a name, so I'm doing it deliberately. I can't say I like hobbies."
Torque says, "If I were Almark, I'd go on."
"You can't stay calm if they imitate you like that."
Almark took a fresh look at the name of the polois.
I see.
Is there such a thing?
A nostalgic exhilaration wraps around Almark's chest.
I want to know who that emotion is, and Almark looks around.
Audience seats.
Support seats.
A lot of people watching over us both, far away.
And now I see it in front of me, the name of Polois.
Oh, yeah.
Almark realizes.
Similar.
This is similar.
North battlefield.
For a single ride between mercenaries.
For example, when a group of well-known mercenaries sees each other on the battlefield.
For example, when a glued war situation persisted for days.
The Mercenaries of the North sometimes entrust a war situation to a single horse, as in rituals.
Sometimes the victory or loss of a battle between brave men shapes the state of the battle that day and even affects the overall victory or loss of the battle.
So a one-horse fight is a battlefield hua.
Hanging the pride of the mercenary regiment to which it belongs and the course of the battle of the day, one strong man at a time from both sides advances as numerous warriors watch.
Even the mercenaries in the battle who live side by side are not allowed to lay their hands on all this time.
And they give each other names and fight with dignity.
Either one of them will lose their lives, until they can't settle for it and the warriors around them can't enjoy it.
Nor does Almark have exactly the experience of single-handedly fighting on the battlefield.
There was no way the child Almark could have gotten it out for a single ride fighting with the pride of a mercenary regiment.
But I admired it.
Is there a mercenary or something that you don't admire for a ride?
My father Raise.
Axe famous Gayzac or my father's one-armed Yargus.
Sometimes, Floating Commander Jerus himself.
Only one, out of the warriors in line, bears the pride, honor and victory of all of them.
How many times has Almark stared at his back?
I want to be one day myself.
I'll be there someday.
With such a burning vision.
I left the north and thought I would never have that opportunity again.
Having a ride on the battlefield, etc.
Of course this is not a real battlefield.
But can I do it?
If that's all right, I'll respond to his name with dignity and pride, honor and victory from my dear friends.
In the venue, Almark's name is read out.
Almark looked at Polois and grinned, slowly three steps back himself.
Then slowly point the sword you had at Polois, which is also directly in front of you.
Let's see you too. Are you motivated by appearance?
Polois laughed ridiculously at his mouth.
What can you do?
Confused blurring leaks from the audience as well.
But Almark's movements were not the same as Polois's.
Almark, keep the sword horizontal and to the right as fast as the wind cut sounds.
Slowly turn from there to the left.
Look at the warriors in line.
When he stops there with his sword turned to the left and slowly returns to the front again, Almark protrudes the sword straight at once, toward heaven.
See also the gods of heaven.
Almark's face, looking up to heaven with his sword, slowly turns forward again. A pattern of swords slowly drawn to the chest to match. With his fist as he holds it, he slaps his chest.
Strong, slap.
My courage is here.
It's a move that combines roughness and elegance that people watched accidentally breathe.
A move that brings together some divinity, even though it is never sophisticated.
Until now, no one had ever actually seen it on the spot.
But I was just overwhelmed by that move without a stray.
Northern flux.
Mercenaries' Rite of Ride.
Warrior's name.
To its force, Polois opens his eyes.
Almark kept his eyes open from Polois and told him in his heart.
Black Wolf Cavalry Deputy “Shadow Fang” Raise is the eldest son.
And in the last word, I can put all my thoughts into it.
"It's Almark."