The Courtesan in the Prosperous Capital 

The dearness of tragic love

The goddess Rhea Silvia plucks her lyre

◆

“Hurry up and choose!”

I grabbed one of the rapiers presented in front of me. Considering that he would allow me to choose a weapon before him, he expressed his honour and pride as a knight. My opponent promptly took another swing toward me.

It’s after dusk at a luxurious ballroom covered in white walls decorated with candles giving off golden auras and red drapery. The guests surrounding us were watching intently.

The person I’m facing is a relatively well-built young man with blonde hair slicked back. His face was flushed, and his breath smelt like alcohol.

He removed his extravagant ball gown coat made of shiny satin weave and handed it over to one of his bewildered attendants so as not to damage it.

I followed suit, removed my indigo ball gown leaving just a white shirt and realised my blunder when I had no attendant of my own to hand it over to.

“Ah, excuse me.”

I turned around to see…

“…Yes, Paladin?”

A young woman who appears to be a little older than me. I had recently turned nineteen, so perhaps she was a year or two older. Her black dress boldly revealed her captivating pale shoulders.

Her beautiful hair was tied back, and she had a refined nose. However, her most notable features were the colours of her irises. A mysterious shade of purple on one side and a golden colour reminded me of Valacirca on the other.

Heterochromia Iridum.

Her eyes seem to draw you in. The lines on the nape of her neck and the glossy curves of her red lips. Her slim dress emphasised her voluptuous chest, which caught my gaze. But, naturally, I averted my eyes.

“What can I do for you?”

Her voice swayed with a faint hint of sorrow and gave off the impression she was genuinely listening to whatever I had to say. I felt somewhat sympathetic as I saw how her smile trembled and her eyes gleamed.

It was pretty intimidating to be in the presents of a Courtesan, a high-class prostitute.

With a single gesture of her hand and the slight tilt of her head, it felt like she was controlling my line of sight. Honestly speaking, she felt much more daunting than my opponent. As I observed my current situation, a duel with a beautiful woman watching behind, how should I put this? It was very cliche, but even so, the thought sent chills down my spine.

“I’m sorry to trouble you, but could you hold onto this for me.”
“Of course”

When I asked her to hold onto my coat, she kindly accepted. So with that, my coat problem was settled for the time being. Returning back…

“How about we stop here?”
“Huh? Is the heroic Dragon-slayer scared? Don’t make me laugh!”
“You’ve already drunk quite a lot this evening. Surely you jest. Your joke has overstayed its welcome.”

I had intended to spin off our duel as entertainment created by the drunk atmosphere. Instead, he smiled back and stepped toward the long table filled with various colourful dishes on a white tablecloth decorated with flickering candles.

He cut the tip of the beeswax of a gorgeous candlestick diagonally in one motion. The candle’s wick was extinguished, and only smoke that rose afterwards remained.

Despite being under the effects of alcohol, his swordsmanship was vividly displayed with the cross-section of the beeswax. The surrounding audience was filled with praise.

“I’m serious.”
“That so?”

I guess it can’t be helped. I walked to the same table and swung my rapier toward an appropriate candlestick.

But nothing happened.

“Ha, a fluke?”

Undeterred by the bewilderment of the crowd and the taunt of my opponent. I lightly pinched the wix of the candle and lifted it up to reveal it to the surrounding audience.

It was sliced.

My blade had passed through the candle so cleanly on an upright angle that it didn’t look like it had been cut at first glance. So it appears there’s a difference in skill between us.

Once again, the crowd erupted with praise as my opponent trembled. We both knew neither of us could back down after such displays. My little act would only serve as a provocation.

I had charmed the people around me. I hoped that with my display of disparity in our abilities, someone would intervene in the duel to avoid any injuries or potential fatal blows to my opponent. I slowly looked around, but it seemed that none had such intentions.

I was feeling apprehensive. It would seem that we really have no choice but duel it out.

“By my honour.”

The young man raised the tip of his rapier towards the heavens, brought the hilt to the front of his face, and made a gesture of thanks. If you display this action, you have no choice but respond in kind.

I brought the rapier’s hilt to the front of my face and made a gesture of thanks. This was a ceremony to give gratitude expressed through a duel.

“By the good gods and my honour.”

The duel immediately began after we finished our gestures. The very next moment, I was astonished.

◆

The young man took a quick step. The tip of his rapier approached like a slithering snake.

I anticipated another three swift steps.

“Ha!”

His blade whirled through the wind. One after another, his blade struck three times in succession.

His blade split through the air. The sound of high-pitch wind and steel clashing against one another resounded loudly.

I countered using a proper swordsmanship stance, my right on the rapier’s hilt and my left hand on my hip. I was groaning on the inside.

“What’s the matter?”

I thought he was drunk. Was it all a ruse? Was he using cheap tricks to cover up his soberness, his flushed cheeks covered with makeup and his breath that reeked of distilled alcohol?

“Ha!”
“Agh!”

I deflected a strike directed toward my right thigh and countered with a strike of my own by flicking my wrist; however, my attack rebounded upon contact.

His blade swung vertically and horizontally in rapid succession with such speed I could barely make out his blade. Sparks flew as our blades clashed against one another. The onlookers cheered loudly at our flashy display.

The art of rapier sword-fighting is where ultra-fast exchanges and reflexes are challenged to their limits. The most known rule regarding rapier duelling is that the person who draws blood first wins. Quite different from other sword-style duels.

When you understand the rules, the fighting stance I have chosen is rational. My left hand is behind, and my right hand is forward, ready to strike with my rapier while using half my body to move around.

I wondered if I was prepared enough.

I decided to leave those thoughts behind and kick it up a gear, regardless of how prepared I could be. My focus was solely on winning and protecting the image of His Excellency and myself.

“Ha!”
“Agh!”

I mustered my strength into my next attack. My rapier forceable struck against his blade, opening his arms wider. The dull sound of steel roared thunderously as our blades connected. Trying to recover his arm’s reach, I struck against his blade even stronger and faster than my previous strike to block his attempt. He was shocked when his arms widened even further.

There’s no denying the art of duelling with rapiers. Speed and nimbleness were vital.

But even so, with well-trained muscle and violence, you can solve most problems with brute force!

After utilising my dexterity and speed, the strength of my muscle surpassed my opponent’s and shortly, he was overpowered. However, I made sure not to rely on the dragon’s power. I kept my strength at a level before my body and soul were mixed with the divine dragon factor. Enough to keep his strength at bay.

I dodged the blow he thrust out of desperation. Once again, my blade charged towards him. However, his footwork lost balance, and my blade grazed against his shoulder. I will probably have to apologise later.

“Ha!”

His shirt was torn, and blood was visible. The deltoid muscles in your shoulder are one of the thickest muscles in the upper body. So a light cut with a rapier shouldn’t injure him severely gave me a sense of security.

With the victory condition fulfilled, I immediately drew my sword away and gave some distance. Due to our high-speed clash, many spectators were lost about what had happened.

“Seemed like you tripped over your own feet. No surprise you’ve drunk way too much!”

I yelled as my fallen opponent stared at me with wide eyes.

“My blade caught your shoulder when you tripped over… we need to get you treated right away.”

I urged the attendance of the party.

“…alcohol is dangerous.”

When I reached out my hand, he surprisingly took it willingly as I helped him up.

“I acknowledge you.”

He whispered those words in a quiet voice. Then, with a dejected look, he was escorted by an attendant out of the ballroom. As I returned my rapier to one of the attendees, I started to ponder.

His Excellency Ethel can be seen among the attendance. His face was twitching. Was he trying to hold back his laughter, or was his face really jerking? I hope it was the latter.

“Excuse me. Um… are you injured?”
“No, fortunately, I’m fine.”

I answered her modest voice as I spun around. There standing in her black dress was the courtesan. She is a master of calligraphy and artwork, a social butterfly, and a person who sells her youth with a smile.

“That’s good. I’m quite relieved.”

Her fleeting smile bloomed like a beautiful flower. But how much is that smile of hers genuine? Was it all an act?

Out of nowhere, without warning, my blood ran cold without any divine revelation from my goddess. The feeling wasn’t overbearing like Valacirca but with a lurking chill where you realised a poisonous snake or insects were hidden beneath your clothing.

“May I ask for your name Sir?”
“I am William G. Maryblood, my lady.”
“Oh my! I have heard about deeds for quite a while now.”

I told her my name while placing my hand on my chest. Her eyes grew wider, and her jaw opened in surprise elegantly. She held her splendid closed folding fan to her lips.

“William G. Maryblood, please call me Lunaria.”

She said in an unhurried voice, making my head melt. Her voice alone was enough to lure any ordinary man and make them fluster over her. However, the response I felt wasn’t of attraction, sadness or love.

She was absolutely terrifying. Somehow she was more frightening than getting struck by the blade of a rapier.

She was very beautiful and had a sweet first impression. But I felt like I was being held at knifepoint by her with a deadly poisonous dagger.

While feeling the presence of His Excellency Ethel coming this way, I wondered how I got myself in this situation and started to recount what had happened so far.

Translator Note: Hey, thanks for checking out my translation. As you can probably tell, I’m translating something incredibly niche, but even so, I wanted to share with everyone how amazing Yanagi-sensei arcs are after the light novels. It’s already been over seven years since the light novels went on hiatus, but he has greenlit volume five in the making, but he’s still on sick leave. I would appreciate it if you could spread the news of this translation and maybe leave a comment. Thanks again!