The next morning, at dawn.
"Wake up, Duke!"
Still half-asleep, Duke heard Lux's cheerful call. Blinking blearily, he instinctively supported his waist with one hand. After all, last night Vayne had done squats right in front of him, so intense that even his reinforced body was protesting.
If not for the soundproofing field he'd set up with his machines, the neighbors would surely have come knocking with complaints.
Again his hand pressed against his lower back, moving on reflex.
Lux noticed the odd gesture, her wide eyes filled with curiosity.
"Duke, what are you doing?"
Duke jerked awake at her words. After flailing through a few awkward motions, he quickly covered it with a long stretch.
"Nothing much. Just loosening up the arms first thing in the morning."
"Come on, hurry up! Breakfast is ready, and you've got a match today!"
"Alright, alright!"
He ruffled Lux's hair fondly. "You go on ahead. I'll get dressed."
"Mhm! I'll wait downstairs for you, Duke!"
"Got it."
After watching Lux leave the bedroom, Duke swung his legs off the bed. The moment his feet touched the ground, a sharp protest surged from his waist.
"No good… I'll need to rest properly these next few days. Can't keep overindulging like this."
He pressed against his lower back, breathing through the dull ache as he dressed, his expression torn between pain and a lingering smile.
Not long after, Duke came downstairs. Once he'd finished breakfast, he reached for his white coat, ready to head out.
"We'll be there to watch your match today," Vayne said softly, tidying the dishes.
"Good."
Duke flashed her a smile. She tucked the loose strands of hair behind her ear, moving with quiet grace. For a moment, she looked nothing like the cold huntress he knew, but more like a newlywed wife.
Yet Duke understood: this wasn't the real Vayne. Deep inside, she still kept hidden the ruthless Night Hunter who loathed demons with every breath, whose heart longed only to see changelings and warlocks perish in blood.
Once he was gone, she would return to that state.
But for now, she had changed, because of his presence.
Thinking this, Duke stepped forward and deliberately mussed up her freshly combed hair. Vayne's cheeks reddened; she gave his chest a light punch.
"Stop fooling around!"
"I'll see you both at the dueling ground."
With that, Duke slipped on his white coat and left the house. He walked slowly along the path toward the arena.
But the moment he stepped out from the residential district onto the main avenue, he sensed it, something in the atmosphere had shifted. The people were the same, yet the way they looked at him was different: cold, angry, even hostile.
"That's him!"
"Yes, that's the one!"
"He's the despicable outsider!"
"Shameless! Using such dirty tricks in the dueling ground!"
"Exactly. And didn't they say he was also present at the mage riot on Sentinel Avenue a few days ago?"
"They claim he even defended the mages!"
"Disgraceful!"
"To sympathize with those afflicted monsters…"
"He should leave Demacia at once!"
"Yes! Get out!"
...
Duke's ears twitched, catching every murmur. He rubbed his chin with a wry smile.
"So… Tiana's faction moved faster than I thought. First, a smear campaign to box me in, then psychological pressure to weigh me down. A clever move, I'll give them that. But not without counters of my own."
Hands in his coat pockets, he continued forward at his usual pace.
Whoosh!
He tilted his head aside just in time to dodge a rotten egg. It splattered on the cobblestones. Duke followed the trajectory back to find a boy of thirteen or fourteen glaring at him, fists clenched.
"Despicable outsider, leave Demacia!"
"You're unworthy of standing in the dueling ground of honor!"
"Leave the capital!"
Duke rolled his eyes. And who dragged this brat into it?
Forget it. At that age, kids were easily swayed by rumors, quick to act out when provoked. He could understand.
All of them… just pawns.
Pawns pushed forward by rumor, manipulated by those pulling strings behind the scenes, all to target him.
"Looks like it's time to hit back."
As he muttered to himself, a carriage pulled up beside him. The door opened, and a voice called from inside:
"Lord Duke, quickly, get in!"
Noting the family crest on the door, Duke raised an eyebrow but climbed in without hesitation. The driver cracked his whip, and the carriage rolled forward.
Inside, a noblewoman sat flanked by two young girls. She offered Duke a polite smile and extended her hand.
"Greetings. I am Lestara Buvelle."
"An honor, Lady Lestara."
Duke clasped her hand, returning the smile. This was the matriarch of the Buvelle family, mother of Siseria and Sona.
"I'm grateful for your timely help."
He inclined his head, then turned toward the familiar figure beside her. "Hello again, Sona."
Sona tapped lightly on the speech device Duke had crafted for her. "Duke, I'm glad to see you again."
Meanwhile, the younger girl at Lestara's side looked at him with bright, heroic eyes.
"Hello, Lord Duke. I'm Katerina Buvelle."
"You must be Siseria's little sister, then?"
"Yes!" She nodded firmly before blurting out, "Lord Duke, in today's duel, are you really going to use those strange weapons of yours again?"
"Katerina, mind your manners," Lestara scolded gently.
But Duke waved it off. "That was my original plan. But now… it seems I'll need to change my strategy."
"Lord Duke, the truth is… your reputation in the capital has grown rather unfavorable." Lestara's tone was measured.
"I know. And I know exactly where the rumors come from," Duke replied evenly. "Which is why I can't afford to back down."
"Then what do you intend?" Lestara pressed.
Instead of answering directly, Duke asked, "Tell me, if the dueling ground is damaged in combat, will I be held responsible for reparations?"
"No. Any destruction caused during a duel is exempt from compensation."
"That's good enough." Duke nodded.
"You don't mean…" Lestara's eyes widened as she realized what he was suggesting.
"Don't worry, I won't use weapons of mass destruction. I'll simply demonstrate my strength, loudly enough to silence the doubters."
Then his expression softened. "But I'd like to ask a favor of you."
"Speak freely."
"Find out who's pulling the strings behind this smear campaign. I'd like to… return the courtesy."
Lestara hesitated. But this young man stood firmly on the same side as her family, and her eldest daughter owed him a great debt. Finally, she nodded. "Very well. I'll make inquiries for you."
"My thanks."
"By the way, is Lux currently staying with you?"
"Yes."
At the mention of Lux, Duke's smile warmed. "I found a place here in the capital, it wouldn't do to keep troubling Marshal Tiana. And since she's my disciple, of course she stays with me."
"I see. Tomorrow, there's a gathering at the Church of the Illuminators. May I ask if Lux would be permitted to attend?"
"Of course. She'll be at the match today as well, you can ask her yourself."
"She'll be there too?"
Katerina's eyes lit up, Sona's as well.
"Yes, she'll be there."
"That's wonderful! I haven't seen Lux in ages!"
"Then today you must take the chance to catch up."
Duke ruffled Katerina's hair just as the carriage drew to a halt. They had arrived at the dueling ground. He glanced outside, then bowed slightly to Lady Lestara.
"I'll take my leave here."
"Do your best, Duke!" Sona clenched her tiny fist in encouragement.
Duke chuckled, nodded, and stepped down from the carriage into the arena.
Once he was gone, Lestara exhaled softly. She had come deliberately to shield him, after all, as loyal supporters of Jarvan III, the Buvelle family could not allow an ally like Duke to be crushed by such petty schemes.
"I only hope all goes smoothly…"
With a sigh, she led her daughters from the carriage.
...
"The match is about to begin. Please prepare to enter the stage."
The staff member left without further pleasantries. Duke didn't mind. Soon enough, the jeers would be silenced.
He rolled his shoulders, stretched, and stepped into the tunnel leading toward the dueling ground.
From the passage, he could hear the roar of the crowd. The announcer had just finished introducing his opponent. Now it was his turn.
"And now, let us welcome the challenger from Piltover, Duke Sanchez!"
The moment the words fell, a storm of jeers swept through the stands.
"Despicable outsider!"
"Get out of Demacia!"
"Leave the capital!"
"You don't deserve the dueling ground of honor!"
"Out of Demacia!"
"You're unworthy of the word 'glory' itself!"
"Out of Demacia!!"
End of chapter....
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