1

The Langorian knights had their misgivings about the turn of events, but a formal challenge had been issued and they could only respect the age-old custom. Both parties made way and left a circular clearing between them, right in the middle of the road. Fortunately, there was no more traffic in sight.

“Um, are you really going to do this?” Izumi came to ask Yuliana when she found the chance. “No matter how you look at it, it should be my turn now.”

“Stay out of this,” Yuliana curtly told her, before stepping into the circle to meet the young Baron. "Don't make things any worse than you already have."

The look in the knight princess's eyes was enough to silence the woman. There was no friendly care or compassion to be seen anywhere in that gaze, no hint of the warm emotions that had been there earlier in the morning—only profound, righteous disapproval and disappointment.

That look felt oddly painful to Izumi. As though she had been stabbed, she absentmindedly touched her chest.

You can't do anything right, you fool of a girl!

Don't you understand anything I try to tell you?

Useless. You're useless!

Get lost!

—“You all right?” Riswelze appeared by her side and asked, bringing Izumi back to her senses. She realized her pulse was unnaturally quickened.

“Hey, do you think I'm evil?” she ended up asking aloud.

“Huh?" the assassin girl frowned. "What's that now?”

“Just a thought,” Izumi said, looking at her open palm. “I ended up killing a lot of people right after coming to this world. That's just the kind of a world this is, there's no avoiding it—or so I thought. It wouldn't make much sense to try to apply the morals and ethics of my world into this one. The history, the rules, and the values should be completely different. In the beginning, I didn't even think any of this was real. But maybe I was wrong, after all? Maybe there's no real difference? Death is still a heavy thing. In many ways, it seems even heavier than before. Does taking life so lightly mean I'm a monster then?”

Riswelze shrugged.

"Well, did you enjoy killing all those people?"

“It wasn't really a matter of pleasure, I think. Kind of like cleaning the toilet. Even if you don't like it, you do it anyway, because it's a straightforward thing to do, and makes things more convenient in the long run.”

"Do you regret it then?"

“Not really, I guess.”

“If that's the way you sincerely feel, then what's the problem?”

“Maybe it's a problem that I don't regret it? Maybe I should be hurting now? It could be that I'm missing something essential that every other person has and don't even realize it.”

The girl sighed at her words.

“Look, I don't mean to sound like I'm bragging, but I've killed a whole lot of people too, over the years. That's kind of what being an assassin is about. I didn't exactly choose this lifestyle for myself, but neither am I seriously trying to stop it. Like you said, just cleaning the toilet. If I don't do it, then somebody else has to. Does that make me evil to you? Does that mean everybody who died is 'good' solely because they once lived, and that their killer is always wrong for sending them to their graves? I should think not. There are some sick bastards out there, as you've seen, who deserve every bad thing that's coming for them and more. Do I regret killing them? Why would I? Maybe I ended up killing a few people who didn't entirely deserve it along the way, but nobody's perfect. The milk that's spilled and so forth.”

“That's what I thought,” Izumi nodded. “But what if people do have something invaluable like soul or humanity, which they can lose if they do too much bad stuff? What if evil is like a sickness that sneakily corrupts people from the inside, like in all those RPGs? One day you look in the mirror and realize that your karma meter has turned pitch black and you have horns jutting out of your head. You've become evil, can't feel anything nice anymore and only think about the next life you're going to destroy.”

“Let me ask you then, what exactly is so wrong about being evil by your definition?” Riswelze asked. “I think having horns would be pretty cool.”

Izumi looked at Yuliana's valiant profile a short distance away and mumbled,

“If I'm only going to bring grief and misfortune to those close to me, then was there any meaning in me coming to this world?”

Riswelze observed the woman’s unusually serious face for a moment, before suddenly clinging to her arm. “Well, I don't really get half of that, but want to know what I think? It's bullcrap, every word. Good, evil, who cares about that? Once you're born a human, you stay as one, whether you want it or not. If it were so easy to turn into something else, we'd be a borderline extinct species by now. Instead, we have a whole history of incorrigible assholes, who made bank on atrocities and got away with it. And guess what, they all had families too, who sincerely believed daddy was the sweetest, fairest guy in the world. Like beauty, righteousness is in the eye of the beholder. If you actually had something so important and priceless as a soul, but can't even tell if you still have it or not, then did it really ever matter in the first place? You're only ever right or wrong if someone manages to convict you. And then you escape the prison. If someone has a problem with that—to Hel with them. They didn't deserve you, it's just that simple.”

In the circle formed between the knights and the mercenaries, Yuliana faced Eisley junior. Their confrontation was truly a shame and a tragedy by any measures, the princess thought, but she could only brave through this trial somehow. As much as she pitied Gregory, she still believed her cause was too important to surrender now.

One of the knight officers was chosen as a referee.

“In the presence of witnesses,” he announced, “the offended party, Lord Gregory Doria Eisley of Troms, demands settlement in a personal feud with the defendant, her highness, Yuliana Da Via Brannan of Walhollem, by means of a trial by combat. It will be single combat, waged by swords and no other arms or accessories, and shall proceed until one of the combatants is pronounced unable to continue or expresses so of their own initiative. The defeated shall bear the full fault in the dispute and accept whatever consequences, including their own death, if the Divines would so have it, whereas the victor is absolved of whatever accusations or dishonor that may stain their dignity. Do both parties agree to these terms?”

“Yes,” Gregory nodded sternly.

“...Yes,” Yuliana nodded, though less resolute.

“Then, may the best...person win.”

For some time, the duelists stared at each other in silence.

Yuliana courteously awaited for the young Baron to make the first move. Yet he made no effort to raise his slim sword. He only stood still, leaning on his weapon, like a statue of a hero of songs, as if waiting for her to take the initiative instead.

And, right as she thought about taking it...

“What are you doing?” Gregory suddenly asked her.

“What?” Yuliana frowned.

“Where is your second?”

“...”

“Do you take me for a savage? Have you not chosen a second?”

“What's he talking about?” the uneducated mercenaries looked at each other in confusion.

“I will not lay a hand on a woman!” the young man shouted at them. “I will not stoop so low, for any reason! Her highness will appoint herself a representative, a man of rank, who will fight on her behalf. His loss will mean her defeat, and my father's honor will have been redeemed. Now, choose!”

“Oh, I will—” Izumi looked up.

“—You're not a man,” Riswelze shot her down.

“That's sexism!”

“I will not let anyone else join in my shame—” Yuliana started to say, but was interrupted,

“I will be her second.” Sir Brian Mallory stepped forward. “I will fight.”

The knight threw off his chestplate and gauntlets, drew his sword, and stepped before Yuliana to face the young Baron.

“Very well,” Gregory Eisley sullenly nodded and picked up his sword. “I do believe you are harming your reputation here, Sir Mallory, but we're not getting anywhere otherwise. I accept.”

“My apologies, your lordship, but what's about to happen isn't going to help your reputation much either,” the man called Brian said before turning to smirk at Yuliana. “This won't take long.”

“Brian, I...” Yuliana didn't know what to say.

Not that she had the chance to say a thing.

The duelists already took their stances.

“Ready?” the referee called out again in a loud voice, like announcing a casual boxing match. While the mercenaries looked somewhat disappointed with the change of plans, the knights seemed considerably more content with this lineup. The man lifted his arm high in the air, before swinging it down. “May the best man win!”

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

Upon the signal, the combatants immediately took a step forward and started to circle one another, looking for an opening. At times, they'd touch swords, to test each others' reactions. The tension was palpable right from the get-go. While their movements looked almost playful, it was clear they were prepared to risk death and injury for their cause.

Yuliana nearly forgot to breathe as she followed the fight from the audience. It was the worst imaginable outcome to the already terrible situation, having a friend she cared about risk himself to defeat a person she had grievously offended. She felt definitely at fault, now twice as much. No matter which one would win, the outcome would be a disaster and injustice all the same.

But it was too late for regrets.

She could only wait and see things to their terrible conclusion.

Baron Eisley took the first strike. He hadn't followed in his father's footsteps to a career in the military, but a nobleman's life was never devoid of dangers either. He'd been made to take fencing classes from a young age, for his own protection. Those classes now showed their fruits in the swiftness of his sword arm that cleaved the air.

Sir Mallory stepped back and evaded the cut, but another followed it immediately from the side. This he aptly deflected, but didn't go for a counter, but waited for the third strike, a stab, which he readily parried as well. He was older and more experienced than the young Baron, but it seemed he had decided to give his opponent a fair chance and a fight to be proud of.

But would his graciousness backfire on him…?

Yuliana nervously bit her thumbnail.

Clang, clang, clang—the bright sound of steel against another rang out time after time again, while the audience excitedly followed every move.

“Hey, Yule.”

The princess suddenly felt Izumi tap her on the shoulder.

“Shh, quiet, not now,” Yuliana hushed her, unwilling to take her eyes off the fight. What if the decisive blow was delivered while she was looking away? Whatever nonsense the woman had to say couldn't have been so important.

“This is a bit important, I think..." Izumi said.

“I told you, not now!”

“Well, you can stay here then.”

“What?”

At the odd words, Yuliana had no choice but to look back.

“I mean,” Izumi whispered, gesturing behind her. “Grandpa's gonna leave us behind. We're not going to catch up if we don't go now.”

“Ehhh...?”

Indeed, the merchant's carriage was already a good distance away down the hill, with the assassin on board, waving at them.

“You can stay if you want,” Izumi said. “But that means goodbye. The show's not very interesting and I'm too old to walk.”

Having said that, the woman turned and discreetly hurried after the distancing ride.

“...”

Yuliana glanced back at the duelists.

The Baron made a clever feint, followed by a swift pirouette and a backward stab. Sir Brian barely evaded by twisting his upper body sideways, eliciting an awed “oooh!” from the audience.

“...I wonder if Brian will ever forgive me?” the princess sighed a moment later, leaning on the backboard of the carriage, the group of sword heroes only a small dot in the distance.

“He will,” Riswelze chirped. “If it was true love.”

“If it was true love, you'll see each other again!” Izumi nodded.

“You're terrible!” Yuliana cried. “Aah, why did it have to turn like this…?”

2

Even the beasts before the carriage appeared relieved at leaving the tense scene and for a while, their hooves trampled the dusty road with unprecedented zeal. The old man wondered aloud what got his beastly companions so worked up, but the passengers voiced no complaints. The landscape was practically flying by now.

Before long, a brand new environmental element came visible in the distance ahead. A sea of dark green, wide and vast.

It was Felorn, the Darkwood, the most gargantuan stretch of continuous woodland on the entire continent of Noertia, crossing the territories of no less than three noteworthy nations. The treeline's proximity here also meant the travelers were now nearing the border of the greatest among those nations, Tratovia.

The Empire was far from a friendly neighbor to the Langorians, but this also meant that Yuliana could finally stop worrying about pursuers from her homeland. There was no open war yet, but foreign knights were certainly not welcomed on the other side, and setting off the hostilities was in no one's best interests. Even if it was to catch a runaway princess.

Over the course of the evening, the lonely path took the travelers closer and closer to the woods, before curving northward a safe distance away from the mighty trees. Even as human civilization continued to spread, Felorn remained virtually untouched to this day. People occasionally ventured there for timber, firewood, berries, mushrooms, or wild game, but no one sane had ever thought about founding a town, let alone a city there. People preserved their polite distance and whatever unpleasant things inhabited the woods remained on their own side as well.

The sun began to set, twilight taking over the fields, but the merchant's ride wouldn't stop. They had no intention to set up a camp for this night. Not so much because they feared the vengeance of betrayed knights or mercenaries on their trail, but because there was a town, Varnam, close to the border. As romantic as it was to spend the night under a starry sky, most of the travelers preferred a solid roof above their heads. Spring was well on its way, but the nights and especially the mornings were still dreadfully cold and moist, painful to aged bones in particular.

Thanks to the bovines' unexpected zeal earlier in the day, the motley crew was able to reach the town well before midnight.

Varnam was very similar to Grelden in the sense that both towns sat between two countries. That was as far as they went in terms of likeness. Of the two, Varnam was the more modest one in every conceivable regard.

The traffic between Luctretz and Tratovia had never been comparable to that between the former and Langoria, and it had been further reduced by the shift in the political climate. Also, most traders bound for the imperial capital tended to favor the eastern highway through Messida instead. Monster attacks were by no means common near Felorn, but the woods had been widely branded with an unlucky image and prejudice reigned.

No such anxieties could be observed on the quiet streets of Varnam herself. Even at night, the streets looked perfectly quiet and safe, if not a little melancholic.

One would easily assume a lot of wood to have been used in the town's architecture, with the raw materials so close at hand, and in abundance. A large part of the male population were also woodcutters or carpenters by trade, with herbalists and weavers for wives, and the rest herded cattle or grew wheat on the plains spreading east from the woods. But in reality, the houses were mostly of white-painted brick, the same as anywhere else, with only a few dark, thick planks to support the roofs. A wide, cobbled central street continued straight through the town towards the north, with the finest, largest houses along the way. The other buildings were haphazardly gathered around, or more like, hidden behind the ranks of their betters.

It was as if the Varnamians tried very hard to show a fresh, more modern face to the passers-by while hiding their true, rural nature.

“Hey, have you been thinking about it?" Riswelze turned to ask Izumi, as they watched the old man haggle with the tavern owner for a discount outside the building, Livia tending to the oxen.

"Hm?"

“If we're going to explore the woods, then this is our stop. The folk at Varnam have an unusually close relationship with the forest. They know Felorn better than anyone else and their work roads provide us an easy path to start with. We can gather information here, purchase supplies, and plan our course.”

"Oh, right," Izumi nodded.

“Don't tell me you were actually serious about that?” Yuliana sighed. “Eternal youth? You mean to scour the woods for this pipe dream? And for how long? Do you have any idea how much supplies would be needed even for a brief excursion? And where do you plan to get the money for that? The last I looked, we were broke and working for scraps.”

“We don't need a royal retinue,” the assassin shrugged. “A tent, horses. And it's a forest, your highness; there's food and water everywhere, if only you know where to look. We'll hunt and fish and find our way around.”

“Oh, I am simply brimming with confidence towards this 'plan' of yours. How does one conquer an ancient forest where entire armies have gone missing over the ages and of which we know practically nothing? —'We shall hunt and fish!' Great! What can I say to that!”

“Excuse me, not all of us are clueless, pampered maidens, sheltered in halls of marble and frightened by old wives' stories. I've survived in the mountains with nothing but rock and trolls for company. I've survived in a scorching desert with sand and scorpions. Felorn? A paradise. Don't you think?”

“Eh?” Izumi stirred from her thoughts at being spoken to. “Ah, yeah. I was just thinking, what kind of monsters live there? Like, things with tentacles? Giant flowers that dissolve clothing with their pollen? Slimes? Goblins? Walking mushrooms? Treasure chests with arms and teeth? Would anyone pay money for parts of them?”

“What the heck are those?” Riswelze grimaced. “Come on. There might be a unicorn or two. As a rule of thumb, don't eat anything that has horns.”

——“You lasses aren't really going in there, are you?” the old merchant overheard them, returning from his negotiations. “For the spring of youth? Oh bollocks, have you gone mad? I was jesting! Take the hint!”

“What did I tell you?” Yuliana nodded.

“So what if we are?” the assassin retorted. “It's not like you made up the legend.”

“I didn't, but—why do you think they call it a legend!? Get a grip, girlie! It's Ferlorn out there, not just any old grove. That's Lord Matheus's domain! The spirits of the woods loathe the malice that lurks in human hearts, they can smell it from afar. We have grown too distant from the light of the Old Gods. Because of that, they will chase you out. If you're lucky, that is. Remember Emperor Yollam! Four hundred years back, he wanted to build a road through Felorn and set up a harbor on the west coast. No trace of what he built is left today. Not a bone of the Emperor himself, or those who went with him. Such is the reward of arrogance.”

“Yes, yes. Varnam seems to be faring just fine, despite all the road-building they do,” Riswelze retorted. “Clearly, the spirits aren't all that bad.”

“The Varnamians know what they're doing,” the man told them. “They've been the forest's neighbors for centuries, if not more. They live by Felorn's rules. Take only what they need, where it is given, and touch nothing more. They respect the Divines! That is how it should be.”

“And what do you think we'll do? Steal the nuts from the squirrels?”

“Bah!” the merchant got frustrated with Riswelze. “Go then! What's it to me! Foolish girls! But if you really must go, then throw away your weapons! Submit yourselves to the Divines' mercy and they may respond in kindness. That's what Agelaos did. Only his bag and notebook he took with him, and he came back in one piece. But if you want my honest opinion: go home! There is no help for stupidity!”

Continuing to swear under his breath, the old merchant left them. It was only out of concern that he got angry, of course, and understanding this made Yuliana feel guilty.

“You know how to tell a fairy tale apart from reality?” Riswelze asked, unfazed. “They always end in some profound moral message. Guess what? Reality doesn't. There's nothing educational about any of our lives, no hooks, no twists. Want the real lesson? Yollam failed because he was a dumb, clueless nobleman, while Agelaos was a practical guy, who prepared. So long as we let no members of royalty dictate our course of action, we should be perfectly fine. As I've said from the beginning.”

“You are a living embodiment of the very pride and arrogance that destroyed the old Emperor,” Yuliana shook her head. “Either way, I'm not going to take any part in this nonsense. Go wherever you please.”

The princess also left and headed to the tavern.

“Don't worry about her,” Riswelze glanced at Izumi. “Come tomorrow morning, she'll be pleading with us to take her along. Wanna bet?”

“Might be better if she doesn't,” Izumi replied in a distant tone, looking after Yuliana. “Since it could be a bit dangerous.”

“Are you okay with that?”

“Hm? Why?”

“...Don't give me that crap,” the assassin sullenly knocked her arm.

“No,” the woman covered a big yawn. “I'm just too sleepy to think about anything now. Let's go in.”

“Right. Everything looks glum in the middle of the night. We'll talk things through in the morning.”

Izumi and Riswelze followed after the princess and the merchant towards the doorway of the tavern, whence a streak of warm, inviting light fell onto the deep blue street. But none of them could know—come tomorrow, the decision would be made for them.