1

Sir Brian Mallory was given water to wash his face and some more to drink, seeing as he had lost his supplies together with everything else. His food had to wait, however, because the Imperials weren't satisfied with simply studying him on the surface.

Surrounded by guards, the Colonel, Yuliana, the earthling and a number of other curious and suspicious listeners, the unfortunate knight was made to tell his story. What dire struggle had left him separated from his unit, bloodied and without a horse? It was a story which he recalled with great difficulty and reluctance. For a long time, he sat in silence, gathering himself, before sharing his account.

“It was not long after we last saw her highness,” Brian began. “I dueled Baron Eisley, surrounded by my unit and the band of mercenaries we came across, as her highness may recall. I did not mean to kill Eisley and did all I could to keep from injuring him too badly. But he wouldn't give up his grudge so easily. He kept coming at me and the fight dragged on. The mercenaries were getting fed up with the show and demanded me to land the killing blow, or else they would. I feared a fight would break out between them and my unit, and desperately looked for a solution. By the Gods...”

He fell silent and wiped his face. Yuliana noted that his hands were trembling. She had regretted turning her back on him ever since, but now that underhanded betrayal tormented her hotter than before.

“Then—it hit us,” Brian quietly mouthed.

“What did?” Miragrave inquired in a stern tone.

“I...I can't say. Before I realized, we were under attack by...by a monster. In one moment, it looked like a man, in another, something else. I'd never seen or heard of such a thing before. It seemed to be everywhere, tearing through the men and the horses alike, as if they were made of felt. In just a flash, I saw blood and dismembered bodies everywhere I looked. It was chaos. There was—there was nothing I could do. My cowardice will be my shame to the end of my days, but paying witness to all that, the thought of fighting back in my comrades' defense never occurred to me. No. All I knew then was that I had to get as far away from that place as possible. Everyone else still left standing shared the same thought. We dispersed, fled the best we could over the fields, each our own way, praying that—that thing wouldn't follow us. That it would go after somebody else.”

“So you survived.”

The man drew a deep breath and exhaled.

“I caught a horse without a rider, hopped on, and rode east. And didn't look back. I spent hours going around every hill and cranny, trying to keep out of sight, until dusk. Then, my horse suddenly collapsed. I'd failed to notice before, but it had been wounded on the side and bled heavily. It had carried me as far as it did on sheer adrenaline and wouldn't get up again. With no idea where I was, I kept wandering on through the night, hoping I'd be able to regroup with the rest. But I met no one. Sometime early in the morning, I stumbled back on the road and then followed it to Varnam. The thought of going back south, in the direction where it happened...Not an option.”

Brian fell silent and sighed, the members of his audience exchanging cautious glances.

“That's all,” he concluded. “You know the rest.”

“Yuliana,” the Colonel turned to the princess next to her, “where is the place he speaks of?”

“Ah...It took us closer to three periods on the carriage, so perhaps forty, fifty miles down the road from Varnam?”

“We are going to inspect that site.”

“Excuse me, I have to veto that plan, commander,” the Vizier interrupted. “We are not going to waste another day and so much supplies on such a detour. Tomorrow morning, the town's workers will be here waiting for us, by the road to Felorn. Our direction will not be south, it will be west.”

“People are going to die,” Miragrave gave the Vizier a glare that even made Yuliana shudder. But the aged man's spirit, forged in the trials and tribulations of the Imperial Court, wasn't that easily swayed.

“If I may be entirely honest with you, I couldn't care less,” he said. “In case you forgot, we are not in Tratovia anymore. This nation will one day soon be our stepping stone in the campaign against Langoria. So what if this beast kills a few peasants here and there? Isn't that only in our best interests? As a tactical mastermind, you should see the advantages to having less population to harass us along the way.”

To that, the commander said nothing, although her expression didn't turn any more agreeable.

Disregarding her opinion, Attiker went on,

“How much trouble can one stray lion make? One solitary griffin? No, I should think a griffin would make for far worse a threat than this daemon of yours. It's alone, a long way from home. It's not going to make a nest and lay eggs, or however it is that these things reproduce. How many people do you think it can slay? A dozen per year? Maybe a hundred, if we're lucky. And that's that. The principality has three million citizens, will they even notice? This man's story, colorful as it may be, doesn't change the facts. I'm still of the opinion that an elite company such as this is entirely wasted on your frivolous hunt. You may continue your holiday tour at your leisure, Colonel—after we fulfill our obligation to his majesty. Have I made myself clear?”

Miragrave stood silent and still for a lengthy while, before turning to leave. “Do not let the man out of your sight,” she told the guards and went to return to the command tent with the Vizier and the wizard shortly behind.

Slowly, the crowd around went their separate ways, save for a handful of knights assigned to keep an eye on Brian. A daemon or not, he was still a soldier of a foreign kingdom, a future enemy, and there was no telling what kind of trouble he could cause if left unattended. Yuliana remained as well.

“I know how this looks, but you're safe now,” she told him.

“I'm safe?” Brian repeated. “Yeah. Maybe I am. But what about the others? Who's going to look for them? Even now, that thing is out there, hunting them down. One by one. Elon, Rickert, Mayhew, Sonus, Stopher...What will become of them? Will they ever see their families again?”

Yuliana could only answer him in the distant words of an officer,

“Have faith in your men. I'm sure they will find a way.”

But on the inside, she couldn’t help but share his concerns.

The grim, undeniable truth was that they weren't the Imperials' allies or honorable guests, but prisoners, and as such, helpless to aid their countrymen against the foreign threat.

2

Exhausted Sir Mallory spent the remainder of the day at the medical tent, recovering from the toils of his harrowing escape. The veteran knights weren't too easily shaken, but the overall mood over the Imperial camp had turned a step tenser by his report—Yuliana didn’t fail to pay attention to this.

The cause went without saying.

The rumored daemon was real. A horror from the old continent had somehow made its way to the lands where none had ever walked before. People were entirely unprepared to deal with a monstrosity they didn't even know existed. And those few who knew, had their hands bound, unable to warn a soul.

Yet, it was precisely under such grim circumstances that the princess wanted to do at least something. There was nothing substantial she could start in the midst of a group of foreigners, but that didn't mean she could endure sitting idle. Whenever Yuliana found herself powerless to change the world about her, she directed her will towards bettering herself. Soon enough, an idea she had been harboring for a while reappeared in her mind and she acted on it at once.

“Um, why me...?” Izumi had to ask. At the princess’s request, the earthling found herself seated on a rock in a corner of the field, by the road, watching a peculiar play unfold.

“It goes without saying,” Yuliana answered. “You're the best swordsman—or swordswoman—I know. So I want you to teach me. I already advised you in the ways of magecraft, so isn't it only natural that you’d return the favor?”

“I didn't even learn anything,” Izumi argued. “And I'm bad at teaching others...”

The summoned hero tried to weasel her way out of the task with various excuses, like that she couldn't focus on talking at the same time while sparring, or that her techniques took years of practice to learn and weren’t so easily shared. But Yuliana wouldn't hear it. She recruited a free Imperial guard nearby for a training partner and told Izumi to observe and offer suggestions for improvement. It was rather outrageous, in many ways, but the princess had her stubborn side.

Of course, they only used simple wooden branches for weapons. Yuliana's weapon had been discreetly confiscated.

“I always thought I was sufficiently trained for my position,” she explained. “But the past week's events have shown me again and again just how lacking my ability is. I do not wish to remain a burden on others if something serious happens. So I will gladly accept any advice you can give me.”

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“Your pure intentions only make me feel worse about this...” Izumi mumbled in discomfort.

“Why not me?” Riswelze asked with a mischievous grin. No one had invited her, yet the assassin appeared standing beside the woman nevertheless. “I’m willing. I could've taught you a trick or two. Anytime, perfectly free of charge.”

“I thank you kindly,” Yuliana raised her chin and looked away. “As soon as I need pointers on how to stab people in the back under the cover of the night, I'll be sure to ask your counsel.”

“Hey, the best fight is the one that never happens.”

“Can't argue with that,” Izumi mumbled. “I think you've noticed by now, but my style isn't very chivalric. That’s the way things are in my world. Are you still sure you want to learn from me?”

“It won't hurt to try. I will take what I can. Sword is but a tool and it depends on each one how to use it and for what purposes,” Yuliana confidently said, sounding like a teacher herself, and then turned to her partner. “Now then, I'm sorry to have kept you waiting. What is your name, good man?”

“Sehegilia Den Duneb Alais Leterrié,” the Imperial answered.

The man had a bit of an accent. He didn't have his helmet on, showing everyone his brown features and short, pitch black hair. The eyes under the thick brows were so dark brown they looked nearly black as well, but he seemed otherwise fairly friendly and good-natured. He was older than Yuliana, somewhere around his mid to late twenties. Rank aside, he was definitely her senior, if counting the years of service. Still, he played along with the young aristocrat in good humor.

“Sir...Leterrié,” Yuliana repeated the name, raised her stick before her face and did a little bow. “Thank you again for going along with my selfishness.”

“Not at all, your highness. The pleasure is mine.”

“Then, if you don’t mind. On guard!”

Like proper duelists, the two faced off and started the first round of their practice match.

Yuliana took the offensive right away, stepping forward and stabbing like a fencer. In a few vigorous hits, she was able to slip past the knight's guard and tapped him on the side of his chest plate.

“There we go,” the princess turned to Izumi with a satisfied smile. “What do you think?”

“’Ah, she’s really a princess’—is what I was thinking,” Izumi said.

“Why?” The brief triumph melted from the girl’s face. “What do you mean?”

“When you trained to become a knight, was it always like this?”

“Not exactly like this, but...I don’t see what the problem is.”

“I was afraid that you wouldn’t...”

Yuliana started to grow irritated.

“Would you mind telling me clearly?”

“The main problem is, as far as I see, that you’re royalty and too cute,” Izumi answered. “Because of that, everybody holds back on you. It’s not necessarily a bad thing, if you can take advantage of it—though I guess you wouldn’t, even if you somehow knew how. All it has done for you is warped your standards of combat, since you never realized.”

“Warped?”

“That’s right. Of course, training is never comparable to a real fight. You don’t try to kill your practice partners, otherwise you’ll run out of friends pretty quick. But the key is in that you acknowledge it for what it is and go beyond what you see in your mind.”

“In my mind…?” the princess repeated, confused. “I’m not quite sure if I understand. So what exactly was my mistake? In the end, I was the winner of the bout, was I not?”

“Landing a hit in sparring means nothing,” Izumi shook her head. “Your opponent was determined to let you win from the start, so you should've managed to get him in one move. The fact that it took you five moves and you somehow found that natural—I don’t even know what to say. I’m going to cry. The starting level is simply too low.”

“...” Yuliana worried she was going to develop a headache. “W-well, Sir Leterrié shall take the offensive this time. Let's see how it turns out.”

They returned to the starting positions.

The princess waited for the knight to move, and he did.

Clearly enough, the Imperial still held back quite a bit, but his movements were nevertheless swift, strong, and stable. Though his weapon was only a wooden stick, there was quite a bit of weight conveyed in every contact. Keeping up his offensive uninterrupted, he advanced and pressured Yuliana, who was forced to retreat in turn.

Yuliana started with great trouble, but was able to contain her nerves and parry the strikes, while looking for an opening. Backing up, she nearly lost her balance and fell, but was somehow still able to turn the tables. Diverting the knight's stab, she quickly spun around, lowered her posture, and slapped him on the side. At the success of this highly cinematic move, a spontaneous smile brightened up the princess's features. Not that she had any idea what cinematic meant.

Seeing it, Izumi—sighed heavily and hung her head.

“What…?” Yuliana turned to her and asked.

“That you can smile so brightly...I think it’s pretty amazing.”

“And what about it was so awful?” the girl asked, offended. “I won again, didn't I?”

“Because, again, Aladdin here let you.”

“Then do tell, in case he were my mortal foe, what should I have done otherwise?”

“Everything. Don't get locked in a combo. Move, break off! When you hit back, don’t aim at his weapon, aim at his body, his vitals! Your every motion should put the king in check. I get it looks cool, steel hitting steel, clang, clang, clang—just like in the movies. But that kind of thing will only get you killed. If you can't finish off your foe in three moves max, then you can't, at all.”

“Ehh...”

“When countering, the finisher has to follow right up. That means no big arcs or other long-winded moves. And never turn your back to the enemy when you’re right in front of him! He could've snapped your neck! Ah, I can't bear to watch this...”

Swallowing her arguments with effort, Yuliana patiently grasped her stick tighter and faced Sir Leterrié once more.

And again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

Little by little, the matches gained in speed and intensity, but no matter how hard the princess tried, Izumi's evaluation remained consistently poor.

“There! See! You took a step back again! Did you notice? Are you even listening to me anymore? If you need space, then move sideways or diagonally! Don't let your opponent turn the flow around. Have you never read Musashi?”

“I don't even know who that is!?” Yuliana cried, before slowly regaining her composure. “Very well...one more time...”

“No, that's enough,” Izumi told her and stood up. “You're getting too used to reading each other's moves now. By this point, it's not even sparring but a circus performance.”

Yuliana was about to break the twig in her hands out of frustration.

“I have to wonder if you're not only making things up and bullying me for your own amusement?” she retorted instead. “How about the professor shows us by example instead? I'm certain Sir Leterrié here will humiliate you in ways that are plain enough for all to see, even without convoluted commentary.”

“Wow. Are you twelve?” Izumi replied, taking a step to leave. “I'm not that easily provoked, though.”

“Oh. So you are scared?”

“...”

The woman stopped and slowly turned back.

With the genuine smile of a winner, Yuliana handed her stick over. Izumi took it without a word and stepped past the girl to face the Imperial knight. Yuliana instead went to take Izumi's seat on the rock and waited, barely able to contain her laughter.

“Did you think this through...?” Riswelze asked her, shifting nervously.

“Why?”

“I mean...This is Izumi we're talking about...”

“She’s not going to kill him with a branch,” Yuliana said. Before adding, a level less confident. “...I think...She wouldn't—she’s not that mad, is she...?”

An indecipherable look on her face, Izumi raised the stick in front of her, one-handed, standing a bit sideways, with the right foot forward. Sir Leterrié also assumed a proper stance, facing the opponent directly, a bit crouched, the stick in his right hand, pointed ahead. It was true that he’d held back with Yuliana. Obviously. She was his commander's valued guest and a princess. Hurting her in any way, even by an accident, was not an option. It was only because he had confidence in his ability to avoid this that he had accepted her reckless request.

But Izumi's demeanor made him cautious.

He thought she was knowledgeable and agreed with many of the points she'd brought up. He had even developed a bit of respect for the strange older lady. But right now, none of that was on Sir Leterrié's mind. The sense of danger radiating from the unmoving figure before him made him forget about the time and place, and focus exclusively on the present.

The mismatched pair stood still like this, facing one another, weapons ready, and time passed.

Neither took a step to shorten the distance or to attack. The branches in their grips didn't waver in the slightest. The air around the two started to seem unsettling to Yuliana. She regretted so childishly setting them up and thought about interrupting the match, but the words became stuck in her throat. Spellbound, she could only silently watch, no matter what was about to happen. She realized she'd forgotten to breathe. Nearby, Riswelze stood tense as well, clenching her fist so that her knuckles paled.

And then...

Izumi suddenly relaxed her stance and tossed the branch onto the lawn at her feet. Without a word, the woman turned and walked away.

“Really, she didn't need to take it so seriously,” Yuliana sighed and said with a forced smile. “I only wanted to tease her a little. Of course she wouldn't be able to match an elite warrior. There's no shame in that.”

“No...” Sir Leterrié slowly straightened himself and said. “It is my loss.”

“Huh?”

The two girls looked at him in confusion.

“I felt it,” the man said, dropping the stick and looking at his trembling fingers. “I saw it. Her branch, piercing my eye. As clearly as I see you. I could not make a move. I was certain I had died. To my fortune, she was content with only knowing that she could.”