As dawn broke over the palace, casting a soft golden light over its stately architecture, Shikihime, accompanied by her close retainers, prepared for a significant farewell. Today, she would send off her brother, Ryo, and six of her most trusted companions on a mission fraught with danger and uncertainty. Archduke Shikuro and Crown Prince Leif were also present, lending their support to the solemn occasion.
The air was tinged with a blend of resolve and melancholy as Shikihime approached Ryo. In her hands, she held a letter, its contents heavy with the weight of responsibility and trust. "These six have failed me," she stated firmly, her voice betraying none of the turmoil she felt within. "The explanation is within this letter. Please, give it to father." Her eyes met Ryo's, conveying a depth of seriousness and expectation.
Ryo accepted the letter, nodding in understanding. He could sense the gravity of the task Shikihime was entrusting to him, and he silently vowed to fulfill her request.
One by one, Rin, Haru, and the four other members of her retinue boarded the ship. They were embarking on a perilous journey, one that might not guarantee their return. Shikihime had already said her secret goodbyes within the privacy of the palace walls, sharing moments of personal gratitude and encouragement. Now, as she watched them depart, a sense of sadness enveloped her. She had grown accustomed to their presence, their loyalty, and their courage. Letting them go was a sacrifice, one made for the greater good, but not without personal cost.
Shikihime stood resolute yet pensive, watching the ship sail away. She felt a pang of loss for the company and support of those she had come to rely on. The situation they were all entangled in was far from ideal, a complex web of politics and power plays where every decision carried immense weight.
As the ship disappeared into the horizon, Shikihime turned back to face the day ahead. The challenges were many, and her role in navigating them was crucial. With a deep breath, she steeled herself for the tasks that lay ahead, knowing that the path she had chosen was fraught with peril but necessary for the security and future of her Dynasty and the Realm.
In the quiet confines of his office, Shikuro was engrossed in his work when Shikihime, accompanied by her envoy, entered. A brief smile flickered across his face at her arrival. Shikihime wasted no time in updating him. "Ingrid is awake, but she's hardly speaking, which is alarming," she said, her tone laced with concern.
Shikuro's expression turned serious. "I just hope she hasn't broken under the strain," he murmured. He then inquired about Erik, but Shikihime had no news. With his work momentarily set aside, Shikuro accompanied Shikihime to the recovery wing of the palace to see Ingrid.
They found Ingrid lying in her bed, her eyes nearly vacant, devoid of the vibrancy they once held. Shikuro approached her bedside and gently touched her hand. "Do you hear me, Ingrid?" he asked softly.
Ingrid turned her gaze towards him and nodded faintly. When Shikuro asked if she could speak, she responded with a simple, emotionless "Yes." The one-word answer was disconcerting, reflecting her diminished spirit.
Shikihime observed the interaction, her expression filled with empathy. Turning to Shikuro, she suggested, "She needs to be relieved of her duties, or at least given some time to recover."
Ingrid's eyes flickered towards Shikihime, showing the first hint of emotion since they had arrived. Shikihime addressed her directly, "Ingrid, you must consider your position. Not all work is suited for everyone. If it's too much, no one would blame you. You're still young and capable. There's a life beyond the court, a chance to start a family. It's important to find a balance, to not lose yourself in duty."
Ingrid listened, her expression softening. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
The moment was poignant, witnessing the once dynamic and strong-willed Ingrid reduced to a shadow of her former self. Shikihime then turned to Shikuro, her eyes filled with a stern warning. "Don't you dare push her beyond her limits again. She needs time to heal."
***
Under the cover of night, Shikuro, accompanied by Bjorn, made a clandestine visit to Ingrid's room. The palace was silent, its corridors echoing with the soft footsteps of their cautious approach. Shikuro's heart was heavy with a mix of apprehension and resolve as they neared Ingrid's quarters.
To his surprise, Ingrid was awake, her eyes meeting his as he entered. There was a depth in her gaze, a silent conversation that needed no words. Shikuro, moved by the moment, began to apologize sincerely. "I deeply regret my actions and the consequences they have brought upon you," he said, his voice laden with genuine remorse.
Ingrid nodded in acknowledgment, her expression softening. Shikuro sat on the edge of her bed, taking her hand in his. "Please, speak to me. Losing another trusted friend is something I cannot bear," he implored, his concern evident.
Ingrid offered a faint smile, a glimmer of her former strength. "I am your ally, Shikuro. Always have been, always will be," she assured him.
Shikuro's smile in response was one of relief and gratitude. Their bond, forged in the fires of nobility and shared struggles, was deep and unshakable. Ingrid was more than a retainer; she was a friend, a confidante, a part of his life since childhood.
As he contemplated what would be best for her, Ingrid voiced her own desires. "I wish to serve, to regain what I've lost. I yearn for revenge, to..."
Shikuro gently cut her off, understanding her pain and determination. "I know. And you shall retain your position as governor. But be prepared for the challenges ahead."
With a sense of resolve, Shikuro and Bjorn left Ingrid's room. As they made their way back, they encountered a figure clad in guard's attire. Something about the person felt off, and both men were instantly alert.
As they passed the guard, the figure suddenly drew a weapon and lunged at Shikuro in a surprise attack. Reacting with the reflexes honed over years of training, Shikuro deftly blocked the attack and counterattacked, creating a gap of two meters between them. Bjorn, equally swift, drew his weapon.
Shikuro, adrenaline surging, addressed Bjorn, "I need to blow off some steam. He's mine. Just guard the exit and make sure he doesn't escape."
A tense standoff ensued in the dimly lit corridor, a silent duel of wills and skill. Shikuro faced his assailant, his mind clear and focused. The clash that was about to unfold was not just a physical confrontation but a test of Shikuro's resolve and strength in the face of unexpected treachery.
In the moonlit corridor of the palace, a palpable tension filled the air as Shikuro, endowed with the gift of Limitless, faced his mysterious adversary. The stage was set for a duel that would test the limits of their abilities.
The duel commenced with Shikuro lunging forward, his sword arcing through the air in a swift, decisive strike aimed at his opponent's chest. The assailant, with surprising agility, parried the blow, their blade clashing against Shikuro's with a ringing sound that echoed through the corridor. Shikuro's opponent was more than a match; he was a formidable swordsman, his movements precise and calculated.
Shikuro, undeterred, launched a series of rapid attacks. He executed a complex combination, a blend of feints and thrusts designed to penetrate his opponent's defense. The assailant, however, matched each move. He sidestepped a thrust, deflected a swipe, and countered with a quick jab that Shikuro narrowly avoided.
Realizing that his usual tactics would not suffice, Shikuro adopted a more unpredictable approach. He spun on his heel, a fluid motion that brought his sword in a wide arc. But his foe was quick, stepping back just in time, the blade whooshing past his face.
The assailant seized the momentary gap, lunging forward with a thrust aimed at Shikuro's side. Shikuro twisted away, feeling the air slice next to his skin, a near miss. He countered with a low sweep of his blade, aiming to unbalance his opponent, but the assailant jumped back, evading the attack with grace.
Both combatants paused. Shikuro assessed his opponent, realizing the depth of skill he faced. The assailant's ability to anticipate and react to his moves was uncanny, almost as if he had foreknowledge of Shikuro's techniques.
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As they engaged again, Shikuro increased the intensity of his attacks. He feinted to the left and then quickly pivoted to deliver a strike from the right, but the assailant parried with an almost reflexive ease. Shikuro's sword met the assailant's in a clattering of steel, sparks flying as their blades collided.
Shikuro then attempted a high-risk maneuver, a daring leap aimed to bring his sword down in a powerful overhead strike. The assailant, however, stepped aside at the last moment, causing Shikuro to hit the ground hard. As Shikuro quickly rolled to his feet, he felt a sharp sting on his arm – a shallow cut from his opponent's blade, a reminder of the stakes of their duel.
They circled each other, swords at the ready, each waiting for the other to make a move. Shikuro, tapping into his Limitless stamina, launched into another series of attacks. He performed a complex sequence of thrusts and parries, each move flowing into the next. But his opponent was relentless, blocking and countering each strike with a practiced ease.
As the duel wore on, Shikuro realized he needed to change his strategy. He began to vary his rhythm, interspersing quick, sharp attacks with slower, more powerful strikes. He aimed a feint at his opponent's head, only to pivot at the last second and aim a low cut towards the legs. The assailant, caught off guard, stumbled backward, narrowly avoiding the blade.
Seizing the opportunity, Shikuro pressed his advantage. He advanced, his sword a whirlwind of motion, pushing his opponent back with each strike. The assailant retreated, but with calculated steps, looking for an opening to counter.
In a sudden shift, the assailant lunged forward, their blade aimed at Shikuro's chest. Shikuro sidestepped, narrowly avoiding the thrust, and countered with a swift strike to his opponent's side. The assailant grunted, a small line of red appearing on his tunic – the first significant hit of the duel.
Both warriors paused, acknowledging the hit with a nod. They were evenly matched, each one pushing the other to their limits. Shikuro's Limitless kept him from tiring, but his opponent's skill and adaptability made the fight increasingly challenging.
As they engaged once more, Shikuro adopted a more defensive stance, waiting for his opponent to make a move. The assailant obliged, launching a series of rapid strikes. Shikuro parried each one, looking for an opening. He noticed a slight drop in his opponent's guard and exploited it, landing a solid hit on the assailant's shoulder.
The fight continued, a dance of swords and skill. Shikuro and his opponent moved with a grace and ferocity that was almost artistic. They were two masters of their craft, locked in a battle that was as much about mental prowess as it was about physical skill.
The duel reached its climax as Shikuro unleashed a final, all-out assault. He drew upon every ounce of his Limitless, his sword moving in a blur of strikes and feints. The assailant, pushed to the edge, fought back with equal fervor, his blade a counterpoint to Shikuro's every move.
In a moment of sheer intensity, Shikuro feinted high and then spun, delivering a sweeping blow aimed at his opponent's legs. The assailant, caught in the momentum of his own attack, couldn't adjust in time. The blade connected, and the assailant went down, his sword clattering to the floor.
As the final, decisive blow sent the assassin to the ground, Shikuro stood over him, his breathing calm and measured, unaffected by the exertion thanks to his Limitless. The corridor lay silent except for the faint, ragged breaths of the defeated assailant. Shikuro's sword remained steadily pointed at the fallen figure, a necessary precaution given the lethal nature of the encounter.
This was no ordinary foe; the assassin's skill and resilience had been formidable. But even with such prowess, he was no match for Shikuro's exceptional abilities. There was no camaraderie here, no hand extended in respect or aid. This was an assassin, a threat neutralized, nothing more.
With a swift motion, Shikuro signaled for the guards. They arrived promptly, their footsteps echoing through the hall. "Take him," Shikuro ordered, his voice carrying the weight of authority. "Secure him for interrogation. We need to uncover who's behind this attempt."
As the guards apprehended the assassin, securing his arms and hauling him to his feet, Shikuro watched closely, ensuring no further surprises. The threat might have been neutralized, but the danger it represented lingered in the air like a dark cloud.
Once the guards had departed with their captive, Shikuro sheathed his sword. The duel, though brief, had been a significant test of his skills. He contemplated the implications of this assassination attempt as he made his way back to his quarters. The palace, a place he knew as a stronghold, now felt slightly less secure. The night's events were a grim reminder that threats could come from any shadow, at any time.
***
In the quiet confines of a dimly lit room, Yoru concluded her detailed report to Shikihime. The seriousness in her voice conveyed the gravity of what she had witnessed during her mission. Shikihime listened intently, her expression a blend of concern and curiosity.
"Was his injury a serious one?" Shikihime asked, her voice tinged with worry.
Yoru, with a hint of emotion in her voice, quickly reassured her. "No, my lady. The wound was shallow, barely worth mentioning," she replied. Her words seemed to lift a weight off Shikihime's shoulders, a subtle relief washing over her face.
Shikihime's thoughts then turned to assessing Shikuro's capabilities. "So, how would you rate my future husband? In terms of strength, give him a rating out of ten," she prompted, her eyes keenly fixed on Yoru.
Yoru paused, her eyes narrowing in thought as she reflected on the duel she had witnessed. After a moment, she spoke with a measured confidence, "I would say he is a seasoned warrior, a 9 out of 10. He is incredibly quick, and his gift must be of a higher grade. In fair condition, I believe he could even take on Minato."
Shikihime absorbed Yoru's assessment, the corners of her mouth curving slightly at the high praise. It was rare for Yoru to commend someone so highly. Her words spoke volumes about Shikuro's prowess as a warrior. This acknowledgment from Yoru only deepened Shikihime's respect and understanding of Shikuro's abilities.
Shikihime leaned back, a thoughtful expression on her face. "That is high praise indeed, coming from you, Yoru," she mused. The information provided valuable insight into the man she was to marry, not just as a future husband but as a warrior and ally in the complex world they inhabited.
Yoru nodded, her expression returning to its usual stoic demeanor. "He's more than capable of protecting himself and, by extension, you, my lady," she added with a hint of respect in her tone.
***
A week had passed in a flurry of preparations and anticipation. The day arrived when the delegation from the Stardust Kingdom, led by General Nightblack, made its grand entrance into the Iskald Rike Realm. Shikuro, alongside Leif and Shikihime, stood ready to greet the distinguished guests. The air was thick with the formality and tension typical of such high-profile meetings.
General Nightblack, a man of imposing stature and seasoned demeanor, stepped forward. His brown hair and eyes, common in appearance yet sharp with intelligence, gave him a certain inconspicuousness, befitting his covert military background. Despite being in his fifties, his robust physique and the vigor in his movements betrayed the influence of his gift, running thick in his veins, preserving his youthful vigor.
After the customary and elaborate greetings, General Nightblack was escorted to his quarters, a space befitting his rank and the importance of his visit. Shikuro watched the general closely, his mind analyzing the potential implications of this diplomatic encounter.
Leaving the formalities to be handled by his staff, Shikuro seized the opportunity to visit Erik, who had finally awakened from his bedridden state. Entering Erik's room, Shikuro was greeted with a mixture of relief and mild annoyance. He opened his mouth to apologize, but Erik raised his hand, stopping him mid-sentence. "I understand why it had to be done," Erik said, his voice tinged with resignation yet understanding. "I would've made the same decision in your place." The conversation that followed was brief but meaningful, ending with a firm handshake that reaffirmed their bond and mutual respect.
Meanwhile, Shikihime was in her chambers, preparing for the evening's dinner. Akalune, her guard for the day, stood at attention, donning the ceremonial uniform that marked the occasion. Kage, ever attentive, assisted Shikihime with her attire, ensuring every detail was perfect.
The dinner was more than a mere meal; it was a stage where diplomacy and strategy would intertwine. Shikihime felt the weight of the occasion, her intuition signaling the need for caution and astuteness. Dressed impeccably, she embodied the grace and dignity of her position.
As Shikihime made her way to join Shikuro, her thoughts were a blend of apprehension and determination. She knew she had to be at her best, supporting Shikuro and representing the interests of her Dynasty and the Realm.
Interlude: Erik's Warning
Erik strode into Shikuro's office with a casual air, his weapon set aside as he made himself comfortable at the table. His presence, always imposing, filled the room with a sense of gravity. Shikuro, accustomed to Erik's straightforward manner, waited expectantly for the information he had gathered.
Erik began by listing several names, including Ingrid's, of individuals who had been engaging in concealed communications outside the island. As Shikuro absorbed the implications of these names, Erik's gaze bore into him, emphasizing the need for caution. He warned that while they could deal with the treachery within their own duchy, the problem might extend far beyond their borders.
Erik shared his suspicions about the involvement of other archdukes, particularly Aldrik and indirectly Arvid. He speculated on their possible ambitions to usurp the triangle crown, a powerful symbol of the Iskaldt Rike Realm, forged from the rarest of metals. This crown, combining bluesteel, purplesteel, and redsteel, symbolized the unity and strength of their nation. The combination of these metals produced blacksteel, a material so rare and revered that it was the stuff of legends.
Shikuro, contemplative, acknowledged the need for a reliable envoy to the Mainland. The current diplomat was ill-equipped for the intricacies of the current political landscape, and the stakes were too high for incompetence. He considered sending someone trustworthy, someone who could navigate the treacherous waters of diplomacy with finesse.
Erik, however, dismissed the idea of taking on the role himself. While he was a formidable force within the duchy, his direct and often abrasive approach would likely cause more problems on the Mainland. His talents were better suited to the environment where fear and respect were paramount, where his reputation as a fierce warrior could be leveraged to Shikuro's advantage.
As the meeting drew to a close, Erik issued a final warning about Ingrid. Though he did not believe her to be a traitor, her involvement in questionable dealings made her a liability. She could no longer be trusted with matters of critical importance. With these parting words, Erik left the room, leaving Shikuro to ponder the complexities of the situation.