Their trek across the city was one full of both varied and similar sights. Despite the differences in status, most houses shared a commonality; all were decorated with the same flag, featuring two black stripes sandwiching a white one. Within that middle one, the outline of a rapier could be made out. Faint purple lines formed something of a circle around it, as if the blade was being defended from the darkness of the nearby hue.
It was, honestly, a bit of a boring design, a true affront to vexillology.
The streets also changed their tune to reflect the holiday. Those wandering the streets wore bright clothing, as if wielding the might of the sun in their clothes. They were attires that screamed “Religious Event”, long garbs that probably made it easy to trip over. Everybody was perfectly, uniformly white, any ounce of impure color surgically removed… well, except for the occasional freak wearing a mask resembling a beast, complimenting it with dark tunics.
“It’s so strange to see people in costume right in the middle of the Society of Light,” Elena commented, making an anime reference few would get even in her own world.
The White Blade Ball was not just a simple event for the Royals. It was in fact just one small part of today’s celebrations.
On this day, five hundred years ago, the Goddess had put an end to the tyranny of the Crow King— known also through other titles, such as the Death God, the Ruler of Death, or even just the somewhat generic Demon King.
In any case, it was a date worth of massive celebration, to commemorate the day of the War of the Barrier came to an end. The land where the Goddess gathered her forces was treated as a Holy Land, and from there, the Lightwielding Kingdom of Luzterna was born.
“It’s common for folks to disguise as Kabeasts and attempt to frighten children,” Mr. H. explained. “I don’t think that is part of the Goddess’ orders, but hey, if people find it fun, who am I to judge!”
The drive carried on, until eventually, they left the confines of the city. Buildings vanished, and green plains took their place. Large patches of farmland could be spotted, droves of cows and sheep scattered around, taking bites out of the growing pasture. Most eye-catching were the large machines found near the stables, about the same height as those. They were made of deep-gray steel, with cylindrical tubes that flowed diagonally downward into the earth. In the middle, there appeared to be a crystal emanating a brown aura.
Elena wanted to ponder what their use was, but instead she made an assumption and reserved her query for a later date. She’d already asked enough questions for now, and besides, she felt confident her guess was correct.
Much like the vehicle she was sitting on was powered by Wind Crystals, those machines must be using a similar source of energy to help with raising cattle and growing produce. From the brown hue and the fact the machine was connected to the ground, she figured those crystals could channel the power of the Earth.
So far, this world had Earth Crystals to work the soil, and Water Crystals to purify water. She’d also seen Miles use Fire Crystals to engulf the world aflame, and of course there were Wind Crystals that gave objects motion. Magic spells also existed, and although she’d only seen Cordelia cast Water Magic, surely there were spells that corresponded to the remaining elements.
Were there any more? Elena couldn’t help but wonder what further secrets this world had in store.
Suddenly, she felt as if her seat had done a hop. After about 20 minutes of running a straight road, the carriage began ascending. They had arrived at the famous Tomser’s Hill, and were now going up the trail that led up to their destination. The road was thin, enough for one vehicle to pass through and nothing more. Mr. H, hands on the wheel, steered to the left sharply. That was the skill a driver needed to transit these roads, else it meant careening off a cliff.
Despite the precarious situation, Elena remained calm. She’d taken many excursions back in her old world that consisted of similar scenarios, her eyes fixated on the window as their tour guide drove on mountainous terrain like it was a parking lot. It wasn’t a perspective everyone shared, but when it came to driving, she’d rather sit by and let someone else take the wheel, relieving her of any and all control over her fate as she instead focused on the scenery. Besides, with her power, she’d be fine anyway—it’s not like she cared about anybody sitting with her.
Thus, as they approached another turn and a new frame, before covered by the hill itself, revealed itself, her eyes became fixed on the upcoming view.
It was nothing like she expected.
Beyond the window, there was a large amalgamation of trees, stretching out in a crowd as far as the eye could see. That itself wasn’t of note— all of them being dead was. Most were bald of leaves, and the few that weren’t had any remaining green tainted by the black of ash. The land they stood on painted a similar dreary picture, scorched of any life it once held and replaced with a dull, cold gray.
It was a dead land; a part of the world itself that had perished, and she was looking at its corpse. Like a painting, it was like a pocket dimension where time stood still, devoid of motion, devoid of blowing wind. The land itself cried tears, tears of dismay at what it had become.
Elena stretched her hand out, coming in contact with the glass, her thick eyebrows raised in disbelief.
“What happened here?”
“It was a casualty of the War of the Barrier. The Demon King made the land unusable.”
When thinking of victims of war, the mind does not usually default to thinking of land as one. But if Charles’ words were truth, it seems the Earth bore the scars of the conflict.
“The blessing that the Earth God gave us… it was ripped away from the lands beyond the barrier. Now, no life can sprout within the Forbidden Lands.”
Charles spoke solemnly, with real weight given to his words. He let out a deep sigh.
“Apologies for my attitude. Usually, war only lives through the images our brains paint from reading books. So to witness its consequences through my very eyes… no matter how many times I see it, it never stops making my skin crawl.”
Lands where no life could sprout. Soil where no food could grow. That was what the War of the Barrier had left the continent with.
Elena gulped, letting the impact of what she was seeing sweep over her brittle body.
----------------------------------------
About a few minutes passed, and their trip filled with uncomfortable silences and people who didn’t want to be there had come to an end. Atop the hill, a large cathedral awaited them—and right outside it, crowds of people.
They all were dressed extravagantly. The women of course wore a variety of colorful and elaborate dresses, but perhaps most interesting were the men. Albeit some were clad in straightforward, elegant black suits, others carried ridiculous golden garbs that stretched all the way down to their feet, probably difficulting their step. Those same men also carried what appeared to be rosaries—albeit with the shape of a blade, rather than a cross. Atop the cathedral, the large figure of a similar-looking blade could be seen, its handle gripped by the sky itself. This resemblance was unlikely to be a mere coincidence—those men were likely members of the clergy.
Umm, shouldn’t they all be inside?
As she pondered that, Mr. H. opened the door. Elena, who was leaning her body on it absentmindedly, was caught off-guard and made her glorious entrance by… plummeting face-first to the ground. Gasps and curious stares were thrown her way at the sound of the ensuing thud.
Annalise, for her part, wasted no time. She, who was the very picture of nobility, decided not to wait for Mr. H. to open the opposite door. Instead, she slid her behind across the seat and left in the same direction as Elena; to get off the carriage, she planted her tall heels on Elena’s back, briefly crushing her with her weight, all while wearing a mischievous smile.
“We have arrived on time,” Annalise said, pulling out her fan such it covered her red lips.
In the middle of eating dirt, Elena let out a “Fuck… you…”.
“Annalise, Elena, stop playing around.” To Charles’ orders, the two of them stood next to one another, Elena swiping the dust off her dress. Suddenly, they heard someone call for them—well, for one of them.
“Lady Annalise, you are here.”
“Oh great, it’s the Thing A Through C Patrol.”
The targets of Elena’s snark were a trio of young women, whose names did not matter. They were Annalise’s flunkies, and that was all they were. People only through strict definition, mattering in this story as much as set-dressing did in a movie.
“And the Marked is also here?”
“How is she even alive—”
“Silence, you fool!”
The slap of Annalise’s fan came down fast and hard upon the spine of one of the members of her troupe, who Elena had decided to refer to as Thing C.
“Ehem. Anyway, Prince Charles, shall we go ahead and meet with your father?” she said grabbing his arm. She was playing it cool, but intermingling her words with fretting glances at Elena’s way. Unfortunately for her, she was failing to deceive anyone. Elena responded to that anxious gaze with a roll of her eyes and crossed arms, which served to cause further blemishes on the mask of confidence Annalise was portraying.
This bitch hired the assassin, didn’t she?
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
She lacked in proof, but she had the intuition to make that claim. The killer she’d had to fight off must’ve been hired by Annalise herself. She hadn’t made many other enemies in this world, so unless her body belonged to someone really important, there was really no one else who would want her dead.
It was a cold scheme—one truly worthy of one with deserving the title of “Villainess”.
Being the one transported from Earth, Elena had guessed that if anyone was to play the part of Villainess, it would be her. That was the way it worked in the stories she used to read: a woman from the real world is reborn as the antagonist of a story she read. But in truth, when faced with true wickedness, such an assumption revealed itself as nothing but presumptuous, for her heart lacked the evil such a role required. Ordering someone dead; such a contemptible act was far beyond her.
...then again…
As her mind pondered if she could kill someone, a realization drew in—she was no better. The very assassin who’d come for her head ended up losing his life at her hands. Granted, it was all in self-defense, but what her reasoning was didn’t change that the result was the same.
Death.
No matter how she spun the scenario, how much or how little detail the scene had within her recollections, the truth refused to change. A man was killed, by someone who never believed they’d be capable of such a deed.
Giving into the adrenaline, however, she cast aside any objections she had to killing— no, actually, they were never cast aside. It was more accurate to say they never even flashed her mind. Driven by the eyes of Cordelia, the girl whose eyes had enwrapped her very being, Elena soldiered through any doubts her conscience might have raised, and plunged that blade into the man’s eyes with unthinking cruelty.
She perished as a result of the battle, but for the sake of Cordelia such a price was worth paying for. But death did still have an effect on her. Swimming through its depths let her forget, if only briefly, the impact of that battle, the way the man screamed in agony, the fresh blood that splashed onto her lips. Bathed by the light of life, now she actually could reminisce and clearly visualize the damage her actions had caused. The memory of spilling blood made her stomach turn, while the atmosphere felt as if it froze where she stood.
“Lady Elena, is everything all right?”
Blinking rapidly, Elena was brought back to reality. A masculine voice as monotonous as it was threatening, she immediately identified who it was that was calling her name.
“Sir Thales! You are here too.” Elena showed some surprise in her expression, but then her face straightened, and she cut to the chase. “Where did you hide Cordelia, you bastard?”
“I am afraid I cannot answer that question.”
The Captain of the Royal Knights, Thales Lockgood, bowed before Elena, seemingly the only one to make note of her presence. They both stood isolated from everyone else, as Charles and Annalise had gone ahead. “I am honored to receive you and Your Highness tonight. Although, I am surprised Lady Annalise is also here.”
“Well, ask your boss. He’s the one who insisted we both come here.” After the brawl the previous night at the tavern, Elena was understandably indifferent to his knightly demeanor.
“Tsk. Seems the apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree.”
They both exchanged chuckles—much to Elena’s surprise. Thales, who had shown nothing but calculated stoicism, had just thrown some smack at Charles’ way.
Raising his chin and staring at Charles’ back, Thales continued. “I feel sorry for the both of them. Forced into a marriage neither wants. Especially Lady Annalise, forced to be a child bearer and nothing more.”
“I don’t think she’d be much more than that anyway,” Elena blurted out. She nearly bit her tongue, realizing it might come across as a tad misogynist, but on days when her tongue worked faster than her brain, there was little she could do to stop it.
“I’m afraid I cannot share such a judgment. Nobody who rises among the ranks of the Meritocracy is deserving of so little. Yet that is the way this land rules her life must be.”
Despite holding some resentment, Elena observed Thales with interest, as the man displayed consternation within his frown.
“She’s been groomed all the way from birth to be the Prince’s wife. For one born in the Meritocracy, where those who show effort are meant to prosper, such a destiny must feel like an insult.”
A walking uterus. That was the role reserved for women across the Kingdom of Luzterna—no, across the entire continent. As Thales explained, it is expected for girls who turn 18 to abandon any and all desires, and to marry so they could bear children.
Slaves to the whims and desires of their husbands—and this was the fate of those who weren’t ACTUAL slaves, whose situation was often even worse.
Yeah… I’d rather not think about it right now.
Being both a Marked and a woman, Elena was caught at the crossroads of both kinds of discrimination. At first she grinned her teeth, perturbed by the revelation, but she then shook her head and put her thinking on hold for a bit. If she let the gears of her brain clank too loudly, she risked sinking fully into despair, a prospect that was not helpful to anyone.
Besides, there was an event to celebrate… not that she had any idea what any of it entailed, but still.
“Let us begin with the Ceremony.”
The entrance to the Cathedral was led into by a group of steps, adorned with a carpet the color of gold. Atop the steps, stood Charles, his father the King, whom she’d seen earlier that day, and next a womanly she didn’t recognize. She wore a long, sterile white robe and a black hat that covered her face, barring her mouth and chin. Why she was wearing something that obstructed her vision, Elena did not know.
“Tonight, my brothers, we are gathered to honor the Goddess’ victory over the evil one, and her forging of the very nation we stand on.”
Cheers from the audience were the reception to her speech, which was deliberate and oddly lacking in length. Her voice was robotic, as if any and all emotion had been stripped away. It reminded her of Cordelia, back when they first met, only somehow even more dull.
At the speech’s conclusion, the King drew a rapier out of his scabbard. It was hard to make out the details from far away, but it resembled the blade found on the Kingdom’s Crest. Likely a replica, but seeing how this was a Royal, it being the real deal was not out of the question. In any case, he handed it to the woman, who turned around to face the Cathedral’s large wooden doors and pointed the sword’s sharp end toward the heavens.
“Now feast. Feast on the banquet the Goddess has prepared for you. Revel in your gluttony, for tonight the Goddess casts her eyes shut on sin. That is your just reward, for allowing your blood to be shed under her command.”
Ringing bells made a melody, which boomed across the air all the way to the edges of the capital city. That sound announced the coveted time had come; the brown that served as the doors’ hue gave way to a golden glow. Slowly, the doors began to open, welcoming visitors to rush in.
“Let us step inside, Lady Elena,” Thales said. “I’m sure you’ll find joy in all the food the Goddess has prepared for us.”
“The what has what now?” Elena questioned, scratching her head at his statement. “Should I expect to meet this Goddess of yours inside there with an apron and a spatula?”
Even Thales, whose stern demeanor usually rejected the prospect of showing emotion, let out a brittle laugh. He further expounded, “You are mistaken, for the Goddess does not dwell on this Earth. Her Light Magic is what blesses us with a fruitful banquet. Every year, on this date, the doors to every church in the Kingdom open, allowing all citizens to eat to their hearts’ content.
“Wait, so the churches remain closed the rest of the year? Then how about…”
“Huh?” At her pause, Thales narrowed his eyes.
“N—Nothing!” Elena was thinking back to her time with Lucia, and how the bard managed to open the door with a spell. However, seeing how that girl was a Marked, it was better to play it safe and not say anything.
“Anyway, why not have a bite?” He gestured her forward with his arm.
“I don’t know. Using magic to generate food seems a bit sketchy— WAIT, IS THAT WHAT I THINK IT IS?”
On top of a table lay several plates filled with a wide variety of mouth-watering dishes. Some standouts were boiled turkey drenched in a bittersweet sauce, chicken wings mixed with finely cut carrot slices, and several different types of salads—yet none of them mattered. Elena dashed forward, shoving any fool in her way that stood between her and her goal.
“Oh, ham-and-cheese sandwiches, how I missed ya!”
She spoke to her food like it was sentient before taking a bite out of it. The plate was quite full compared to the others containing the more elaborate dishes, but she was certainly not going to complain. She was a simple girl, who preferred a light snack over a full-course meal if she was assisting an event like this. Especially when the sandwich tasted this good.
“Yummy! It has just the right amount of mayonnaise to not feel too dry.” As she finished swallowing, another thought approached her. “Wait, mayonnaise. There is mayonnaise in this world…dang. There goes one potential business venture out the window.”
Many stories she read involved people from Earth bringing inventions over to the new world they were transported to. Often, mayonnaise was one such thing brought over—okay, it was almost always mayonnaise. But it seems this world was already knowledgeable in the ways of mayonnaise.
Then again, do I even know how to make mayonnaise?
She laughed internally, realizing her genius backup plan had a crucial flaw anyway.
Her good mood was cut short, as she noticed something was off.
All of a sudden, all surrounding eyes had become aimed toward her. Was it because she was just talking to a sandwich? She WAS acting strange, so such reactions would only be natural, but did her voice really stand out that badly in the clutter of chatter that composed the Cathedral’s sound? Was it simply due to crumbs of bread being scattered all across her dress, shattering any illusion of glamour her attire was meant to convey?
No, there was a deeper reason for all the stares.
“I will make her my wife!”
That proclamation was uttered underneath a statue of a large, womanly figure. In other words, with the Goddess herself as his witness, Charles stated his intentions while pointing at Elena.
A replied slipped out of the shaky lips of the woman from before. “Such a notion…denied.”
“You… I am tired of listening to what some woman with a bucket on her head says.”
Gasps were heard from every direction. The King, who stood nearby, told Charles, “My son, you cannot speak like that to the Pope.”
“I shall speak how I want,” Charles carried on with his tantrum. “Tonight, the people of this kingdom were meant to learn of my true self. Well, here I am!” He flailed his arms wildly. ”I am not one to submit to tradition. I will marry this woman, Marked or otherwise.”
Further gasps were heard, as people learned of Elena’s identity.
Did you really need to mention that, you idiot?
Idiot and a liar. Elena had arranged to assist the White Blade Ball with him, all in exchange for being told Cordelia’s whereabouts and being set free. Yet now, he was shouting to the wind his intention of making her his wife. The sleazy prince was going back on his word.
“Sir Charles, are you really speaking the truth?” Annalise called out from the crowd, in disarray.
“Yes,” Charles affirmed solidly. “I will marry the woman known as Elena, and there’s nothing you, or my father, or the Pope can do about it!”
“Isn’t there someone you forgot to ask?”
Elena’s eyes sparkled at the sound of the voice that had just cut in.
A loud whoosh overtook sound itself. Charles, whose instinct told him to utter insults as a response, had his breath swept away by the sudden hurricane.
One of the guests, dressed in a suit, took center stage and swung the blade by his hip. In the blink of an eye, all the remaining guests were knocked over, powerless before the harsh winds. The man in a suit was not affected of course, as the wind that ruled over the Cathedral was no natural disaster, but rather an extension of the man himself.
“I don’t need this anymore,” he said, removing his suit, revealing the jacket of a pirate. He glared at Charles, pointing his rapier’s edge, and added, “As for you… you don’t need any woman in your life for the time being. So apologies, Your Highness, but Elena is coming with me!”
The sly smirk of a rogue, accompanied by the beautiful eyes and smooth skin of a prince. Those were the features that defined the man whom Elena hoped would come to her rescue.
The male lead of this story, one could say.
“Miles!”