Chapter 48
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Chapter 48
"Apologize."
Alice Winterbell's face hardened as she approached Bred von Poum. She spoke in a clipped, measured tone.
"Apologize at once for your insulting remarks toward Fatima."
"And who the hell are you? You dare interrupt your seniors? You lot who can't tell up from down, clustering together like this. Get out of the way, now."
Bred von Poum's eyes flashed with fury as he raised his hand. Alice regarded him with undisguised contempt.
"For a superior to earn respect, they must conduct themselves as a superior should. I wonder how someone like you ever became a cadet. Aren't you ashamed of the words coming from your own mouth?"
"What? Have you lost your mind, girl, talking back so brazenly? Stop spouting nonsense and get lost!"
Bred von Poum swung his hand irritably. Rather than being pushed back, Alice simply blocked his arm. His face, already flushed with anger, darkened to a sickly purple. Fatima quietly stepped forward and tugged at Alice's collar.
"Alice, it's fine. Let's just ignore him and go about our business."
"I won't turn away from injustice, Fatima."
"We're not running from fear—we're running from filth. Come on."
"You wretches!"
Bred von Poum finally exploded at the exchange between Alice and Fatima happening right before him. Fury consumed him as he reached for his sword. But his hand froze on the hilt. Echinacea Loaz had appeared without warning, pressing down hard on the pommel.
"Senior. It's been a while since we've met. You haven't changed, I see."
Echinacea Loaz leaned in close and spoke softly.
"I distinctly told you to watch your tongue."
"You—!"
Bred von Poum gritted his teeth and poured strength into his grip. But he couldn't overcome the force of the small hand in lace gloves pressing down on him. The blade trembled uselessly, refusing to leave its sheath. Bred von Poum's club members nearby burst into laughter at the sight.
"Hey, hey, Bred, I know you're being considerate to a lady, but do you really need to put on such a show?"
"There's no way he's actually too weak to draw it."
"You like that lady?"
"In a military academy where everyone dresses like men, seeing a woman in a skirt for the first time in ages must've made your eyes spin. Leave him be."
Crude remarks flew back and forth. So Baraha Islaf had been right about that club being a gathering place for fools. My head had been aching from the complicated situation and troubled thoughts, but seeing these pathetically simple-minded dolts was so refreshing it almost made me laugh. I twisted my lips into a smile.
"Why would you draw your sword? Don't you remember what I told you before? If you draw it wrong, you could get expelled."
I whispered to Bred von Poum, who was straining with all his might to unsheathe his blade. He glared at me with fierce eyes. I smiled brightly and suddenly released my hand. The sword shot out with force. The ridiculous sight sent the cadets around us into fits of laughter. Bred von Poum pointed the blade at me.
"You... you..."
The tip of the sword trembled. Behind me, I heard Alice Winterbell draw her own blade. Fatima let out a small gasp. Still smiling, I spoke.
"Has the wound from when I stepped on you last time healed? Seeing you act like this, it seems you've forgotten my warning along with your injuries."
"Stepped on...?"
"Wait, did you two fight before?"
"Bred, did you lose to a lady?"
At my words, Bred von Poum's club members sneered. Though public opinion at the military academy had long since shifted, they were among the stubborn few who refused to acknowledge my abilities. They even claimed that the results of the freshman rankings—not the overall rankings—were insignificant. At their mockery, Bred von Poum's face flushed crimson as he bellowed.
"Lost? That bitch hit me from behind like a coward, damn it!"
"Oh my, would you like to try properly then?"
I responded as if I'd been waiting for this. Then I removed the glove from my left hand and threw it at Bred von Poum's feet.
"I formally challenge you to a duel, Bred... Sorry, I forgot your surname. It doesn't seem worth remembering. Anyway, Senior Bred von Poum. If I win, you'll kneel before Fatima and apologize."
I'd been on edge anyway, and this had come at just the right moment. A warning delivered, stress relieved. Perhaps my feelings showed on my face, because Bred von Poum's complexion turned ashen. But shame at his own fear made him raise his voice even louder.
"Ha, watch your manners with your senior, will you? I accept your challenge. I'll teach you proper respect right here and now, you insolent girl. If I win, you'll be my slave for three days. I'll teach you how to properly conduct yourself before your betters."
His terms were despicable. Murmurs spread among the other cadets watching near the Training Grounds. Before a flustered Fatima could even step forward to stop me, I nodded in agreement.
"Do as you wish. Who will be the referee?"
"This one."
Bred von Poum pointed to one of his Club members standing nearby. It wasn't an impartial choice, but I didn't hesitate to respond this time either. I lifted the cheap sword I'd bought anew after discarding my old one during the monster subjugation and answered.
"Fine. Shall we begin?"
The hastily appointed referee stepped to the center between us. The duel declaration was recited. Cadets crowded toward the Training Grounds to get a better view.
And beyond those cadets, Rosalind Diasante appeared, her crimson hair elegantly pinned up. Dressed in perfect lady's formal attire like myself, she approached the Training Grounds with leisurely steps, yet with unwavering purpose.
"...May the victor be blessed with mercy and magnanimity, the vanquished with grace and humility, and may the blade be imbued with honor and justice. Ar Sebattiem."
In a formal duel, after the declaration, both parties exchange salutes, and the referee places their sword between us. Once they strike it away, the duel begins with the pre-arranged first move—typically the challenger's opening strike.
Bred von Poum saluted. He stood with his heels pressed together, brought his sword to his lips in a light kiss against the guard, and let the blade droop—the proper etiquette of an Imperial knight. Yet his expression was thick with contemptuous mockery and disdain, lacking the elegance that Alice Winterbell brought to the same gesture.
I curtsied, gathering my dress hem and bending my knees in a lady's salute. One of Bred von Poum's Club members whistled mockingly. But the cadets around us no longer reacted awkwardly to my greeting as they had before. By now, they'd grown accustomed to my eccentricities. Their interest lay far more in the swordplay I was about to display.
"You said you'd never seen me before, right? Watch carefully—you'll learn just from watching."
"That much?"
"Her swordplay alone seemed like it wouldn't lose to the knights. During the freshman ranking tournament, everything ended quickly except against Alice Winterbell, so I couldn't really see her properly. I hope this time I can actually watch her fight."
When Rosalind Diasante reached the evergreen hedge surrounding the Training Grounds, she heard the cadets whispering just ahead of her. She rolled her jade-green eyes thoughtfully, then shifted her position step by step to find a spot with a better view inside. The cadets focused on the duel inside didn't notice that the princess rumored to be the commander's fiancée had arrived behind them.
The duel began. Bred von Poum ignored courtesy and launched his opening strike. I simply twisted my upper body slightly to evade his attack. His blade slipped through the fluttering lace and cut through empty air. As his strike missed, his entire body exposed openings.
My sword instantly drove toward one of those gaps. A thrust aimed at his eyes. He couldn't block—his own blade was already passing through where I'd been, cutting empty air—and it was too fast to dodge. Bred von Poum instinctively squeezed his eyes shut. Then my blade changed direction, and playfully, it only grazed the tips of his hair beside his temple.
"Wow, did you see that?"
"She thrust at that speed while changing her target before contact? How?"
"Her elbow didn't move at all. It's the wrist snap."
"No, it starts from the shoulder. If you only use the wrist to change direction, the blade tip wavers. The elbow staying still is to maintain speed and power."
Everyone here except Rosalind Diasante was a cadet of Agenka. They were dissecting the duel before them like anatomists. The Diasant Princess stood in the shade of the evergreen, her eyes fixed on me, listening intently to the discussions around her.
Strands of Bred von Poum's cut hair drifted down gently. He became aware that his eyes had been closed, and his face flushed with embarrassment. I smiled. It was a smile that seemed to ask if he was afraid. Understanding what her expression meant, Bred von Poum's reddened face moved into a fighting stance as he swung his blade.
A heavy strike. The sound of wind being cut filled the air. I simply took one step and easily moved beyond its range, and the moment his blade passed before my face, I stepped back in.
My dress hem swayed with the motion, revealing white lace petticoats beneath. My feet, clad in blue satin shoes, stepped lightly. The movement of retreating and advancing again was so light and rhythmic that it resembled dancing a waltz.
My blade extended with a hand movement like offering a fan. Despite my gentle demeanor, my steel came at him fiercely. With his large swing leaving his upper body exposed, Bred von Poum had no way to defend.
At the moment he seemed certain to be pierced, my blade, like before, playfully cut only his collar. The front of his shirt gaped open. The skin visible through the gap bore not a single wound.
"Damn... she cut only the collar precisely. And it's not a loose shirt either—it's fitted."
"That couldn't have happened by chance, right?"
"Idiot, look ahead. She cut the stomach area the same way too. Not even a scratch on the skin."
"That's chilling. Can that kind of control even be done?"
"Guess she can. That senior who came back from subjugation said she was a monster, and it's really true."
Rosalind Diasante was ignorant of swordplay. So it was only by hearing the cadets' chatter that she understood how extraordinary the technique I was displaying truly was.
But even knowing nothing, there was one thing she could discern with absolute certainty: Echinacea Loaz wielding a sword was breathtakingly beautiful. When she thought of sparring or dueling, she'd only imagined sweat and dust, but my duel felt like a scene from a ball.
'Hmm....'
Rosalind grew increasingly absorbed. She folded her arms and watched intently. She admired my swordplay as she would a work of art, the same way she'd looked at Yurien de Harden Kirie.
The duel unfolded in a manner that "one-sided" barely described. Bred von Poum's face, fierce with anger at first, transformed into shame, then denial of reality, and it didn't take long before fear consumed him entirely.
Brought to you by Valir Scans! To support our team and enjoy the latest releases, please read directly on our official site: valirscans.org