"What's your dream, Lancel?"
"My dream?"
"You practice swordsmanship every day, so you must have a dream."
"Dream...?"
Lancel's expression became somewhat subtle, as if the word "dream" was unfamiliar to him.
"I suppose I do have something that could be called a dream."
"What kind of dream is it?"
"To build a house in the capital, the archipelago, and my hometown, and live comfortably while traveling between them."
"Hehe, that's quite ordinary for a knight's dream!"
"Ordinary is good."
Lancel placed his hand on Marigold's head.
"Ordinary is good."
Marigold closed her eyes and surrendered to the gentle touch brushing through her hair. A fresh scent wafted on the breeze across the field.
"Shall we go somewhere farther tomorrow? Like the riverside."
"Yes!"
"Is there anything you'd like to eat?"
"Anything!"
Lancel made a troubled face and said, "You know, 'anything' is the most difficult request," but...
For Marigold, anything really was fine. Potatoes barely salvaged from the fire, freshwater fish with hardly any meat that left her hungry, smoky jerky, autumn fruits so tart and sour they made her tongue tingle—anything was good.
Anything had been good.
"Should we head back now?"
"Carry me!"
"Yes, yes, Young Lady."
.
.
.
Hoofbeats broke the dawn's silence as they struck the ground.
It was the sound of House Marigold's procession crossing through the forest.
By the time they reached a clearing where the horses could rest, they had already been riding for days.
"How is the Young Lady?"
"She just fell asleep a moment ago."
Everyone from House Marigold wore equally gloomy expressions.
They were all affected by the sight of Lady Marigold, limp and drained of energy.
"This sudden turn of events must be devastating for her. Head Maid, please watch over her closely."
Though Marigold hadn't spoken a word until she fell asleep, her silence was what troubled those watching her.
For those who remembered her from her time in the borderlands, this was an unfamiliar sight.
Seeing her like this for days was heartbreaking.
"Young Lady..."
Through the carriage window, they could see Marigold lying with her head on the maid's lap.
Her eyes were swollen and red.
After sobbing silently for a long time, she had drifted off to sleep, but even her sleeping form seemed somehow devoid of energy.
Occasionally, her lips would move, and barely audible sleep-talking could be heard.
"We... reconciled... mumble mumble..."
The maids could only sigh deeply whenever they heard her voice.
A young lady of a Count's family.
The mistress of this long procession.
A mere nine-year-old girl.
"Did she eat before sleeping?"
"She barely moistened her throat, that's all."
"Well. Make sure she eats something when she wakes up. We have a long journey ahead, and it will be difficult if her strength fails this early."
"Yes."
The household members pretended not to notice Marigold's condition.
"She said everything was settled, but in the end..."
"What happened to the escort that was supposed to meet us at the borderlands? Why has His Majesty sent no word until now...?"
"Even the messengers we sent to the capital have been silent for months..."
"Silence! Don't act rashly."
Chamberlain Albert silenced the voices emerging from among the knights.
"Refrain from lowering morale with unnecessary talk. We can consider the details after we've moved the Young Lady to safety."
The knights all fell silent at Albert's stern gaze. He was right. Evacuation was the priority.
But then—
"Sir Albert!"
An urgent voice rang out.
Chamberlain Albert recognized it as belonging to one of the scouts patrolling the area. A bad feeling washed over him.
"Oh no..."
One by one, flames began to appear from the darkness of the forest. Dozens, perhaps hundreds of them.
Everyone recognized them as the torches of pursuers.
"Everyone, prepare yourselves."
In the late dawn.
In the forest thick with darkness.
Marigold's knights drew their swords one by one. Their eyes gleamed with the determination of cornered beasts.
From the past until today, they had only one purpose.
"Glory to House Marigold."
28.
Whether knights or mercenaries, those who survived long in this continent by the sword shared one common trait.
They knew their place.
Yes.
Knowing one's place.
It's difficult.
Much harder than one might think.
Nobles tend to overestimate themselves, don't they? Knights who wield swords even more so.
There were countless fools on battlefields who believed they could single-handedly defeat an army, and they all died, unable to contain their boiling blood. Lancel had seen countless comrades disappear that way.
If you can't recognize your opponent's ability, your own ability, and the gap between them, you simply won't survive long.
Only fools fight battles they can't win. Life is busy enough fighting battles you can win, so why do something so foolish?
'This playthrough might end here.'
Lancel wore a bitter smile as he watched the knight approaching him.
'I'm going to lose.'
The outcome was already determined.
Lancel knew this fact.
Swordsmanship and instincts honed over hundreds of years? What good were those things?
In the face of overwhelming power difference, such things were utterly useless.
It was clear that twelve-year-old Lancel's body would gradually break just from the clash of their swords.
'I will lose.'
Shing—!
The bastard sword drawn from the knight's hand scattered light.
It was a weapon easily five times heavier than the sword Lancel held.
"Even if I accidentally hurt you badly because I can't control my strength, don't hold it against me, boy."
The moment that low voice flowed from the knight's mouth,
Lancel felt a chilling sensation.
His body reacted before his mind could.
Clang—!
Flying sparks obscured his vision.
"Ugh!"
A groan escaped involuntarily.
Blood seeped from his torn grip, staining the hilt completely red.
The impact transmitted through the blade traveled to his entire upper body. Numbing vibrations thoroughly shook every joint.
This was an adult's strength.
This was the difference in class.
"Tsk..."
Lancel stepped back and gathered his wits.
The impact of the blades colliding was unbelievable. It felt like he had crashed into a massive boulder.
'I'm done for.'
His mouth tasted bitter.
'It's already this hard, how am I going to handle this?'
Lancel's molars ground together as he endured the pain.
"...You blocked it..."
The knight, on the other hand, seemed genuinely surprised.
He apparently had no intention of playing this children's game for long. He clearly meant to end the duel with a single strike.
That's how much sincerity was in his blow.
But Lancel had blocked it.
He had deflected the sword swung with all the might of Violet's elite knight as if it were natural. With just a twelve-year-old body.
"I was planning to just cut your wrist to make you drop your sword, but I didn't expect you to block it."
"Well, it was just luck."
It wasn't modesty.
It was the truth.
Raising his sword against the overwhelming sense of danger had been purely instinctual.
His instinct, honed over hundreds of years of crossing swords with others.
"Indeed impressive, Lancel."
A smile bloomed on the 1st Princess's lips.
"Truly a talented child, Your Highness."
"Don't underestimate the First Training Knight too much. Lancel is an excellent knight worthy of my attention."
"Yes."
At the voice flowing from the carriage, the knight looked at Lancel again.
The boy Lancel.
Cold silver eyes.
Deep, dark hair.
The unwavering blade of House Marigold.
"Excellent."
Looking at Lancel's blood-stained grip, the knight grasped his bastard sword again.
The image of the young knight was etched into the retina of the 1st Princess watching the duel from the carriage.
"Really. It's too much of a waste for you to get hurt in a place like this, Lancel. Won't you just give up?"
"..."
No answer came.
A desolate atmosphere hung in the air.
For a moment, it seemed as if time had stopped.
"Please dodge, boy."
The knight stomped one foot on the ground.
A loud boom resonated, making the ground tremble.
Following his pivoting foot, his lower body, upper body, and shoulders rotated in sequence.
Whoosh—!
The blade tore through the air. A terrifying speed, impossible to dodge even when seen with one's own eyes.
Slash—!
The tip of the sword grazed Lancel's thigh. It continued upward in a diagonal line toward his waist.
He intended to cut through the shoulder joint in one go, ensuring Lancel wouldn't be able to hold a sword for months.
Until then, Lancel showed no reaction.
He just silently held up his sword as if he couldn't even feel the pain.
"...!"
It was then that the knight, about to put strength into his finishing move, widened his eyes.
Lancel's blade, which had been held still, changed its angle ever so slightly, and was now pointing directly at the knight's upper body.
If the knight moved just a bit closer, the blade would pierce straight through his chest.
"How..."
Lancel's counterattack, like a snake hiding its fangs, aimed for just that one moment.
"Kugh!"
A long sword mark crossed the knight's upper body as he hastily twisted away. Blood sprayed upward.
The knight's posture immediately crumbled.
"Now."
Lancel had no intention of missing this opportunity.
He was about to step closer and split the knight's body open.
If only it weren't for the kick that suddenly flew toward his abdomen.
"Kek!"
A breathtaking impact.
For a moment, he felt weightless.
Lancel's body, which had flown several meters into the air, crashed onto the ground.
After rolling on the dirt for a while to regain his posture, Lancel almost felt tears of frustration.
'Damn this short body...'
It was an opportunity unlikely to come again.
If his arms had been just a little longer, if his stride had been just a bit wider, he would have ended it with that attack.
'This isn't good.'
His body was already a mess.
The sharp pain of broken ribs, the long sword wound on his thigh, his torn grip, his whole body trembling from the impact.
In the end, a child is still a child.
"..."
The knight stared blankly at his own upper body, which was seeping with blood. The wound was quite deep.
He seemed unable to believe that he had allowed a twelve-year-old child to cut him.
What would have happened if his reaction had been just a little slower?
He might have lost his life.
Thinking about that, the knight felt a chill down his spine.
"You got me that time."
"...Yes, Your Highness. I was careless."
"I told you, didn't I? Lancel is an excellent knight."
The knight now looked at Lancel with wariness in his eyes.
The boy Lancel.
Cold silver eyes.
Deep, dark hair.
The unwavering blade of House Marigold.
"Impressive."
Looking at Lancel's blood-stained grip, the knight grasped his bastard sword again.
The image of the young knight was etched into the retina of the 1st Princess watching the duel from the carriage.
"Really. It's too much of a waste for you to get hurt in a place like this, Lancel. Won't you just give up?"
"..."
No answer came.
A desolate atmosphere hung in the air.
For a moment, it seemed as if time had stopped.
"Please dodge, boy."
The knight stomped one foot on the ground.
A loud boom resonated, making the ground tremble.
Following his pivoting foot, his lower body, upper body, and shoulders rotated in sequence.
Whoosh—!
The blade tore through the air. A terrifying speed, impossible to dodge even when seen with one's own eyes.
Slash—!
The tip of the sword grazed Lancel's thigh. It continued upward in a diagonal line toward his waist.
He intended to cut through the shoulder joint in one go, ensuring Lancel wouldn't be able to hold a sword for months.
Until then, Lancel showed no reaction.
He just silently held up his sword as if he couldn't even feel the pain.
"...!"
It was then that the knight, about to put strength into his finishing move, widened his eyes.
Lancel's blade, which had been held still, changed its angle ever so slightly, and was now pointing directly at the knight's upper body.
If the knight moved just a bit closer, the blade would pierce straight through his chest.
"How..."
Lancel's counterattack, like a snake hiding its fangs, aimed for just that one moment.
"Kugh!"
A long sword mark crossed the knight's upper body as he hastily twisted away. Blood sprayed upward.
The knight's posture immediately crumbled.
"Now."
Lancel had no intention of missing this opportunity.
He was about to step closer and split the knight's body open.
If only it weren't for the kick that suddenly flew toward his abdomen.
"Kek!"
A breathtaking impact.
For a moment, he felt weightless.
Lancel's body, which had flown several meters into the air, crashed onto the ground.
After rolling on the dirt for a while to regain his posture, Lancel almost felt tears of frustration.
'Damn this short body...'
It was an opportunity unlikely to come again.
If his arms had been just a little longer, if his stride had been just a bit wider, he would have ended it with that attack.
'This isn't good.'
His body was already a mess.
The sharp pain of broken ribs, the long sword wound on his thigh, his torn grip, his whole body trembling from the impact.
In the end, a child is still a child.
"..."
The knight stared blankly at his own upper body, which was seeping with blood. The wound was quite deep.
He seemed unable to believe that he had allowed a twelve-year-old child to cut him.
What would have happened if his reaction had been just a little slower?
He might have lost his life.
Thinking about that, the knight felt a chill down his spine.
"You got me that time."
"...Yes, Your Highness. I was careless."
"I told you, didn't I? Lancel is an excellent knight."
The knight now looked at Lancel with wariness in his eyes.
The boy Lancel.
Cold silver eyes.
Dark hair.
The unwavering blade of House Marigold.
"Impressive."
Looking at Lancel's blood-stained hand, the knight grasped his bastard sword once more.
The 1st Princess Violet watched the duel between Lancel and her knight with a stern expression.
After that, it was a one-sided duel.
Princess Violet watched the match between Lancel and the knight with a stern expression.
Lancel Dante was barely managing to dodge or block the incoming blades. His movements were clearly accumulating fatigue and shock.
Clang—!
With each clash of swords, his struggle was visible even to the naked eye.
It was already a miracle that they had exchanged more than ten strikes.
His limit would come soon. The body was bound to be depleted.
But he didn't stop.
He could have given up by now, but his perseverance exceeded the 1st Princess's expectations.
"A year and a half."
She thought of the blonde girl who would have left this region by now.
"That's too short a relationship to risk your life for, Lancel."
She knew Marigold was a good child.
But even so, barely two years was a short time.
The depth of their acquaintance was too shallow for a promising knight to stake his life on.
"..."
Lancel Dante, drenched in sweat, rolled on the ground again.
He was getting back up on trembling legs.
The 1st Princess found it difficult to understand Lancel Dante's determination.
"I'll treat you better, you know, Lancel?"