SBTMK Chapter 18

The test location was some distance from the Emperor's palace.

Only after living it herself did she truly feel the weight of what Lugaria had meant, about getting lost.

'Should've asked her to at least see me partway.'

But it was too late for regrets now.

Flora recalled the directions from the servant she'd stopped to ask, back when she was crossing the garden a moment ago.

Past the stables, then turn right, they'd said.

And after that… wait, the path splits?

Ah, another obstacle.

Flora stopped, troubled, at the fork in the path and scratched at her cheek.

“……Ugh. Dizzying.”

On that vast, far-off island, she'd known where everything was, no map needed.

And here she was, unable to find so much as one training ground, wasting time like this.

First time on this road or not, it couldn't be helped, but the self-reproach kept coming all the same. No time to sit around comforting herself.

If she kept wandering like this, she wouldn't make it to the training grounds in time.

She resolved that once she made it into the corps, learning this godforsaken layout would be the first order of business.

Looking around, she spotted a group of knights in white uniforms walking her way in the distance.

No use dithering. Flora walked up and spoke first.

“Excuse me. I need directions.”

The knights looked her over, up and down.

“Where are you headed?”

“Ah, I'm looking for the training grounds where the Imperial Knight Corps entrance exam is being held today.”

At her words, the knights exchanged a glance.

“You don't know the way, so I take it you're not an Academy cadet?”

“No.”

'Why's that any of their business, right now?'

The nosy question, the blatant once-over—both grated. But she had bigger problems than her feelings right now, so she swallowed it.

Getting pissed off here wasn't going to change a thing about them.

One of the knights jerked a bored hand toward the left path.

“Straight that way.”

His manner, his eyes—both dripped with contempt for her.

Didn't say it outright, but she got the gist of that look.

Fail anyway, so why waste the time. Or—the nerve of some nobody, sitting the exam for a corps that guards the Empire, dragging a knight's honor through the mud.

She'd once worn that same superiority herself, so—she got it, a little.

A penniless nobody commoner, banking on some half-assed swordsmanship, trying to join a corps that guards the Empire—who wouldn't laugh in her face?

There were plenty of things in the world that couldn't be gotten with dreams and passion alone.

As long as the world she stood in had a class system, this kind of discrimination and coldness would never disappear.

Separately from feeling somewhat annoyed, she had no right to snap at the knights or correct them.

For now, she was in a hurry. She had no time to point out every irritating detail, and she wasn't foolish enough to waste time and feeling on words that wouldn't be taken to heart anyway.

The directions the knights had given her with such carelessness left her uneasy, but with no way of knowing anything for herself, there was nothing to do but go and find out.

Flora had just thanked them and was about to step onto the left path when it happened.

“That's not the way.”

A voice came from behind her.

Flora stopped reflexively and turned back, puzzled.

“Sir Sarthe! Good day!”

Neatly trimmed blond hair caught the sunlight and gleamed.

His eyes, pale green, called to mind the fresh sprouts of new spring—but nothing warm ran underneath.

If anything, it was cold as the dead of winter—just looking at it left a chill on the skin.

The white uniform, the golden epaulets with their white cape, and the gloves besides.

Perfectly turned out in full formal dress, he carried a sense of composed nobility.

“Sir Rehl. Sir Mazenta.”

The man narrowed his eyes slightly as he looked down at the two knights.

“I put you two on patrol, and this is what you're doing—picking on a candidate who hasn't even passed yet?”

“I—that, we're sorry.”

“We'll discuss this further later. I'm in a hurry myself.”

“…….”

"Disgraceful. Go."

The two knights went white and bolted.

Flora watched them flee as though running for their lives, then looked up at the man who had come to her aid.

“Thank you for your help.”

So that uneasy feeling had been right after all—they'd given her the wrong directions on purpose.

Discrimination was one thing, but not even giving proper directions.

It grated on her nerves a little, but she was lucky, at least, to have run into this man.

“Let me apologize on their behalf.”

“……There's no need to apologize.”

“Come along. We'll be late at this rate.”

The man the two knights had called "Sir Sarthe" walked on ahead. Flora followed after him.

They must have walked for some time.

A garden appeared, densely arranged with trees tall enough to block out the sky and hedges trimmed to precision.

The air filling her lungs with every breath was so crisp it felt like she'd stepped into the mountains.

It wouldn't have seemed strange if some wild animal had come bounding out at that very moment.

Just as the calm of the forest had let Flora's guard down—

A weird rustle in the grass—and something dropped clean out of the sky.

"AAAAH!" A heavy, bizarre shriek.

Flora reflexively drew the dagger tucked at her waist and moved behind the intruder.

Subduing a threatening figure was the goal—she had no room to spare for anything else.

Which was why it was only afterward that she realized the man was dressed in the same uniform as Sarthe.

“…….”

A silence fell between the three of them for a moment.

"What—is that a blade? Insane!"

It was the intruder who broke the silence first.

Flora shifted her eyes to gauge Sarthe's reaction.

Sarthe's face stayed dead calm, like this happened all the time.

'...Shit. This is bad.'

As Flora quietly lowered the blade, she saw the corner of Sarthe's mouth twitch upward, ever so slightly.

“Hey. Sarthe. What is this? What the hell did you drag in?”

The man, turning around, shouted with his face flushed red.

“Guess so. No clue what I picked up, myself.”

“You call that casual? I almost died just now.”

“Which is why I keep telling you—cut the pranks, Senior.”

It had been an entirely reflexive response, and by the time Flora realized something had gone badly wrong, it was already too late.

In the middle of enjoying the peace, some madman had dropped straight out of the sky—there was no room whatsoever for rational thought.

Flora hesitated, then bowed at the waist.

“I'm sorry. I thought it was an ambush……”

“My liver about dropped out. Seriously.”

The man straightened his rumpled uniform, glaring at Flora.

“No more time to waste. Let's move.”

Fortunately, Sarthe took the lead and pulled along the man who looked ready to keep shouting.

Thinking she probably wasn't going to pass the White Knights exam at this rate, Flora followed after them all the same.

They made it to the training grounds in time, thank god. Sarthe and his companion, saviors out of nowhere, were gone before she could even thank them properly.

'Fast, too……'

And so the exam began.

The first test was a one-on-one spar against mid-rank knights.

Flora looked around the vast training grounds before her gaze settled on the raised platform at its center.

There were exactly three chairs on the platform, and all three had occupants.

A man in black uniform, a man in white uniform, and…

'……Erne?'

Erne sat in his seat, wearing a uniform in a striking mix of red and black.

Weren't new knights supposed to be recruited by only two corps?

Had he come intending to take note of any standout talent?

Whatever his reason for being there, seeing Erne made it easy enough to confirm who the other two seated figures were.

The commanders of the Dawn Knights, the White Knights, and the Black Knights.

Behind the commanders stood knights in corps uniform and priests, motionless, unwavering—and looking closer, she spotted her benefactors from earlier scattered among them.

She'd suspected as much from the way he'd scolded the knights for giving her wrong directions, but it seemed he held some considerable rank within the corps.

Whether taken as a whole or examined one by one, each of them radiated an extraordinary presence and dignity.

Sit there stiff as that, glaring down at the sparring like they're interrogating criminals—even a solid recruit wouldn't show a tenth of what they've got.

And in practice, hardly any of the candidates managed to defeat the mid-rank knights.

Lack of skill was part of it, but the sheer intimidation coming off the figures on the platform surely played its part too.

Whether it was that none of them met expectations, the commanders' expressions grew more and more visibly bored as the exam went on.

“Flora.”

After a long wait, her name was finally called.

Flora walked to the center of the training grounds and bowed politely toward the platform.

As she raised her head, her eyes met the commanders' for a brief instant. Even Erne was still watching her with that killing-intent-laced gaze of his.

A chill ran down her spine for a moment, but she managed to turn away and break free of the pressure before it could overwhelm her.

The assigned mid-rank knight stood across from her. Flora exchanged bows with him before drawing her sword.

The instant the stern command to begin rang out, Flora struck out with her sword.

Ching—the blades met with a sharp clash, and the mid-rank knight's eyes widened, briefly caught off guard. The exam candidate was pressing him with more force than he'd expected.

Every time their blades met, the sheer weight behind her strikes was enough to make him realize he'd better keep his wits sharp or he'd regret it.

Flora kept up a steady stream of attacks, aiming to wear him down quickly. He did try to counter in his own way, but to Flora's eyes, every move was telegraphed. She had no intention of letting herself get hit—she stepped lightly aside and avoided each attack without effort.

Her opponent left a great many openings, overall. Compared to Erne, this was a dull spar with no real tension.

Was this how it felt for Erne, holding back to match her? Go all out and the man would be cut open, so—nothing for it but to rein herself in.

Which meant, conversely, that she was confident of ending this spar the moment she chose to.

'Might as well finish this up soon.'

Flora spotted an opening, closed the distance, and drove her sword in like a thrust between the knight's ribs.

She put enough weight behind her hand to make it look like she'd cut straight through, and the knight, unable to dodge in time, dropped his sword in alarm.

And that was the end of the match.

Flora didn't press the attack any further. She withdrew her blade.

Silence fell over the training grounds.

The people watching seemed to have forgotten even to breathe.