SN Chapter 14

"I remember. You said she had amnesia, that she didn't know anything."

"Don't say such things! How heartbroken the girl would be if she heard!"

Nathan regarded Raymond with narrowed eyes as the adjutant spouted nonsense. What on earth was this adjutant going on about? If someone had amnesia, you called it amnesia—what else were you supposed to call it? Raymond seemed to realize his mistake.

"Oh, wait, that's not what I meant!"

He hastily added more and returned to the main point.

"I already know Knight Rosaline is an exceptional swordsman. However, she still has many shortcomings for guarding His Imperial Highness. After a few more months of training..."

"I was on my way to the Knight Captain's office."

"...?"

Nathan's statement came out of nowhere. Raymond looked slightly displeased but listened without interrupting.

"There was quite a commotion outside."

"Perhaps they've grown lax since time has passed since the incident. I'll work them harder."

"Good idea. In any case, I heard noise coming from the training grounds, so I went to see what was happening..."

"Was she training diligently?"

"Knight Rosaline was beating Knight Nestor like one would beat a dog. Actually, Rosaline doesn't seem like she'd beat an animal, so she probably wouldn't beat a dog like that. Let me rephrase. She was beating him like one would beat a training dummy."

Raymond's jaw dropped. Who beat what?

"You're certain the other party was Junior Knight Nestor of House Seacrag?"

"His cheeks were so severely swollen it was hard to recognize him, but probably yes."

Raymond knew Nestor well. An utterly base fellow who picked fights with Rosaline at every opportunity. His swordsmanship skills backed up his rude behavior—they were rather excellent—and Rosaline had simply ignored his provocations and moved on. Perhaps because of this, Nestor had grown arrogant, believing himself superior to Rosaline. The reason he hadn't been promoted this time was because the position of senior knight wasn't determined by swordsmanship alone.

Even so, if someone asked Raymond objectively whose swordsmanship was superior between the two, he would have raised Nestor's hand without hesitation. There was that clear a difference. And yet this Rosaline had beaten that Nestor like a dog?

"Did Nestor... seem drunk? Or had someone already pummeled him before this?"

"...You seem to have little faith in Knight Rosaline compared to how much you care for her."

Raymond closed his mouth. It was indeed a disrespectful remark toward Rosaline. But the situation was that hard to believe. Just a few weeks ago, she hadn't even been able to hold a sword properly. He sprang up from his seat.

"I'm leaving for the day!"

"At one-thirty? The sun's still high in the sky."

"I'm taking early leave!"

"What chaos. I'll give you a break—be back within an hour."

I love you, Vice-Captain! Raymond bolted from the vice-captain's office the moment permission was granted. The fellow had solid family background, good skills and character, but tended to care excessively for his own people.

Nathan shook his head and began preparing the several documents he needed to file to assign her guard duty.

Raymond ran. Nathan would have frowned and scolded him if he'd seen. Before long, he spotted Rosaline walking down the corridor. Not a single small scratch could be found on her anywhere. She looked so peaceful it was hard to believe she'd been sparring just minutes ago, and not a speck of dirt or dust marred her uniform. Had it not been for Nestor being carried docilely in her arms, he would never have believed such an intense bout had just taken place.

"...Knight Rosaline?"

"May Idelabheim's glory split the Onyx Moon."

Raymond rubbed his eyes vigorously. Rosaline held Nestor with a serene expression. Like a knight from a fairy tale carrying a princess.

"May Idelabheim's glory split the Onyx Moon..."

"May Idelabheim's glory split the Onyx Moon..."

Behind her followed two familiar faces, pale as sheets. Junior Knights Claude and Bastian. Fellows who always walked around with Nestor, heads held stiffly high. Right now they looked completely deflated, like puppies who'd been smacked on the rear.

"May Idelabheim's glory be with you... Knight, how—I mean, what happened to Knight Nestor to...?"

To end up in such a pitiful state...? Being beaten unconscious by someone he'd looked down on was one thing, but being carried docilely in her arms looked utterly wretched. If he'd been conscious, the sight would likely have brought tears of shame.

"We sparred. I'm taking him to the infirmary."

What he'd wanted was a longer, more detailed explanation of her statement "we sparred," but there were watching eyes, so he didn't press further. The four proceeded amicably to the infirmary. The doctor and the priest stationed there gasped at Nestor's condition. What happened? Did he fall from his horse and get trampled?

"Wh-what happened? Did a monster appear?"

Oh, sharp observation. Rosaline swallowed those words. Bastian spoke up in her silent stead.

"We... sparred..."

"Sparred? What kind of sparring leaves someone's face this pulverized?"

The doctor lifted Nestor's clothing and recoiled at the dark bruises blooming everywhere. Claude answered the question in a lifeless voice.

"We agreed to spar until one side surrendered, but he fainted from the first strike and couldn't say 'I surrender'..."

Claude couldn't finish. He seemed to be reliving that tremendous scene.

Raymond knew well about Rosaline's increased strength. He also knew she'd completely lost various common sense notions. Rosaline would have kept beating Nestor since he'd fainted and couldn't say the word "surrender," and he would have kept getting beaten because he couldn't say surrender. If Bastian and Claude, who'd been watching the scene for a bit, hadn't cried out and surrendered on his behalf—well. The thought alone sent chills down his spine.

Raymond told the doctor to take good care of him. When he asked them to work hard since they were short-staffed, the doctor sent him an insolent look that said: You know we're short-staffed, yet you pulverized one of our people? The doctor didn't seem to suspect at all that the black-haired female knight standing nearby was responsible.

Raymond laughed boisterously, feeling oddly guilty, and dragged Rosaline out. She was loosening her hair, which had come undone during the spar, and roughly combing it with her fingers.

"...You're not hurt anywhere?"

"No. He was weak."

"You can't say that in front of Nestor, understand?"

"Okay."

"And from now on when you spar, if someone faints, you can't keep beating them even if they don't say surrender. Got it?"

"Okay."

Ah, I understand. I get it. Paperwork is beyond her. Absolutely out of the question. For the current Rosaline, guard duty was the perfect assignment. Quietly standing nearby and pummeling suspicious individuals. The vice-captain's foresight seemed to sparkle brilliantly.

Moonstone Castle, where the Second Prince resided. From morning, Rikardis's office was packed.

Viscount Chrysanthos, Count Seacrag, Count Autumngloam, Duke Cobaltlant. Even Marquess Grandram. All the key figures of the Second Prince's faction sat in attendance. They murmured amongst themselves. The cause was information Duke Cobaltlant had brought. Second Prince Rikardis sat at the head seat, drinking tea with a composed expression. After checking the color of the silver tableware, of course.

"Everyone's pretending to be shocked. Isn't it obvious? Setting aside how a foreign assassination unit crossed the border undetected by the thousands, tens of thousands of eyes guarding it—they just happened to discover barracks and attack them, yet only the Second Prince suffered damage. What's more surprising? The First Prince wasn't present anywhere. Good grief, it's so contrived even an idiot could catch on..."

At his words, Marquess Grandram's eyebrows twitched. These wicked bastards. How could a prince of Illavénia join hands with foreign fanatics? His hands trembled.

"I believe we can definitively conclude that His Imperial Highness the First Prince has joined hands with the Onyx Moon. Ah, should I correct that to the Kingdom of Balta's royal family?"

"Is there really a need to distinguish? The Onyx Moon bastards have infiltrated even the royal family. They're all the same."

Rikardis rested his chin in his hand, looking bored. The methods remained as petty as ever. That brother of his was like that. What exactly was this Emperor's throne that drove people so mad? It was merely laughable.

"Evidence?"

"He'll slip out easily. He might even turn it back on you."

"Even though my knights and I suffered the most damage?"

"He'll call it a political show."

"Accurate, Marquess. That's exactly the nonsense my brother would spout."

The expressions of the men seated at the table were thoroughly displeased. First Prince Elpydion, who stood closer to the Crown Prince position than Rikardis. He was not a vessel fit to lead the great empire of Illavénia, which occupied half the continent. As First Prince, he'd studied various fields including monarchical studies, but no one had ever seen him listen attentively to others' words, and being raised with constant coddling had equipped him with unparalleled arrogance.

However, behind him stood the Empress—or more precisely, the Empress's House Leomane. That power was beyond description. Not only did they hold one of the empire's few ducal titles, they were a cadet branch that had split from the imperial family itself.

The Empress and Emperor were not distantly related, but the imperial family didn't shy from consanguineous marriage for the sake of divine power. And that obsession had borne fruit in Elpydion. The powerful backing of being the Empress's child, vast divine power that didn't fall short compared to emperors throughout history. In Illavénia, where the eldest son inherited the house except in special cases, Elpydion was essentially no different from Crown Prince.