Queen Maker (2)
After a long silence, the crown prince finally spoke.
“……Lord Arsens.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“You may return for today.”
What came from the crown prince’s mouth was evasion. Yet that very evasion already revealed his answer.
“Understood, Your Highness.”
I bowed my head and left the office.
Once I stepped into the corridor, my adjutant Raylin was waiting.
“Is it over, sir?”
“We’re returning to the office.”
The adjutant bowed and followed behind me.
‘As expected.’
How would the crown prince react?
Would he continue to trust Perlin Claire as he always had, or would he take a different course of action?
Only time would tell.
A few days later, I sat in my office organizing plans for improving conditions in the Northern Territory and assessing the situation in the capital.
The crown prince had not summoned me once since that meeting. Reports indicated that Perlin Claire remained by his side as usual.
On the surface, nothing had happened for several days. Beneath that surface, however, each person’s thoughts were surely tangled in complex ways.
What move would they make next?
I had planted information during the audience that could shake the crown prince. The board was about to shift. Now it was Perlin Claire’s turn.
I would watch the move she chose, then decide my own response accordingly.
“General.”
While I was sorting documents, Adjutant Raylin called out to me.
“The Hero has requested an audience.”
“Right now?”
“Yes.”
This was the first time he had come since our meeting in the detached palace reception room. If the Hero himself had taken the trouble to visit, it was unlikely to be a mere courtesy call.
“Tell him I’ll see him.”
“Understood.”
Shortly after the adjutant left, the Hero entered the office.
“General Berhardt. Good day.”
He gave a brief bow.
“It’s been a while. What brings you here?”
“I have a request to make.”
“A request?”
The Hero asking something of me was unexpected.
“Would you accept a sparring match, General?”
His gaze was steady. This was no impulsive request; it looked like a conclusion reached after days of deliberation.
“Why?”
“I wish to confirm with my sword how much you have changed.”
Straightforward, as always. That was simply his way.
I had no reason to refuse.
“Very well.”
I rose from my seat.
“Then let’s head to the training grounds.”
“Thank you.”
The imperial palace housed a vast training ground. With most of the palace forces currently stationed in the north, it would be largely empty.
The Hero and I walked in silence. The quiet was not uncomfortable.
“Is this the place?”
“Yes.”
The dirt floor of the training ground was firm. We faced each other from about five paces apart.
“It’s quite large.”
“It has to be. How shall we conduct this?”
“Training weapons only. No magic, no saint power, no aura—just physical ability.”
“Agreed.”
Along one side of the training ground stood blunted weapons for practice. We each selected a sword.
“Then I’ll begin.”
Left foot forward, right foot back. The Hero stood sideways, raising his sword until its tip pointed at me.
His stance was noticeably more stable than before.
In the days when the old Arsens had trained him, he had relied solely on saint power and his posture had been sloppy. Time had clearly changed that.
“Here I come.”
At my nod, the Hero’s sword thrust straight for my chest in an instant. By forgoing defense, the attack was both swift and powerful.
Yet before his thrust could accelerate, I slipped into its path, raising my blade at an angle to deflect it.
The redirected sword immediately changed course toward my neck, but the unstable posture from which it was launched made it easy to block with a single-handed swing.
The moment his blade was stopped, the Hero leapt backward to avoid a counterattack and create distance.
“Again.”
Murmuring quietly, the Hero gripped his sword in his right hand and charged once more, thrusting toward my neck.
I twisted my body to deflect the thrust, then swung my sword in a wide arc.
The Hero tried to block the fluid counterattack, but it was impossible to withdraw a sword thrust so deeply with one hand in time.
My unhindered strike stopped just short of his shoulder.
“……I lost.”
At the Hero’s declaration, I lowered my sword.
“As expected, I still cannot surpass you with swordsmanship alone, General.”
In truth, the restrictions had put him at a disadvantage. The strength of saint power lay in overwhelming defense, yet the Hero’s style discarded defense entirely. Without saint power, his openings were numerous.
“May I request another round?”
“Of course.”
With my permission, the Hero took his stance again. This time it was a slash, not a thrust.
Gripping the very end of the hilt, he swung the sword horizontally.
I stepped back to evade. The Hero did not stop; he used the momentum of the missed swing to strike again.
The way he wielded the sword like an axe resembled a technique only someone who could instinctively control external forces as their own could perform.
Faced with the Hero’s accelerating strikes, I continued to retreat. The force grew stronger with each swing, making it difficult to deflect or block.
Eventually I reached the edge of the training ground. The Hero pressed his assault even harder.
Watching calmly, I dropped low the instant his sword came down. Powerful yet monotonous, his strike cut only through empty air.
Seizing the opening, I swung at his legs.
The Hero’s fully accelerated sword was destructive, but lacked flexibility.
In the end, he tried to force control over that power to defend and ended up twisting his wrist, dropping the sword.
“I lost.”
I approached the disarmed Hero and helped him up. He took my hand, rose, and brushed the dust from his clothes.
“As expected.”
He spoke briefly.
“You are no longer the General I once knew.”
“……”
After a short silence, the Hero spoke again.
“The swordsmanship itself was the same. It was exactly the style I faced in my childhood.”
His gaze fixed steadily on me.
“But the direction it pursues seems different.”
“Is that so.”
“That must be the change that occurred within you, General.”
I looked down at him quietly.
It was clear what he had seen. With his sword, he had measured the distance between the old Arsens and the man standing before him now. In just a few exchanges, he had precisely identified the difference between two egos wielding the same technique.
That was the Hero’s intuition at work.
“So, did you find your answer?”
“To some extent.”
“Good. That’s enough, then.”
At my reply, he hesitated for a moment before continuing.
“General.”
“What is it?”
“There was a decisive reason I requested this spar today.”
The Hero pulled a short letter from his pocket. The seal had already been broken.
“This is the Saintess’s reply. Some time ago I asked her one question: why the Holy Kingdom sent me here.”
“What did she say?”
“The Saintess wrote this.”
“There is one who has changed in that place.”
Interesting.
“She did not specify who. However, after organizing everything I have seen in the capital these past few days, only one person came to mind.”
His eyes turned toward me.
“Today’s match confirmed that my guess was correct.”
“So what is it you want to say?”
The Hero pondered briefly before speaking.
“I have one more question.”
His question was simple.
“Do you still wish to protect this world, General?”
My gaze met his.
The answer was simple.
“Yes.”
“……Understood.”
He asked nothing more.
“I believe this is enough for today. Thank you for accepting my request.”
The Hero bowed and left the training ground. His steps seemed lighter than when he had arrived.
I watched the direction he had gone for a moment.
I had realized during the duel that the Hero was searching for traces of the old Arsens. But the Arsens Berhardt he once knew would never return.
Because I was a possessor.
Even Perlin Claire, another possessor, did not know this truth. She simply believed the original Arsens Berhardt had changed slightly.
It was a strange situation: two people sharing the same circumstance, yet unable to share it, and instead standing as adversaries.
“The Saintess, huh.”
Meanwhile, a meaningful piece of news had arrived.
The Saintess had sensed the change in Arsens Berhardt.
Someone who had never even met me had read my transformation from afar.
I did not know how she had done it. The mere fact that someone knew was already a variable.
How would the Saintess respond to my change?
The fact that the Hero had informed me suggested the Holy Kingdom had no intention of treating me as an enemy yet. Still, they could change their stance at any moment.
Even so, I had no intention of stopping.
No matter what obstacles arose, there was only one thing I had to do.
Instead of the Arsens Berhardt who had chosen the wrong answer, I would lead this world to the correct one and save it.
That was the path to my survival.