The Princess Who Watches
Lumine von Astrea.
The Third Princess of the Astrea Empire, she had been born carrying the most noble bloodline on the continent.
And that nobility was never merely a matter of good blood.
"It's fine."
Lumine straightened her back and put on a composed expression. Her face was flushed crimson with shame, but her expression itself was the very picture of dignity.
"Strictly speaking, it was my fault for picking the fight in the first place. And above all, losing the duel is an undeniable fact. True, I couldn't fight at my real strength because you held back, and I was running on fumes from climbing this mountain — but accepting the results is part of what it means to be a princess."
At that, Alfred applauded and said, with perfect calm,
"Ah, what a magnanimous decision, radiant as the sun itself! Truly, the mercy of Her Highness Princess Lumine knows no bounds!"
"Ah— ahem. It's only natural. No need to carry on like that."
Watching Alfred continue to shower praise on her, Sian stole a glance at Iris.
...Come to think of it, this one is remarkably stingy with compliments.
And so time passed.
"Let us consider the matter as though it never happened,"
Alfred said.
The princess herself had declared she was fine, and while Sian's restraint had been excessive, it was hard to pin the whole thing on him.
"Consider it an honor, boy."
At Alfred's words, Sian nodded. Ignorant as he was of medieval customs, even he knew what the title of princess meant.
"Ah, it's been so long, Master!"
"It has indeed. Have you been well?"
"Heheh... Yes! Oh — I've been training hard, just like you taught me! This time I even completely mastered the Third Form... but how am I supposed to show you?"
"There's no rush. Show me at your leisure. We have plenty of time."
Lumine beamed as she proudly showed off the fruits of her training to Iris.
A face that looked younger than her years, and eyes that sparkled in expectation of a single word of praise. Anyone watching her would have found their head tilting in disbelief.
...That girl is... the Lumine?
Sian went over it again in his mind.
One of the principal villains who obstructed the heroine's path.
An imperious tyrant drunk on her own noble station, possessed of strength beyond all common sense, and wielding methods so persistent and vicious you'd have believed her insane — every time that name appeared in the story, the genre turned into a thriller.
And now that same Lumine was wagging her tail like a puppy in front of her master.
How to put it.
The pieces just didn't fit.
"...We shouldn't keep standing around like this. We should head down to the village and get some rest. You've come a very long way — I imagine the fatigue hasn't fully worn off."
So saying, Iris glanced briefly at Alfred.
"And it seems we have quite a bit to talk about as well."
Inside their lodgings.
Alfred clicked his tongue as he looked around the inn room. The wallpaper was ancient and peeling, cobwebs hung layered in every corner, and one side of the bed frame had completely caved in.
"...I'm told this is the only room in the village fit for human habitation. My deepest apologies, Your Highness."
"Don't apologize. It's actually better than I expected."
So saying, Lumine sat down on the bed. The old springs creaked. Compared to life in the Imperial Capital it was wretched, but she seemed entirely unbothered.
Alfred gazed at her quietly for a moment, then spoke carefully.
"...Are you truly all right with this?"
"With what?"
"Coming all the way out to a place like this, staying in a room like this. It's hardly befitting Your Highness."
Lumine fell silent for a moment, then turned her gaze to the window. Beyond the old window frame, the fading sunset was staining the village rooftops red.
"...What does 'befitting me' even mean?"
The question slipped out like murmured words to herself, and Alfred could not readily answer.
"Wearing silk dresses, being waited on by maids, sleeping badly every night because you're checking whether someone is standing outside your door? If that's what it means to be me, so be it."
Lumine gave a faint laugh.
It was a sound too dry to truly be called laughter.
The nights in the Imperial Capital were always like that. Her heart would drop at the mere click of her chamber door's latch, and every nerve stood on end at a single glance from a maid she'd trusted.
How many times had it been, in the end? Finding those traces in a teacup she was about to drink from, beneath the bedding she'd fallen asleep in.
"I'd rather it be like this."
This shabby, run-down inn room was, at least, a place where she didn't have to fear someone slipping in tonight to go for her throat.
Having said her piece, she flopped back onto the bed. The creaking echoed through the room once more.
"...So. Have you spoken with Master yet?"
"Yes."
"What did she say?"
"I did not receive a favorable answer."
But there would be plenty of time to persuade her, Alfred added.
"...I see."
"Yes. So you needn't worry so much—"
Alfred stopped there and closed his mouth.
In the eyes of the girl looking at him, sorrow was rippling. From the Imperial Capital all the way here, the only thing that had kept her going across that long road was the chance to meet the one person she could believe in.
And the answer had come back a refusal.
Lumine forced her composure, curling up the corners of her mouth, but the smile never reached her eyes.
"It's fine. We still have time."
That's what she said — but her fingertips were clutching the hem of her clothes in a white-knuckled grip.
That having time was no comfort — both Alfred and she knew it. Those in the Capital who hunted her would be counting off each and every day she lingered here, waiting.
Just then, a familiar figure passed by the window.
Lumine found herself drifting to the windowsill without realizing it. Beyond the old glass, Sian was walking slowly toward the edge of the village with his wooden sword slung over his shoulder.
"...Where is he going?"
"Your Highness?"
She didn't answer Alfred's call. Instead she rose quietly and moved toward the door.
"Y-Your Highness? Where are you going?"
"I'm just stepping out for some air."
"But Your Highness—!"
With those words, Lumine hurried out of the room. Alfred tried urgently to say something more, but she was already bounding down the stairs two at a time.
"Truly, I know this isn't the Capital, but still..."
Apparently she simply assumed Alfred would naturally follow behind her. And so Alfred trailed her at a fixed distance.
When Lumine stepped out of the inn, she caught sight of Sian's back far ahead. Keeping a deliberate distance, muffling her footsteps, she began to follow him.
It wasn't as though she had some grand purpose.
She'd simply needed an excuse to escape that heavy atmosphere that had hung over her until moments ago.
At least, that was the story she'd decided to tell herself.
Sian was headed for the mountain where they had faced off.
Lumine, as if in a trance, pushed through the brush and emerged. And at the scene that spread before her eyes, she had to wonder whether she was dreaming.
"Oh. I'm getting the hang of it now."
Sian stood at the summit of the mountain, holding a battered wooden sword. At his feet, before a single massive boulder, lay countless broken wooden swords.
...What on earth is he doing?
As she watched, transfixed by curiosity, Sian swung his sword at the boulder.
KRAKOOM!
With a thunderous roar, splinters of wood scattered into the air. The girl's eyes went wide at the sight of the wooden sword, shattered to pieces.
...What is he doing?
Had he lost his mind?
She was still staring blankly at his back in bewilderment when—
"...So. Are you just going to stand there watching?"
Somehow he'd noticed her. Sian turned toward the brush as he spoke, and Lumine, flustered for no good reason, quietly stepped out.
"How long have you known?"
"From the very beginning."
"Then you could have at least said something. Honestly."
"I was concentrating. How would I have managed that?"
Well, that was fair enough.
Lost for words, the girl quietly changed the subject.
"So what were you doing, anyway?"
"Training."
At the short, crisp answer, the girl's eyes went wide again.
"Smashing a boulder with a wooden sword counts as training?"
"Not smashing. Splitting."
"Ha... hah."
And he wasn't even wearing an aura.
Seriously — what kind of person trained that way? Before long, the girl had decided Sian was making fun of her. Nothing else could explain it.
"If you have nothing more to say, may I resume training?"
Polite words, yet somehow laced with thorns. She didn't like it one bit. Lumine's lips pouted.
"Do as you like."
True to his word, Sian raised his sword again. Grumbling under her breath, Lumine retreated a few steps.
But as she watched his movements begin anew, a strange feeling came over her.
The repetition of a single motion.
And the wreckage of wooden swords strewn at his feet told her it was no day or two's work.
...So it's no coincidence.
Lumine recalled her duel with Sian.
It could not, by any stretch, be called evenly matched.
She had struggled from the very first exchange, and by the third move she'd known she was beaten.
Excuses were there for the taking, if she wanted them. She hadn't been at her peak. She'd underestimated him and let her form collapse. And so on.
But no excuse in the world could erase the simple fact that she had lost. It wasn't as though a gap in raw power had decided it. It had been a contest of pure swordsmanship, blade against blade.
And she had lost anyway.
...With the sword alone, he beat me.
That truth was what stung the most. If she'd been overpowered physically, she could have understood it. But this meant she had been outmatched by the sword itself — nothing more, nothing less.
And now, the answer was right in front of her.
That countless field of broken wooden swords.
Not something talent alone could explain — traces that only time and repetition, and nothing else, could ever produce.
...Now I understand why Master took that boy as her disciple.
The conversation from moments ago flickered through her mind.
'I did not receive a favorable answer.'
She had been certain that the master she knew would naturally take her side. On that single belief alone, she had fled for her life from the Capital to this remote wilderness.
And the answer that came back was rejection.
Why?
She had asked herself a thousand times, and no answer came. But one thing, at least, she thought she understood.
Master cherishes that boy.
...Suddenly I'm irritated.
The corners of the girl's mouth twisted.
Whether it sprang from possessiveness toward her master, or from the defeat itself, she couldn't tell. Perhaps it was both.
But one thing was certain.
She was not the sort to back down quietly over a single defeat — or a single refusal.
"Hey!"
At her shout, Sian lifted his gaze. Meeting his eyes, the girl pointed at a wooden sword lying on the ground. As he tilted his head in puzzlement, a ferocious grin spread across her lips.
"One more round!"