Sisilia's Normalization (2)
“Here's the unit reorganization plan. For your review.”
Edward accepted Sisilia's report with wary eyes.
“Hm.”
Wondering what outlandish scheme she'd cooked up to slack off this time, he skimmed it briefly—only to look up in surprise at how impeccably thorough it was. No room for nitpicking.
“……What's your angle?”
“Angle? Everything I do is for humanity's sake.”
“You don't even like leading people enough to form your own squad.”
Sisilia's unit reorganization plan concerned the recently weeded-out newbie knights.
- Newbie knights' skills fell far short of the average Windsor knight.
- Some tried their best to adapt, but most were stuck politicking against the towering wall that was the Windsor standard.
- Once selected as Windsor knights, they couldn't just be cut now. They had to be carried to the end, so a solution was needed.
“You're going to gather the newbies and train them up?”
“No. No time for that now. Though I am a brilliant, outstanding, and pretty instructor.”
“……Drop the 'pretty'.”
“……Why?”
Sisilia asked as if she genuinely didn't know.
Edward sighed and nodded toward her.
“I'm proposing to form them into a separate unit.”
“A separate unit?”
“Yes. The Windsor Knights have basic combat formations, but we don't operate by subunits.”
“Every one of us has commander-level capabilities, so that's natural.”
“But the newbies don't.”
“You're going to teach them how to fight together? Aren't we doing that already?”
“Slightly different.”
Sisilia held up one finger and explained crisply.
“I'm adjusting so newbie knights can go on missions in groups by themselves. As it stands, they're just freeloading off veteran Windsors.”
The newbie knight issue—non-beginners, that is—was quietly spreading.
The biggest problem arose during subjugation battles. Veteran Windsors found the rookies a hassle in every way. They were knights of the strongest order; their comrades should match that elite level. But the hastily recruited newbies created a glaring gap.
Thankfully, the “non-beginner” title drew a line, or there'd have been fierce backlash. As it was, even on joint missions, newbies were treated like ghosts.
A few good-natured souls tried leading them well, but personality wasn't part of Windsor recruitment criteria.
“Everyone blames the news—no, non-beginners—but they have extenuating circumstances too.”
On the flip side, non-beginners felt immense unfairness at being expected to handle missions like battle-hardened vets right after recruitment. Where in the world were there rookie pros? The veterans were noobs once too.
“The newbie cliques stem from that too. Without relying on their own skills, they grasp at external factors.”
“Get to the point.”
“I'm proposing a squad system. One regular knight with no affiliation, three non-beginners. Four per team, handling missions together.”
“……Good for the non-beginners. But you think regular knights will buy into that?”
“We promote the regular knight to squad leader rank in their four-man group. Everyone loves feeling smug—they'll accept.”
“Doubt it.”
Edward was skeptical. Windsors did love smugness, but not enough to risk their lives for it.
“I wouldn't do it.”
“If they refuse, no choice.”
Sisilia smiled brightly.
“They can have a nice, long interview with me.”
“……”
'Poor regular knights.' Edward fell silent, calculating.
Once done, he nodded.
“……Not bad. How much time do you need?”
'Generous timeline, but she'll wrap it early. Obvious ploy.'
Edward nailed Sisilia's intent. She probably didn't realize it showed—her excitement leaking like wind from a bag, hair standing on end like a cat's tail.
“A month.”
Edward eyed the hair fluffing dramatically by her temple with disdain.
“……One week.”
“!”
“I figure a week suffices.”
Sisilia looked world-weary. So easy to read.
“I have to interview them one by one. Can't pair just anyone.”
“And?”
“Not possible in a week. A month minimum.”
“Doubt it—you've gauged personalities from performance reviews, and with your memory, you've already matched them up.”
Sisilia deflated, drooping.
Edward savored the sight.
“Lame.”
Sisilia wore a cocky expression. Beatrice looked up warily.
'Captain Edward's just a normie after all.'
Unit reorganization would indeed take a week, as Edward said—procedural hurdles aplenty.
But he'd overlooked one thing.
'I've got Betty!'
Dump it on Beatrice as usual, sneak off in perfect disguise to newbie-lick. Easy.
“Lady Sisilia.”
“Yeah?”
“……You were planning to dump it on me and bail like always, right?”
“……Mind reader?”
Beatrice had thought Sisilia might've turned over a new leaf, but no—shoulders slumping at the same old Sisilia.
Yet she brimmed with unusual vigor.
“Actually, I met Lord Chiron yesterday.”
“……Paparazzi?”
“Pardon?”
Ignoring the odd remark, Beatrice crossed her arms smugly.
“I'm your adjutant, aren't I?”
“……True.”
Beatrice pulled a fat gold pouch from her bosom.
“Whoa! Betty's rich! Dessert time—your treat!”
“Shall I?”
“Yes!”
“But this is your allowance from Lady Sisilia. You okay with that?”
Sisilia stared blankly at Beatrice, then broke into cold sweat as realization dawned.
“Lord Chiron entrusted all your finances to me from now on. Slack off and……”
Workaholic Sisilia dove into tasks with full throttle.
Beatrice smiled warmly at the flying paperwork.
The ultimate trump card to handle Sisilia? Hers.
As sunset neared, Sisilia still couldn't clock out. Piles beyond reorganization awaited.
Small mercy: at this pace, two days spare in the week's allowance.
Two days for newbie-licking!
'……Still hate working.'
Sisilia stretched, shuddering, then buckled down again.
Her office filled with the scratch of pens.
“Sudden thought.”
“Hm.”
Sisilia kept scribbling as Beatrice murmured over documents.
“Even in truce, aren't the demons too quiet?”
“Dunno. These stacks say otherwise.”
“……Mostly knight order issues. Wouldn't pile up if you'd done them on time.”
Sisilia quietly braided her hair, embarrassed.
“Wow. Fast.”
Beatrice admired briefly, then refocused.
“What do you think's next for us? My feeble brain can't guess the demons' scheme.”
“Hm.”
Sisilia twirled her pen, pondering—eyes still on papers.
“Invasion of the Empire?”
Beatrice needed time to process.
After silence, she echoed:
“……Pardon?”
“Truce with our kingdom, not the Empire. I'd bet on it.”
Beatrice turned slowly.
“But to reach the Empire, they cross our land.”
“Demon King's problem. But they'll figure it out.”
Her tone was utterly casual, like pondering dessert spots.
Yet the content chilled: deduction from the girl who'd nearly become humanity's proxy, never wrong.
No one could dismiss it.
“Why drop that now?!”
“No one asked.”
“Lady Sisilia, seriously!”
Heart plummeting, Beatrice shot up.
“I-I'm heading to the palace now.”
“No need.”
Sisilia halted her. Glancing back in panic, Beatrice saw her gazing out the window.
“……Won't be necessary.”
'New work incoming.'
Sisilia's face soured bitterly.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
The peaceful Liannen Kingdom.
An ill-fitting figure approached.
“D-Demon.”
“A demon……t-treading Terezia's soil.”
Beyond Terezia's flames, unbreached for 500 years, strode a gray horde boldly.
A hellish carriage ablaze with eternal flames, led by an ominously black-haired woman.
“Wow, heard about it, but what a place.”
A petite girl in black dress, black tattoos on her face.
“You? The knight named Sisilia?”
She beamed at the silver-haired girl aiming unyieldingly between her eyes.
Sisilia glanced at Liliana's chest, then slowly drew her sword.
“Eek, scary. Your killer intent lives up to the Butcher rumors. Got me a little wet.”
She stepped back, lifting her dress hem in a curtsey—classic old nobility courtesy.
“Pleased to meet you. I'm Liliana, Demon King's direct secretary and bearer of the Sin of Lust among the Seven Deadly Sins.”
Mid-flourish, Liliana froze in terror at Sisilia's gaze—like weeds before a scythe, amid demons treading Terezia.
But pride held her.
“……Didn't hear me? I'm the Sin of Lust, Liliana. And here I stand before the palace none could breach.”
Sisilia observed her, then tilted her head.
“A corpse is talking.”
“……?”
Crunch.
A gruesome grinding sound.
The plaza fell speechless.
Liliana, moments ago whole, minced into meat.
As if noting the obvious, Sisilia stepped forward.
“Betty, tell them to clean the bloodstains quick. And inform Her Majesty.”
Her face blank, voice icy:
“The truce is over.”
“Impressive.”
But Sisilia halted.
'No presence at all.'
Turning slowly, a white devil in girl form crouched by the meat pile.
“Heard to be careful, but not this level.”
Caressing it, the mass reformed into Liliana.
She met Sisilia's eyes and pissed herself, toppling backward.
“Late intro. We're not here to fight. Not breaking truce either. Just a demon delegation fostering friendship.”
Sisilia twitched a brow.
She'd half-expected it, but not this timing—or method.
It irked her. Deeply.
“Here for Her Majesty. Mind welcoming us?”