Long-Term Deployment (2)
The scenery flowing past the train window gleamed transparently, reflecting the warm sunlight. The walls were finished in dark walnut, giving off an antique charm, and the carpet beneath her feet—adorned with noble patterns—cushioned her steps softly.
...Still, they booked the most expensive cabin.
Sisilia let out a sigh.
"What a ridiculous world. A train in the medieval era."
If they had the tech for this, shouldn't there be cars? Guns too?
Sisilia stared blankly out the window, lost in thought.
A sudden realization hit her.
This is exile no matter how you look at it?
'Rescue the crisis-stricken Gartan Territory.'
Gartan was the most isolated spot on the western front. An SOS from there meant things were really bad...
And they were sending her alone?
Forget how much she didn't want to go—she wouldn't even know how to face Count Aldred Gartan without dying of shame.
'I'm the entire Windsor Knight relief force!'
War wasn't child's play she could romanticize.
"...Should I just run?"
Sisilia felt utterly depressed.
But no matter what, defying a direct royal order from the queen herself was impossible. She'd even begged for ten regular knights as backup, but that got shot down too.
In the end, she'd been half-kicked out with just a single travel bag, boarding the westbound train.
She couldn't even remember packing.
"Haa..."
In this hopeless situation, all she could do was sigh.
...Round trip to the west alone is three days. Stabilizing the front with Sword Princess specs? Might take a year and still not cut it.
Sisilia calculated calmly.
No answer. ...Gotta go full Sword Sovereign in secret. That should wrap it up inside a week.
Sisilia fired up her happy circuits as much as possible.
Once she cleared this mission quick, the rest would be free time. No way they'd overwork a cute knight fresh from the front lines.
Chiron had been furious when she left—ready to storm the palace.
With her math done, Sisilia quietly closed her eyes.
Sleep till arrival. Then clear the war dungeon in record time.
***
"Excuse me, passenger. May I check your ticket?"
The conductor opened the door to cabin 6 politely.
Inside sat a seasoned middle-aged man and a girl who looked somewhat young.
The man, eyes fixed on his book, pulled his ID and ticket from his jacket without looking up.
The conductor verified them briefly, handed them back with a bow, checked the girl's ID next, then bowed and left.
"A Windsor knight?"
The man who'd been reading spoke up, startling the dazed girl.
"Ah, y-yes, an apprentice."
The man closed his book, stroked his mustache thoughtfully, and extended a hand.
The girl shook it hesitantly.
"Tough work."
"Th-thank you..."
"I'm Baron Belgrast. Defense commander of Gartan Territory."
The girl shot up in shock, saluting crisply.
"Be-Beatrice Schwartzfeder!"
Belgrast accepted the salute leisurely, crossing his legs.
"Lucky to run into a Windsor here. Headed to the western front?"
What do I do? Missed my chance to speak up.
Beatrice swallowed hard.
After the dungeon with Sisilia, she'd realized deep down, this isn't my path.
She was on her way home to help her parents farm.
He must've mistaken her uniform for Windsor's.
Problem was blurting out "apprentice" in surprise. She'd just been discharged that morning—her head was a mess.
Too late to correct now... Should be fine? Gartan's way more remote than our territory.
"No, I get off before that. Schwartzfeder Territory."
"Heading home? On leave?"
"...Y-yeah. Something like that."
Beatrice's pale cheeks flushed pink.
Embarrassing to admit she'd flunked out as an apprentice knight.
"That's a relief."
"Huh?"
"Doesn't matter if a Windsor's on this train, but sharing a cabin would've been awkward."
"...?"
"Keep quiet. It's noisy."
Beatrice's pupils dilated.
She tried summoning a light blessing barrier.
Too late.
"..."
The man's cane was already prodding her knee.
"Y-you're..."
"Picked a good cabin. You're lucky. You'll be the last to die on this train."
***
Sisilia, deep in sweet slumber, cracked her eyes open.
Smells like trouble.
Her gut screamed something was about to go down.
"...Nah, back to sleep."
But she shut her eyes again.
Chronic apathy!
Having her one joy in life—newbies—yanked away had killed her interest in everything!
The conductors will handle it...
Every conductor here was an elite mage. No need for her to butt in.
As she lay there like wilted grass—
Sniff sniff.
What was that lewd smell?
"..."
Her half-dead pupils focused somewhere.
Row 4, seat 6-ish. Someone had started a blessing but canceled midway.
Light... blessing?
Hope flickered back into Sisilia's vacant eyes.
Newbie!
Whoosh! She bolted up, flung the door open, and dashed out.
God hadn't abandoned her after all!
Apathy forgotten, Sisilia strode briskly.
"P-passenger, no moving during—gah!"
Spotting suspicious types, she uppercut them.
Normally she'd interrogate, but priority now—knocked 'em out cold.
[Cabin 406]
Thump thump.
Sisilia swallowed.
The blessing vibe came from right ahead.
She eased the door open cautiously.
"Eek!"
There was adorable, adorable Beatrice, staring at her with faint-inducing eyes.
...Phew. She's really here.
Deeply moved, Sisilia wiped a tear, then eyed the man in front of Beatrice.
Her warm gaze on Beatrice turned icy in a flash.
"Boyfriend?"
"N-no...!"
Sisilia switched back to innocent mode.
Belgrast scanned her briefly, smiling faintly.
"Today is truly lucky. Seeing two Windsor knights who serve the kingdom so diligently. I'm Baron Belgrast, defense commander of Gartan Territory."
Frontline defense commander. Baron in title, but his post outranked a high knight in Windsors.
No wonder Beatrice had saluted in panic.
But Sisilia didn't blink.
She stared him down instead.
"...What's with that look?"
"Wrong target."
"Hm?"
"The western front's in pretty bad shape right now."
"Hah. You must not know. Gartan's in the west, sure, but isolated enough that I, the defense commander, could attend the central nobles' conference."
"Coincidence. I'm heading there after hearing it's in danger."
Even without that, she'd have pegged him as the villain.
No 'Belgrast' on the central nobles' conference list.
Sure enough, Belgrast dropped the mask, grinning cruelly.
"Really? News to me. This kingdom seems sloppy, but intel like that never leaks—"
He nodded at Beatrice.
"But if you figured it out, you should've broken my guard with a sneak attack. Or were you scared to lose this knight? I can swap hostages if you wa—"
"Mind switching seats?"
"What?"
Belgrast looked baffled.
"Mine's first-class. Better than this."
Dead serious.
Sisilia appealed earnestly—but sadly, the jerk missed her courtesy.
"Crazy bitch. Die—!"
Belgrast's magic staff spat fire.
He was certain Sisilia would burn to ash.
Such advanced tech. Don't show just anyone.
Sisilia casually reached for the spell hurtling right at her.
Good mood today. Special show for Beatrice only.
Parry—the hallmark for hardcore Dark Souls vets.
This game had it too.
But Sisilia's was unique.
First, calculate the spell's acceleration and power.
Then image a blessing wrapping it exactly—like a fitted sheath.
Manifest, then at precise timing—reach out.
Click.
"...!"
Sisilia snatched the fireball barehanded, light as pie.
Flames writhed desperately to escape her pale fist.
Unlike appearances, she felt zero warmth.
Her perfectly imaged wind blessing encased it—
Even adjusting the blessing to match the flames' flicker, a neat trick.
"H-how...?"
But that wasn't enough.
A true parry needed payoff on success.
No payoff, no appeal—no matter the difficulty.
"Explosive blessing, huh. Rare special type—nice talent."
Praise first to drop his guard.
Now.
Sisilia twisted her ankle, lunging fast.
Key: the spell in her hand.
Like clutching a yolk mid-run.
Too tight, boom. Too loose, spill.
But Sisilia wouldn't botch basics.
"Good view? Here, take it."
Sisilia shoved the spell—still gripped—neatly into Belgrast's mouth.
Gulp!
"N-no, nooo!"
Belgrast dry-heaved to spit it out—useless.
The magic had burrowed deep into his lungs.
Whew.
Sisilia beamed triumphantly at Beatrice.
See? That's me.
But Beatrice was ghostly pale.
No awe in sight.
...No way.
Sisilia realized she'd overlooked something crucial.
That sliver of hope in her hopeless schedule?
Made her commit an uncharacteristic blunder.
Doubting my quals for killing a key witness...?
Right.
He was just a 'suspicious figure'—potential threat to the kingdom.
Too modern-thinking, trying to off him.
Sisilia whipped out her sword urgently.
"I surrender!"
"...?"
"I-I'll spill everything! P-please spare me!"
Belgrast groveled facedown.
Sisilia's brow twitched.
Urgent as hell, why flop awkwardly?
She kicked his butt up, spun her sword flashily, and stabbed the diaphragm.
Squelch!
Feeling the blade sink deep, she dispelled the swelling magic.
Grabbed his collar, eyed the angle slantwise.
Yup. Magic safely nulled.
She flung him to the floor by the collar, flicked her sword clean.
Perfection incarnate.
Sisilia gazed proudly at Beatrice.
Handled it even better. Whaddya think?
But...
"H-hic."
Beatrice was paler than before, collapsed and shivering.
That cold?
Sisilia tilted her head.
Take her back to the cabin later, wrap her in a blanket.