Mission Complete
Gartan Territory had finally found peace. Just as Aldred had hoped, the territory's people awoke from their long nightmare. The demon kin hidden among them had ascended upon the death of their main body, the demon 'Deception.' But the disappearance of that one demon didn't solve everything. The mental trauma inflicted on the people was beyond measure.
Aldred, the border count, held a memorial service first and foremost.
"Beloved people of the territory, today we gather here to honor our heroes."
The atmosphere at the memorial was solemn. Sisilia and Beatrice attended as well. Even the gravely wounded Windsor Knights showed up, so the other injured soldiers had no choice but to hobble in on crutches. Sisilia felt a twinge of guilt, but she couldn't skip it. This was basic courtesy—a mark of respect for those who had overcome terror and staked their lives to protect the territory from the demon.
On the platform, Aldred recited the eulogy without a trace of hope or despair.
"They had the right to a simple life. To laugh in the warmth of family, to end their days in humble happiness. But they set it all aside, took up their swords, and fought for us. Without their sacrifice, none of us standing here today would exist. Their blood and sweat soaked this land, granting us our freedom. Their names will whisper on the wind, their souls remembered eternally with this earth. Their courage and sacrifice are etched in our hearts, to be sung across generations. We owe them a debt. And there's only one way to repay it: by safeguarding this land they left us, making it more peaceful and warm. By realizing the future they dreamed of. May their souls find eternal rest in the goddess's embrace. Now, we move forward, remembering them. Their shining footsteps will light our path. May the goddess's blessing be with all who have departed."
As the speech ended, people stepped forward one by one to lay flowers. Some wept quietly, others wailed openly. Aldred gently brushed the gravestone where his son lay.
Sisilia stood still for a moment, then began her usual ritual.
Whoooosh.
A warm breeze stirred. It brushed the people like a comforting caress, then gathered the lily petals from the offerings, swirling them into the center. Sisilia reached out into the air, and the wind rose in a gentle vortex. It was beautiful—and heartbreaking.
"Lady Sisilia... this is..."
"Remember it, Beatrice. Every Windsor Knight needs their own way to pay respects."
Sisilia's expression was so sorrowful it stirred a whirlwind of thoughts. How many lives had she seen off? Beatrice suddenly recalled that the Windsor Knights' rookie survival rate was only around 30%.
She etched those words deep into her heart.
After the memorial, most people headed home, but a few lingered. Aldred was one of them. Sisilia approached quietly and stood beside him. His gaze never left the gravestone.
"At last, I can pray for my son's peace."
Aldred looked at Sisilia.
"Truly, thank you. Sisilia Windsor. Without you, I'd still be agonizing every night over whether to kill my son again."
Sisilia bowed her head silently. Aldred gazed at the sky, the scene Sisilia had created still lingering in his mind.
"This peace won't last long."
Gartan Territory lay on the western front, the front lines. Minor monster incursions never ceased, and major demon invasions hit every decade or so. This peace wouldn't hold. The damage from Deception went beyond the mental scars. Families torn by the demon's dilemmas, those who chose suicide over impossible choices. Countless artifacts and potions consumed. Talented knights who had despaired and fled. Recovery would take ages. He might even need to call on the Windsors again.
But for now...
"I'll sleep soundly with legs stretched out. Me, and the people too."
The morning dawned, and Sisilia finished her preparations to leave.
"Hmm... bad outfit choice."
She wore a simple dress, topped with a cute straw hat. The knight uniform she'd dirtied during the "Halloween" disguise was packed away in her travel bag. She'd skipped the spare uniform on purpose—for that gap-moe appeal.
'War, my ass... total bait and switch.'
Dire war situation. Miracle arrival of a beautiful girl relief force, like rain in a drought.
'I've come to end this war!'
Bold declaration, situation resolved in a flash. Next day: celebration banquet. Sword Princess emerges shyly in a plain dress, gap so huge everyone faints!
That was the plan... but Gartan wasn't in the mood for it.
"Beatrice."
"Eek..."
Beatrice, waiting at the door, clapped a hand over her mouth.
'Bet she thinks I'm cute.' Hehe. Sisilia put her hands on her hips, beaming proudly. And she wasn't wrong. Beatrice did think Sisilia looked adorable. But the iron-blooded Sisilia wouldn't dress like this without reason, right? Too weird. Big mission yesterday, now picnic vibes? Sisilia read meaning into every little action—a strategist. Quick-witted Beatrice pieced it together and snapped a salute.
"Sorry! I just now caught on to your intent, Lady Sisilia!"
"...?"
Intent? Sisilia tilted her head.
"I'll change quick too! Heading home anyway, got something similar!"
"...Why."
This mission had filled Beatrice with deep respect for Sisilia. She now truly wanted to join the Windsor Knights as her subordinate. As the top apprentice in the kingdom's most competitive order, her skills were top-notch.
"Secret mission time, right? Disguise for that—I get it! Back in 20 seconds!"
Beatrice vanished into her room.
'...Huh?'
No time to react.
"Changed!"
Beatrice popped back with astonishing speed. Same design, different color. But one overwhelming difference between Sisilia and Beatrice.
Sisilia stared blankly downward. A bit prominent, but not obstructing her view.
"......"
Then back at Beatrice. Sisilia's straw hat tumbled to the ground.
"You okay? Wound from yesterday still...?"
For the first time, Sisilia resented Beatrice.
But the heaven-defying, unrivaled Sword Princess doesn't mope over a bad outfit fit.
'It's fine. I have my fans too.'
Dipping or pouring sauce—neither better or worse. Taste is subjective. Humanity must respect personal preferences. Deny it? PK them, simple.
"Heading back already? We haven't repaid even a fraction of the grace you've shown."
When Sisilia mentioned returning to the capital, Aldred insisted on seeing her off. Silver plate-mail guards lined both sides. Territorians filled the path between. Still gaunt, but better than when she'd arrived.
"I did my duty, as you did yours, Count."
"Your duty outweighed mine by far."
Aldred chuckled and led the way.
"Let's go. I have my own duties left."
Liannen nobles could request Windsor aid for impossible crises—no cost. Windsors moved on duty alone. Tradition demanded nobles see them off with maximal gratitude.
Sisilia and Beatrice walked slowly amid cheers and thanks. Beatrice teared up, overwhelmed by the novelty, but for Sisilia, it was routine. She felt the fulfillment too. Long missions still sucked, though.
"This is far enough."
"Was gonna go to the border."
"Your steps are too slow, Count."
"Haha! Cut me some slack. I'm just a normal commander, not a superhuman like you two."
Sisilia decided now was the time to ask what she'd pondered since arriving. She'd held back yesterday out of respect for his mourning.
"One thing I want to ask."
"Ask away."
"About a former Windsor like me. Or rather, Vice-Captain Edward. Remember?"
Aldred's face hardened at Edward's name.
"Of course. Won't forget till I die."
"...What happened?"
Aldred closed his eyes briefly, then spoke.
"Before Deception, this territory fell under another demon's sway."
"Misfortune. It brought calamity, as named."
"All sorts of bad luck. In battle, impossible mishaps: swords shattering, friendly fire from auras."
Seemed like a luck-based demon. Sisilia listened calmly.
"Edward Windsor devised a counter. It was..."
Aldred's face twisted at the memory.
"Putting powerless soldiers and civilians up front. Misfortune weakens when shared."
"He even watched them get massacred to study its patterns."
"It worked. Minimal losses for my knights and Windsors. But those without auras mostly died. The demon kin in the villages came from those sacrifices."
Aldred clenched his fist.
"When called out, he claimed more would have died otherwise. Is that knightly? Treating sacrifice as normal—how do you fight demons like that?"
Sisilia understood fully now.
'No wonder he eyed me suspiciously.'
The initial hostility made sense.
"Thank you for the testimony."
"Tell that trash: using demon methods to kill demons makes you no different."
Sisilia stiffened as she turned to leave.
Edward's way might not be right. Even if no alternative, ethically bankrupt. But...
"As a Windsor Knight myself."
Sisilia drew her sword without hesitation, aiming at Aldred. Close enough to threaten, despite the distance.
"Insulting my superior doesn't sit well."
Aldred looked stunned.
"No matter how villainous the vice-captain seems, one thing never changes."
"He's sincerely on humanity's side, wishing demons gone from this world."
"No need to stomach such insults. Retract your words."
The guards drew swords at her throat.
"What is this?!"
Sisilia didn't flinch, staring Aldred down demandingly.
"Move or I'll cut you!"
"Lord Ultan, lower your sword."
"Your Excellency, but..."
"Now."
Aldred's firm command made Ultan sheathe and retreat. He bowed gravely.
"My sincere apologies."
For a noble to bow was to cast aside all pride.
"My rudeness. Farewell."
Sisilia sheathed briefly, grabbed Beatrice's wrist, and pulled her away.
'Vice-Captain Edward. Whatever you're scheming, I'll pretend not to see.'
She'd gotten mad, but not because she liked him. Post-mission, lords filed reports and evaluations. This nipped potential anti-Edward bias in the bud. Chiron retires, Edward takes over—if he obstructs, plans derail.
But.
'Don't touch newbies.'
If he did... Sisilia wouldn't hold back.