94. Cuties from the Holy Nation (3)
In Liannen, ponytails remained an eternal conundrum for women.
"It's cute at first, but then it looks weird after a while."
"...But if you tie it too high, you look like an idiot, and too low isn't even a ponytail."
Even former noble lady Beatrice was no exception.
But Sisilia had brilliantly solved one of the three great dilemmas for women in the Liannen Kingdom.
If you could tie a ponytail in one second, just redo it every time it wilted(!)
"Whoa, that's amazing! Teach me too!"
"I don't teach just anyone, but oh well."
After about three hours of learning Sisilia's killer ponytail technique, Beatrice beamed with a bright smile upon succeeding.
And then, she jolted in surprise.
'This isn't the time...!'
She'd been baited by Sisilia's whimsy!
'This is bad. Her Majesty's orders were probably to send them back from the port.'
It was already too late to send them back from the port.
Sisilia planned to take them all the way to the capital.
She needed to explain properly and send them back now.
"Vice-Captain Sisilia. About the strategy meeting..."
Snore, snore.
But Sisilia had already drifted off to dreamland.
Beatrice stared in disbelief for a moment, then smiled softly and tucked her in.
'So cute.'
She gazed at the peacefully sleeping Sisilia and whispered,
"Sweet dreams."
The morning dawned.
Sisilia decided to take the clerics all the way to the capital.
"They came from so far. It'd be a shame to send them back without seeing the capital."
"...Did Vice-Captain Sisilia just say she feels bad for someone?"
Beatrice asked out of genuine curiosity.
Sisilia quietly pointed to the beautiful lake beside them.
"I think lakes need fairies."
"...Pardon?"
"Want Betty to do it?"
It was code for "want to be dunked in the lake?"
"Sorry for mouthing off."
Beatrice shed tears of apology.
Sisilia decided to let it slide this once since she was crying while looking at her.
"What a small, cozy space! It must be a confessional."
"That strange chair in the middle must be a special device for meditation. I want to try sitting in it."
Murmurs rose.
The clerics who had arrived in the capital Terezia were too busy marveling to mind their dignity.
Sisilia covered her mouth watching them, while Beatrice's pupils shook like an earthquake.
'Why are they excited over the bathroom...'
Unaware that the space they were touring was a restroom, the clerics exchanged knowing glances.
'To think they have such a splendid prayer room.'
'I thought they were just barbarians...'
'The original plan is a bust. So, as expected.'
They turned to Largon.
Largon nodded and approached Sisilia.
"I'm a Sword Master. A knight who has reached the pinnacle of human achievement."
Sisilia munched on her baguette, listening to his lecture with an amused grin.
"I've grown curious about the level of knights in the Liannen Kingdom. Well, none can match me anyway."
"Are you challenging me to a duel?"
"What? As if."
Largon scoffed in disbelief.
"I'll say one thing. From someone at the supreme realm: you have zero talent for the sword. What can those skinny wrists do? Go wash dishes."
Beatrice grew anxious.
'This is dangerous. If this goes on...'
Sisilia might not hold back!
'Sir Holy Knight, you're gonna die...!'
Killing the strongest man from the Holy Nation would surely spark a major diplomatic incident.
Beatrice envisioned the future in her head.
—"How dare you start a war on personal whim! What the hell are you?!"
—"Sisilia, ma'am?"
—"Hm. If it's Sisilia, can't be helped. Not guilty!"
Surely it'd end with Sisilia skating by somehow—
—"Beatrice Windsor! As adjutant, what have you been doing reining her in? You're sentenced to death!"
"Eek."
Beatrice trembled in terror.
Largon smirked at Beatrice quaking before his majesty.
"Bring someone worthy. Someone befitting my dignity! No matter how many, I'll take them all at once!"
"Ooh! As expected of Sir Largon!"
"Hey, bring out the kingdom's greatest swordsman!"
The clerics cheered, and Sisilia's cheeks flushed pink.
'Cute.'
Not quite as adorable as incoming newbies, but pretty good.
Like a Chihuahua convinced it was the world's toughest!
'Gotta live up to expectations.'
With her quote in mind, Sisilia's eyes sparkled as she spoke.
"This girl is impressed by Sir Largon—er, your pure fighting spirit."
"Hmph, consider it an honor."
"So, may I ask for one lesson?"
Largon scowled.
"You dare tell me to draw my sword for a wench?"
Beatrice panicked, but Sisilia didn't care a bit.
Because she was a wench, after all.
"Sharing a sword with a knight as mighty as you is a great honor. Please, bestow your teachings upon me."
Largon hesitated briefly.
'Better to show my skill than yap about it.'
"Fine. Draw your sword."
"Please wait a moment."
"Hey, wait, where are you—"
Sisilia dashed around the capital, chattering away.
Hey, townsfolk! The beautiful Sword Princess is dueling!
—
—The Sword Princess is dueling a Holy Knight from the Holy Nation!
Word spread, and people flocked to the Colosseum.
"A duel with our kingdom's Sword Princess."
"Against the Holy Nation, no less?"
"Can't miss this."
Naturally, the Royal Knights and Windsor Knights took their seats too.
Normally, they'd growl at each other across factions, but not today.
"Hmph, as if those Holy Nation hicks can take down the Sword Princess."
"Ridiculous."
The Royal Knights yearned to see the cocky Windsors get crushed.
But that victory was theirs alone—no way they'd root for the rabble.
Of course, it didn't make them sudden buddies.
"You bastard! Perfect timing! Stealing my Juliana?!"
"J-Juliana? Who's that again?"
"The lady who watched Sisilia flatten the crown prince up close, fell for Windsor, and came knocking."
"Right. You banged her for a night?"
"Damn it...!"
The Royal Knight teared up.
The Windsor Knight glanced around awkwardly, patted his shoulder, and sat beside him.
"...Sorry. Didn't know she was taken."
"Sniff, don't talk to me, you prick."
Chiron watched the scene quietly, then thought of Sisilia.
'What the hell has she been up to.'
He couldn't fathom how to beat someone so a noble lady would swoon and cheat.
"This is quite the mess."
Then Edward stood beside the pocketed-handed Chiron.
"Sent her to turn back the Holy Nation delegation, and she brings them to the capital for a duel."
Edward smirked crookedly.
"As future vice-captain, isn't this a bit irresponsible?"
"You make it sound like my daughter should've sunk their ship."
"Crossing a stormy sea is tough. Who could blame a sinking vessel?"
In short: Sisilia should've whipped up a storm and buried them at sea.
Then they could've handled it quietly without pretext.
Chiron frowned at the brutally violent suggestion.
"Think that frail girl could pull off something like that?"
Edward, ever ready to trash Sisilia, blinked.
Seeing Chiron's dead-serious face—more so than ever—and his usual triumphant gaze on Sisilia, Edward said,
"...Do you have a conscience?"
Meanwhile, in the Colosseum's VIP box sat the true VIP of VIPs: Queen Lydia.
"Even mid-emperor meeting, I couldn't miss this."
She'd rushed over upon hearing the news during a real emperor conference.
Erterion sighed deeply, looking a decade older.
"Sisilia always pulls the unexpected."
"Really? She's famous for breaking foes' spirits via duels, so it was plenty predictable."
"I figured she'd sink their ship before it even hit port."
"...How exactly do you view Sisilia, Your Majesty?"
"A fine tactical weapon?"
"Sir Chiron will rage."
"Then I'll run like hell."
Lydia grinned mischievously.
Erterion eyed the standoff and muttered,
"But the duel started ages ago, and they're not moving."
Largon's body gleamed—clearly prepping something.
Sisilia just stood there.
Of course, she needed no such prep.
Nor did most knights—herself included.
'Waiting patiently for the foe to prepare? Winning at full strength or it's meaningless. Well-taught by Sir Chiron.'
It was peak knightly conduct.
Erterion's favorability—and that of most knights save Edward—rose.
—"The Holy Nation's Seven Seats, Sword Master Largon!
Considering the skill gap, I yield the first strike!"
Largon's booming voice reached the VIP seats.
"...Sword Master. An unfamiliar title."
"That era already?"
Lydia propped her chin, smiling sweetly.
"Long ago, our kingdom called great knights that too."
"Really? News to me."
"Just 200 years back."
"...Your Majesty's sense of time is disastrously warped."
"Ahaha. ...Actually, it's weird for my queen's guardian knight to skip basic history. At least know my reign?"
He'd studied diligently upon appointment.
Fell asleep on page 3 of 'Queen Lydia's Reign Made Easy', though.
Erterion swiftly changed topics.
"Why divide realms anyway? A continent-wide strength metric would be simpler."
Lydia sighed at her history-averse guardian but explained kindly.
"I focused on fighting demons. Trained knights, had them battle demons.
But listen, Sir."
An old memory.
Unforgettable.
A thread of hope amid despair.
"Knights who survived demon fights grew astonishingly strong. Especially swordsmen over mages."
The moment she knew her choice was right.
"Any longer—"
"Sword Master looked too weak by comparison."
Time to scrap the old, forge the new.
Thus born: Sword Demon, Sword Emperor, Sword Sovereign, Sword Saint.
Just those four at first.
Nicknames tailored to fit later.
Lydia needed 'steps' toward one goal.
That goal: Sword God.
She yearned for it, endlessly.
A being to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with goddess and demon god.
A creation surpassing the creator.
"In short, Sword Master is a relic of a bygone age. Nowadays, it means a knight who wields sword aura."
"J-Just sword aura?"
"Yep. Just sword aura. But back then, aura users were elite. Wars erupted over one."
'Humans evolve fast.'
Lydia corrected herself.
'Or maybe just Liannen.'
"...So."
"In the Windsor Knights, that's regular knight level."
"!"
"Truth is, Sisilia's level would stun the Holy Nation."
Erterion looked up sharply.
Sisilia's single strike sent Sword Master Largon flying sky-high.
Hee hee.
'That flying pose is hilarious.'
Sisilia thought he looked just like a soaring manta ray.
"Isolationism, you see."
Lydia smiled fondly at 300 years' results.
"Is what the strongest does when they hate sharing."