A Clash of Wills
I lunged at the Marquis's guard, kicking off the floor. An empty chair overturned in my path with a loud clatter. The noise would surely draw the estate's servants soon, but fortunately, I closed the distance in time. A sword, after all, is a weapon that only has meaning when you can swing your arm. In an ultra-close-quarters brawl like this, it posed little threat as long as I remained cautious. His intention seemed to be drawing his sword first to subdue me, but on my end, simply having him draw it was more than enough.
Alion, the Marquis's guard, spoke in a low voice. "Nothing personal."
"Yeah, sure. I know."
I grabbed the hand he used to draw his sword, pulling him forward while kicking his leg to sweep him off balance. I had intended to bring him down completely, but he stubbornly held his ground. Considering the difference in our physical builds, the force of my kick could have broken his leg. I suppose he deserved some credit as the Marquis's personal guard; his response in a disadvantageous position was commendable. Even with his sword arm pinned, he desperately tried to break the deadlock. Good. It's obvious he's been trained thoroughly. And he seems to have a decent amount of real combat experience, wherever he picked it up. But I excelled at dirty brawling. I had been dragged through the mud since I was a child. Therion's competitive streak had always been ridiculously intense, after all.
"Ugh!"
My fist slammed directly into Alion's nose. The impact felt solid and satisfying. Since it would be troublesome if he died, I had held back my strength, but blood already stained my knuckles. Naturally, he didn't just stand there and take it. He wasn't foolish enough to let one hit open him up to a succession of attacks. One couldn't rise to become the personal guard of Marquis Eloran by slacking off. My father, who had been the guard of the Grand Duke of Ilencia, was a Sword Master. While my father was an exceptional case, this man had likely stepped onto the threshold of becoming a Sword Master himself. He was simply unlucky to have faced me. Natural physical attributes, technique, experience—I didn't lag behind him in a single category.
In less than a minute, Alion was sprawling on the floor, his face covered in blood. Though he had gripped his sword, he hadn't managed to swing it even once, taking five consecutive blows before finally losing consciousness.
Did I go a bit too far?
Well, it should be fine. This was the Eshyk estate; if they looked around, they would surely find a priest or two. The man's nose wouldn't be permanently flattened, nor would he end up crippled.
"I didn't kill him. His injuries aren't severe, so he should wake up in an hour or two. Normally, threatening the Saintess would require him to face our order's official tribunal... but we cannot possibly treat a 'great noble' like the Marquis the same as common folk, can we?"
I spoke in a low, measured tone, and Sirien smiled with her eyes.
"It was merely a 'minor friction.' Since my knight seems entirely unharmed, I suppose we can let this matter slide."
"If that is your wish, Saintess."
"You did well, my knight."
Wearing an expression of supreme benevolence, my Saintess thoroughly rubbed salt into the Marquis's wounds. Even in moments like this, our chemistry was impeccable. The Marquis was now without his guard, while I was ready to arm myself at any second. Sirien's divine power swirled around the Marquis's body. Though it didn't physically touch him, it must have felt as if a blade were pressed against his throat. In truth, Sirien could have killed the Marquis right then and there. She only refrained because dealing with the aftermath would be too troublesome.
"You ought to pay closer attention to your guard, Marquis. If you wish, I would be more than willing to dispatch a guardian from our order to offer him some instruction."
"You wretched girl..."
"Ah, but I am sure the Marquis has no desire to be embroiled in unnecessary trouble with us either. After all, your own standing is hardly beyond reproach."
I had detested his smug, relaxed demeanor throughout our conversation, but seeing his face twist into a demonic scowl brought me a sense of peace. Still, we couldn't actually lay a finger on the Marquis himself. Whatever the underlying truth, he was a high noble holding a marquisate, while we merely ran a small religious order. There was a world of difference between the Marquis's guard getting hurt in a 'minor friction' and the Marquis himself being harmed. Sirien quickly withdrew her divine power.
"You will regret this. Mark my words. I will personally tear you two bastards limb from limb and throw your corpses into the marketplace."
"Oh my, it seems the tutor who was supposed to teach you etiquette bears a heavy sin. Surely that is a grave offense. You must punish them without fail."
The Marquis could not speak further. The closed door of the drawing room swung open, and someone stepped inside. It was Dersian.
"Are you two alright?!"
I had assumed he would be busy receiving the mourners, but he must have rushed over the moment he heard the news. His breath was ragged from the sheer haste of his arrival. And yet, he had said "you two." Dersian's reaction was intriguing. It was obvious which "two" he was referring to. He had naturally worried about us first.
"Are you hurt anywhere? I've already summoned a priest, so they should be arriving shortly."
"We are fine. However, the Marquis's guard has been injured, so please have the priest tend to him instead."
"The Marquis's guard... I see."
Dersian's eyes scanned the drawing room. I followed his gaze, taking in the scene. The Marquis sat there, practically boiling with rage, while his guard lay sprawled on the floor. Crucially, a drawn sword lay near the guard's hand. Right in front of Dersian, I deliberately wiped the blood from my knuckles. It was proof that I hadn't used a weapon. Since the Marquis remained completely untouched, the sequence of events would naturally paint itself in Dersian's mind. Dersian turned his gaze toward the Marquis. It was far from a respectful look. Though his words were polite, his tone was unmistakably that of an interrogation.
"Marquis. May I ask for an explanation? From what I can see, it appears your guard was the first to draw his sword."
"My guard simply lost his temper. I... will punish him severely once we return to our territory."
"So he says. We have nothing further to add."
"Understood. Let us disperse for now. We will see to the treatment of your guard."
What a relief. Much of the anger had drained from Sirien's voice. She seemed to have gotten it out of her system. If she had remained upset, I would have had to find a way to soothe her.
"No. There is no need for treatment. Just have my knight moved to my carriage."
"Very well. In that case, the Marquis wishes to take his leave. Escort him politely all the way outside our territory."
Even though the Marquis hadn't explicitly said he was leaving, Dersian had ordered him escorted out of the territory. It was, for all intents and purposes, an expulsion. The Marquis seemed to realize this as he squeezed his eyes shut, swallowing his rage. Once the Marquis departed, Sirien was the first to offer an apology.
"I am sorry. We have caused trouble at such a difficult time."
"There is no need for you to apologize, Saintess. If anything, I must apologize for allowing such an unpleasant incident to occur within our borders."
"Ah, but we broke that chair..."
"Do not give it a second thought. You two are already my benefactors. The House of Eshyk never treats its benefactors poorly. And of course, we never forget a grudge either."
Dersian glared down the hallway where the Marquis had gone. He was a man who hadn't flinched even before the Grand Duke of Ilencia. There was no way he would bow his head to someone like Marquis Eloran. Sure enough, Dersian made an unexpected proposal.
"If you two wish, I will lodge a formal protest."
"It is fine. We have decided to let the matter rest, so I ask that the Young Count let it go this time as well."
"...Very well, if that is the Saintess's wish. But I will not forget this."
"Thank you."
Having that stubborn, unyielding personality on our side was incredibly reassuring. To be honest, leaving aside the Crown Prince or the Golden Duke, I had fully expected to fight to the death with the Sword Saint. The Crown Prince was quick-witted. Like any male lead in a female-oriented romance fantasy novel, he was incomprehensibly soft on the female lead, but in areas untouched by her wishes, there was plenty of room for negotiation. Since their falling out in the original novel had been due to Elis, we just had to be careful on that front. As for the Golden Duke of Harmenia... well, I wasn't sure. He possessed such a peculiar personality. But before he fell head over heels for the female lead, surely something could be done. He was a highly curious fellow, so he seemed like the perfect opportunity to leverage my knowledge as a possessor. But Dersian was the one I had been least confident about. I had felt that no matter what we said, this guy would never take our side. My vague plan had been to move personally to nip him in the bud rather than sending Isha. If we hadn't crossed paths by chance in the Northern Mountain Range, I would have looked for an opportunity to assassinate him eventually. Yet, of all people, Dersian was the very first to become our ally, and he was actively shielding us. The world was truly an unpredictable place.
Sirien smiled warmly. "We received your help this time. Is there anything you would like as a reward?"
"A reward? It was merely my duty as a member of this house."
"Is that so? Still, since the Young Count said he won't forget this, we won't forget either. I, too, believe in settling my debts, whether they be of gratitude or resentment."