Until Knight Amelie Betrays Everything (2)
Knight Amelie Grace hated the term East Emor Kingdom. To her, Emor was always one kingdom. Acknowledging the filthy rebels dominating the western region as a legitimate nation filled her with deep disgust. The kingdom was her sanctuary, her home.
An orphan of war, she had been taken in and raised at a knight order orphanage. Her talent for swordsmanship earned her a place as a squire in the royal guard. With her extraordinary skill, she exterminated a savage band of ogres on the frontier and was granted her knighthood. The title bestowed directly by the king, and the surname "Grace," symbolizing the kingdom's favor, were her most treasured possessions. The girl who had mourned the loss of her family now found new kin among her comrades in the knight order's embrace. Their recognition meant everything to her.
'Those damned rebels...'
That's why she couldn't forgive West Emor Kingdom for assassinating the king who had steadily guided the realm, splitting the people and sowing hatred. That's why she was conflicted.
'General, why are you with those people...?'
From the first time she saw him in the enemy camp, her heart had skipped a beat. It wasn't some fleeting emotion. She admired how honorably he fought amid the battles. His army treated prisoners humanely and behaved gentlemanly toward occupied civilians. Even when monsters suddenly attacked on the civil war's front lines, he saved lives without distinction between friend or foe. Every time she saw him, an unfamiliar thrill stirred within her. When they joined forces to fell the beast, their synergy was uncanny. After the fight, she subtly urged him to defect. She promised that if he pledged loyalty to the king and led the charge against the rebels, he'd be pardoned. She even offered to vouch for his talent and honor. She couldn't fathom how such a noble man could lead the dishonorable rebel army, so she pressed him repeatedly... but he just gave a wry smile and shook his head.
'...Fool.'
The civil war would naturally end in Emor Kingdom's victory. Knight Amelie Grace, guardian of the royals, would protect it. On that glorious day, every rebel's head would be severed and displayed in the capital.
'...'
Imagining the General's severed head made her heart plummet. She hated that future. His death felt as terrible as the civil war itself.
'I need... more solid achievements...'
For the starving, suffering people of the kingdom, she had to claim as much as possible from this battle. And to make the General her personal prisoner, she needed undeniable merits for the kingdom. The war had ravaged Emor. By any means, she had to restore its strength. That's why she couldn't refuse Roys Chapel's invitation to the gathering. Attending would secure trade routes with the duchy through Leon Sodus.
"Haa, I wonder if this suits me..."
To attend the simple social hosted by Merchant Leader Roys Chapel, she stood before the mirror, comparing her few outfits.
'The General said he'd come too...'
Suppressing her fluttering heart, she feigned composure and applied light makeup she wasn't used to, correcting mistakes repeatedly.
Contrary to first impressions, the General wasn't taciturn. If anything, he was quite talkative. As the alcohol kicked in, he passionately preached his beliefs without pause.
"Haha, I do think the current class system has a lot of problems."
I chimed in agreeably. He was a young republican. He vented frustration at neighboring states denying the republic's legitimacy, insisting on calling it the West Emor "Kingdom."
"Unlike the duchy's idiots, Young Master, you're reasonable. Haha! But is it okay for a ducal noble to say such things?"
"Hm, from what I've seen of you, General..."
His alcohol-glazed eyes sparkled, awaiting my next words.
'A man's gaze feels creepy...'
"...I believe you're not one to blab."
"Ha! Of course! Haha!"
He laughed heartily and downed the rest of his drink. His silence around others stemmed from repeated disappointment. Few truly grasped his ideals, so he clammed up. In other words, he became incredibly chatty with those who understood him. My new trait let me grasp that. Disillusioned by monarchists dismissing him as a lunatic despite his efforts, he chose silence. Winning his favor was easy—just pretend to understand and affirm his ideology. Using the trait, I temporarily suppressed his hostility toward nobles and rulers, amplified affinity, and kept the conversation flowing.
'Ironic.'
In this young revolutionary's mind, validation from a "peer" held immense value. His conscious rejected classes, but his subconscious instinctively ranked people. My recognition as a fellow young, powerful hero weighed heavily.
Amid the warm exchange, I posed a question.
"I've always wondered... how did you and Knight Amelie Grace both get chosen as heroes?"
"Ah, that? Sure."
Beaming, he recounted their joint operation. Facing a monster that massacred both sides indiscriminately on the front lines. Per the trait, his feelings for her brimmed with positivity—chiefly respect, followed by love. A republican and royal knight in love... prime conflict material. I smiled and refilled his glass.
I sipped my glass with a pout. Unfamiliar with makeup, I'd arrived a bit late, and the General was gone. He'd left to avoid getting too drunk... like a bolt from the blue.
"Hm, on occasions like this, wouldn't it be fine to ditch the armor? Amelie Grace?"
"...I didn't have anything suitable, Leon Sodus."
Lucas Duchy's hero, Leon Sodus, addressed me.
"Haha, you'd look good in anything, Knight Amelie."
"Hmph, send me one then."
I replied curtly on purpose. Truth be told, I felt a twinge of guilt. Even for the kingdom, I'd brazenly stolen his achievements multiple times. Knowing how infuriating that must be from his perspective made me ashamed. Could I wrap up the conversation smoothly? Better suited to battle than socializing, I proceeded cautiously.
Knight Amelie classified people into two groups. Like an invisible fence around her heart, she kept emotional distance from outsiders. Only those she trusted entered her small, sturdy enclosure. My emotion-manipulating trait bypassed that fence. I twisted her perception of our "temporary alliance" for the Demon King hunt into that of a "true comrade." Linking myself to the deep bonds forged with her knight order comrades, I piggybacked on those feelings.
"Hehe, chatting with you feels so comfortable, Young Master. Like old friends."
"Heh, do friends in Emor steal each other's merits?"
I teased with a sly grin.
"Ah! Come on...! I already apologized... And you understood, thankfully..."
A joke that would've irked her before now drew a bright smile. Like bantering with a long-time battle comrade, she dove into enjoyable conversation. A profoundly solid trust. The root of her fierce loyalty to the kingdom. And I wanted to redirect that loyalty—to me alone, not some Emor Kingdom, turning her into a knight who lived for me.
"Lady, your neck is so pale."
Without permission, I impulsively touched the white nape peeking through her bound hair. The trait suppressed displeasure. I shoved the unpleasant twang far away. Amplifying languid pleasure from mild intoxication and affinity from our unexpectedly fun talk buried any awkwardness.
"Young Master, what are you doing?"
No disgust in her voice—just pure curiosity.
"Massage. It'll feel great."
Without stimulating lust, I used Word Spirit to amplify muscle-relaxing pleasure. Gently kneading her tense neck from overexertion.
"Haaah... Sudden massage out of nowhere..."
"Fighting so tough with such a slender neck is why it hurts."
I pressed her knotted muscles with my thumb.
"Ah... There, a bit lower... Mmm...!"
Initially hesitant, she warmed up to the instant relief, even directing me eagerly. With her body relaxed and guard down, I meticulously analyzed her emotions. Probing how to swap her loyalty's target. Extracting usable intel: tastes, subconscious desires, traumas.
Her slim, sturdy neck—fragile as fine porcelain in bare hands—stirred guilt. And a rising urge to throttle it while ravaging her.
'Not yet...'
Her affection for the General was vaster than she realized. Tampering rashly would backfire. Regretfully ending the massage, I promised more.
"...In the end, no talk of trade routes..."
Far more fun than expected. He made it feel like hanging with knight order comrades—so effortlessly comfortable.
"Not especially eloquent, yet... amazing..."
Most similar? First meeting the General. An opponent I'd dreaded clicked perfectly.
"Such a weird guy... Hehe... Trade routes next time..."
Heading to bed, I found a box at my door.
"What's this...?"
Inside: expensive-looking dresses, topped with elegant script: "From Leon, to a comrade." The back read: "Looking forward to our next meeting."
From Leon, to a comrade
— Looking forward to our next meeting
'I didn't mean this when I said send one...'
Luxuries she'd only eyed as a knight filled it too.
"...I don't need this stuff..."
Meant to return it, but the ring and clothes matched her taste perfectly. Even she, clueless on romance, knew it was clear courtship.
"This is... tricky."
Now aware of his feelings... how to face him next? With tangled thoughts, she slept.
...That night, she dreamed of Young Master Leon.