The Survivor of the Fallen Kingdom: Arleah de Raziel
With her light barley-colored hair and violet eyes, the First Princess had been the kingdom's pride. Following the queen's insistence that she must embody royal dignity, she had captivated the hearts of countless young men while maintaining an elegance befitting her station. Not a single citizen of the realm could forget her. Nor could they forget her good deeds—how she had personally sponsored beggars in the back alleys even as she upheld royal decorum, and how she had stepped onto the battlefield herself, driven by the sole determination to save dying soldiers. Some viewed her actions through a political lens and called them hypocrisy, but to the people, at least, Princess Arleah de Raziel was the princess who cared for her citizens.
Her life as royalty seemed destined to continue in peace. At least until the sudden downpour that erased her kingdom from the map.
“Scarlet!”
Inside one of the rooms personally provided by the owner of Beatrice’s merchant company—in the southern district of the empire, no less—I was busy cursing the Empire’s Sword Master. I could sense the merchant leader trembling outside after overhearing exactly who I was insulting, but I paid it no mind and continued my tirade.
“That insane woman left out the most important information!”
Scarlet had definitely told me a survivor from the Raziel Kingdom had appeared. It wasn’t just anyone, and there was no way an organization like the Empire’s intelligence department wouldn’t know the survivor’s identity. They must have informed her. Which meant Scarlet herself had deliberately withheld it from me.
I wanted to contact her immediately and demand why she hadn’t told me, but I already knew what would happen. She’d tilt her head with that serene face and ask, “Didn’t you ask about that?” The worst part was that she wouldn’t be teasing me—she genuinely thought that way. That was what made my blood boil.
Still, for the First Princess, she could have at least mentioned it.
If I’d known, I never would have accepted…
If it had just been an ordinary survivor from Raziel, it wouldn’t have mattered. They might lack personal military strength, but that also meant fewer people would target them. Protecting their identity wouldn’t be particularly difficult, and there’d be no risk of scandal.
But a princess was different. Her status had been precious even within the kingdom. Her movements would be tracked at a national level, and the political enemies from Raziel’s past would never leave her alone. The layers of escort difficulty would stack up endlessly.
Someone might argue that her usual behavior hadn’t created any enemies, but there is no such thing as a person without enemies in this world. Even transcendents and gods have those who despise them. And when it came to political adversaries, the list grew even longer.
So I couldn’t just watch from afar. I would need to get closer, stay nearby, and control the situation while protecting her…
Knock, knock.
“I’m terribly sorry to interrupt, but some people claiming to be your companions have arrived…”
The voice from outside belonged to the merchant leader, who had been shivering while listening to my curses aimed at Scarlet. I shouted back that I understood, quickly adjusted my clothes, and left the room.
Following the merchant leader downstairs, I found two men standing just outside the building, staring directly at me. They had sturdy builds and ordinary clothing. The badges on their chests told me everything. I nodded to the merchant leader, confirming they were indeed my companions.
“If they are your party, then all is well. Please enjoy your stay.”
Once the bowing merchant leader had retreated, I slowly approached the two men.
“Glory to the Empire. Lieutenant Meln and Sergeant Lucas. I assume that’s both of you?”
At my question, both men snapped to attention, raising their hands in crisp salutes.
“Glory to the Empire! Lieutenant Meln Heimdel, reporting!”
“Glory to the Empire! Sergeant Lucas, reporting!”
One was the eldest son of the Heimdel family. The other was a commoner-born sergeant. On the surface they looked like any other noble and citizen, which was probably why the merchant leader hadn’t grown suspicious. In truth, these two belonged to the Empire’s intelligence department. They were the agents Scarlet had first mentioned—the ones assigned to protect the princess.
Naturally, the intelligence department didn’t accept just anyone, so both maintained perfect posture. Yet for some reason, the Heimdel heir seemed slightly more relaxed than the sergeant. Was he always this casual? Or was there another reason? A brand-new second lieutenant might act this way, but at his current rank, even a highborn noble’s son should have developed better awareness.
The moment I opened my mouth to discuss the operation, Lieutenant Meln spoke first.
“Major Kyle, sir. I understand you were sent here following a cooperation request from that person’s unit…”
That person clearly referred to Scarlet. I nodded. Since the cooperation request had been routed through her unit, I had no choice but to be treated as one of her subordinates. Of course, because it was a false identity, my name had been shortened to simply Kyle, and Scarlet had mentioned they’d set my rank at major. The recognition interference device made my appearance irrelevant anyway.
“Since we’ll be working together on operations, I believe we should take the time to verify each other’s skills. What are your thoughts, sir?”
Aha. So that’s what this is about.
I noted how Lieutenant Meln’s posture was slightly off. I had assumed it still carried the arrogance typical of nobles, but it was the complete opposite. He was practically itching for a fight.
Well, since he’d said it outright, there was probably a genuine desire to assess each other’s abilities. And that intention wasn’t bad at all. The corner of my mouth curled up slightly.
“Verify each other’s skills, you say.”
Honestly, there was no real need, but…
“If we’re doing it, let’s make dinner the wager. The loser buys. How does that sound?”
After all, I needed to gauge these two’s abilities as well.
Sergeant Lucas, formerly of the Empire’s intelligence department, clutched his head.
A spar against the special forces.
And not just any unit—the direct subordinates of that Scarlet Frausia. Of course the intelligence department valued combat ability. They only recruited true elites; anyone below a certain threshold couldn’t even get through the door. But the special forces, especially those serving directly under one of the Empire’s Stars, operated on an entirely different level.
Elites among elites. Only those whose names alone inspired awe could barely qualify for a Star’s personal unit.
Unlike Lieutenant Meln, who had suddenly suggested the spar, Lucas was a commoner who had served in the intelligence department for a long time. He knew the terrifying reputation of the Star-affiliated special forces all too well.
Once they deployed, they left no corpses behind as they swept through mission areas. There were never any official survivors. They entered the demonic realms and returned without a single casualty. The rumors were endless.
The special forces under the Empire’s second Star had even more such stories. How many incidents did they handle that their annual hospital bills exceeded five hundred million cells? It was only possible if the unit members had their arms or legs shattered at least once a month.
And now there were even rumors they received guidance from the first Star—the one currently under a warrant. Considering the first Star’s reputation, that “guidance” was unlikely to be ordinary.
Even to Lucas, who had seen his share of battlefields, the man clenching his fists before them had an unmistakably dangerous stance.
“But he just accepted the spar request.”
If the major found the suggestion unpleasant, what kind of trouble was this noble trying to stir up? He had shed some of his noble habits upon his promotion from second lieutenant to lieutenant, but it seemed he couldn’t completely wash them away.
Sergeant Lucas let out a deep sigh and looked forward. Process was process. Result was result. The matter had already been set in motion; all that remained was to watch the outcome.
Since it had come to this, the best strategy was to lose in the least embarrassing way possible. This wasn’t merely a spar between two individuals. If things went poorly, it could escalate into a pride battle between the intelligence department and the special forces.
Of course, most people wouldn’t believe such rumors, but the mere existence of those rumors provided more than enough reason to write an incident report. And Sergeant Lucas had no desire to write one.
So please, just struggle a little and lose. He wasn’t even hoping for victory. Expecting a mere lieutenant to defeat a special forces major would be utterly shameless.
But if he lasted a few exchanges before losing, it could be called a good fight for a lieutenant. In other words, “lost but fought well.”
That much would probably allow even the intelligence director—who absolutely loathed Scarlet Frausia—to let it slide without comment.
So please, just hold out for one minute.
“Spar… begin.”
Sergeant Lucas, who desperately did not want to write an incident report, cheered for the troublesome noble lieutenant with gritted teeth. However—
“Uwaaaaaack—!”
“Your waist is wide open. Foot. Hand. Foot. Head. Where exactly did you learn swordsmanship?”
Less than five seconds after the spar began, Lucas looked at the noble lieutenant who had already been reduced to a private tutoring student and humbly began drafting the future incident report in his mind.