Chapter 11
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Translator: Wjin
Chapter: 11
Chapter Title: Pretending to Be Human is Hard Work Today Too
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While we were on the topic, I immediately led Rusla to the back of the annex. It used to house the stables and walking paths, but neglect had turned it into an empty lot.
Rusla looked flustered to discover such a place existed in the imperial palace.
"But the noble who bought that abandoned mine sure is eccentric. Hidden gems or something?"
"No. It's a barren mine with no gold or jewels. It's in a neutral zone outside the empire's territory. That's why we settled there."
"Hmm..."
Thinking about it, there were all sorts of suspicious points. Nobles often seized land from natives in neutral zones, but buying a worthless abandoned mine was rare.
'And promising to return the land if she wins the arena? They could've just demanded money.'
The arena prize money was impressive, but hardly enough to buy land.
"Do they want the winner's medal, or the prize money?"
"Probably the prize money?"
"'Probably'?"
I stared at Rusla in disbelief at her uncertain reply.
She shrugged apologetically and said,
"It wasn't the right moment to ask questions properly. They threatened to drive us out on the spot if I refused, so I accepted in a panic..."
Of course, Rusla had no real choice. Refusing the deal meant death for her family.
'Doesn't seem like they'd go to these lengths for just one winner's medal. No clue at all.'
With so few clues, I couldn't even guess. I clicked my tongue briefly and fired off my final question.
"Hear anything else during the deal?"
Rusla pondered for a moment before answering.
"Ah, they said if I gave up on winning, they'd switch to a different contract."
"What kind?"
"Not sure exactly, but... they mentioned their boss and told me to become his subordinate."
She naturally had no idea who the boss was. I sighed at the dead end.
Rusla gave a wry smile and added,
"Truth be told, if I couldn't win this year either, I planned to take that offer. I don't seem to have any talent for swordsmanship."
"...You told Mihilda that?"
"No."
"Good thing. She'd have wept tears of blood."
"...Pardon?"
"Rusla, you heard what kind of warrior Mihilda was, yet you're giving up so easily?"
I picked up a stick lying in the lot and swung it experimentally. Luckily, I could demonstrate basic swordsmanship without drawing on magic.
"The Baobhan Sith were the weakest demon race. Plenty of magic power, but physically frail."
Stronger than humans, sure—but fairies were still fairies. Due to innate limits, Baobhan Sith were perennial prey for other demons.
But they never gave up.
For their people's freedom and peace, they bargained with demon armies and charged into battle without fearing death.
"The Baobhan Sith I know don't quit. They don't bow to enemies trying to drive them out. True warriors, every one."
"..."
"But not you, Rusla."
You're no warrior.
She got the point—her face twisted. With a sigh, I jabbed the stick's tip toward her.
"I was just going to help enough for a moderate win... but I've changed my mind."
I couldn't just watch Mihilda's descendant wallow in defeatism.
Besides, Rusla reminded me of that helpless version of myself from days ago, meekly accepting death.
It infuriated me.
"For Mihilda's sake if nothing else, time to fix that attitude."
I chin-nodded at another stick on the ground.
"Pick it up. Let's begin."
"Begin what...?"
"Training, obviously."
Rusla dazedly lifted the stick.
"If it hurts, speak up. Can't use healing magic, so if you end up lame... well, sorry in advance."
"...Sorry?"
My explanation was a jumble, but she seemed to grasp it.
Her face drained white in an instant...
Thwack-!
My stick arced toward her crown.
"First rule: Never take your eyes off the opponent's blade."
"Th-this is a stick, not a—"
"Second: No backtalk to the instructor."
Thwack-!
"Aack!"
Soldier training after all this time—it had begun.
"...So that's how she ended up like this."
"Y-yeah."
I averted my eyes at Liribel's incredulous tone.
Evening had arrived before we knew it. Liribel and I were tending to Rusla, sprawled unconscious on the bed.
Her face was utterly bloodless.
My enthusiasm outpaced my control—I'd botched the strength adjustment.
'Didn't realize she was this fragile.'
My training emphasized live combat. No time for stamina drills with the deadline looming, so we repeated duels to build real experience.
I wasn't exactly stamina incarnate either, so we kept bouts short...
'No power in the legs. Again.'
'Arms limp this time. Dying to drop your sword? Again.'
'Chin up. Money on the ground? Again.'
...Pushing relentlessly like that.
Whether rattled by the nonstop scolding or just new to proper training, Rusla conked out after five hours.
"You could've eased up a bit..."
Liribel dabbed Rusla's face with a wet cloth. Flustered, I muttered an excuse.
"Wasn't that grueling. I didn't budge a step myself."
Rusla failing to make me move was the real issue—but no way to say that with her out cold. I held my tongue.
Once she'd cleaned Rusla's face, Liribel soaked the cloth in the basin and asked,
"So, her potential? She has to win, right?"
"Yeah. Not lacking talent. A solid week of hard work, and she can take it."
She stared at me in wonder.
"Why the look?"
"It's amazing. Were you secretly a knight all along, Princess?"
She knew me as a black mage hiding her power—so sword mastery must've floored her.
"Just parlor tricks."
No way I'd admit swordplay beat magic for me.
Liribel's eyes gleamed like I'd spilled some grand secret, but I dodged her gaze and clammed up. Far too soon to reveal the demon angle.
"Anyway, training starts tomorrow morning, so make sure Rusla eats..."
As I briefed her on the schedule, someone knocked.
"Princess, it's Emma."
"What is it?"
I opened the door. Head Maid Emma entered with a curtsy and got to the point.
Ever since our last talk, her deference bordered on excessive.
"A guest has arrived."
"Guest?"
"From the Prime Minister's..."
'Ah, Loreil.'
I knew who from that much. Even guessed the reason. I ordered Emma to show him to the reception room, then told Liribel,
"Look after Rusla. When she wakes, remind her to review today's lessons."
"Yes!"
I headed straight there.
Loreil greeted me with that same faint, mask-like smile.
"Forgive the abrupt visit, Your Highness. And missing the arena inspection together..."
"It's fine. I heard you were swamped."
I smiled brightly in return.
"Still, I worry the knight I sent as escort came off as rude."
"They were reliable. Quite skilled, too."
Polite nothings, but sincere. His guards outclassed the annex's patrolling soldiers and knights overall.
Blocking an assassination attempt from them would be no picnic.
"I also heard you brought the Helmet Fighter to the annex."
"Yes. Nowhere suitable for her training, so I lent her the field. But what brings you all the way here, Sir Loreil...?"
Not just for chit-chat, right? He read between the lines and cut straight to it.
"Word of Your Highness's outing has spread. An invitation arrived via our house."
"Haven't returned to society yet—can't attend other events."
"Not a ball invitation. Merely a request for a visit."
I tilted my head—who?—and he dropped the smile for a stiff mask.
"Her Imperial Majesty the Empress."
"...The Empress summons me?"
Empress Cheryl.
An utterly unforeseen name.
'Why would she call for me? She's never shown the slightest interest.'
I was the only imperial child not her blood. Proper conversations? I could count them on one hand.
Stunned speechless, Loreil explained patiently.
"The letter was straightforward: She can aid Your Highness and earnestly requests a visit."
"But why send it through you..."
"To conceal it."
From whom? No need to ask.
Only one person required the Prime Minister's house to blind them.
'The Emperor.'
Which meant the Empress was defying His Majesty's will?