6. Blue Rose Festival
I snapped my fingers, and the snow piled on the ground began clumping together on its own. About a dozen perfectly round snowballs floated up into the air.
"Go!"
Whoosh! The snowballs flew straight at Seria.
"Huh?"
Seria's eyes went wide. But she quickly composed herself.
Pop!
She twisted her body nimbly. The first snowball grazed past her ear. She ducked her head or jumped to dodge the next two with ease.
"Ho, not bad."
"Young master, that's cheating! You didn't say anything about using magic!"
"Come on, how could I beat you bare-handed? This is self-defense."
"What kind of...?"
"Besides, the world of competition is a cold place."
I cackled and pulled up more mana.
"Take this! Rapid-fire mode!"
This time, it was a barrage. Dozens of snowballs poured out like machine-gun fire.
Seria darted around like a squirrel, dodging them all.
Figures regular snowballs won't cut it.
I'd expected as much. But what about this?
"Go!! Homing missiles!!"
I focused, controlling the snowballs. It was a total pain in the ass, but the thought of pranking Seria gave me the strength to push through.
No genius could dodge homing missiles coming from all directions.
Splat!
"Ack!"
They all missed until the very last one hit Seria's shoulder. She lost her balance and plopped down into the snow.
"Hahaha! See that? My victory!"
I threw my arms up in triumph.
Seria blankly brushed the snow off her shoulder. Then she looked up.
"......"
Her expression was dangerous. All the playfulness gone, replaced by a seriously murderous glare.
I'm screwed. I poked the bear.
She slowly stood, drawing the wooden sword from her waist with a smooth shing.
"Uh... huh? Seria?"
I backed away.
"Why'd you draw that? We're just having a snowball fight."
"You started it, young master."
"Started what?"
"You used magic, so I'll use my tool too."
Seria angled the wooden sword diagonally. Her stance was insane. A swordsman in the blizzard. The vibe screamed hero off to slay the demon king.
"W-wait a sec. Time-out! Time-out!"
"No time-outs."
Seria charged. I panicked and launched all the remaining snowballs.
"Whatever! Block this!"
Dozens hurtled toward her face. But...
Slash slash slash!
Seria's wooden sword danced through the air. The snowballs turned to powder before they could touch her.
"No way?"
Is she even human? Not even a pro baseball player could swing like that!
Seria knocked them all away and closed the distance.
"Prepare yourself, young master."
"Gaaah! Mercy!"
I turned tail and ran. But no way could my 6-year-old legs outrun an 8-year-old sword genius.
"Stop right there!"
"No! I surrender! Surrender!"
"No surrendering! I have to land one hit too!"
That day, my screams and Seria's kiais echoed through the garden until late. We rolled in the snow, pelted each other with snowballs, and stuffed cold snow down each other's backs.
We burned the last of winter like that.
And the next day.
"Cough, cough."
"Sniff, ugh......"
Seria and I lay side by side in bed. Wet cloths on our foreheads, noses red as beets.
"What did I tell you... cough. I said we'd catch colds."
Seria grumbled in a raspy voice. She pulled the blanket up to her nose and shot me a glare.
"Sorry...... sniff. But you were having fun too."
"That's... because you provoked me, young master."
"Still fun though, right?"
"......"
Seria just sniffed instead of answering. No denial, huh.
Knock knock. The head maid came in and set down two steaming bowls of porridge.
"Young master, Seria. Eat your porridge. You need your medicine too."
"Ugh, looks gross."
"You have to eat to get better. Up you go."
Seria wobbled up and grabbed my bowl for me. Even sick herself, playing the big sis role. Cute.
"Ahh~"
"I can feed myself."
"Your hands are shaking. Just eat."
Seria shoved the spoon in my mouth. I obediently swallowed. The warm porridge soothed my insides.
"You eat too."
"Okay."
We sat side by side, slurping it down. Outside, the snow from yesterday had stopped, replaced by warm sunlight. Melting snow dripped from the eaves—plink, plink.
"Seria."
"Yes."
"Guess spring's really here."
"Yeah."
Seria adjusted the cloth on my forehead and smirked.
"Next winter, no mercy. I'll throw the first snowball."
"Oh yeah? Challenge accepted?"
"Yes. Get ready."
We giggled at each other. Half a year ago, she was this awkward kid. Now here she was, sick in bed with me. Pretty close, I'd say.
Of course, once we recovered, Dad's lecture barrage awaited. But I'd worry about that later.
For now, this warm blanket cocoon was perfect.
Winter passed, and spring arrived.
Spring in the Martel Barony was special. As the frozen ground thawed, blue roses—our family symbol—bloomed in their place. And with them came the festival mood.
Enter the Blue Rose Festival.
The name was kinda lame, but whatever. Fun was what mattered.
"Dad."
I peeked into his study. He was battling a pile of paperwork.
"Yes, my boy. What is it?"
"Can Seria and I go see the festival?"
Dad set down his pen. He pondered, then shook his head.
"Mm, no. Too many people during festival time—it's dangerous. What if you got lost?"
"Come on, how old do you think I am?"
"Six."
"......"
Okay, fair. Sending a 6-year-old and an 8-year-old into a crowd would worry any parent.
But I wasn't backing down. This was our one shot once a year. No way I'd rot in my room.
"I'll assign you an escort. Take Sir Mason."
"No way. No fun with the grown-ups. They'd just hover and embarrass me."
I whined. Dad stroked his beard, looking troubled.
"But Kalian, sending you two alone is too risky."
"Don't worry. I've got Seria."
I dragged Seria in from outside the door. She stiffened at attention, caught off guard.
"Seria's my escort knight, right? Don't you trust her, Dad?"
"Eh?"
Dad's eyes wavered. Classic parental guilt trip. Ironclad.
"N-no, of course not! Why wouldn't I trust our Seria? I saw her slice that scarecrow to bits with my own eyes last time!"
"Then we're good! We're off!"
"Wait, hold on! That's not the point!"
Dad waved his hands frantically.
"I trust her, but... sigh. Wait. A 6-year-old with an 8-year-old guard? Does that even make sense? But her skills are legit... so maybe? No, they're still kids!"
Internal meltdown. I drove the nail in.
"Dad, Seria'll be hurt. You don't trust her."
I poked her side. Quick on the uptake, Seria snapped to salute.
"I-I'll protect the young master with my life!"
"Mm......"
Dad finally surrendered, hands up.
"Fine, fine. But be careful. No following strangers."
He pulled a pouch from his pocket. Clink. Heavy with coins.
"Pocket money. Buy some treats, stay out of trouble."
"Yay! Dad's the best!"
I pocketed it. That's my old man.
Dad ruffled Seria's hair with his big hand.
"Seria, take good care of Kalian. You're the big sister."
Seria's shoulders tensed. She nodded solemnly.
"Yes, sir! You can count on me!"
Her determination was demon-king-slaying levels. Dad chuckled heartily.
"Good, good. Solid. Have fun."
And so we left the Lord's Castle. I rocked my overalls like a proper 6-year-old, while Seria wore a frilly dress the maids had forced on her. She twirled the skirt, clearly pleased.
But the excitement faded fast. Even at the gates, she scanned the surroundings, ever vigilant.
"Stick right behind me, young master. There might be assassins."
"Assassins in this rural backwater? Relax."
"No room for complacency. That peaceful-looking pigeon could be a trained scout..."
"It's just a pigeon hunting scraps."
I smirked and took the lead. Her quirky tension was kinda charming.