As Long as Kyle Comes
Ooooh, John Nassen! Heroes of the Empire!
Wooong! Woong—!
A blade sheathed in translucent sword aura tore through the air. Whatever stood before it would be split clean in two from the barest brush of its edge.
"I heard the news. You're going to the medal ceremony as the Imperial Family's representative."
The Crown Prince spoke as he regarded his youngest sister, the Fifth Princess Yulika. The sheer pressure rolling off her was every bit as overwhelming as her place among the Imperial 10 Strongest deserved. Even the Imperial knights standing nearby were so taut with tension he could feel it prickling down his spine.
He himself had poured no small effort into becoming a Crown Prince worthy of the name—not merely propped up by birthright, but genuinely respected by the knights. He could manage a faint haze of sword aura, and he could hold his own against several knights at once. Yet standing before his youngest sister, every scrap of that hard-won progress felt like child's play. The aura boiling off her blade alone made the point: not a single Imperial knight—not even the captain of the Imperial Guard—could produce anything like it. The very people tasked with defending the Imperial Family by martial might and by the sword were, in truth, weaker than a woman of that same Imperial blood.
She's been different from the start, ever since she was little.
Most of the other members of the Imperial 10 Strongest were in their late thirties or forties; some were even in their fifties. Even Priscilla Franz, the youngest among them, had long since passed thirty. Reaching that level of strength took years of relentless work. And yet Yulika was only in her twenties—young, almost too young. Even so, she stood as a full member of the 10 Strongest and projected a presence that was nothing short of terrifying. How much stronger she might still become was anyone's guess.
Wooooong!!
When one sequence of forms ended, Yulika drew a long, steady breath. An attendant knight stepped forward at once and took her sword.
"I'm surprised. I never expected you to stand in a place like that."
"I have a reason now. That's why I'm going."
Yulika reserved formal speech for only two people: the Emperor and the Crown Prince. There was no special philosophy behind it—simply that one was the current Emperor and the other the Emperor-to-be.
"A reason, is it. Tell me that reason is a good one."
There was a faint edge of provocation in his tone, but as Crown Prince he was well within his rights. Looking back over Yulika's record, she had all but forced duels on anyone reputed to be strong. Injuries had followed—large and small—and of course they had never been hers. From the other party's perspective, when an Imperial princess of the purest blood casually asked, "How about a spar?" refusal was simply not an option. Winning a proper match against her was equally impossible. She was, after all, one of the Imperial 10 Strongest—a peerless powerhouse ranked among the ten finest in a world already overflowing with the strong. Walking away from a duel with her unhurt was the real miracle.
"His Majesty told me not to lecture you, but I can't help myself. Of all people, the ones receiving the medals are from House John Nassen. Yulika. At that ceremony, you will not act recklessly."
"I have never behaved rashly."
"Think before you move. If you go charging in demanding another duel in a setting like that, everyone loses—His Majesty, you, and the entire Empire."
It was the first medal ceremony in over thirty years, and a member of the Imperial Family was attending in person. If that same Imperial representative caused an incident, there would be no greater embarrassment. No—if it stopped at a mere incident, they would be lucky. She was perfectly capable of turning the whole district into a wasteland.
"There's one more piece of news I should pass along."
"What is it?"
"Originally there were three recipients. Two of them have declined to attend—Lear John Nassen and Leah John Nassen. They said they had to return home urgently. His Majesty replied that family matters couldn't be helped, and told them to go."
"I see."
"…Are you all right with that?"
The Crown Prince asked carefully, testing the waters. This was a ceremony at which he himself was appearing, and two of the people due to receive medals were dropping out. Whatever reason they offered, from this side it would look as though they were leaving because they disliked Yulika. Calling it a humiliation would not have been an overstatement.
"I'm fine."
"Truly?"
"Yes. It would be a lie to say I'm not disappointed, but I'm still fine."
Once the ceremony was over, she had meant to challenge Lear John Nassen again. She was stronger than before. Victory might still be impossible, but she had believed she could at least hold her own for a while. Now he was heading home with his sister, and of course she felt the loss. Even so, this time it was truly all right. Something more important than sparring with the strong stood right in front of her.
"Kyle John Nassen is still coming, isn't he?"
"He is."
"Then that's enough. More than enough."
At her words the Crown Prince narrowed his eyes and studied his sister. The faint lift at the corner of her mouth, the soft flush coloring her cheeks, the gentle curve of her eyes—he blinked, caught by a sudden thought. Wait. Surely not…? Even so, he tilted his head as if to say, Does that even make sense?
"…Well. It's your affair now, so I won't interfere. Do well, Yulika."
The Emperor's approval had already been granted; there was no further point in arguing over the ceremony. With that final word of encouragement from her eldest brother, the Crown Prince gathered his attendants and withdrew.
Left alone in the training grounds, Yulika sank into thought.
It's a shame. It really is a shame. Lear, and Leah John Nassen too—I was curious about her as well.
It truly was a pity. She had hoped for another chance to face them. Frustratingly so—but there was nothing to be done. Besides, for once Yulika herself had something that interested her far more than any duel.
Kyle John Nassen.
The clash with the Coalition, and the battle against the Three Heroes, had made one thing crystal clear. She had to make that man her husband. And if she could not claim him as her own, she would rather become his possession instead, so long as they were bound as husband and wife.
He was strong. Strong, yet gentle. Gentle, yet unyielding. A completely different kind of powerhouse from herself—and Yulika found herself clinging to that difference. She was certain Kyle could fill what she lacked. She wanted to be bound to him, to bear his children.
I can focus entirely on him now. That's enough.
Perhaps Lear and Leah had known as much when they returned home. It was possible. Not out of the question. She had said so herself the last time she visited John Nassen, hadn't she? That she wanted Kyle as her husband. That she wanted to be his wife. Honestly, someone of her caliber was more than qualified to be a daughter-in-law of House John Nassen. More than enough.
At first she had simply been curious about the child that would be born between them—had wanted to be that child's mother. But the more she heard of Kyle's story, the more she watched him, another kind of interest had taken root. He was so completely unlike any other strong fighter she had known, and that strangeness fascinated her. She was intrigued. She wanted to keep looking at him. She wanted to be like that herself. So she wanted him all the more. And if she could not have him, being possessed would do just fine.
Ah… not again…
The memory of Kyle's fierce, overwhelming presence made her legs twist together of their own accord. At this rate she would never last through the medal ceremony without offering him some terrible discourtesy. The Emperor and the Crown Prince had begged her not to cause an incident—and yet if this continued, she was certain she would snap, rush him, and demand a match on the spot.
No good. I'll have to drain myself completely the day before the ceremony.
Even one of the Imperial 10 Strongest felt fatigue. Without rest, she would tire. Yulika meant to use exactly that against herself—to empty her strength in advance.
"…So why me, of all people?"
"You were closest."
"There are other members of the 10 Strongest! I'm tired too!"
Logan Stefan, once again dragged into the Imperial Palace, could only howl. He had only just escaped the nightmare of John Nassen and was looking forward to a decent night's sleep—only for Yulika to haul him in and announce they would spar until the day before the ceremony.
"Don't worry. I called Throd too."
…Honestly, if she weren't a princess, he would have ignored her and run for his life. Why did this madwoman have to be the Emperor's pure-blooded daughter? Why did he have to suffer like this?
Even as the thought crossed his mind, Logan had no real alternative.
"Aaaargh!! Fine! Just kill me already!"
In the end, he was forced to spar with Yulika through the entire night.
"You wish to attend the medal ceremony, you say."
Cardinal Paolo's questioning reply was met with a nod from the Saintess.
"Yes, Your Eminence. I want to go and, in the Church's name, offer Brother Kyle my thanks."
"Well… I understand the sentiment, but there is no precedent for such a thing. It would be rather irregular."
"He took not a single life. A war that might easily have drowned the land in blood—he saw to it that everyone, Empire and Coalition alike, returned home alive. Brother Kyle did that. To step forward with courage and still show mercy to one's opponent at the end is not a heart easily possessed."
Faced with the Saintess's impassioned plea, Cardinal Paolo could only nod. The Sword-Brother Knights under Grand Duke Schurelitz, along with the Imperial legions, had marched out. From the Coalition side, the Three Heroes and the finest forces they could muster had moved as well. That not a single life had been lost in that confrontation was thanks solely to John Nassen.
"He holds no life cheap, treats none of them lightly. That is the kind of man Brother Kyle is. I believe he showed us the true face of the holy war the Church speaks of."
"Hrm…"
"I believe it is only right that the Church itself go forth and express its gratitude for that sacred intent. What does Your Eminence think?"
Under the Saintess's persuasion, Cardinal Paolo finally inclined his head. That not one life had been taken in a battle that had drawn out the Three Heroes was, without question, an extraordinary feat. For that alone, the Church ought to step forward and applaud such a noble act. And somehow, faintly, he could see a quiet yearning on the Saintess's face as she spoke of attending the ceremony. She did not look like someone who would simply drop the matter if told no. Better, then, to let her have her way than to hold her back.
"I think so as well."
"Then…"
"Go. Tell Brother Kyle that he has done well, and that the Lord looks kindly upon him. Give him those words and come back."