Here, Allow Me to Explain
Allow me to take over the narration from here. …………
What draws people's attention to Lady Katerina Eisenmark, the Grand Duke's daughter, is — nine times out of ten — her monstrous strength and that signature desuwa of hers.
And then… there's her basic temperament: utterly indifferent to everyone around her, and yet absurdly moody on top of it.
The foul-mouthed sailors of House Sokolov have a word for a personality like that: batshit insane. Heh heh.
Too harsh, you say? Well, it's not exactly wrong, is it?
Frankly, until very recently — or to be precise, until the last time I saw Katerina at the Winter Games — I believed the world's reputation of her was dead accurate.
Katerina is quite beautiful. Her fantastic golden hair is wound into these remarkable spiral drill curls, and her ruby-red eyes are strikingly memorable.
But that's where it ends. A few years ago, the first time I tried to actually converse with her, I concluded it was a complete waste of my time.
She had no interest whatsoever in befriending the other noble daughters. Dances and duels she would only watch from a distance. I still remember vividly how she stood apart from everyone, finding even the formalities of greeting a bother.
And yet… well, what do you know? Natasha of House Volkov — a stubborn, humorless stickler — had somehow grown close to Katerina?
Frankly, I could hardly believe it. Natasha is sharp — as sharp as I am, if I do say so myself — and she is diligent and earnest. But she's stiff and dull with it; not exactly a witty or interesting woman.
So how did the Count of Volkov's daughter become friends with fickle, overbearing Katerina? From the outside, they fit together like oil and water. That question had lingered in a corner of my mind ever since.
And when at last I had the chance to visit Eisenfels, I found a thread to the mystery: Katerina had changed — completely, utterly — from the woman in my memory.
The her who greeted me at the citadel gate was… a great deal different. The meticulously curled blonde hair and ruby eyes remained, but there was a depth in that gaze that had never been there before.
Oh, of course that trademark 'desuwa' of hers was still there. But the intent and nuance wrapped inside it had shifted entirely.
Trust my instincts. I have a rather accurate eye for people.
As our conversation went on, the feeling only grew stronger: that there were two people living inside Katerina.
She spoke in simple, blunt turns of phrase — yet beneath it I could see her dissecting the situation with a keen eye and running political calculations at lightning speed.
Whenever Baron Trofimov or House Volkov came up, in particular, she threaded the needle perfectly — holding a delicate neutrality while extending goodwill to both the Volkov and Sokolov camps at once.
Thanks to that, every strategy I had built around the Katerina I thought I knew became worthless. Improvisation was the only card I had left.
My guess is that her horrific fall — and the coma that followed — is what changed her. She fell from the very top of a spire, did she not?
Perhaps, in the course of a recovery too swift for conventional medicine to explain, her mind grew alongside her body.
People who have walked to death's door and back do sometimes return as someone entirely different, don't they? Something like that.
And now… about the duel. When Katerina picked up that chain mace, I smiled to myself in quiet satisfaction. Honestly, I considered the victory half-secured.
Why? Because I had faith in my own skill, of course — third place at the Winter Games' tournament, and no fluke either. That ranking came from measured, restrained bouts; in a true fight, I consider myself the strongest.
As for how she swung that heavy chain mace — well, "amateur" is the kindest word I can find. A clean hit from that thing would shatter sword, shield, or bone alike, but she couldn't even control the arc of the chain in the first place.
This will be an easy win — but out of respect for the Grand Duke's daughter's dignity, I'll make it look close. With that thought, I launched my first attack. It was time to unveil my trump card: the twin-blade swordplay I had honed for combat on violently rocking ships.
And yet from the very first exchange, something felt off. Katerina seemed flustered by my assault — but her reaction speed was impossibly fast.
She simply caught the flail with her bare hand and blocked my blade with that massive lump of steel. Does that even make sense? No, it doesn't — but it happened, so what can I say?
The second exchange, the third — the strangeness only compounded. In real time, her movements grew smoother and smoother, until by the fifth exchange she was a completely different person.
Yes. Five exchanges — that's all it took for her to wield the chain mace as though it were part of her own body. How does anyone adapt to a weapon that fast?
From there followed a tense, even exchange of blows… I'd like to think. Though perhaps she was simply humoring me.
In any case, past roughly the twenty-fifth exchange, Katerina began to overwhelm me. Out of options, I threw my final die: I hooked the chain of her mace with one of my blades and pinned it fast.
The gamble paid off, and I heaved on the chain, attempting to wrench the weapon from her grip — and what happened next was too absurd for words.
Katerina simply let go of the mace and leapt in bare-handed. The instant she seized my wrist, my view of the world went swinging through the air — and the next thing I registered was the fact that I was lying on the sand.
Would you believe it? She took a person by the wrist, lifted him lightly, spun him about, and set him down gently on the sand. So gently that neither wrist nor body suffered so much as a scratch.
I felt like some small animal in her hands. And it was then that I understood: if Katerina had truly meant to, she could have torn my arm clean off — or thrown me straight over the citadel walls.
Yes. Her strength simply was not territory a human being could contest.
They say the age when a single warrior's prowess could decide a war ended hundreds of years ago. As group tactics and technology advanced, the heroic individual steadily lost his importance.
But when I look at Katerina… I find myself wondering whether that saying might not hold after all. It was only then, too, that I realized the rumors — how she had subdued a house-sized bison with a single hand — might not be exaggerations at all.
So ended the duel. But I had one more reason for visiting Eisenfels: the dark shadow hanging over the Sokolov fief, in the northwestern reaches of the Grand Duchy.
The northern climate is changing. For the past three years, the winters have grown longer and colder. Last year, we had to wait for spring until the snow finally melted; this year, spring arrived a full month later still.
This is no ordinary matter. I sense something far larger at work — something far more terrifying. For now, it is merely a cold, long winter. But still.
Our Sokolov fief borders the Northern Sea, which meant we were the first to sense the change. And, by the same token, the first to suffer for it.
The fishermen of the coastal villages reported that the sea ice had crept far farther south than in any recent year, and that the color of the water itself had changed — deeper now, and darker.
And… the Sergen have returned. The great tribes of pirate-warriors who dwell beyond the Northern Sea. The cruelest, most ferocious people known to us.
As I spread the map across the table and pointed to the region in question — including the three villages they had already sacked — I was, at the same time, running my political calculations.
Frankly speaking, judged solely by what had happened so far, the crisis was not all that dire. A long, cold winter is a familiar anomaly, and the stirrings of the barbarians across the Northern Sea — worrying, certainly, but not we are all going to die! territory.
Therefore, I intended to exaggerate the crisis somewhat and secure Katerina's help.
Not that I planned to lie. I merely chose a more dramatic presentation, that's all.
As I spoke of the freak climate and the threat of the Sergen tribes, I was watching Katerina's beautiful face and those coiled golden curls with great care. I needed to know how she would react.
And then — a stunning transformation.
Katerina's ruby eyes suddenly began to burn. Her posture shifted in subtle ways. Her shoulders straightened, her chin lifted ever so slightly.
And in that moment, a voice burst forth that seemed to shake the entire castle.
I froze on the spot. What I had heard was no mere political statement. It was an absolute proclamation, brimming with burning conviction.
The power and certainty in the Grand Duke's daughter's declaration washed over me like a physical wave, and even my heart began to race. As though I had fallen in love at first sight.
In that moment, I knew. This was the Grand Duke's daughter's true face. Until now she had merely been sleeping, like a dormant volcano — and the fire within her had at last awakened.
And I realized one thing more: that I felt relieved.
Someone with invincible power stood on our side. That power had promised to shield us. It gave me the same feeling as a small child taking shelter in a parent's arms amid a raging storm.