The Flower That Bears a Sword - Chapter 48

Translation: godsn

"Apologize."

Alice stiffened her expression as she stepped toward Bread. Her tone was rigid.

"Apologize immediately for your insulting remarks toward Senior Fatima."

"And who the hell are you? ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠How dare you interrupt when seniors are speaking? You're all just a bunch of upstarts who don't know your place, flocking together. Get out of my way right now."

Bread glared and raised his hand. Alice ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠looked at him with disgust in her eyes.

"To be respected as an upperclassman, one must first behave like one. I question how someone like you even became an officer cadet. Aren't you ashamed of your own words?"

"What? Are you insane, talking back so boldly... Stop your nonsense and get lost!"

Bread swung his hand irritably. Instead of being pushed back, Alice simply blocked his arm. Bread's face, his arm obstructed, turned from red with rage to nearly black with fury. Fatima quietly stepped forward and tugged at Alice's collar.

"Cadet Alice, it's fine. Let's just ignore him and focus on our own business."

"I have no intention of turning a blind eye to injustice, Senior Fatima."

"We avoid things because they're frightening, or because they're filthy. Let's go."

"You little—!"

The exchange between Alice and Fatima right before his eyes finally made Bread explode. Furious to the core, he reached to draw his sword. But his hand froze mid-motion, gripping the hilt uselessly. Echinacea had approached unnoticed and was pressing firmly down on Bread's sword hilt.

"Senior. It's been a while, but you haven't changed a bit."

Echinacea whispered softly, standing dangerously close to him.

"I distinctly remember warning you to watch your tongue."

"You...!"

Bread gritted his teeth and strained against the hilt. But he couldn't overcome the pressure from that small, lace-gloved hand. The sword trembled violently yet refused to leave its scabbard. Bread's club members nearby burst into laughter at the sight.

"Hey, hey, Bread, we know you're considerate of ladies, but is this performance really necessary?"

"Don't tell me you actually can't draw it because you're too weak?"

"Do you have a thing for her?"

"Guess seeing a girl in a skirt for the first time in this military academy full of manly cadets has you losing your mind. Just let it go."

Their crude remarks flew back and forth. Baraha had mentioned there was a club full of idiots. Amidst the complicated situation and the headache from her realizations, seeing these pathetically low-level, simple-minded fools was so absurd it almost felt refreshing. Echinacea twisted her lips into a smirk.

"What do you plan to do by drawing your sword? Don't you remember what I told you before? If you draw it carelessly, you might get expelled."

She whispered this to Bread, who was straining with all his might to unsheathe his sword. Bread glared at her with blazing eyes. Echinacea gave him a sweet smile and suddenly released her grip. The sword came free with excessive force, creating such a ridiculous spectacle that the surrounding cadets burst into roaring laughter. Bread pointed the trembling blade at Echinacea.

"You... you...!"

The tip of the sword quivered uncontrollably. Behind Echinacea, the sound of Alice drawing her sword was heard. Fatima let out a pained groan. Echinacea kept her smiling face as she spoke.

"Have your wounds from when I crushed you last time healed? Seeing you act like this, I assume they have—enough for you to forget my warning."

"Crushed...?"

"Wait, they've fought before?"

"Bread, did you lose to a lady?"

Her words drew mocking laughter from Bread's club members. Though public opinion within the academy had long since shifted, they belonged to the minority who refused to acknowledge Echinacea's skills. They dismissed the results of the freshman ranking tournament as insignificant compared to the overall rankings. Provoked by his club members' jeers, Bread's face flushed crimson as he let out a furious roar.

"Lose? What do you mean lose? That bitch ambushed me from behind, damn it!"

"My, would you like to try me properly then?"

Echinacea retorted as if she'd been waiting for this. Without hesitation, she pulled off her left glove and threw it at Bread's feet.

"I formally challenge you to a duel, Bread... Oh dear, I forgot your surname. It didn't seem worth remembering. Anyway, Senior Bread. If I win, you'll kneel and apologize to Senior Fatima."

Perfect timing—she'd been itching for this. A chance to teach him a lesson while relieving some stress. Whether her feelings showed on her face or not, Bread's complexion turned pale. Then, ashamed of his own fear, he raised his voice even louder.

"Ha! Look at this brat's mouth! I accept your duel. I'll teach you some manners right here, you arrogant bitch. If I win, you'll be my slave for three days. I'll properly educate you on how to respect your superiors."

His terms were filthy. A murmur spread through the cadets gathered near the training grounds. Before a flustered Fatima could intervene, Echinacea nodded.

"Have it your way. Who'll be our witness?"

"This guy here."

Bread pointed to one of his club members. Though hardly a fair witness, Echinacea didn't hesitate this time either. She raised the cheap sword she'd bought after abandoning her previous one during monster subjugation.

"Fine. Shall we begin?"

The hastily appointed witness stepped between them as the duel declaration was recited. Cadets crowded closer to the training grounds for a better view.

And beyond those cadets appeared Rosalin Diassant, her red hair elegantly coiled. Dressed in a flawless lady's formal suit just like Echinacea, she approached the training grounds with leisurely yet purposeful steps.

"...May mercy and tolerance grace the victor, submission and humility the defeated, and may honor and justice dwell within these blades. Ar Sebat-tiem."

In formal duels, after the declaration, both parties exchange greetings. The witness places a sword between them, removing it to signal the start—usually with the challenger striking first.

Bread gave his salute—heels clicking together, raising his sword to lightly kiss the guard before lowering the tip. Though following Imperial knightly etiquette, his expression twisted with angry sneers and condescending attitude robbed it of any elegance Alice might have displayed.

Echinacea performed a lady's curtsy, grasping her dress hem as she bent and straightened her knees. One of Bread's club members whistled mockingly, but the surrounding cadets no longer reacted awkwardly to her greeting as before—they'd grown accustomed to her eccentricities. They were far more interested in the swordsmanship she'd display.

"You said you missed it last time? Watch closely—just seeing it will help."

"That good?"

"Her pure swordsmanship alone could rival actual knights. During the freshman ranking tournament, all her matches except against Alice Winterbell ended too quickly to see properly. Hope we get a real show this time."

Rosalin Diassant, having reached the training ground's evergreen fence, overheard the whispering cadets before her. Her jade-green eyes rolled slightly as she adjusted her position for a better view. The cadets, too absorbed in the impending duel, failed to notice the rumored Captain's fiancée standing behind them.

The duel began. Bread disregarded etiquette and struck first. Echinacea dodged with just a slight twist of her torso. His blade passed through fluttering lace to cleave empty air. As his attack missed, his entire body was left wide open.

Echinacea's sword surged through one of his openings in an instant. A thrust aimed straight for his eyes. If he tried to block, his own blade would only slash through empty air past her, and dodging was impossible at this speed. Without realizing it, Bread clenched his eyes shut. Then, her sword shifted direction as if teasing him, merely grazing the very tips of his hair by his temple.

"Whoa, did you see that?"

"Changing targets mid-thrust at that speed—how?"

"Her elbow didn't even twitch. Must've been all in the wrist."

"No, it starts from the shoulder. If you adjust direction with just the wrist, the tip wobbles. Keeping the elbow still is to maintain speed and power."

Everyone present—save for Rosalin Diassant—were officer cadets of Agenka. They dissected the duel before them as ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠if in debate. The Lady of Diassant stood beneath the evergreen shade, her eyes fixed on Echinacea while her ears caught the surrounding chatter.

A few strands of Bread's severed hair fluttered down. Realizing he'd shut his eyes, his face flushed red. Eki smiled—a smile that seemed to ask, Are you scared? Recognizing the taunt in her expression, Bread stepped forward with a furious swing, his face burning.

A heavy slash. The sound of wind splitting. Eki sidestepped just enough to evade it effortlessly, then stepped back in the moment Bread's blade passed before her nose.

The hem of her dress swayed with the motion, fluttering to reveal a glimpse of white lace petticoat beneath. Her blue satin shoes stepped lightly, the retreat-and-advance so fluid and rhythmic it looked like she was dancing a waltz.

Her sword extended with the grace of a fan unfurling. But contrary to her languid poise, the blade lunged at her opponent with vicious intent. Bread, his torso exposed from the wide swing, had no way to block this time either.

At the last possible moment—when it seemed inevitable he'd be run through—Eki's sword playfully skimmed just the edge of his collar, as before. The front of his shirt split open, yet the skin beneath remained untouched.

"Damn... She only cut the collar. And it's not even a loose shirt—it fits snug."

"You think that was an accident?"

"Idiot, look at the front. She did the same to his stomach. Not a scratch on his skin."

"Gives me chills. Is that even control?"

"Guess it is. The seniors who went on that extermination mission called her a monster. They weren't kidding."

Rosalin Diassant was no swordswoman. It wasn't until she heard the cadets' chatter that she grasped the sheer skill behind Echinacea's display.

But even as a complete novice, one thing was unmistakable: Echinacea Roaz wielded her sword with breathtaking beauty. Where Rosalin had imagined duels as little more than sweat and dirt, Eki's combat moved like a scene from a ballroom.

Hmm...

Rosalin's focus sharpened. Arms crossed, she watched intently. Just as she had when observing Yurien, she now admired Echinacea's swordsmanship as one would a masterpiece.

The duel progressed beyond one-sided—no other word ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠sufficed. Bread's initial fury gave way to shame, then denial, and finally, terror. The transition didn't take long.