An Unwelcome Suitor
They certainly got one over on me. Before I could even make a proper move, things went exactly as Carmel and Walter had intended. The Festival of the Sword is officially set. But perhaps this is actually for the best. If the Royal Guard wins the festival, Filgret will gain command over the Direct Division as well. It would lead to the exact opposite of what Carmel wants.
In the Festival of the Sword, a total of five knights selected by the commanders of each side face off. Although it is called the Festival of the "Sword," the participants are fundamentally free to use any weapon they wish. However, any gear relying on mechanical devices or magical enhancement is strictly forbidden. Though they use live, sharpened blades, casualties are virtually nonexistent. This is because non-lethal magic is cast upon the weapons of both sides before the matches begin. It would be putting the cart before the horse if the kingdom were to lose its greatest military assets over a mere event.
A clash of blades. Moreover, it is a team battle rather than a series of simple one-on-one duels. There are bound to be countless variables. No one, no matter how skilled, could guarantee an absolute victory under such conditions. And yet, Carmel had challenged us with such supreme confidence. She must be plotting something. Something that guarantees a hundred percent chance of victory.
Before trying to figure out what that was, I summoned Filgret to discuss the upcoming festival.
"Filgret, I assume you've heard? The Festival of the Sword is scheduled to be held again."
"Yes, Your Highness. I was informed of the news just moments ago."
"In your estimation, who holds the advantage between you and Walter? Be as honest as possible."
Filgret fell silent for a moment. He seemed to be weighing the strength of the Royal Guard against the Direct Division, comparing himself to Walter.
"If we are to judge solely by our current military strength, the odds of our victory stand at approximately eight to two."
Such overwhelming confidence. Filgret is not one for empty bluster, so he must truly believe in those odds. Of course, there is always the possibility that the enemy is hiding their true strength. Besides, there is no way Carmel would initiate a fight she had no chance of winning. There is definitely a trap waiting for us.
"Hearing that puts me at ease. However, please do not let your guard down. Have you already decided on the roster for the festival?"
"Yes, to some extent. However, the final selection has not yet been locked in."
"Keep the roster strictly confidential if possible. And of course, please take care of your health and safety. To me, this Festival of the Sword feels like a scheme designed to tear you—my right hand—away from my side."
"Is... is that truly how you feel?"
What? Had he seriously not realized? I didn't think I'd have to spell out something so obvious to him.
"Yes. The winning side of the festival gains command over the losing side, do they not? This is clearly a plot orchestrated by Walter of the Direct Division and someone hostile to me, aiming for exactly that."
"Ah. Forgive my presumption, but that was not the part I was questioning. Do you truly... consider me to be your right hand, Princess Sera?"
Oh, that was what caught his attention? At present, excluding myself, there is no one who moves solely for my sake other than Filgret. Shinia is the only other possibility, but she's just a maid. So calling him my right hand isn't much of a rhetorical exaggeration. He certainly possesses the skill and status to back up the title.
"Pardon? Ah, well, yes... It is the truth, is it not?"
My response was rather lukewarm, but Filgret's reaction was anything but. Upon hearing my words, a quiet fire seemed to ignite within his usually calm eyes. What is with him?
"I shall repay your trust with absolute devotion, Your Highness. I swear to secure victory in this Festival of the Sword, even if my body is torn to pieces in the process."
"No, wait, I literally just told you to prioritize your safety... Besides, there is no point to any of this if you end up severely injured."
"Understood. I am deeply grateful for your concern."
Our conversation felt slightly out of sync. It seemed he had slipped into some strange, hyper-intense mode. I ordered him once more to exercise caution in his actions before dismissing him. As he left the room, his footsteps sounded somehow more spirited than usual.
Once the news of the upcoming Festival of the Sword spread, the public's interest flared up immensely. Naturally, the most enthusiastic were the hot-blooded young men and boys. A clash of pride between the kingdom's strongest knight orders—it was a topic guaranteed to drive men, who loved nothing more than pitting things against each other, absolutely wild. You couldn't step into a single tavern in Lurie without hearing people talk about it.
While Filgret had displayed immense confidence, the general consensus among the public seemed to favor a neck-and-neck battle. In particular, when it came to who was stronger between the two commanders, Walter and Filgret, people's opinions seemed to be shaped more by personal bias than any objective analysis of their combat abilities.
Walter Grave was a prodigy, hailed as a genius swordsman. He had passed the knight selection exam at the tender age of fifteen, and even back then, he was said to have easily overpowered seasoned veteran knights. Since then, without a single failed mission or defeat, Walter had climbed all the way to the position of Commander of the Direct Division. At the mere age of twenty, he had become, both in name and reality, the finest knight in the kingdom.
Yet, unsatisfied with that, he now harbored the ambition to bring the Royal Guard under his command as well. At this point, I couldn't help but feel a sliver of curiosity about what kind of man he actually was.
That opportunity presented itself sooner than expected. Just as I was about to board my carriage for an official outing outside the royal palace, a knight approached me and removed his helmet. A handsome face and vibrant, reddish-orange hair were revealed. Dropping to one knee, he spoke.
"I believe this is the first time we have been formally introduced? I am Walter Grave, Commander of the Direct Division and Captain of the Silver Sword Knights, at your service, Your Highness."
A gentle, seemingly harmless expression paired with those striking looks. Add the "genius swordsman" trope to the mix, and it was obvious why he had a massive following of young girls. Yet, looking at his handsome face and polite demeanor only filled me with a sudden wave of disgust. To think Carmel held secret late-night trysts with a guy like this.
Of course, Carmel wasn't the type to be swayed by mere looks alone. Still, just imagining the two of them in the same frame made me feel slightly nauseous. He hadn't dared to flirt with her, had he? If he did, it would be an immediate death sentence. Though, to be fair, committing the madness of flirting with the Queen would be a capital offense even without my intervention.
I replied in a somewhat chilly tone. He was an enemy, after all.
"And?"
It was a single word that fiercely conveyed my utter lack of interest in conversing with him, but Walter remained unfazed, responding with a smile as warm as a spring breeze.
"You have a scheduled visit to the monasteries within Lurie today, do you not? I have come to pay my respects, as I will be personally overseeing your escort, Princess Sera."
Unless it was an undercover inspection, guarding royal family members within Lurie fell under the jurisdiction of the Direct Division. Even so, there was no need for him to go out of his way to introduce himself like this. Furthermore, his attitude was excessively friendly. Or rather, he was putting on a very convincing act.
Since he had conspired with Carmel to bring about the Festival of the Sword, Walter must be well aware that I was his enemy. The only reason he would approach me with such warmth despite knowing that... was because there was something he wanted to extract from me. If that was the case, I had no reason to show my hand either.
"Fufu, is that so? I shall be in your care today, Sir Walter."
"I shall guard you with the utmost vigilance. You are the greatest treasure of this kingdom, Princess Sera. I swear upon my honor as a knight that I will allow no one to lay a finger on you."
What on earth is he babbling about? I already detest this guy. Is he trying to make me sick on purpose? Naturally, I didn't let my disgust show. Painting a graceful, princess-like smile over my mask, I replied.
"How incredibly reassuring."
What an absolute chore. To any onlooker, this would probably look like a heartwarming scene. I walked past Walter and boarded the carriage. Soon after, the procession began to move forward. Walter mounted his horse and joined the escort, riding right alongside my carriage window.
Tap, tap. Walter knocked gently on the carriage window. I slid it open and looked out.
"Is there something you require, Sir Walter?"
"I merely worried that your journey might prove tedious, Your Highness. If you would permit it, I would be delighted to keep you company with some conversation."
Every single thing he does is incredibly irritating. What could he possibly want to extract from me to go to such lengths? But then again, this might actually be an opportunity. Through conversation, I could gauge what kind of man Walter was as well. Suppressing my annoyance, I offered a pleasant smile.
"Very well. Let us do that."
The first question that came out of Walter's mouth caught me completely off guard.
"What sort of books do you enjoy reading, Princess Sera?"
Why on earth is he asking this? Is it some high-level psychological tactic to analyze my thought patterns based on my literary preferences? ...Probably not. I gave a generic response.
"Of the books I have read recently, Ivan Yuna's The Prince has been my favorite. There was much for me to learn from it as a princess."
"The Prince... How expectedly marvelous. I, too, prefer books that offer room for intellectual growth. When I immerse myself in treatises on swordsmanship, I often find that hours pass in the blink of an eye."
I see. That was a piece of information I had absolutely zero interest in knowing. When I offered nothing but a silent, polite smile in return, Walter smoothly pivoted to another topic.
"If I may ask, how do you spend your days when you have no official duties?"
Why does he keep asking these pointless questions? Once again, I gave a suitably "Sera-like" response. Yet, Walter's questions showed no signs of stopping. His mental assault persisted relentlessly until we finally arrived at the first monastery. If his strategy was to wear me down through sheer exhaustion, it was a resounding success.
"It was a truly delightful conversation, Your Highness."
Only after we reached our destination did Walter finally let me be. Watching the satisfied expression on his face as he lowered his visor, I couldn't shake a deeply ominous premonition.
Wait... was that bastard actually trying to hit on me?