Ariel (3): Caressed by the Breeze
The beautiful sky stretched endlessly above. A gentle wind stroked Lady Ariel von Saint's black hair, while the fresh scent of grass tickled her nose.
Occasionally—very occasionally—the lady allowed herself a moment of reward. The reason she rarely took breaks was simple: any indulgence in personal emotions would make her weak. It wasn't harsh trials that broke humans, but comfort and sloth. Above all, she guarded against this, whipping herself through every day.
"......Hoo."
She rolled lightly in the grass. Who could recognize her as the iron-blooded lady? In truth, she wanted to quit it all. Day after day felt suffocating, nauseating, repulsive. She wore an expressionless mask—a convenient facade—because showing emotion meant weakness. But inside, her heart was rotting away.
She knew the crown prince's whims all too well. He always courted beautiful women, but once he gave his heart, it cooled quickly as he chased the next love—a foolish sort. She'd never known love in her lifetime, yet before him, she had to play the smitten girl. Spouting insincere words, swallowing her pride when he embraced other women, clinging on. A tiresome, disgusting life.
"Milady."
"....."
"Milady?"
"......Ah, Leon."
"....."
Ariel gazed silently at her knight. Sometimes, quiet silence was the greatest comfort. That's why she trusted this knight. With him beside her, her heart eased, and she could shed her mask.
"Let's go flower viewing."
"......"
Her lips trembled slightly. She'd expected the usual sparring invitation, but his words were boldly unexpected.
"......All right."
"Yes, there's a lovely flower field nearby."
"....."
Ariel naturally took Leon's hand.
"You're being bold."
"...My fiancé holds dozens of hands a day."
"...Then one more like me won't matter."
"...No."
Ariel leaned her head against Leon.
"...It's fine because it's you."
"......"
Still expressionless, the lady followed her knight's lead.
"Ariel. Lady Ariel? What should I call you?"
"....."
"...Ariel."
"...Don't tease."
Insolent. A mere guard knight daring to call the lady by name. But each time her name left his lips, Ariel's heart raced strangely.
"When you're with me, be at ease."
"I've always... been at ease."
"No, Ariel."
His black eyes met hers. This man... truly unreadable. Sometimes boyishly pure, others sly as a fox.
"...That's our contract. You allowed me to be the one person you're comfortable with, milady."
"....."
Her blue eyes filled only with him.
"...Do as you like."
Years later, recalling these times with Leon, the man who'd stolen her heart... she yearned to see him again. To hold him. To grasp his hand once more. To go flower viewing, share stories, talk about the day. To relearn the feeling of love. She missed him so, so terribly...
Yet before her eyes stood clearly the young Leon of her childhood.
'...No.'
Foolish. Claiming him now would forge only a vertical lord-vassal bond. Because she longed for him so deeply, paradoxically, Ariel avoided meeting him for now. She wanted to meet as equals, to make him wholly hers.
......But.
The winner of the Round of 16—Lady Ariel von Saint!!
Twirling her rapier before sheathing it, the lady glanced toward the Colosseum's waiting area.
It was a match she should have lost. She knew it was too soon to meet him. To her now, he was just a stranger—no shared words, no whispered love.
Surely that was true... but...
......She wanted to see him. Just one word, even one... she craved his voice. A whim like this should be fine, right?
---
The Colosseum bore massive sword scars. The lady ended the bout in a mere four seconds—recorded as the fastest match in history.
"......A monster."
"Heh, lives up to the name. Truly inherited Duke Reinhardt's blood..."
Ariel von Saint's prowess in the round of 32 and 16 turned spectators' doubts to awe. Rumors swirled in shadows, but she, inheriting the Saint Duke's blood thickest of all, combined with her past life's experience, wielded innate sword genius.
And now, the first quarterfinal: Leon Chris versus Lady Ariel von Saint.
"Who do you bet on—!! Red flag for the lady! Blue flag for the rising commoner star!!"
"Three hundred francs on the lady."
"Hm, then a thousand on blue!!"
"...Are you mad? If your wife finds out..."
"What's that matter? Hic. The only commoner finalist. If we don't cheer, who will?"
"...At least grab the beer foaming on your head first."
The temporary waiting area, packed with contestants save the crown prince and lady, held thirteen remaining participants.
'...Can I win?'
I envisioned my fight with Lady Ariel in my mind. Her overwhelming performance was palpably devastating. Aura reserves rivaling Father's, swordplay mechanically precise. Though the tournament wasn't over, every remaining contestant shared one thought:
[The sword tournament's champion is Lady Ariel von Saint]—that truth.
So, curiosity stirred. Clashing swords with a strong foe was pure joy.
"Leon Chris!! Your turn. Come out."
"......Yes, sir."
At my name's call, I rose and pushed the heavy iron door.
Creeeak—
The arena door opened. Blinding sunlight hit me; I squinted as I stepped out.
"I bet a month's booze on you!!!"
"Don't lose boringly—!!!"
"Win this!! Son of the Mercenary King!!!"
Cheers and voices buzzed in my ears. But my gaze fixed on my opponent ahead.
On her, rapier in hand, staring back.
......Honestly, a bit scary. The infamous iron-blooded Lady Ariel. She ensnared the crown prince, wielded real power in the Saint Ducal House. Rumors swirled from her signature haughty glare.
'...She's stunningly beautiful.'
But I shoved such thoughts aside. As the challenger, focusing solely on beating her was challenge enough.
I approached the lady.
Sparring with noble ladies as a knight meant kissing the back of the hand, not shaking.
Step by step. Toward Ariel.
Kneeling before her, head bowed, I gently took her hand and pressed lips to its back—void of emotion.
'......Huh?'
Her wrist trembled faintly. Wondering if something was wrong, I hurriedly looked up at her face.
Her cheeks were flushed red.
'...Fever? Or just a cold...?'
If she was unwell, I might have to cover the reversal. Anxiously, I scanned her.
"Are you all right?"
"......"
No reply. Her silence burned me up.
'...Damn, what's wrong? Poisoned?'
Plausible. She had many enemies. To salvage, I called for a priest while grasping her hand to check.
Skin tone normal, so... just a cold?
"You look quite ill. Perhaps—"
Then—
Slap—!
"...Let, let go."
Ariel shook off my hand, stepping back slowly. Head turned to avoid my flustered gaze, she leveled her rapier.
"...Are you sure you're okay?"
"...."
She ignored my question. Hardening my expression, I glared at the lady.
'...Does she hate it that much?'
Nobles were truly obnoxious. Despising mere skin contact, refusing eye contact. I understood, but weren't we fellow contestants now?
Rumors rang true. Treating people like bugs, nobles who bent the world to their will.
"......Hah."
Glare locked on her, I took a deep breath and channeled aura to my feet.
'...No matter what, I'll win.'
Truly, the lady was exactly the type I despised.