Chapter 5: A Duel of Fate

‘A noblewoman who handles a sword…? No, who else could it be?’

Even though she was Lady Elina, things seemed to be going too smoothly until trouble arose. The chance of success was only one in five. She had to rely on careful luck.

“I’m sorry for showing up at this ungodly hour. Um, Lady Elina IV?”

“It’s Elina III.”

“Hoho… my apologies.”

Lara Schmord offered an awkward smile. If only she had called her simply Lady Elina, half the trouble might have been avoided. As she berated herself, Elina III lowered her sword and approached Lara.

Wearing form-fitting riding pants that accentuated her legs and a neatly unbuttoned shirt, Elina III exuded a chic allure that could captivate any woman.

“What brings you here?”

“Well… you see, hoho. The reason I came is…”

“I know this might sound sudden, but I just want us to become closer.”

“At this early hour?”

“They say the early bird catches the worm.”

“I guess I’m the worm then.”

Though her laughter might have been an invitation, Elina III responded with steely reserve. Compared to the other Elinas, she had a decidedly firm and cool demeanor.

“If you have no business here, why not turn back?”

“…Hoho.”

“Or perhaps you’d like to spar with me?”

“Are you suggesting a swordfight?”

Lara wanted to reply gracefully, but her expression faltered. As if to say, ‘Do you really come up with such absurd questions?’, Elina III raised one eyebrow effortlessly.

“I’ve never even held a sword before, hoho…”

“Don’t try to fool me.”

‘No, she’s saying she’s never held one before.’

Elina III brandished her sword. The blade, honed to a deadly sharpness, made Lara tense. Unlike a delicate noblewoman nurtured like a greenhouse flower, she was clearly not immune to such a fearsome weapon.

“I heard that the Schumord Viscount was once part of a force that produced countless knights.”

The comment struck a strange chord. Straightening her previously slumped shoulders, Lara, with the poise of true nobility, slowly parted her lips.

“Once? Hoho, they’re still training an impressive roster of knights.”

“So you refuse to tolerate any stain on your family’s honor?”

“Hoho, I’m sorry if it sounds that way.”

“That hoho tone grates on me. Then why don’t you try beating me?”

Elina III’s cutting challenge made Lara’s eyebrows twitch; was this a dare to engage at close quarters?

Before Lara could react, God, reading her thoughts, swiftly intervened.

‘Didn’t you say earlier that if you can’t avoid it, you might as well enjoy it? This is a matter of my family’s honor. Even if I’ve never held a sword, I can’t just stand aside!’

In true extra fashion, Lara stepped into the marked rectangle set for the duel.

Elina III selected a practice wooden sword suitable for novices and tossed it to Lara. Just as the wooden sword seemed destined to land in Lara’s palm, the timid Lara, fearing injury, pulled her hand back.

‘Ah! I need to grab it…’

Panicking at the sight of a sword about to hit the ground, Lara instinctively thrust out her left foot.

The smooth toe of her shoe struck the lower part of the wooden sword’s handle perfectly. The sword soared high again, twirling in the air before landing squarely back in Elina III’s grasp.

Even though Elina III quickly recovered the sword, Lara’s weapon had already skimmed past the side of her head like lightning. A few silvery strands of hair fluttered down like feathers.

Silence fell over the scene.

It was an unbelievable sight, a coincidence as improbable as a badminton shuttlecock landing perfectly in someone’s hand.

“…Impressive.”

Before anyone could blink, Elina III stepped forward, her face solemn as she lowered her head. She slung her sword at her waist and revealed a right hand roughened by relentless effort, a testament to her tireless training. Lara felt an inexplicable blush at the sight of her flawless, tender hand.

“I was foolish.”

“…Pardon?”

“To think I would challenge a Sword Master. Even without fighting, I know this is my complete defeat.”

“Sword… what?”

“I suppose I was conceited. Here I was, provoking a genius in swordsmanship while hiding behind a trivial noble title, relying solely on my own skills.”

‘Is she just throwing subtle digs at me now?’

“I want to remain friends with you.”

Elina reached out first. With no reason to refuse, Lara decided to befriend her—at least on a cordial level.

Until dawn, Lara and Elina III talked. Most of Lara’s explanations centered around her protestations of not being a Sword Master. Yet, Elina III listened unflinching, unwavering in her convictions. She was as unyielding as stone—almost enough to make one want to hurl something at her.

“Alright. If I must hide the fact that I’m a Sword Master, I promise not to tell anyone else.”

“No, that’s not it at all! Hoho! Noblewoman!”

Recalling her mother’s and Lady Margaret’s teachings to never lose her grace under any circumstance, Lara steadied herself and spoke in a warm tone to clear any misunderstandings.

“Can’t you see by my hands? They’re completely free of calluses.”

“I’m amazed. How long does one have to wield a sword to make their hands so soft?”

“No, it’s because I hardly ever use one!! Hohohoho!!”

They say sorrow can bring out spontaneous laughter. Lara held the back of her hand gently near her lips and burst into a delirious fit of giggles—a display of graceful madness.

Her booming laughter caught the attention of a sentry patrolling the training yard, who thought, ‘Sure enough, that crazy woman,’ and gave Lara a disdainful once-over before disappearing.

“Enough. You’re going to get hit, Sword Master…”

Fearing that further chatter might ruin her attire, Lara murmured wearily while Elina III simply nodded in acknowledgment.

“But it would be a waste to let a noblewoman’s skills go to waste.”

“…Do as you please.”

“So, I’ve been thinking—how about you apply to the Imperial Knight Order?”

“…Suit yourself. Excuse me? What was that… ?”

Lara prayed she’d misheard. However, meeting the unwavering gaze of Elina III, she realized she was hearing the truth.

“If you’re interested, I can arrange a cover identity for you. You won’t have to prove your skills openly, and I’ll have your back. How about it?”

‘Ugh… my blood pressure is through the roof.’

A female knight in the empire? Not only was it unheard of, but legally impossible—since the Imperial Knight Order accepted only men. Yet, the world was crazier than Lara had ever imagined.

‘A woman in disguise going to the Knight Order…? This is insane! It’s absolutely madness!!’

‘I can’t do it! I really can’t!! No, please, God, have mercy…’

‘No, there are also scum humans there!!’

* * *

Lawrence Schumord, a member of the Imperial Knight Order.

Just days ago, he had taken pride in that fact. Now, he could only feel revulsion. Crawling into that den of scum was beyond what any sane man could endure.

Until now, he had kept a distance of five meters within the mansion. But joining the Knight Order meant training together, possibly even sharing a pat on the back or physical contact during sparring.

‘Ahhh! Just kill me already!’

Lara cursed the thought in her mind, dreading that sleep would only bring nightmares. She began meditating on her bed, emptying her thoughts and taking deep, rhythmic breaths—when a knock suddenly resonated crisply.

“Excuse me, miss. Were you asleep?”

“Yeah, I was.”

“You’re awake, then.”

Monica entered the room and shot Lara a disapproving glance.

“A gift box has arrived from the Duke Liniat estate.”

“Burn it, now! And act as if you never saw it…”

In response to God’s expectant tone, Lara pressed her lips together while sending a fierce signal toward Monica with twitching facial muscles to take the gift box immediately.

“Just say it already.”

Monica smiled politely, replacing her disdain with forced cheer. With tears of resignation, Lara accepted the box and told Monica to leave for a bit as she stood before a mirror to try on the uniform.

“Ho, ho, it fits perfectly… ho, ho, ho. I’m delighted…”

It was as if a robot had been programmed to replace a burdened worker.

Under the gentle urging of the voice, Lara, as if resigned to her fate, rummaged through and pulled out a wig. It was a short, brown, spiky wig.

“It kind of makes me look masculine…”

In the mirror, a slight, slim boy was reflected, perfectly in uniform. As Lara absentmindedly toyed with her bare waist, she reached up to touch her chin. Suddenly, the door behind the mirror swung open with a bang.

Lara barely had time to register the intruder’s face in the mirror before she realized it was her brother. Of all times to be caught, she wished she could just vanish. How dare he barge in at midnight without knocking—she almost wanted to kill him and then herself.