Chapter 54: The Swordsmanship Tournament: Abel’s Battle

Saint-Noel Academy hosted a biannual swordsmanship tournament that took place in the summer and winter. In general, all male students were obligated to participate, making the tournaments very popular events that were widely attended.

"Milady, look! There are so many people here!"

"Yes. It looks as if the whole town's here."

Erected within the vast expanse of the school grounds were three special arenas, each of which was surrounded by a ring of street stalls. Being a school for nobility, Saint-Noel was generally off-limits to commoners. This day, however, was an exception, during which people from all walks of life were allowed entrance into the school grounds. Though merchants were subject to Rafina's strict inspection, once they were cleared, they were free to enter and set up shop wherever they wished. With a myriad of colorful signboards adorning the grounds, the whole school was turned into a festival for the day.

That reminds me... I remember doing this in the previous timeline, walking around and looking at all the stalls... by myself.

Previously, Mia had intended to tour the stalls with Sion. It had never even crossed her mind that she might be turned down, so she'd told all the girls in her group beforehand that she'd be unavailable that day. Consequently, not only did no one accept her lunchbox, but no one accompanied her to the tournament. In the end, she opened the lunchbox by herself, ate the food alone, and spent the rest of the day wandering through the stalls alone.

How awful that was...

She was so upset that she couldn't even bear the sight of her friends having fun, and she spent the day scowling and glaring at everyone, which started a rumor about how Princess Mia hated the swordsmanship tournament. As a result, no one dared to accompany her for any subsequent tournament.

"Look, milady! That looks so tasty!"

"It certainly does, Anne. Could I ask you to go purchase some? Oh, make it three portions, please. One for you, one for me, and one for Chloe."

"Got it!"

Anne dashed off. Soon after, she returned with the food in a small paper box. A cheap, sugary smell emanated from it. On the top of the pile of food were a few strips of something red. Mia picked up a piece with her fingers and popped it into her mouth. The instant it touched her tongue, she felt the back of her nose grow hot. A second later, she felt a tear flow down her cheek...

Ahh... I see... So this is what it feels like to be moved to tears...

She thought of Anne and Chloe... and how wonderful it was to be able to tour the stalls with two actual friends.

I must be so happy right now... These must be... tears of bliss...

"Princess Mia! That! That!"

Chloe was wildly flailing her arms in the air.

"Eh?"

"That's a crimson pepper! It's really spicy! Spit it out! Quickly!"

"Huh? A-A-Ahhh, it's spicy! It's so spicy! Ahh, my nose is on fire!"

The harsh sting of the crimson pepper caused her eyes to well up with tears and her nose to turn red.

"W-Water... Someone... Bring water..."

"Here, drink this."

Someone held a bottle out to her. She immediately took it and gulped the contents down. A refreshing citrus taste filled her mouth, and the pungent flavor of crimson pepper faded.

"Phew... I'm fine now. Thank you very much," she said as she rubbed the tears from her eyes and looked up at her savior.

"You're very welcome. Glad to have been of help."

"P-Prince Abel!"

Before her stood Abel, now donning knight-style armor. Though it was designed for mock battles, with leather guards for the chest and elbows, he still cut a fine figure in what was undoubtedly fighting garb. Faced with the prince's striking new image, Mia couldn't help but...

No, heart, no! No fluttering! I'm better than this!

...Try her absolute hardest to stop herself from swooning.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. Was this something you were going to drink during the tournament?" asked Mia as she looked at the bottle she'd just drank from. "I'll go buy another one for you."

"It's fine. There's still half of it left, anyway," replied Abel as he took the bottle back. Mia watched as he fastened it back onto his waist.

M-My, does he intend to drink from that bottle? But... I just drank from it. If I touched my mouth to it, and then he drinks from it... then... then—

As she worked through the implications of this situation, the final step in her logic led her to something that overwhelmed her sensibilities, and her mind went blank for a while. Abel, for his part, didn't seem to mind. He was a twelve-year-old boy with a very limited understanding of the dynamics of relationships. Plus, he had a tournament to focus on, which occupied enough of his mind to keep him from obsessing over the appropriateness of bottle sharing.

I-Isn't this... an indirect kiss?!

Meanwhile, Mia was having a minor meltdown.

"Is something wrong, Princess Mia? You don't look so good..."

"I-I'm perfectly fine!" she said with a start, only to find Abel looking intently at her, his face mere inches from hers.

"...Nngh!"

Mia gulped.

"Are you sure? You look like you have a fever."

"I-I-I have no fever, I'm totally fine! S-Speaking of which, uh... Prince Abel, who is your first opponent?" Mia asked in a hasty attempt to change the topic.

Before he could answer, a third voice cut him off.

"Well well well, what do we have here? If it isn't Her Highness Mia."

A young man waded into their conversation. He was no stranger; Mia had confronted him before, during which she'd delivered the verbal equivalent of a slap to the face.

"You're... Prince Abel's brother, I believe?"

"Hah, what an honor to be remembered by Your Highness," said the First Prince of the Kingdom of Remno. He made an exaggerated bow before continuing. "By the way, I've heard by way of rumor that you've prepared a lunchbox for my dear little brother."

"I have indeed, and it has been made with the utmost care," declared Mia proudly, only to be met with the First Prince's mocking laughter.

"Heh heh heh. Has it now? Well, that's... Hm, how should I put this... terribly unfortunate."

"Hm? What do you mean?"

"Heh. What I mean... is that Abel's first opponent will be me. In other words, he's going to lose his first match. Which is perfect, because then he'll get to eat your lunch. Nothing like a good loss before a meal, right? Really makes the food go down, tears are such great seasoning," he said with a toothy sneer. "I must admit though, I didn't expect you to actually fall for my little brother. Looks like the famed Great Sage of the Empire is still just a little kid. Got no taste in men."

"Excuse me," Abel interjected as he hastily stepped between them. "My dear brother, please stop being so rude to Princess Mia."

Abel knew that his older brother was judging Mia based on Remno's views toward women. That was a mistake. While Mia had — in his mind, at least — no shortage of tolerance or benevolence, that didn't mean she was a pushover. She was — again, in his opinion — a veritable saint who boldly stood up to injustice. Daring, proud, and profoundly wise — descriptors only valid in his fantasy world, of course — she was not the kind of girl who would take an insult lying down. Figuring that his brother's insolence must have roused Mia's ire, he looked anxiously in her direction. To his surprise, she didn't say a word. Instead she quietly stepped back and retreated behind him.

Princess Mia... But, why?

At first, Abel was bewildered that Mia had backed out of the confrontation. Then, he realized her true intention.

Is it because... she wants me to step up?

Had she wished, Mia could easily have stood her ground. With her wits, his brother would be no match for her in a duel of words. She did none of that. Instead, she chose to say only one thing.

"I await your victory, Prince Abel."

Her expression was perfectly placid.

My... victory? She believes I'll win?

It was true that claiming victory against his brother would now simultaneously defend Mia's honor. However...

Abel regarded his brother, the brother he'd never won a single match against, who was so much more skilled with the sword than he, and who stood a full head taller.

Will I? ...Can I?

Something dark and heavy began to creep into his heart. He knew this feeling. It was despair, and just as his whole world began to dim...

"I prefer winning before a meal. The food tastes better that way."

The warmth of her voice washed away the encroaching darkness and soothed his anxious heart.

"Y-Yes, of course..." He broke into a smile. "I do too."

"You're... Prince Abel's brother, I believe?"

Mia frowned. She couldn't seem to remember the young man's name. As she struggled to think of it, the nameless prince launched into a derisive tirade that she only vaguely paid attention to. Eventually, she sighed and gave up trying to recall his name.

I see he holds me in rather a great deal of contempt, she thought as she idly regarded the menacing smile on his face. Well, this is going to be a little tricky.

Mia didn't actually think badly of Abel's brother. She... didn't think anything of him at all, in fact. She'd completely forgotten he existed until this very moment. At the time, she'd been so focused on trying to get away from Sion, and acquainted with Abel, that she'd paid no attention to anyone else. Afterwards, she'd still had no particular interest in Abel's brother, and his appearance had quickly faded from her memory.

Nevertheless, her current situation required some tact. Interesting or not, he was still the First Prince of Remno, and souring relations with him would do her no good. After all, the whole point of getting close to Abel had been so she could ask Remno for reinforcements when things went south. All that effort would go to waste if the First Prince ended up vetoing her request. She didn't need him to like her, but she didn't want him to hate her with a burning passion either.

Which means it's important not to display any overt hostility!

To that end, she decided to take a step back and divert his animosity elsewhere. Mia's goal was simple: don't get guillotined. Avoiding the guillotine was always on her mind, and this desire fueled all her actions.

Now, Prince Abel just has to lose and his brother will feel nice and proud of himself... Then, I'll comfort Prince Abel after his loss and get on even friendlier terms with him. Why, this is killing two birds with one stone.

After some meticulous calculating, she looked to Abel...

"I await your victory, Prince Abel."

...And let slip her true thoughts. She'd meant to say something else, but suddenly, she recalled the calloused skin of his palms. She remembered the hours he spent practicing with the sword. She knew how hard he'd worked. In that instant, the thought of him losing... felt strangely upsetting.

My, how odd. Why do I feel this way?

Puzzled by her own words, she took a moment to ponder this. Eventually, she arrived at a conclusion.

Ah, I see. It's because I worked so hard to make those sandwiches, and it'd be a shame if he felt so sad after losing that he couldn't appreciate how delicious they are...

She nodded to herself, confident in the accuracy of her own analysis.

"I prefer winning before a meal. The food tastes better that way."

"Now, let us begin the seventh match of the qualifiers! Abel Remno, Gain Remno, please step into the arena."

Hearing his name called by the referee, Abel took a quick breath and quietly walked up the steps to the arena. After reaching the center, he drew his weapon and waited. Beyond the dulled edge of his training sword stood his brother — a perpetual symbol of his defeat. Nerves sent painful spasms through his gut.

But... I can't afford to lose.

He tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword and glared at his brother.

"All right, my dear brother. Let me test how much you've improved."

Gain hoisted his sword over his shoulder and smirked. Abel blinked. Suddenly, Gain had closed the distance and his sword swung toward him.

"Ugh..."

Abel met the heavy slash with his own sword; the blades slammed into each other with a grating screech. A jolt ran through his arms, leaving them numb, and he almost dropped his sword. While the weapons had been dulled, that didn't make the hard metal any lighter. They might not cut, but they could certainly bruise. And they could definitely break bones. A memory flashed by, of the last time he suffered a fracture at the hands of his brother. He remembered the pain, and his whole body tensed.

"Hmph. Is that it? I figured as much."

Gain shot him a look of disdain. He clenched his teeth.

Damn it, he's so strong.

Boys in their early teens grew quickly, becoming bigger and stronger every year. Being older, Gain's advantage in sheer strength was considerable, and his powerful strikes left Abel with no choice but to spend all his time defending himself.

"I have to say," said Gain in a mocking tone, "you sure found a nice girl for yourself, Abel."

"What?"

They clashed again, locking blades. Gain leaned in, bringing his face close.

"I didn't think a wimp like you could woo the Empire's princess. I'm sure Father will be glad to hear the news."

The older brother cackled loudly before looking past Abel to the stands, where Mia was watching.

"That reminds me. Your girl sure had a lot less spunk in her today. What happened to being the Great Sage of the Empire, huh? She's just a kid after all. I figured if I scare her a little, she'll start behaving, and look at her now. Nice and quiet."

"That's—"

Gain continued before Abel could refute him.

"If the two of you get married, then bring her back to Remno. Give me a week, and I'll teach her how to behave."

Visions flashed before Abel's eyes. He saw his mother, his sister, and the castle maids.

"I might have to get a little rough with her, but don't worry. A little bit of pain goes a long way. They learn faster that way. And you'll be better off in the long run. Then, we'll have the Empire at our mercy..."

Dark memories resurfaced in Abel's mind. Scenes of harassment, of abuse, sometimes of violence... The figures of the women in his life — their eyes dim and downcast — faded in and out of the scenes, and for a moment, he saw Mia there, her eyes as sad as theirs...

His heart, which had been pounding furiously, began to slow. His vision cleared, and he felt like he could see afresh. A strike from his brother's sword would hurt, even wound him, but that no longer mattered. Nothing could compare to the one thing he now knew was more important than all else.

"Gain," he heard himself saying. His voice was cold — far colder than even he'd expected.

"...What?" His brother noticed his change in tone as well.

Abel lowered his sword and stepped back.

"You can call me whatever you want. Mock me. Insult me. I don't care. But," Abel stared at his brother with a piercing gaze, "if you say one more bad word about Princess Mia..."

He thought of the girl known as "the Great Sage of the Empire." He thought of the light she'd brought to his world. For her to be robbed of that radiant aura...

Was absolutely unacceptable.

"So what? What are you going to do?"

Gain swung his sword tauntingly with one hand, the degree of mockery in his attitude almost farcical. Abel calmly observed his brother as he held his sword with both hands and raised it high above his head. It was the first stance from the sword fighting style passed down through the Remno royal family. There would only be one strike, in which the user would put everything they had into that single downward swing. The goal was simple — swing harder. Swing faster. Hit them before they hit you. That was it. There was no need for defence. That one attack would decide it all.

Seeing Abel's stance, Gain roared in laughter. In a way, his mockery was understandable, because it was the most basic of stances — the first thing every beginner swordsman learned in their fundamental routine.

"The first stance? Are you kidding me? But then again, I guess it suits a loser like you."

Abel kept his eyes fixed on his brother. He watched him confidently lower himself into a stance. He watched him hold up his sword. He watched the brother he'd never once defeated position himself to receive his final strike. Then, he exhaled.

Now!

He stomped the ground and rushed forward.

"I won't allow you to insult her any further!"

He yelled these words as loudly as he could. At the same time, he swung his sword with all his strength. The blade caught the sun and burst into a blinding bolt of light.

In the span of a heartbeat, the match ended.

"Hnnggh... Gyaaaaaaah!"

Gain let out an embarrassingly loud screech of pain. His sword landed on the ground with a heavy thud. Embedded in his shoulder was the dull metal of Abel's blade.

"And that's the match!" shouted the referee.

Deafening cheers shook the arena. Abel watched as his brother was carried off, his mind numb.

"Prince Abel!"

Only after he heard her voice did the tension drain from his shoulders.