Chapter 39: The Empire’s Finest Versus the Adamantine Spear

The Adamantine Spear was a name that simultaneously described both weapon and wielder. Bernardo raised his armament of choice — a hefty beast of pure steel from tip to shaft that normal soldiers strained to even lift — with fearsome ease and charged.

"For your insolence, you shall die by my spear!"

Like a one-man stampede, he thundered toward Dion with the force and ferocity of a whole line of cavalry. His momentum coupled with the power of his thrust propelled his spear forward at terrifying speed.

Ker-ching!

A heavy metallic clang reverberated through the air. The next instant, their overlapping forms parted again and Bernardo came to a stop behind Dion. Neither moved to disturb the ensuing silence. Eventually, Dion spoke, his arm still outstretched from the swing of his sword.

"I see. A deadly thrust indeed... Most impressive. I have one question though..." He turned with a smile and pointed with his sword. "Why are you still holding that thing? Are you going to try to beat me to death with it?"

On cue, the metallic tip of a spear whistled as it fell from the sky and embedded itself in the ground. The scene drew little reaction from the onlooking soldiers. It was, after all, a common sight on the battlefield for a spear to lose its head. Then someone gasped. It was echoed by a few others. Soon, a wave of commotion began to spread through the audience as they came to a startling realization — Bernardo's spear was one unbroken bar of steel. The only way to separate its tip was...

"Cutting through steel. An impressive feat. It appears that I am faced with a competent foe."

Bernardo turned as well and examined the mirror-smooth cross section of his spear shaft. During the split second they'd clashed, Dion had swung his sword with blinding speed, slicing clean through the thick steel rod.

"Well, you tend to step it up when there's an audience, right? Especially when said audience happens to be your royal mistress. What about you, though? What're you gonna do with your, you know, stick?"

"Hmph. Obviously... I'm going to beat you to death with it." Bernardo twirled his spear-turned-staff with expert flair and smiled. In his hands, the decapitated polearm remained a deadly weapon, as it still had more than enough heft to smash skulls and shatter bones. He was entirely unperturbed by the unexpected alteration to his weapon. If anything, he looked positively thrilled. This time, it was Dion's turn to pay his opponent a compliment.

"Bahaha, you're a real riot. I think I like you. Good to know Remno has its fair share of crazy bastards. Mind if I ask you your name?"

"Bernardo Virgil, Captain of the Knights of the Second Company."

"Oh damn. The famed Adamantine Spear. Nice, nice. I see you live up to your name. Remno's got some serious heavyweights in their service."

"May I know your name as well, Sir Knight?"

"Dion Alaia. I don't mean to brag, but I consider myself the strongest knight in the empire." He paused. "Hm, you know what? I guess I do mean to brag."

This quip was met with a snort.

"Hah. If you, Sir, are the empire's finest, then Tearmoon poses little threat."

"...Big words, Adamantine Spear. You'd better be able to back them up, or you're really gonna regret it." Dion pulled his other sword out of the ground and again assumed his dual-wielding stance.

"Regret? There is no place in the spearman's code for such feeble sentiments. We abide by three tenets: charge, pierce, and breach." Bernardo readied his headless spear, preparing to drive its end, blunt though it may be, straight through the chest of his opponent. All the onlookers held their breath as the two peerless warriors traded deadly glares. Just as the air began to thicken with lethal tension, a bold, resonant voice shattered the asphyxiating silence.

"Enough! Know that you stand in the presence of Her Highness Princess Mia!"

Suddenly, Ludwig was standing beside her.

"It is her will that all fighting shall cease immediately! Both of you, lower your weapons!"

Dion shot her a glance before letting out a very conspicuous sigh of reluctant resignation and plunging both swords into the ground. Then he gave Bernardo a questioning gaze, who tsked and lowered his "spear" with a grimace.

Bernardo had joined the fray for two reasons. The first was obvious: a man of unknown identity was holding a sword within swinging distance of Abel, and that was a situation that needed to be resolved immediately. Though the man displayed no intention of harming the prince, that didn't mean Bernardo could just stand there and twiddle his thumbs. The second and more important reason was to take command of the situation — to have the power. Unfortunately, with his weapon now lowered, he was no longer the center of attention, and all eyes naturally drifted toward the figure who now occupied center stage. The ball was in Mia's court; she had the power.

"...Eh?"

Which was just about the last thing she'd expected. She was, after all, not the only Highness present. Abel was a prince, albeit second in line, and Sion was her equal. Nothing about her should have stood out. However, Bernardo's reputation for being a fierce knight had made Dion's dominating performance against him all the more incredible, and to then see him — the man who'd both proclaimed to be the empire's finest and had the chops to back it up — obediently sheath his sword as soon as Mia's name was mentioned... It was undeniable proof of her authority.

Through a deft display of social manipulation, Ludwig had placed her firmly at the top of the perceived hierarchy of power. Convinced that the stage was set, he turned to her and, with a mixture of pride and anticipation, passed her the proverbial baton.

She really didn't want that baton. Her legs still hadn't solidified, and her face was a weepy mess.

Huh? What? Why is everyone looking at me?

Having been made the focus of all the soldiers' gazes, her chicken heart quivered, and she almost squawked with terror. The only thing that stopped her was the comforting presence of her loyal vassals. With a pleading look, she turned to Anne. Her first and most faithful subject promptly nodded, wiped away Mia's tears, cleaned her face, touched up her hair, and nodded again.

"Don't worry. We're right behind you."

It was then that Mia realized her fate was sealed.

Ahh... I see. There's no getting out of this, is there?

With no other choice, she braced herself and turned toward the soldiers, her tear-moistened eyes and bath-cleansed skin imparting upon her an aura of ethereal beauty.

Later, when Elise published her "Princess Chronicles," readers would find within it an excerpt quoting a soldier who had been present during this confrontation. The passage went as follows.

"When she appeared, it was [as if the moon goddess herself] was [descending upon the battlefield.]"