5

"I still fail to see the problem."

A night had passed since Arthur had arrived in this world, which also meant that it had nearly been a full 12 hours since Felt had run away, and despite their best efforts, neither he nor Reinhard were able to locate her.

Reinhard, fully intent on getting him to compete for the kingship allowed Arthur to stay at his estate, not even entertaining the idea of Arthur finding anywhere else to stay.

Reinhard had even managed to employ the manpower of the Kingdom's Knights, something he didn't think would be able to rapidly happen, after all, in a city as large as the capital they would be spread thin. However, all it had taken was the disappearance of the ruby-haired youth from the confines of the Astrea estate early the following morning for him to return with the news that the entire city garrison was on alert.

Which led to the current issue, once again the former king and Lugunican Knight sat across from each other, the resumption of a conversation that nearly shattered the friendly acquaintanceship that the two shared.

"My lord, if you truly intend to compete in the selection-"

"Again," Arthur cut through, not being able to mask the exasperation he felt, "I have no want to be King, I only want to find Felt, that is my one and only goal."

"Nevertheless I…"

The conversation had spun in circles for what seemed to be hours, the air in the tiny office that the two were occupying seemed every bit as stagnant as their conversation.

Arthur's initial hesitancy at so much as competing for the title of king was still present, but he had agreed to compete if only to use it in order to find Felt.

At first, he found it odd that the fate of one girl was the most important thing on his mind, but it didn't take too much thought in order for him to at least make a guess at the reason why.

During his reign as the King of Britain, he had personally led battles that had killed hundreds, not only his foes, as his choice to engage in battles also led to the deaths of many of the knights that served him.

He had even killed his own son, Mordred, fighting his final battle solely for this purpose, and Arthur Pendragon the King of Britain had held no remorse.

It was only after the battle, as he lay bleeding out in a forest, alone, having experienced two distinct lives in the future, had he begun to see the irony of his fate.

He had led his country as a near-perfect king, putting the needs of his subjects well before his own, and in the end, it was this very choice that killed him, a choice that ultimately left his kingdom sundered, and kingless.

Perhaps had he focused just the tiniest amount of time on his own life, he could have prevented his fears from coming true.

Was it possible that the opposite could be true in this case? Would focusing only on finding Felt and walking away from the Royal Selection lead to his failure?

"… It is imperious that-… My Lord…?"

Reinhard's voice became hesitant, for minutes the blond-haired man had sat unmoving, almost to the point he could have been confused for a statue, only to spring to his feet as sudden as the wind.

"Reinhard, would you mind some fresh air?"

Arthur spoke just like he had since Felt's disappearance, flat and monotone, but evidently, the red-haired man could sense a difference, as his blue eyes sparkled with a mythical gleam that only seemed to intensify as he spoke.

"I don't believe I would."

Two had made their way to the manor's backyard, which happened to contain a moderately sized clearing that was typically used for training, either privately or when someone in the family hadn't yet been inducted into the guard.

Due to certain events, it remained largely untouched, with Reinhard himself having not used it at all in recent memory, nevertheless, it remained in near immaculate condition due to the estate's workers.

It was only after their boots began to tread on the softly matted dirt that a new problem arose.

He wasn't quite certain what he was expecting when asked if he minded some fresh air. But having Arthur insist on a spar was certainly not one of them.

He wasn't certain how long it had been since he had a true spar, such training was commonplace in the kingdom's knights, but they always seemed redundant when applied to him.

It was an almost automatic response to deny his request, after all, nothing would be achieved, his multitude of divine protections made it near impossible to even injure him. However, perhaps it was due to him not wanting to worsen his relationship with Arthur, or maybe it was due to the fact the request came from a royal candidate, no matter how unwilling, nevertheless, he eventually found himself agreeing to a spar.

He made a move to go find a pair of wooden practice swords before he was halted by Arthur's voice.

"Where are you going?"

"Retrieving a pair of practice swords?" Reinhard answered, his voice hesitant and unsure, every fiber of his being attempting to find the path that displeased his chosen candidate the least.

"Unneeded," came an automatic response from Arthur, who eyed the ground between them before settling into a relaxed stance, "It's a bad habit to be used to swinging a replica of a sword and not the weapon itself."

"And," with a quick motion, Arthur seemingly pulled a sword from the air itself, its golden frame coalescing into shape as it manifested into the world, "Luckily enough, we already have our respective blades with us."

Reinhard's mind raced, drawing Reid, for the mere act of a spar? The idea seemed laughable, to use a sword that he had only drawn a handful of times in service to the kingdom, truly was the root of avarice.

Discarding the wooden swords, he stood across from the royal candidate, his hand resting on the pommel of the sword that dictated most of his waking life.

It only took a singular tug to free the blade from its sheath, the lock that typically thwarted all attempts to draw it having refused to latch in Arthur's presence.

Gripping the handle loosely in his right hand, he settled into his typical stance, while letting out a deep breath, releasing his mind from the torrent of thoughts that threatened to overwhelm it.

"So, before we start, any rules?" The blond-haired man asked, the competitive atmosphere causing a small smirk to appear on his face.

"Nothing too destructive," He responded, his tone dry as he accidentally let his irritation flood into his voice, his eyes remaining fixated on his opponent, "I'd rather not force the maids to do any more work,"

"Duly noted," Arthur chuckled, nearly causing Reinhard to doubletake at the mirth in his voice before he came back to reality as Arthur shot toward him.

There was no other way to phrase it, the blonde-haired man was fast, much more so than he was expecting, the twenty feet between them seemed to disappear in an instant as Arthur rushed forward, before sending a low horizontal slash at him.

This fight could easily be trivialized by a pair of his Divine Protections, with both the Divine Protection of First Sight and Second Sight, making it nearly impossible to even hit him when combined with his speed.

Such an advantage would render the idea of a spar useless, so with great hesitancy, he stopped the Divine Protection from activating.

Sword met Sword, the resounding scratch of metal on metal drowning out any other sound in the vicinity, as an unstoppable force met an immovable object.

A flurry of scattered leaves flew as Reinhard pushed off the ground, throwing himself sideways while sending Arthur careening forwards as his sword was now meeting only air.

Capitalizing on his position he sent a flurry of quick swipes at Arthur, who manage to recover in order to mount a rushed defense.

Sparks flew as their blades careened through the air, each strike only seeming to increase in both strength and speed.

The exchange broke off as quickly as it began, with Arthur disengaging before retreating a few steps backward, while Reinhard held his ground, fixating his opponent with an unwavering stare.

"You're pretty good, honestly, I can't say I expected that," Arthur spoke, flexing both his hands that were wrapped around his blade, "Nevertheless, it was a pleasant surprise,"

His words only served to spark confusion in Reinhard, had he not expected him to be much of a challenge? As much as he hated to admit it, he was easily the strongest knight of the kingdom, and often considered to be the trump card of Lugunica, at times it almost seemed as if other countries were more afraid of him than the Divine Dragon…

He wasn't able to dwell on his thoughts for long, in an instant the air around Arthur seemed to warp, becoming distorted as thin streaks of smoke seeped through the very pores of his armor, steadily streaming skywards.

The air around him exploded, cutting into the ground before sending it streaking through the air, yet all of this was secondary as Arthur surged forward, making his earlier speed look like a slow crawl.

What happened next was simply instinct, with a simple command, Reinhard opened his gate, allowing the mana of the atmosphere to inhabit his body, strengthening it astronomically.

Dodging both a horizontal and vertical strike, he threw an attack of his own, already following the trajectory given to him by a thin white line seconds before it appeared.

It was this power he was most familiar with, the Divine Protection of the Sword Saint, one that gave him the ability to wield both the sword and the title that came with the protection.

It was his ultimate weapon, the trump card that essentially guaranteed his victory, which made it all the more surprising when Arthur managed to successfully deflect the attack, the white line seeming to fizzle out of existence as if it was never there in the first place.

An instant later, he was sent skidding across the dirt of the yard as Arthur connected a rough kick to his side.

Digging his heels into the dirt, he came to a rough stop, only wasting a few milliseconds as he flipped backward, the glint of his opponent's sword appearing momentarily below him.

Once again, his sword flew along a divinely blessed path, with a speed few could perceive and fewer could hope to achieve. Once again, it was the supposedly infallible blessing that failed as his attack was masterfully deflected.

He wasn't able to understand what was going on, was his blessing failing him? The thought terrified him, the fear that began to surface being one that he never wanted to face.

Landing only a few feet away from his target, he rushed forwards, as the mana in the atmosphere around them started to rapidly diminish as his gate opened wider and wider, his speed increasing to a level even he scarcely reached, the sudden influx of fear causing him to react on impulse.

The very objects around them started to get affected, leaves rustled in an invisible torrent of air, and as Arthur frantically responded in kind, the gales of wind around him seemed to manifest as a hurricane, kicking up the dirt around them and uprooting much of the vegetation around them. The promise of keeping the damage to a minimum being quickly forgotten.

Both of them prepared for the resounding clash that was rapidly approaching, Arthur's sword streaking upwards to attempt to defend from the incoming missile that Reinhard held in his hands.

As he walked through the streets a few people stopped and stared, some even yelled out greetings or words of thanks, he always made sure to politely respond or wave back. At first glance, it seemed to be a typical day.

And yet, something had felt off ever since he woke up, he was tempted to chalk it up to a bad night's sleep, but it was nothing like he had felt before. Not to mention his dear buds, the spirits he had forged a contract with seemed to notice it as well, seemingly becoming more vibrant and cheerful, although he wasn't able to get an answer on what exactly they knew.

Nevertheless, he continued his day normally, getting his assigned patrol route from the Royal Guard station, one that was uncharacteristically devoid of knights, not wasting any time over the oddity before making his way throughout the capitals winding networks of streets and highways.

Predictably his route for the day was the one typically assigned to him, patrolling the area around the palace itself, along with the greater district around it that housed most of the Kingdom's nobility, himself included.

Any actual disturbances were rare, usually, nothing more than someone flagging him down to help look for someone they had lost, be it a child, parent, or friend. True crime was even harder to come by, with the plethora of assigned knights discouraging typical street crime, any other crime was more easily concealed, making it incredibly rare to stumble across anything on a patrol.

Time seemed to fly by, and before he was scarcely aware of it, his patrol had come to an end, leaving him alone in the noble quarter without a purpose. Typically, he would either return to his estate or see if his lady needed him to do anything.

Unluckily enough Lady Anastasia had quite forcefully told him that he could take a break for a while, apparently having a royal guard at your beck and call at any time was something that the violet-haired candidate was unused to.

He wasn't ready to return to his home, being forced to sit and lounge around until the sky turned dark and it was time for him to retire for the evening, something about it screamed at him to turn away.

As he pondered what he wanted to do, he absentmindedly walked throughout the capital's streets, with no true destination in mind, turning corners and making his way towards a destination only his feet seemed to know.

Another choice became clear when he rounded a final street corner, an estate looming into view, one that he hadn't visited in quite some time.

The noble district lacked the bustle and vibrancy that filled the rest of the capital, there were no massive crowds to be traversed and few people walked down the sides of the stone-laden roads, with the residents of the area preferring, and more than able to afford, to take carriages anywhere they needed to go, even if it were only a short distance away.

Although sobering at times it nevertheless made his walks more leisurely than the majority of the populace of the city, as he didn't have to worry about how exactly he planned to navigate through the streets.

Soon enough he was strolling through the front lawn, carefully trimmed bushes and flower beds carefully shadowing the wide stone path that led to the front door.

His plans to simply knock on the door were replaced when he spotted a light peach color out of the corner of his vision, close to one of the flower beds.

"Sir Julius?" Came a small, but confident voice, its tone belonging to someone he had unintentionally met many times.

"Hello Grassis," He spoke, looking down at the young maid that had emerged from the shrubbery, a few pesky strands of grass clinging to her white blouse. "It's been a while."

The peach-haired girl, Grassis, along with her twin sister, Flam, had been a maid at the Astrea residence for as long as he had known Reinhard, being the granddaughter of the previous Sword Saint's attendant threw her into this life ever since she was born, being taught how to become maids while most other children spent their days running amok.

It wasn't a surprise that her social skills were completely destroyed, when he first started paying Reinhard visits regularly it was a noteworthy event if she managed to even get to hint at something, let alone actually speak.

If he asked her where Reinhard was, she would wordlessly start walking, silently leading him to the red-haired youth, any other requests were handled in a similar, silent, manner.

After many years, and a plethora of visits, she started to break out of her shell, speaking short sentences and even answering questions when asked. It was an event that Julius would only secretly admit he was proud of.

Her twin sister on the other hand…

"It has," The young maid responded, fixing him with a stare, "I'm sure you have a reason for not visiting Master Reinhard for so long?"

The pointed stare that was leveled at his was slightly unnerving, out of place on a young girl's face, "It's been a rough few weeks," he sighed, releasing his spirits to run amok throughout the garden, "I haven't had much time."

"Hmph," The maid sighed, unsatisfied with his answer and unconcerned that a blue orb was currently dancing around her head, " I'm sure Master Reinhard will forgive you."

"Speaking of Reinhard, is he home?" The chastisement propelled his gaze to the vegetation around them, with the flowers, bushes, and trees waving in a wind that seemed to manifest out of thin air.

"He should be," She answered, her mouth running ahead before her brain could catch up with it, "Last I remember he was talking to Lord Pen-"

Grassis managed to cut herself off, her face turning flush as her skin slowly started to manifest a light red.

However, the damage was already done, Julius's mind already concocting wild ideas that finished the young maid's sentence, with each thought descending further and further into the realm of impossibility.

Reinhard meeting someone? The idea was utterly foreign to him, after all, even with his position of Sword Saint Reinhard had always seemed to manage to escape the constant events and personal meetings that seemed to accompany nobility.

Surprisingly enough, people seemed to accept it, instead seeing it as proof that he was completely throwing himself into his duties as the Sword Saint.

Even if he did start holding the typical parties or meeting that often-plagued nobility, it was more likely that it would cause more commotion then him simply abstaining from it.

Nevertheless, one fact remained one that he eventually voiced after his mind returned from the clouds, the existing silence only serving to be magnified by the flustered expression that now dominated Grassis's face.

"Reinhard is… meeting someone?" Julius asked hesitantly, partially to the absurdity of the situation but also not being sure if he should bring up something that he seemingly wasn't supposed to be aware of.

By all standards, it was unbecoming of him to continue to question things that didn't involve him, but he couldn't find it in him to resist, not with it intimately involving his red-haired friend.

"Umm… We-Well… you see…" The girl stuttered, nervously toying with the frills on her dress.

Guilt started to seep into his mind as he saw Grassis attempt to speak, "It's fine-"

His spirits reacted first, retreating as the air around them became devoid of mana, seemingly becoming stagnant, and viscous.

"What's… What's going on?" Grassis breathed, almost falling to her knees at the alien feeling.

.It took a moment for Julius to answer, having experienced a portion of this before, he knew this was only the beginning.

"The Swordplay of the Astrea Family."

At the conclusion of his words, the world went white.

She couldn't breathe, the mere prospect of moving a portion of her body was outlandish, but as she bounded throughout the dense forest, dodging trees, rocks, and roots, her body was working overtime as she ran as fast as possible, the very wind around her aiding her.

It seemed like hours even though she knew it had only been minutes, time was a fickle subject.

Blood pooled in her rotting shoes, seeping down her legs from the numerous cuts on her body.

The proof that showed she hadn't been fast enough.

As she bound over a stump, the landscape around her seemed to explode, causing her to crash into the ground, shrapnel of wooden splinters roaring through the air, with some embedding themselves into her skin, magnifying the stress on her already failing body and increasing the rate that blood flowed down her skin.

It was pure luck that she managed to get back to her feet, her once flowing golden hair, matted and stained red with blood.

It was almost funny what a difference a night could make.

She managed to make it all of a few steps, barely reaching an undisturbed tree in front of her before it exploded, sending her careening to the ground, her vision swimming as she laid still, unable to command her body to continue a pointless fight.

Her last sight was a pair of black boots, slowly creeping their way towards her.