“Waaah… Waaah, waaah, waaah…”
“Oh, come on, little elf, are you ever going to stop crying? We’ve been watching you for this whole journey, and you’ve cried the entire way. They say women are made of water, but are elves too?”
“Waaah, waaah, waaah… Then, then just let me go home, and I’ll stop crying.”
The elven maiden, confined within the cage, continued her helpless sobs. She knew, deep down, that her plea would never be granted in their current predicament.
Yet, she persisted in her weeping. It was the only way she knew to release the fear and terror that gripped her heart.
“Let you go home? How could that possibly happen?! Tsk, I told you to stop crying, didn’t I? Ugh… what a hassle! Never mind, we’ve been traveling for so long, we should be out of this forest soon anyway.”
The guards were personal retainers and trusted confidants of Malfoy, the caravan leader. Their loyalty was absolute, ensuring they wouldn’t abscond with the elf – a common, yet undesirable, occurrence in such trades.
“Hm? Hey, did you hear something?” one retainer suddenly asked another, a puzzled frown on his face.
“No, what sound? Besides this little elf girl’s constant wailing, you must be imagining things.”
“Yeah, maybe. Her crying is really getting on my nerves. Wait, why has she suddenly gone quiet?”
Indeed, following the first retainer’s gaze, the second noticed that the elven girl, who had cried incessantly throughout their journey, had abruptly transformed. She was no longer weeping or making a fuss.
“It’s, it’s wonderful! Someone’s here to save me! This is truly wonderful!”
The first retainer, the second retainer: “…………”
****
Boom—
As if to answer the little girl’s fervent hopes, a violent explosion suddenly ripped through the air before the caravan. It was accompanied by the furious, righteous voice of a young woman.
“Human trafficking? Even if they are not of your kin, your actions are no different from those of bandits and villains. Therefore, to stretch my limbs… ah, never mind. In short, they walk free, or… you remain.”
In that instant, the caravan members, stunned by the sudden turn of events, halted and glanced sideways. They yearned to see who this obstructionist was, so much so that they forgot to draw their weapons in self-defense.
As the smoke from the explosion slowly dispersed, a figure emerged. It was a young woman with golden hair styled in an intricate updo, wielding a magnificent sword.
She was clad in blue and white knight’s armor, a broad cape of matching colors draped over her shoulders. Her expression was cold, solemn, and awe-inspiring, radiating an air of proud heroism.
“What, you won’t draw your swords? Or have you already surrendered?”
Lifting her Sword of Kings, Leya swept her gaze across their faces, her voice ringing with valiant authority.
“Heh, heh-heh, may I inquire as to this young lady’s identity?”
Sherman felt a surge of curiosity. How was it that he had never heard of such a person in the city? He racked his brains, utterly unable to comprehend how, given the young woman’s striking appearance – indeed, her very visage – she could remain so utterly unknown.
Even among the female knights and adventurers from neighboring cities, Sherman had never encountered anyone who possessed the overwhelming, innate presence of this awe-inspiring martial heroine. It was truly baffling.
“My name? Indeed. Since we are about to engage in a fair confrontation, it is only right, out of knightly chivalry, that I announce my title and accord you the respect you are due. However…”
Suddenly, Leya’s tone shifted, and her gaze turned sharp and cold. She spoke with ill intent.
“Unless you agree to release them, admit your wrongdoing, and swear never to commit such acts again. Only then can I acknowledge and respect you fairly, and tell you what you seek – my name.”
“Ha, haha, hahahahahaha!—”
Suddenly, as if something had greatly amused him, Malfoy, the caravan leader who had been silently observing Leya, burst into a somewhat deranged laughter.
“So that’s it! All that talk, about knightly chivalry and admitting our mistakes, it’s nothing but an excuse for your own cowardice and timidity! You’re afraid of my retaliation after this, an endless revenge, hahahahahahaha—”
“……”
At his words, Leya’s brows furrowed instantly. After taking a deep breath, her gaze grew resolute and decisive, as if she had finally steeled herself for something. Yet, she did not immediately unleash her fury.
‘Whether cowardice and timidity align with King Arthur’s identity is one thing,’ she mused. ‘But to slander me, who is currently overflowing with knightly spirit, is like an old man eating arsenic – a death wish!’
“But no matter. Hm, I, Malfoy, have always been magnanimous and don’t hold grudges. Tell you what, I imagine your reckless and fearless obstruction of us is merely for money. As the saying goes, ‘greed blinds the eyes, avarice befuddles the mind,’ and I can understand that. But, young lady, why must you insist on doing this?”
“……”
As if he had seen right through Leya, Malfoy immediately adopted the air of a life mentor, beginning to counsel and guide her on what she should do.
“Just think, your own qualities are so exceptional. The armor you wear, compared to mere silks, is far beyond what any commoner could possess. At the very least, you must hail from a wealthy family. So, if that’s the case, why bother being some sort of ‘first-rate hero,’ or a self-proclaimed knight scraping by?”
“Simply return home, speak to your parents – yes, let them find a powerful family in the local area for you to marry into. Wouldn’t the rest of your life be free from worry, with plenty to eat and drink? Occasionally, you and your husband could engage in some affectionate banter, perhaps even play-act as a bandit and a knight to spice up your relationship! Hahahahahahahahaha!—”
“If that truly won’t do, then you could simply come with me! I know many influential figures in Volantis, and I’m quite acquainted with the young people in their households. With that connection and your own superior qualities, I’m certain you’d achieve immediate success. In an instant, you could gain ten, even a hundred times the wealth of all my goods, along with the power and glory that would follow!”
“……”
“Well, what do you say? Won’t you consider it? Hey… wait, you!”
Ultimately, before Malfoy could even finish his proposition, Leya swung her Sword of Kings and lunged forward with the speed of an arrow.
Witnessing this, Sherman, who stood nearby, couldn’t help but click his tongue. Though somewhat speechless at Malfoy’s antics, he decisively issued a command for battle. It was clear from Leya’s stance that a peaceful resolution was now entirely out of the question; she had obviously been thoroughly provoked!
“Tsk, brothers, attack! Protect the leader!”
“Charge!—”
However, despite their seemingly formidable numbers and overwhelming advantage, Sherman’s men…
In mere moments, Leya, with her transcendent speed, had already surged into the thick of the crowd. Raising her Sword of Kings, she brought it down against the blade of a mercenary’s long knife.
A sharp, metallic rasping sound, “Chh-chh—,” echoed incessantly. The Sword of Kings had effortlessly cleaved through the entire long knife, slicing it cleanly in two!
“Hiss—”
A collective gasp rippled through the surrounding mercenaries. Evidently, some had already begun to fear the power of Leya’s legendary blade and hesitated to advance. If even an ant cherishes its life, how much more so a human?
If a forged steel long knife could be cut as easily as a leaf, what would happen if that blade struck their own bodies?
Few would ever believe their skin was tougher than iron, and any who did would not have survived to this day.
Fortunately, the mercenaries’ worst fears did not materialize. Leya merely incapacitated them, typically knocking them unconscious, disarming them, or breaking a bone or two.
After all, there was no other way. A battle was not child’s play, and Leya had offered them a chance. They had chosen to charge, so they had no one but themselves to blame.
“This… this…” Sherman watched it all unfold, utterly dumbfounded.
‘This can’t be a joke, can it?’ he thought. ‘More than thirty of our men, and in less than a minute of battle, over twenty have been struck down! The rest are now terrified for their lives, fearing Leya will target them next, completely losing their will to fight!’
‘Could it be… that I, I, I… must personally step forward?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous! By the War God above! This woman, she, she’s practically inhuman!’
But there was no other option.
With a sigh, Sherman knew he couldn’t guarantee victory. Yet, having accepted this mission, a poor showing would be detrimental to the future prospects of his entire troop.
Immediately, he reluctantly recalled the knightly salutes he had seen friends demonstrate. Sherman quickly performed a proper knight’s greeting, then declared, “Very well, in that case, I, Sherman, shall be your opponent, young lady! I hope that, out of knightly chivalry, you will display a comparable standard and engage me in a fair duel!”
Everyone: “…………”
‘What the hell! This is moving too fast!’ the crowd seemed to think, their faces a mixture of confusion and bewilderment. ‘Isn’t this a battlefield? Isn’t this a struggle of life and death? What’s gotten into Sherman? A knightly salute before entering the fray?’
Even his address had changed, and the entire encounter had quietly transformed from a war into a knightly duel. ‘What in the world is happening?!’
Indeed, by this point in the battle, anyone with eyes could clearly see that the mercenaries had already conceded defeat. This was the clearest signal transmitted to Leya.
Malfoy, who had also clearly grasped this, turned green with rage. He gnashed his teeth, glaring at the thirty-odd useless men, wondering why he had ever hired such a band of dimwits.
Leya, too, was somewhat amused, but her expression remained that of a cold, aloof goddess, untouched by worldly affairs. With a flick of her longsword, she met Sherman’s challenge.
Sherman, it must be said, was rather unremarkable. He barely managed to parry three blows before faltering, his long spear, crafted from quality steel, already marred with dents. Leya, however, could tell that he should possess more strength than he displayed. With a decent spear, he ought to have been able to withstand at least five moves, yet he fell in just three.
This observation brought to Leya’s mind the rumored tales of Saber defeating Lancers. Both generations of spearmen, she recalled, had met their ends, more or less, intertwined with Saber. She wondered if Saber possessed some inherent debuff that lowered the luck of all Lancers.