The Fallen Knight and the Queen’s Protector

Ophelia froze in place.

Her expression mirrored those of the fangirls around her and the bewildered priests staring in their direction.

The white armor had transformed into black, a profound, sun-defying darkness. A deep, somber black now imbued her sword, and the light had vanished from her eyes.

“It—it—it—it actually worked, ahaha, congratulations, congratulations—” Ophelia felt herself sounding utterly foolish. ‘How had Marta actually succeeded in awakening? Hadn’t it been said that Marta wouldn’t be able to awaken?’

“Hmm, Your Majesty, you haven’t forgotten our agreement, have you?” Marta’s smile sent a chill down Ophelia’s spine.

“Let’s go back then.” Stepping forward, she extended a hand to Ophelia. Marta’s current smile seemed to hold a hidden depth, leaving Ophelia utterly perplexed.

Yet, an instinctive fear coiled within Ophelia, for the way Marta looked at her now was undeniably strange—a gaze unsettlingly similar to those who harbored improper intentions.

“N-not forgotten. It’s just one request, isn’t it? Ask for anything; I’ll do my utmost to fulfill it!” With things having come to this pass, Ophelia could only steel herself.

“That’s wonderful.” Marta continued to smile, yet unlike her previous sun-bright expressions, this smile now carried a certain morbid quality, sending a cold shiver down Ophelia’s spine.

Marta took another step forward, taking Ophelia’s hand, poised to lead her away, when suddenly a chorus of voices erupted from behind them: “Wait! Wait! Please stop! Just a moment!”

Several priests had followed them.

“Is there something you need?” Marta positioned herself in front of Ophelia, her gaze turning icy as she looked at the priests.

“Miss Marta… if we old men are not mistaken… have you awakened as a Fallen Knight?”

“What if I have?” Marta replied with an air of utter indifference.

“A Fallen Knight… she’s truly a Fallen Knight… Heavens, after a millennium, we Holy Knights have finally witnessed the emergence of a legendary knight…” The priests exchanged glances, each appearing visibly thrilled.

“Your Majesty, I humbly propose a change of guard for you. For instance… Moxi would be an excellent choice, young, handsome, and remarkably strong. We, your humble servants, wish for Marta to remain within the Grand Hall of the Holy Knights. Would that be acceptable!?”

‘Of course not! No matter what, Marta is *my* person! And what would I do with an arrogant, conceited man?’

Just as Ophelia was about to shake her head, the priests instantly dropped to their knees.

“We implore you, Your Majesty! For thousands of years, our Grand Hall of the Holy Knights has not produced a single legendary knight! We earnestly hope Marta can remain here to receive our training, for that would ensure her best possible development!”

The group appeared utterly sincere, and while Ophelia desperately wanted to outright refuse, her social anxiety made it difficult to deny such fervent pleas.

“Ah… this… I’m not really inclined…” She struggled to articulate her refusal.

“Your Majesty!” A priest lifted his head, his booming voice startling Ophelia.

“Marta will not receive proper training by your side! It is clearly far better for her to remain in the Grand Hall of the Holy Knights! If you truly care for Marta, shouldn’t you consider her future? Remaining in the Grand Hall is unequivocally better for her prospects!” The priest’s words began to grow increasingly vehement.

The other priests also raised their heads to fix their gazes upon Ophelia, their eyes imbued with an unseen force. They said nothing more, merely stared her down.

‘How utterly irritating…’

‘Can’t you stop looking at me like that? I’m going to be sick…’

‘These forceful gazes, this aura that compels me against my will—please, just stop…!’

“Are you attempting moral blackmail?”

A flash of black light shimmered in an instant, and then Marta’s sword rested against the neck of the loudest priest. He froze for two seconds, his pupils constricting sharply.

Marta stood before Ophelia.

A palpable killing intent solidified in the air.

“How dare you attempt to morally blackmail my beloved Queen?”

Her eyes were cold and shadowed, and in an instant, the priests were cowed by her aura, lowering their heads.

“I… I spoke the truth, Marta. Please, remain with us in the Grand Hall of the Holy Knights…” The loudest priest’s voice had now dwindled to a mere whisper.

“Remain for what purpose? Do a few of you, who haven’t even touched the threshold of divinity, truly believe yourselves worthy of guiding a Fallen Knight? You merely wish to observe me, then have me do your bidding, don’t you? You desire to make me your sword, heh.”

“Where were you when I was ostracized by a multitude, forced to become the Queen’s guard? Where were you when Hizeta targeted me at the banquet, even though you were present in the hall? And even just now, when that brainless throng of women drowned me in their clamor, where were you then?”

She glanced back at Ophelia, her gaze a complex blend of morbid tenderness and yearning, as if conveying a thousand unspoken words.

“I am already the Queen’s sword.” Her voice softened for a moment, only to revert to its icy tone.

“Do you truly believe yourselves worthy of keeping me now? And you dared to attempt moral blackmail on the Queen? I am leaving with Her Majesty today, and I’d like to see who dares to stop me.”

Everyone fell into a stunned silence.

Ophelia stood frozen, realizing suddenly that this wasn’t so bad. Whatever Marta’s true intentions might be, the sensation of being protected sent a tremor through her heart.

‘I’ve never been protected by anyone before.’

‘In this instant, I suddenly found her incredibly dashing.’

“Come, my Queen, my liege. I eagerly await the birthday gift you promised me—” Marta approached, taking her hand.

She breathed softly into Ophelia’s ear.

“And I also keenly anticipate that ‘any request’ you offered.”

Ophelia’s body trembled, her ears still highly sensitive. This time, however, she merely turned her head away shyly and nodded.

They left the grand hall and stepped into the sunlight. Marta walked in Ophelia’s shadow, inseparable, like a princess and her knight from a fairy tale.

Though now, it was a Queen and her knight.

****

The border between the Kingdom and the Empire.

Today, Luca was attempting to smuggle himself across the border, having prepared everything for a direct passage.

He stealthily bypassed the guards, and as the Imperial lands came into view, a sense of relief finally washed over him.

The Kingdom offered no further prospects for advancement; only by bringing in the Imperial army and the Empress could he navigate and maneuver within the Kingdom’s upper echelons, thus creating opportunities for himself.

As he prepared to cross, heavy snow began to fall—a characteristic of the Northern Empire. Yet, amidst the swirling snow, a figure stood, golden light piercing through the boundless blizzard.

Killing intent permeated the air.

Luca cautiously drew his sword.

“Mister Luca, why such haste? We haven’t even seen you off yet.”

A petite figure emerged, with golden hair and dull, sickly-looking blue eyes. A calm, mocking smile played on her lips, and in her hand shone the gleaming Sword of Kings.

“Vina? How did you know I was trying to cross?”

Luca’s brow furrowed.

He found it truly baffling how Vina seemed capable of blocking his every move. He couldn’t fathom why he was so predictable, or when he had offended this sovereign.

Vina’s lips curved slightly upward as she gently stroked the Sword of Kings.

“You assassinated the Queen, didn’t you, Mister Luca? Both the first and second attempts were yours, were they not? And the late King, my father, you poisoned him to death, contrary to the common belief that he succumbed to illness.”

Luca recoiled three steps, shedding all pretense. His eyes gleamed ferociously as black and purple magic swirled into the air.

“Vina, last time I merely feared that old man would conspire with you to attack me, which is why I fled.”

“Knowing all this, you still stand in my way. I wouldn’t be so foolish as to expect you to let me go. However, I’ve always harbored a small question: are you truly stronger than I am? Today, I believe I can finally get my answer.”

Vina slowly raised her sword.

Snowflakes swirled around her, ascending as if to crown her.

“Don’t worry, I’ve only come to see you off. You are entirely free to leave, Mister Luca, and you will even depart quite peacefully.”