A Knight’s Demise and a Princess’s Fury

After spitting out several gouts of foul blood, Claude, the bearded Inner Guard Knight, struggled to lift his hand, seizing the collar of a nearby knight as he desperately tried to rise.

Veins bulged on his head, his wide mouth was agape, two rows of teeth stained crimson, and even his thick, dark beard was entirely dyed red.

Claude’s lips trembled; whether from the excruciating pain in his chest or from his windpipe being choked with blood, he never uttered a single word before his pupils completely glazed over.

An Inner Guard Knight gently brushed a hand over Claude’s face, closing the eyes that had remained open even in death.

The knight uttered, “May you rest in peace,” as the other Inner Guard Knights around him reached out to press their hands on Claude’s head, softly murmuring words to soothe the departed soul.

A moment later, the assembled Inner Guard Knights all rose. They drew their war swords from their belts and picked up the conical iron helmets resting nearby, settling them onto their heads.

They lined up in a single row, their expressions devoid of sorrow or joy, and advanced with synchronized steps towards the blonde girl.

“A whole group of you against just me… cowards!” Noren scoffed with a cold, contemptuous smile. Her left arm lashed out in a powerful backhand, knocking out an Inner Guard Knight who was kneeling nearby. With the tip of her left foot, she hooked the Norse longsword from the ground, stomped her heel, and the sword flew straight up into her waiting grasp.

“Noren!” Tolke shouted, moving as if to assist her.

“Go.” Noren commanded, her gaze fixed on the knights slowly advancing towards her. Beneath her armor, the bloodstone pulsed with a red glow, and an almost imperceptible transparent film spread across her skin.

Tolke gritted his teeth, instantly understanding Noren’s unspoken command. Seizing the moment while everyone’s attention was fixed on her, he bolted straight out of the great hall.

He had to warn Hafdan and the others to prepare for battle or escape!

Noren caught a glimpse of the Norse youth rushing out of the hall, offered a slight nod, and then refocused her full attention on the enemies before her.

“Come on, you mongrels!” She hadn’t anticipated events spiraling into such an uncontrollable situation. The worst-case scenario would be to kill the knights, break through the castle guards’ encirclement, and flee all the way back to Olomouc.

The current circumstances had deviated significantly from her expectations.

Primarily, she had overestimated the martial virtue of medieval knights. That fellow, Claude, had inexplicably drawn his sword and lunged without a word, only to be promptly felled by her elbow strike to the chest and then weakly perish.

Even more preposterous, a whole group of knights intended to gang up on her, utterly disregarding their knightly honor. What happened to the vaunted chivalry of the Middle Ages!?

Or was this, perhaps, the ‘enlightened’ Middle Ages?

Enlightened, indeed! It was utterly, spectacularly enlightened!

Sir Kovan had felt a profound sense of unease the moment he saw Claude cough up blood and die. Witnessing four Inner Guard Knights attempting to gang up on Noren, he felt events spiraling completely beyond his control.

Sir Kovan gnashed his teeth in fury, roaring, “Fools, where is your honor?! You disgrace the very title of knight, personally bestowed by the Count!”

Yet, the four Inner Guard Knights completely ignored him, not even sparing Sir Kovan a glance. They acknowledged only one principle:

Blood for blood, tooth for tooth!

“Roar—!” The four knights let out savage roars, charging forward like four wild boars, ignorant of proper combat tactics, relying solely on their armor and brute strength.

However, with this charge, the four immediately became disjointed. The fastest among them took a lead of three or four paces, while the others, instead of fanning out to encircle the blonde Noren, simply followed in a disorganized rush, driven only by a surge of raw courage to personally slay their foe!

‘Tch~’ Noren grimaced in disdain. Just moments ago, seeing the four knights lined up uniformly, she had assumed they would form a battle array. She never expected them to simply charge headlong!

Her anticipation had been entirely misplaced; she had hoped for a truly satisfying fight.

Such opponents were neither as fierce as the Norsemen nor as cunning as the Greeks. Fighting them felt like a complete waste of time!

It was time to end this quickly.

Noren’s downcast eyes suddenly snapped wide, and in the very next instant, her body shot forward!

A powerful Iron Mountain Shoulder Strike sent the foremost knight flying. Next, she raised her sword to parry the downward chop from the second man on her right-front, pressing the blade forward and using the pommel to directly stun him. Immediately after, a front snap-kick sent him stumbling into the third man, knocking them both down.

Double Palm Push!!!

Finally, she swept her sword to deflect the fourth man’s direct thrust. Seizing the moment of his rigid stance, Noren released her grip on the longsword with her right hand, bent her left knee, stepped forward with her right foot, lowered her shoulder and dropped her elbow, then thrust both palms forward!

The two-hundred-pound knight was sent hurtling backward, slamming directly into the wall, where he hung for a moment beside a velvet tapestry embroidered with white birds.

The knight died instantly, then, with a heavy thud, he slid down the wall, dislodging plaster dust and stone chips, to collapse onto the throne. Blood gushed from his seven orifices, staining the opulent seat cushion crimson.

“I used too much strength again.” Noren shrugged.

These opponents were far too fragile. Fighting Norsemen was much more engaging; they possessed great strength, refined skill, and unwavering ferocity. Unlike these Slavic noble knights, who shattered like clay pots with the slightest impact.

However, ever since her coming-of-age ceremony, her blacksmith father had rarely sparred with her. Whenever she invited him to practice, he would always mumble excuses like, ‘I need to see you become a formidable ruler,’ ‘I can’t afford to die carelessly,’ or ‘These old arms and legs aren’t what they used to be.’

Noren’s thoughts drifted, even as the third man pushed aside the knight who had fallen on him and charged once more, sword raised. Though distracted, Noren’s muscle memory swiftly dispatched him.

A hanging-hand wrist strike forced him to drop his war sword, followed by a right horizontal elbow that shattered his jawbone, unprotected by his helmet.

Thus, of the four Inner Guard Knights, one was dead and three were severely wounded.

In contrast, Noren’s armor remained undamaged, with only a few specks of blood spattered on the hem of her soft armor skirt.

Noren bent down, picked up the Norse longsword, blew off a bit of dust, and sheathed it. Then, she raised her head to look at Sir Kovan, who stood beside the throne. “Sir, send them for treatment!”

Sir Kovan gave a wry smile, glancing first at the half-paralyzed court physician, then at the serene blonde Noren. He opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, yet still no words emerged.

Sir Kovan’s head throbbed with a monumental headache. If he could rewind time by a month, he would undoubtedly have accompanied the “handsome man” to Prague, the duchy’s capital, instead of lingering at the castle, entangled with the Count’s foxy mistress.

‘Sigh~’ Sir Kovan sighed inwardly. Never before, neither in battle nor in life, had he experienced such vexation as he did today.

A woman, a noble princess no less, had demanded a trial by combat before God for a mere maidservant. It would have been one thing if the castle knights had engaged in a proper duel, but who would have thought that Claude, that wretched pig, would dare to launch a sneak attack!

And ridiculously, he was killed in retaliation!

Let that fool die, then. But why did the other Inner Guard Knights also lose their minds?

They actually chose to swarm her in a group attack! And as if ganging up wasn’t bad enough, they still lost! In the end, some were dead, others wounded!

Jesus! My Almighty Lord! Could you perhaps, when creating these warriors, infuse a little more reason into their bodies?

Not much, just a tiny bit of common sense would suffice. That way, they might at least survive, and the Count wouldn’t hold me accountable.

The more Sir Kovan thought, the deeper his regret: ‘Damn it, I should have just drunk more this morning. If I’d been drunk, none of this would have happened!’

Kovan — Stress +50

Level One Stress!

Trait: +Alcoholic

Sir Kovan closed his eyes and slumped onto the throne. The chainmail worn by the corpse beneath him felt rather uncomfortable against his backside.

He pressed one hand to his forehead, leaned back into the seat, and began to feign unconsciousness, moaning softly.

Noren was no fool; she understood that Sir Kovan was intentionally allowing her to leave. While she was displeased by his failure to make a just judgment, she also knew that having killed the Count’s knights, this matter would likely not end well.

She walked over to the dumbfounded Igor and tapped his head with her scabbard. “I’m leaving Olomouc; I won’t be going to the Unichov Bishopric.”

Igor’s head throbbed from the tap. Just as he recovered his senses, he saw the blonde girl walking out of the great hall.

The castle guards on either side, lacking orders from the military commander and wary of the blonde Noren’s martial prowess, offered no resistance and allowed her to pass unhindered.

Igor surveyed the gruesome state of the Inner Guard Knights, thinking, ‘I still underestimated Noren’s combat prowess.’

He murmured, “Brother, look at the mess you’ve made. Even in death, you’ve dragged down a group of brave knights to a tragic end.”

“Ryan, may you rot in hell.”