While Garland and Surabar were demonstrating their abilities (I heard it was called a demonstration match) in front of the King of Bers, Red Stone, I had my own tasks to attend to.
I had been busy with various preparatory work and had put it off for a while, but there was only one reason we came to the Kingdom of Bers.
Jasmine.
Everything else was merely a side branch to find out where she was and to rescue her.
In a meeting with the King of Bers, Red Stone, even if called a guardian knight (though in truth I wasn’t even that), I could not stay by Garland’s side.
The person who was essentially the most noble in the palace and should be protected as the top priority was naturally the king.
Strictly speaking, I was Garland the prince’s personal guardian knight, and furthermore, a knight from the allied Kingdom of Mosul (it still felt awkward to say).
My existence was no different from a thorn in the side to the people here.
“Now’s the time.”
Until now, I had no time to search for Jasmine or anything else because I was guarding the “prince.”
But not now.
A valid reason had arisen to leave Garland’s side while he was watching the “demonstration match” in the Colosseum with the King of Bers, and thanks to that, I had a very short but “free” body.
Of course, it was a restricted freedom with a “guide” attached.
“May I look around?… No, I will look around.”
“Is there something you need? If you just say the word, we can—”
“That’s not the reason. I want to map out evacuation routes in advance in case the prince needs to escape.”
“…Understood.”
She was a palace maid attached to watch me anyway.
In a situation where she was openly monitoring my every gesture, if I didn’t use it to my advantage and just stayed put, I would be the one losing out.
With that, I left the room and inspected the annex the King of Bers had provided for us.
There was no justification for a mere maid to stop me when I was openly moving under the pretext of “the prince’s safety.”
The glare from the nameless maid staring at me was stinging, but I lightly ignored it.
Whether she reported back to her superior later or not, I was just doing my job.
Searching the surroundings by spreading my senses from inside the room wasn’t enough.
Though the temporarily named Swordmaster Sense was impressive, it wasn’t omnipotent.
I didn’t know the exact military strength of the Kingdom of Bers, nor how extensive the blessings of this god Hokhma were.
Thus, I couldn’t go around boasting “I’m a swordmaster!” while spreading my senses everywhere.
Spreading senses was a dangerous act that could alert someone of equal or similar level to my existence.
Since Tolland Hamilton had forcibly elevated his realm—whether through Hokhma’s blessing or curse—and sublimated it into something “swordmaster-like,” in the Kingdom of Bers, which had been offering living sacrifices far longer than Mosul, there might be some horrific, disgusting monster-like existence.
“There might even be a real, proper swordmaster.”
Unless facing them head-on (even if I did), I had condensed and hidden my internal mana to the extreme so that my identity as a swordmaster couldn’t be detected. It was easy to say but incredibly difficult.
Probably, until I drew my sword, even an opponent using the same sword wouldn’t think of me as a swordmaster.
I moved through the annex, taking actions that would irritate the maid.
Picking up and putting down fragile porcelain, slightly touching the portraits hanging on the corridor walls, things like that.
They were probably items that were fine even if broken, since this was a guest annex for receiving visitors.
Not true? So what? I didn’t need to care. If it was truly valuable, they should have hidden it out of sight.
“Sir Knight? That is…”
“Is there a reason I can’t touch it?”
“…No.”
“You’re being annoying. Stay quiet. I absolutely detest fussy women.”
She was visibly fuming, but unable to do anything and swallowing her anger inwardly—that sight was quite pleasing.
Anyway, I made her walk the corridors of the building allotted to us from end to end several times until her legs hurt, and I repeatedly went up and down the stairs.
Later, I even thought her tenacity in gritting her teeth and chasing after me was impressive.
With that kind of grit, she might have achieved great success if she had learned martial arts instead of being a maid.
“Sir Pamir. Haven’t you confirmed enough by now…?”
“It’s a bit regrettable to only inspect inside the building. Let’s go outside.”
Now she didn’t even respond. The curses muttered in a barely audible voice from behind were probably not just my imagination.
***
“The tea isn’t bad. Did you brew it yourself?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Bring more. It’s drinkable enough.”
“Understood.”
She brought freshly brewed tea as I wanted.
“My mouth is bored. The snacks are all gone. Are there more?”
“…I’ll go get some.”
Before I even finished speaking, she brought new snacks. Perhaps checking that the tea was empty before leaving, she used her head this time and brought freshly brewed tea along with them.
“There’s nothing more to eat?”
“…I’ll go to the kitchen.”
Now she moved on her own without being told. Truly remarkable progress!
“I want to see the garden. I’ll go myself.”
“I’ll guide you.”
“You look tired; sit and rest. Are you trying to make me out as a bad person?”
“…..Thank you.”
In the end, it was my victory. Even the word “thank you” came out of this poisonous maid’s mouth.
But she was tough all the same. The effort to get her to declare “surrender” in her own way was no small feat.
Is this what it takes to work as the king’s “eyes”?
I didn’t know the details, but I succeeded in exhausting the watchdog who interfered with a word everywhere I went.
The maid forced a smile at my not-quite-considerate consideration and sat in the chair opposite me.
Her trembling legs looked pitiful for a moment, but that feeling was fleeting.
I naturally pretended to enter the building while surveying the garden.
“Finally shook her off a bit. Damn, I really need to piss…”
Since it was a building provided for the “Prince of Mosul,” there were almost no people coming and going around.
In truth, even without shaking off the maid who stuck to me like glue, all paths leading outside the building were blocked by soldiers.
They patrolled in pairs, and on the surface, it could be seen as ironclad security guarding a precious guest. But in reality, they were there to monitor me and the Prince of Mosul.
“What to do?”
It wasn’t for nothing that I had her accompany me while pointlessly going up and down stairs inside the building.
I had confirmed the positions of various decorations inside the building, portraits (drawn to look dignified but only appearing plump), flower vases, water jugs, and also the patrol routes of the soldiers visible through the windows.
Exhausting the maid watching me was one purpose, but this was actually the bigger one.
In a place without maids popping out like shadows to startle people, I quickly took care of the garden (believing the flowers would appreciate it), confirmed that the paired soldiers had passed on patrol, and then climbed over the wall.
Tap.
“Did you hear a sound?”
“What sound?”
“…Was it my imagination?”
“There’s no one here. What sound.”
“Guess I misheard.”
Since the wall surrounding the garden was easily over five meters high, no matter how careful, some noise was inevitable.
I heard the patrolling soldiers who had just passed muttering among themselves, but luckily they passed without suspicion.
Phew… I let out a sigh of relief and looked around. The soldiers were focused on patrolling inside the walls, and outside, there was no one except the gatekeepers at the main entrance.
“Left? None. Right? None. Dangerous targets? None!”
Since I had left under the pretext of seeing the garden, I couldn’t wander outside for long.
Outside the palace, there were no blooming gardens like inside, nor anything for cover, so I decided to follow Plan B as always.
Just act boldly.
Though the armor was slightly different, what I wore was still plate armor like theirs. The passing soldiers didn’t suspect me even seeing my bare face; instead, they gave crisp salutes.
“Any abnormalities?”
“None!”
“Good. Keep up the hard work.”
“Yes!”
…It was a terrifyingly natural encounter and parting.
The soldiers seemed to regard me, without even a helmet, as someone from another unit, knight order, or perhaps a high-ranking guard.
Thanks to that, I could survey the surroundings more boldly.
Outside the annex provided by the King of Bers (for treating precious guests), there was a path leading to another palace.
As previously confirmed, the annex where we were located was far enough that it required a long walk to reach other palaces or government offices.
It seemed they had intentionally given us this secluded spot.
Even when Garland went to meet the King of Bers, he traveled by carriage…
Except for the soldiers guarding the main gate, there was no one on that long road (?). Occasionally, small animals like squirrels picking up acorns or wild strawberries growing by the wayside were all that could be seen.
Should I just inspect around the building? Or move to where other buildings are…?
By now, the maid assigned to me full-time had probably noticed something odd…
After pondering, I judged moving to other buildings was too risky.
At least perfectly survey the immediate surroundings. With that, I quickly scanned near the outer wall.
“Nothing.”
As expected, there was nothing worth noting near the outer wall.
The landscapes inside and outside were completely different, bounded by this white wall over five meters high.
Except for the road where carriages passed, it was clear no human hand had touched it.
Would the palace of a princess sleeping for over a hundred years in thorns in the forest be like this? Near the outskirts of the annex, there was nothing but lush bushes and thorn thickets.
The time for this brief escapade was coming to an end. As I climbed the wall to avoid being seen by the gate soldiers, I turned my head at a familiar scent carried on the wind from afar.
Far away, a carriage slowly pulled by two horses was visible. That is…?
“…Jasmine?”
No doubt. Jasmine’s sce— no, fragrance!
Stuck perpendicular to the wall like a caterpillar with a “Stick!”, I watched the carriage moving away. At the same time, an “unidentified someone’s presence” caught in my senses.
I had prepared myself, but to encounter it at such a decisive moment… It was a swordmaster, like me.
I wanted to run to rescue Jasmine, but doing so would mean fighting an unknown swordmaster of the Kingdom of Bers, and in that case, the opponent, supported by the kingdom’s knights or mages, would likely cut off my head.
I gritted my teeth and retracted my senses.
By heavenly luck, the bastard hadn’t detected my presence yet.
As the carriage moved away, Jasmine’s body scent faded too.
A carriage with a black rose drawn on it… I returned to the maid waiting for me.
Returning with an indifferent expression as if nothing had happened, the maid was circling near the terrace.
“Sir Knight! Where have you been!”
“Didn’t I tell you?”
“For the garden—.”
“…Whether I see the garden or take a big shit, do you need to know? If you want to become my concubine, I won’t particularly stop you.”
“…I’m sorry, Sir Pamir. I spoke out of turn.”
“Good that you know.”
This is what a knight is! …As if asserting that, I acted confidently toward the questioning maid.
Whether seeing something small or big, a knight’s rank isn’t so laughably low that I need to report it to a wench like you.
Of course, knights vary, but right now, I was the guardian knight of Mosul’s “prince,” wasn’t I?
Even if I acted shamelessly, a mere maid couldn’t openly challenge me.
“Um, Sir Pamir? How long do you plan to stay here…?”
You didn’t return. Isn’t waiting for one’s lord the duty of a knight. Ah,
“I’m hungry. Bring something to eat.”
“…Understood.”
“Meat-heavy!”
The maid, appalled by the intentional errands starting again, hurriedly left the terrace.
When she returned a little later, her hands held a mouthwatering whole roasted turkey, and fresh salad; other servants followed behind.
The original kind and warm “Paramir” would have smiled brightly, praised their efforts, and expressed gratitude, but unfortunately, the one here now was the arrogant, blunt, and devilish guardian knight of the Prince of Mosul, Sir Pamir.
Seeing the turkey roast placed on the table, I said one thing.
“You’re late.”
“…I had to pay attention to the cooking; there was no choice.”
“Next time, prepare in advance. There, the prince is coming. Bring these to the room. Warm them up… This is cold. Do it again. The soup has cooled and won’t taste good.”
“Yes, I under… stand…”
Grind…! The sound like grinding teeth was probably not my imagination.
The main gate opened, and the carriage entered. I became the shadow of my superior and lord, Prince Garland Hamilton, and entered the annex.
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