SAV 14

Chapter 14

Isabel spent the entire day in the armory, handling every type of weapon she could get her hands on.

Three years ago, she couldn’t even bring herself to think of doing this. Back then, she had been consumed by despair and impatience, collapsing under the weight of her own powerlessness.

But now, things were different.

The thrill she had felt when fighting human opponents still churned inside her chest. Isabel wanted to throw herself back into that moment again.

“I need my own weapon.”

Casting aside her fixed notions, she tried wielding massive axes, hammers, and maces—but they were all far too heavy for her. She could lift them, barely, but to actually use them in battle was out of the question.

For someone like Isabel, whose physical strength was limited, only one weapon offered both practical use and enough lethality—the Empire-style two-handed sword.

There were two notable examples of such swords.

“It seems the Langschwert suits you best, Sister. The Zweihänder appears a bit too much for you.”

At the armory soldier’s words, Isabel nodded in agreement.

The Langschwert—as it was called in the Empire’s tongue—was the very weapon that had once brought her back to life as a swordswoman.

There was also the Zweihänder, a much larger greatsword, but if she had wielded that in real combat, she would have been struck down before cutting even one opponent.

Isabel held up the Langschwert and aimed it forward.

“I can do this.”

She didn’t know what she might be able to accomplish with this sword from now on. But if she dealt with what lay before her one thing at a time, surely she would reach the end of the road.

For now, what Isabel needed to prove with her sword was simple—the qualification exam for the Order of the Holy Flame Knights.

Judging by the time it would take for her letter to arrive and for the evaluators to come, she had about a month to prepare. She would have to use that time to get used to the sword again, no matter what.

Lowering her blade, Isabel asked the soldier,

“May I borrow this sword?”
“If you wish to wear it around, you’ll need official permission.”
“What if I only use it for practice in the courtyard?”
“That still requires approval, but… I’ll go ask right away.”

Thinking the process wouldn’t take long for simple practice, the soldier left the armory, asking Isabel to wait. She passed the time looking over the daggers and smaller weapons nearby.

Before long, the soldier came running back, panting heavily.

Isabel was about to tell him not to overexert himself, but he blurted out—

“Sister! His Highness is calling for you!”
“Oh? I see. Do you know why?”
“Well… the knights of the Order of the Holy Flame are here!”
“What?”

The letter hadn’t even been sent yet. How could the Order’s knights have arrived already?

The month of preparation she thought she had was gone in an instant.

Flustered, Isabel followed the soldier as he hurried her to the audience chamber.

The Order of the Seekers of the Blessed Sword and Daffodil (Orden der Suchenden des Gesegneten Schwertes und der Osterglocke).

That was the official name of the group the world simply called the Order of the Holy Flame.

The Order had begun centuries ago, when monks first took up arms to heal and rescue soldiers during the great wars against the heretics.

Later, they themselves joined the battlefield, achieving brilliant military feats and spreading their influence far and wide.

Even now, the Order held immense sway across the entire continent. To join its ranks was a great honor, and its knights carried unshakable pride.

“A nun, you say?”
“Yes.”

Hermann Ludwig, the head of the Order’s Dainburg chapter, felt his mood sour.

Thinking it was safe to speak more bluntly, he said,

“Your Highness, our Order has pledged to remain neutral. You know this.”
“…What are you implying?”
“Surely you’re not trying to claim the defense of Castle Ottkirchen as a miracle?”

Hermann, along with knights Fritz and Christian, had been on pilgrimage when they heard that Ottkirchen Castle was under attack. They had ridden hard for two days to arrive—only to find the Prince and his soldiers had already repelled the invaders.

They had intended to offer minor aid with the cleanup and then depart quietly. But unexpectedly, Prince Lionel had summoned Hermann and started saying strange things.

A nun supposedly cut down ten mercenaries?

The attack may have used mercenaries to obscure its source, but even so, they must have been trained fighters. The castle had suffered heavy losses, and the prince himself had been on the brink of death.

So the claim that a single nun killed ten men sounded like utter nonsense.

The moment Hermann heard it, he thought the prince was trying to manipulate the situation.

“A nun blessed by God defended the sacred castle from the unholy invaders.”
It sounded like a manufactured miracle—propaganda to spread and strengthen his claim to succession by involving religion and the Order.

Hermann frowned deeply.

The prince was well known for keeping his distance from the Church of Mines. And now he wanted to use it? How convenient.

As Hermann looked at him skeptically, the young prince smiled faintly, as if he could read his thoughts.

“You’re all badly mistaken.”
“Mistaken, Your Highness?”
“First of all, I don’t put much stock in so-called miracles. What happened that day was nothing but human will.”

Hermann was momentarily speechless at the prince’s blatant irreverence. As he had suspected before, this man was not an ordinary person.

Lionel lightly tapped the table before continuing.

“And it seems you think I’m trying to use your Order for my own ends…”
“Is that not the case?”
“No. I’m not trying to use you. I’m trying to give you something—a very precious gift.”

His eyes gleamed with a strange light.

“A gift I’d rather not give.”

It was a baffling statement.

Instead of asking what he meant, Hermann silently studied the prince.

Whatever had happened in this castle, Lionel clearly wanted to pull the Church into it. The thought that such a man might one day become Emperor made Hermann’s head ache.

He was just thinking it might be wiser to withdraw and report to the higher clergy when the audience chamber doors opened.

A woman in a black nun’s habit entered.

“You called for me, Your Highness.”
“Yes, Isabel. Please, have a seat.”

The moment Hermann saw her, he sighed inwardly.

So that’s it… the young prince’s head’s been turned by a woman.

The nun called Isabel was breathtakingly beautiful. Her name and her features clearly marked her as a foreigner—not an Imperial native. Now Hermann could easily guess why the prince wanted to create some great achievement in her name.

Suppressing a sigh, Hermann asked,

“You are Sister Isabel?”
“Yes.”
“Then allow me to ask plainly—did you sell indulgences to His Highness?”

In other words, had there been some sort of transaction? Isabel shook her head.

“No. Not at all.”
“Then what is your position here in the castle?”
“Well…”

While Isabel hesitated, Lionel answered for her, amusement flickering in his eyes.

“She is my preacher.”
“…Your preacher?”
“Yes.”
“Then this nun who serves as your preacher supposedly picked up a sword and slew ten mercenaries?”
“Exactly.”

At that, Hermann could no longer contain his frustration.

“Sister Isabel. Stand up.”

His tone had turned forceful.

Isabel obeyed quietly, rising without protest. The three knights also stood, facing her.

“We are knights of the Order of the Holy Flame. If you lie before us, the price will be lifelong regret. Speak only the truth. Understood?”
“Understood.”
“Is it true that, during the attack on Ottkirchen Castle, you took up a sword and cut down ten mercenaries?”

Isabel’s voice was steady and unwavering.

“It is true.”
“Then you would call this a miraculous experience?”
“I would not call it a miracle. I said only that it was the truth.”
“Hah.”

Hermann’s exasperation matched Isabel’s.

“Then what would you have us do?”
“I will see that skill of yours for myself—right now.”

She had expected such a demand, but being asked to demonstrate her skill so suddenly made her uneasy.

After all, it had been three years since she’d properly wielded a sword. To be tested without any time to train was daunting.

Lionel approached her as she hesitated.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t give you time. I didn’t expect things to come to this.”
“…Your Highness.”
“But I believe the you I saw that day is enough. So believe in yourself, too.”

Isabel still didn’t fully understand Lionel as a person. But his faith in her—those words carried a weight and solidity she could feel.

She wanted to live up to that faith. For the first time, she felt that way, and answered,

“Yes, Your Highness.”

Led by Isabel, the group headed to the training yard in the inner courtyard.

Hermann handed her a Langschwert with a dulled edge—and was startled when he saw her hand.

Christian and Fritz noticed as well and whispered,

“Sir Hermann… her fingers…”
“A swordswoman, with those hands? Impossible.”

Hermann grimaced. But it was too late to turn back now.

“So be it,” he said through clenched teeth. “Subdue her without hurting her too much—and make sure she never tries to deceive anyone with such lies again.”

The three knights exchanged glances, their eyes steeling with resolve as they turned to face Isabel.

Isabel toyed lightly with the sword and asked,

“Will all three of you come at once?”

Fritz, the youngest and most eager among them—only a year into knighthood—stepped forward indignantly.

“I will face you. Fritz Werner of the Order of the Holy Flame.”
“Pleased to meet you, Sir Fritz. I am Isabel, of the Chardonnay Convent.”

After the brief exchange of introductions, they both took their stances.

Each placed a hand near the waist, sword tip pointed upward—the Pflug stance.

Fritz thought something was off.

Even putting her missing fingers aside, the way she gripped the sword looked like that of a novice—yet strangely solid, with no openings to exploit.

Still, he had to test her ability. He decided to start lightly.

The moment he moved—

Whoosh!

A flash of steel darted toward his face. Startled, Fritz reflexively raised his blade to parry.

But it was a feint. Isabel slipped through the narrow gap in his guard, twisting upward to tap his wrist with a clean rising cut before stepping back.

“…Ah.”

A chill ran down Fritz’s neck. Thank the heavens this was only a spar—otherwise, his wrist would have been severed clean.

He stood frozen, forgetting even to admit defeat. Hermann and Christian were just as stunned.

In the silence that followed, Isabel raised her sword again, the tip pointed forward—a silent signal that she was ready to continue if it wasn’t over.

Fritz, now deadly serious, readied his stance once more.