Prologue: Part 2

Is She a Swordswoman?

Tucked away in a corner of the western forest lay a natural spring. It was the only spot where the trees parted, allowing bright sunlight to pour down and illuminate the area. And there, in the water, a beauty bathed without a single thread of clothing.

Though spring had arrived, the wind and the water should have been far too cold for a bath. Yet, the woman washed herself without the slightest sign of discomfort.

Her long, thick black hair fell in gentle waves. Her bright, bronzed skin alone told anyone who saw her that she was from a foreign land. Her breasts were by no means large, and her waist and hips carried a modest curve, but what truly caught the eye was the musculature she possessed.

She was honed, there was no other way to describe her physique.

Reynart and Reck held their breath, their gazes fixed on the woman. Or rather, to be perfectly honest, they were so utterly stunned that staring was all they could manage.

While this forest was not entirely devoid of human presence, it was rare to find anyone bathing in this spring, even in the height of summer. Let alone at the very beginning of spring. In fact, Reynart was wearing a tanned leather cloak specifically to ward off the chill.

Perhaps sensing their presence, the woman turned. The moment she spotted the two young men standing there, slack-jawed and gaping at her, she leaped from the water and drew her sword.

Her stance was flawless, leaving not a single opening. She didn’t even bother to cover the dark patch of hair between her thighs; she simply scanned the area, likely checking to see if anyone else was lurking nearby.

She was a swordswoman, and clearly one of no small skill, as the killing intent she radiated was enough to make that unmistakably clear.

“Even if I am a woman, do not think you can underestimate me without consequence!”

She shouted in the Old Ishtarian tongue, her voice thick with an unfamiliar accent.

Her thick brows clearly expressed a strength of will. Her eyes, wide and alert, shone with dark pupils. There was no trace of panic in them. That brilliance suggested that before she was a woman, she was a warrior, a swordswoman through and through.

There was still a significant distance between the two men and the woman. It should have been impossible for her to close that gap in a single leap, yet neither Reynart nor Reck moved. In fact, they couldn’t. The tension emanating from her was that overwhelming.

The woman moved only her eyes, scanning the surroundings once more. Finally regaining his senses, Reynart hurriedly turned his back. He grabbed the arm of Reck, who was still staring at her with a vacant expression, and forced him to turn around as well.

“My apologies. We are not people of ill intent… I am Reynart, and this is my attendant, Reck. We both live in the royal capital of Istella…”

Still facing away, Reynart spoke his name in a loud, clear voice.

Well, I don’t think I phrased that wrong… I really should have studied my Old Ishtarian more seriously.

As he thought this, he racked his brain to recall the grammar and vocabulary he had neglected.

Old Ishtarian was the language of the Great Kingdom of Ishtaria, which once governed the entire continent, and it was still used today as the common tongue between nations. While each country used its own native language internally, Old Ishtarian was indispensable for international treaties and communication between foreigners.

Because the Istellan language shared many similarities with Old Ishtarian, it was said to be easier to learn for them than for people of other nations. But language, as it turned out, would not stick unless one studied it with diligence.

Reynart regretted his lack of focus. But…

There was no reply from the woman. Reynart continued.

“You are from another country, are you not? Did you come from a land in the south?”

“…”

Still, no reply.

“Forgive my rudeness, but I guessed as much from your skin tone. I have heard that there is no one with your complexion in the northern part of the continent, including our own kingdom.”

“…”

Still nothing.

Suddenly, a thought occurred to Reynart, and he decided to ask about it.

“By any chance, are you here to participate in the martial arts tournament in three days’ time? I heard that invitations were only sent to neighboring countries…”

“Invitations…?”

The woman finally opened her mouth.

“Yes. To enter the tournament, one requires a travel permit and identification based on the invitation issued by Istella. Without those, you cannot enter the inner gate of the royal castle where the tournament is held…”

“I see. As I suspected.”

The woman muttered the words as if she had already anticipated this.

“But that is not a problem… If I cannot go in, I need only wait for them to come out.”

“Excuse me?”

Reynart, failing to understand the meaning of her words, asked instinctively.

“What do you mean by that…?”

“The point is to know how good one’s own skill is… The victors will not stay inside the gates forever. I shall simply challenge them to a match when they come out. If I win, it proves I am the strongest. It saves me the unnecessary trouble.”

She was a woman who spoke of remarkably dangerous things.

“You certainly have a lot of confidence.”

Reynart felt a flash of resentment. Perhaps that had leaked into his tone, because the woman caught it immediately.

“Does it displease you…?”

As she said this, the woman pressed the blade against Reynart’s neck.

Startled, he turned back to see the woman, now fully dressed, standing there with a cold, mocking smile playing at the corners of her lips.