**Chapter 13**
—
At dawn, in the ducal estate’s training grounds, where the knights of House Saxen honed their skills, Dale drew a blade from his side. It was a *stiletto*—a slender steel sword favored by knights as a secondary weapon.
He spun the hilt once in his palm and adjusted his grip lightly, testing its weight and balance.
*Perfect.*
The sword’s edge gleamed with a cold, razor-sharp light.
Opposite him, the young girl *Charlotte Orhart* held a rapier in her small hands, its thin blade shining with equal sharpness.
A duel with real blades.
Yet in Dale’s eyes, this was hardly more than indulging a child’s whim. He would not use magic, of course—and his true weapon, the *Shadow Cloak*, remained untouched.
*“Fight me.”*
The moment that girl had spoken that man’s name, Dale understood. He knew well the Holy Swordmaster’s perverse tastes.
He could roughly piece together what had happened to the two Orhart women, and why they had come all the way to Saxen. And why the girl before him was clinging so stubbornly to her impossible demand.
She wished to defeat the genius of House Saxen and prove that she could protect her house with her own strength.
It was, Dale thought silently, the dream of a child who still knew nothing of reality.
“Come at me with everything you have.”
“I was going to, even if you didn’t say it!”
Then it fell to him to show her the truth—to teach this golden-haired girl, Charlotte, what the real world was like: how cold, harsh, and merciless it could be. Especially as one who had personally brought winter into her life.
*Ta-at!*
Charlotte sprang forward, feet striking the earth, her emotions locked away, her thrust carrying the distilled intent to kill.
*…!*
She was fast—far faster than any child should be.
*She’s using aura—if only faintly.*
Dale, who had been forged by countless battlefields, could tell instantly.
Just as a mage generates mana through a circle engraved upon the heart, a knight stores aura within their body to transcend their physical limits.
──The title “Daughter of the Divine Sword” was no mere boast.
*Clang!*
Even her initial charge and grip were exceptional.
Dale parried the rapier’s thrust, but Charlotte twisted her wrist in a snap, redirecting the blade with dazzling speed. Steel clashed and rebounded again and again, her movements flowing perfectly through every exchange.
Like a fish gliding through the currents it knows by instinct.
She had perfectly grasped the essence of the rapier, exploiting its traits with innate precision. Her combat sense was something only *born*, not taught.
*I’m overwhelming him!*
Her attacks poured forth relentlessly. Every parried strike was followed by another, snapping back to pierce through any gap.
A glimmer of triumph curved her lips—she believed she had him.
“……”
But Dale, too, was born with a gift.
And his greatest strength was not a gift at all.
It was experience—years of war and death that no child could ever hope to match. The wisdom and reflexes of a man who had lived his entire life on the battlefield.
Charlotte’s countless strikes—so fluid, so fierce—never once reached him.
At first, she thought he was barely keeping up with her onslaught. But no—there wasn’t a hint of strain in his expression. Calm, steady, utterly composed.
And she began to notice something else.
*He’s not counterattacking…?*
He was only defending. Effortlessly. Never striking back.
She could feel it—the difference. He was *letting* her attack.
The realization brought a chill to her spine.
*Why… why can’t I touch him?!*
The killing intent at her sword’s tip began to dull. Her calm started to fray.
*“Your father was the greatest knight this continent has ever seen.”*
When Charlotte was born, her father had already passed away. But every night, her mother told her stories—tales of the legendary *Divine Sword*, Sir Badel Orhart.
The greatest swordsman in the land.
And when Charlotte heard gossip of the “genius heir of House Saxen,” she had only scoffed.
A boy gifted in both sword and magic, a prodigy without equal?
*I am the daughter of the Divine Sword.*
There was no way she could lose in swordsmanship. There never should have been.
Yet here she was—being utterly outmatched by someone who wasn’t even using aura. A *mage*, no less, one who had a magic circle carved into his heart.
After the fall of the Knight Kingdom, the Empire’s nobles had treated the remnants of the Orhart family with scorn.
Even a child could see their decline. Servants vanished, treasures disappeared, the estate fell into ruin.
And each time, Charlotte remembered her mother’s voice telling her of the father she had never met.
The Divine Sword, Badel Orhart.
She had believed it was her duty to protect House Orhart in his stead—to live proudly as the daughter of the greatest knight.
But her composure shattered like glass.
*Clang!*
Her rapier spun high through the air before plunging straight down into the ground at her feet.
“Ah…”
A thin red line opened across her hand—the mark of Dale’s first strike.
The match was decided in that instant.
“Why… why can’t I win…?”
Staring at her fallen sword, Charlotte sank to her knees.
“Sir Badel once fought,” Dale said quietly, recalling a memory from another lifetime, “a battle against the Hero from another world. They say it ended in a draw, both dying together.”
It was a lie.
In truth, Dale himself—*the Hero*—had slain Sir Badel with his own hands. The rest was a story rewritten by the Empire for its own convenience.
“If he could fight that monster to a standstill, then surely he was the greatest knight alive.”
“……”
Charlotte swallowed hard.
In this world, stories of the Hero from another world were many—hero, patriot, mad dog, butcher. But all agreed on one thing: he was *inhumanly strong.*
Sir Badel Orhart had been the only man to ever stand against that monster.
Strong beyond measure, proud and noble—a knight of true honor. And so Dale had told her half the truth.
“Your pride as the Divine Sword’s daughter isn’t wrong,” he said calmly. “But as you are now, you’ll never be able to protect House Orhart from *him.*”
His words struck like frost.
“You are not your father. And the Holy Swordmaster’s strength… is dozens of times greater than mine.”
“Dozens…?”
It wasn’t an exaggeration. At least for now, Dale knew the truth—he was far weaker than that man.
“Ah… Ahh…”
Charlotte trembled as that beast’s leering smile flashed in her mind. The Holy Swordmaster’s face, twisted with cruelty.
She couldn’t even lift her sword. All she could remember was her mother’s desperate pleas for mercy.
She had protected nothing. That was the fate of powerless, fallen nobility.
“Then what am I supposed to do…?”
Her shoulders shook as tears welled up.
“I already know I can’t protect our house like this…”
The proud young swordswoman now wept like a lost child.
“Because I’m just a girl… weak and helpless…”
Gone was the sharp poise of the duelist; only her frailty remained.
“What am I supposed to do…”
Dale bit his lip softly.
“Someday, Lady Charlotte’s sword,” he murmured, “will become far stronger than you imagine.”
It was no lie. Even with the Shadow Cloak, Dale’s limits as a swordsman were clear—he could never reach the same heights.
But Charlotte was different.
“You want revenge, don’t you?”
“……!”
“Then take my hand.”
He extended it toward her.
Not from guilt toward Badel Orhart—
but because he remembered that day.
The day the Holy Swordmaster had driven his blade into Dale’s back, laughing.
The day he had seen the Empire’s darkness firsthand.
“Why…?”
“Because it’s worth doing.”
Her eyes blinked in confusion at his answer.
“Let’s make a promise.”
“A… promise?”
“I, Dale of Saxen, swear on my family’s name to become House Orhart’s protector.”
Charlotte possessed a rare gift for the sword. Even if today’s duel had ended in total defeat, that fact remained.
“Until the day you’re strong enough to defeat that man,” Dale said, “I—and the Saxen family—will be your shield.”
“…In exchange for what?”
Her tone turned cool again. She knew there was no such thing as kindness without a price.
“Your sword.”
“……!”
When the day came that her gift fully bloomed, when she truly became worthy of the name *Daughter of the Divine Sword*—
“Swear here and now that your blade will one day serve me and House Saxen.”
Through that oath of fealty, her sword would one day be raised for him.
“This will be our pact.”
An investment for the future.
Charlotte was silent for a long time. Then, at last, she spoke.
“…I swear it, on a knight’s honor.”
Dale reached out again, and Charlotte took his hand. It was a simple promise between children—but their eyes held the weight of conviction.
Their hands met firmly.
Charlotte the Swordmaiden—
the girl destined to inherit her father’s title as the continent’s strongest, to be known once more as the *Divine Sword.*
The girl who would, in the future, stand by the next Duke of Saxen as his most loyal blade.
—
—
After the duel, Dale brought Charlotte back to the ducal hall. He intended to tell his father of his decision—and convince him.
By then, the conversation between Charlotte’s mother, Lady Vanessa Orhart, the Duke, and Sir Helmut was already nearing its end.
“Charlotte,” Vanessa said softly.
The young widow of the Divine Sword had made her choice—for her daughter’s sake.
*‘Miss Charlotte Orhart shall be protected under the name of House Saxen.’*
The Duke had nodded in agreement. Now, it was time to tell her daughter.
She expected tears, protests, defiance. She expected her child to wail that she couldn’t leave her mother, or to reject the protection of some imperial noble.
But when Vanessa, veiled in mourning black, began to explain—
Charlotte simply listened in silence.
“I understand, Mother.”
When it was over, she nodded quietly.
“Charlotte…?”
Her mother blinked in disbelief. The daughter she was sure would cry and scream instead smiled faintly, as though she understood everything.
“I’ll become stronger.”
Everyone turned in surprise—the Duke, Sir Helmut, even Vanessa herself, who followed her daughter’s gaze to Dale.
“Until my sword can protect you and House Orhart in Father’s place,” Charlotte said, her voice unwavering.
Dale said nothing. He only watched her, silent, steadfast.
“Because I’m the proud daughter of the Divine Sword.”
Vanessa could no longer hold back. She gathered her daughter into her arms, sobbing softly.
