Chapter 3: Swordplay and Subtlety
...
It was a quiet kind of tension—the kind that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Not fear. Not danger. But the sense that something was about to happen.
I stood across from Lady Mirelle Ashthorn, the knight heroine known in the fandom as "The Ice Blade of the East." She wasn't called that for nothing. Her face was unreadable, like someone who'd long since mastered hiding both pain and pride behind discipline.
She held her training sword lightly in one hand.
Me? I was already sweating.
"Ready yourself, Your Highness," she said, her tone clipped and cold.
"Just so we're clear," I replied, gripping my own practice blade with both hands, "you won't kill me if I make a fool of myself, right?"
Her lips twitched. Just a little. "Depends on how foolish."
Welp. That was both a threat and a promise.
The practice hall's enchanted wards flared to life, surrounding the two of us in a glowing barrier that would prevent serious injury—in theory.
Then she moved.
Fast.
I barely had time to block her first strike, the shock ofsteel-on-steel vibrating through my arms like an electric jolt.
"Good reaction," she murmured, stepping back.
"Good aim," I replied, lowering my blade. "Right for the kidneys."
"That was a warning swing."
She lunged again, faster this time.
For a woman who was supposed to be a "noble," she fought like someone who grew up in back-alley brawls. Her style was elegant, yes—but brutal underneath. Efficient. No wasted movements.
I tried to keep up, drawing on Lucien's muscle memory. To my surprise, his body knew what to do. Parry, sidestep, repost—
And then pain.
Her wooden blade slammed into my ribs. I gasped and stumbled back.
"Point," she said flatly.
I doubled over, wheezing. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"
"A little."
[Ding!]
[Affection +2 – Lady Mirelle Ashthorn]
[You have earned her "Amused" status.]
[Note: Continued engagement may lead to Tsundere Route.]
I couldn't help but laugh, even through the sting. "So this is what tsundere affection feels like... It hurts."
"You keep muttering nonsense words," Mirelle said, lowering her weapon, "as if you're narrating your own life."
"I do that when I'm nervous," I lied. "Let's go again."
We sparred for nearly thirty minutes.
And by sparred, I mean I got beaten like a training dummy that owed her money.
But with every failed block, every awkward stumble, I saw it—the tiniest glimmer of respect forming behind her stoic expression. She wasn't used to opponents who got back up. Lucien, in the original game, would've quit after one bruised ego.
I didn't.
Because I needed her to see that I was different now. Not just some narrative foil.
Finally, after one last round—where I somehow managed to block three of her strikes before she swept my leg—she lowered her weapon entirely.
"You're not bad," she said simply, offering me a hand.
I took it, letting her pull me up.
"I'm persistent," I corrected. "There's a difference."
She gave me the barest smile. "So you are."
Before I could say anything else, she turned and walked toward the benches lining the hall. She grabbed a towel, tossed it to me, then sat down and began unlacing her gloves.
"I thought this was another one of your schemes," she said without looking at me.
"It's not."
"I thought maybe you were trying to embarrass me again."
"I'm not."
"Then why?"
I wiped my face with the towel and exhaled slowly. "Because I regret how I treated you. And because... I want to understand you. Not as a knight. Not as a noble. Just as Mirelle."
She glanced sideways at me. Her gray eyes were unreadable. "You're not making any sense."
"I rarely do. But I'm trying to be sincere."
A long pause.
Then, softly: "Try harder."
[Ding!]
[Affection +4 – Lady Mirelle Ashthorn]
[Her heart has begun to waver.]
[New Event Unlocked: "Shared Sunset" – Available Location: Palace Gardens (Evening Only)]
Oh?
That was definitely not in the original game. Mirelle never had solo romance events until way later—only after the Hero had rescued her during the Battle of Blackrock.
But now… now I could trigger a soft moment early.
Timeline deviation successful.
I stood. "Would you accompany me to the gardens this evening?"
She gave me a sidelong glance. "Is this another apology?"
"No. This time it's... a thank-you. For not stabbing me harder."
That almost earned a laugh. Almost.
She nodded. "Alright. But if you're lying... I will stab harder."
Fair enough.
Later that evening, I arrived in the palace gardens alone. The sun was melting into the horizon, casting streaks of orange and crimson across the sky. Fireflies flickered between hedges, and warm lanterns swayed gently in the breeze.
Mirelle was already waiting.
She wore her knight's uniform still, but without the armor padding. Just a high-collared tunic and simple boots. Her sword was strapped across her back—habit, not paranoia.
She turned when she heard me. "You're late."
"I'm fashionably apologetic."
She snorted. "Still a noble."
We walked in silence for a few minutes, the sound of gravel crunching beneath our boots. The breeze carried the scent of night-blooming roses and dew.
Eventually, we reached a marble bench nestled beneath a willow tree.
She sat first.
"You're really trying to change," she said, almost to herself.
"I am."
She stared out over the garden. "People don't usually change this fast."
"I'm... not like most people."
Another long pause.
Then she asked, "What do you see when you look at me?"
I blinked. The question was so out of left field I almost missed it.
"What do you mean?"
"Do you see a knight? A noblewoman? A tool?"
"No," I said quietly. "I see someone who's had to fight harder than anyone should. Someone who's tired of being used. Someone who wants to be seen."
She looked at me then—really looked.
And in that moment, the cool veneer cracked just a little.
"You don't deserve my trust yet," she said. "But you've earned the chance."
[Ding!]
[Affection +10 – Lady Mirelle Ashthorn]
[Relationship Status: "Warming Up"]
[Route Lock: Hero unable to trigger standard Mirelle romance arc unless trust exceeds 30 by Week 4.]
Yes.
Another flag intercepted.
Another deviation from the game's script.
As the sun dipped behind the palace walls and the fireflies danced like stars brought to earth, I allowed myself a moment of quiet victory.
One down. Four to go.
And the Hero?
Still late.
...