I blinked, all my worst nightmares resurfacing as the Snow Dancer's silver sword swept towards my neck.
In that moment, I saw a premonition of what was to come if I failed in my duty to rescue my kingdom and secure plentiful supply of inexpensive soap to the peasantry.
A glint of steel, no different than the cruel edge of a guillotine, its swift onslaught the herald to our fair realm falling into ruin and rubble as a newly raised republic.
I shuddered as images of fire, smoke and anarchy zipped through my mind, our libraries overrun with illiterate looters and bandits while farmers burgled our royal kitchens for the produce we'd bought from them at a price so extortionately low that they could never hope to leave poverty.
But that's all they were. A terrible premonition.
It wasn't yet time for my life to flash before my eyes. And so I answered the coming sword with the only answer that befitted a princess of this dignified kingdom.
I scowled.
How dare this woman attempt to behead me!
Even in my worst nightmares, whole crowds of angry peasants filled the streets! A deluge of rotten fruit tossed and thrown at me as they decried the life of luxury I deservedly lived at their expense! I had an audience! A death befitting my high status!
Even in my last moments, I could look down upon the unwashed masses from the raised platform built for my execution!
But here?
This was a frozen chamber, with the crowds consisting of frozen guards barely tall enough to keep their heads above the snow!
The insult was palpable!
And so–my expression creased beneath the weight of the indignity I felt.
Faced with a scowl hardened by 3 hours of daily practice over 4117 consecutive days, it's little wonder that the sword approaching me instantly slowed.
Indeed, the Snow Dancer positively quailed at the sight … even if she was still smiling in highly off-putting joy!
Brows dented, I twisted around to face the silver sword, taking advantage of the lapse in concentration as I swept Starlight Grace up.
Then, with all the elegance of a troll merchant clubbing away an unsatisfied customer, I batted the silver sword with the utter disdain it deserved.
Immediately, the Snow Dancer pirouetted, her speed as she brought her sword around at odds with the weak commitment of her strike.
Clearly fazed from my utter contempt at this terrible choice of location, the blade that approached my side was as easily slapped away as the falling leaves in my orchard.
And then … she blinked away.
Gaining several steps of distance, the elven woman stood still and tilted her head, looking down at her own sword with an expression of puzzlement.
After which–her blue eyes took in my scowl.
“Wow,” she said. “Now that was something.”
I held Starlight Grace aloft, adopting whatever pose I knew looked most fashionable against the billowing snow at my back.
Ohoho … this sword saint!
She'd underestimated my ability to instantly cower opponents with facial expressions alone! And no wonder. Who else could crease their brows faster than physics could allow? When a servant spilled wine on my dress, I could adopt an expression of outrage faster than the liquid could stain me!
“An opportunistic attack, Snow Dancer. But I advise you not to underestimate me. The strike of your blade is less swift than the fumbling of my attendants.”
Ophelia blew a puff of silver hair away.
“Ouch, that hurts, comparing my [Butterfly Horizon] to whatever it is maids try on you. But I guess I shouldn't be surprised you parried that. Being high up the fancy ladder must mean having a sixth sense to attacks from behind, huh?”
“Quite so. It matters not from which direction they come. When they seek to stain my dress red, I will know before the deed is done.”
The Snow Dancer twirled her sword, drawing the falling snow towards it.
“So sneak attacks won't work? And to think I still can't catch a whiff of anything scary about you. Now that's a strong presence concealment. How long have you trained with a sword to get like that, Miss E-rank Adventurer?”
I smiled in response.
All the while, I came to a sudden realisation.
I, Juliette Contzen, time trained with a sword, zero hours, was currently duelling with a sword saint.
“O … ohohohoho! I've … I've been trained in a secret fencing style before I could even use a fork! As … As you can see, my ability to stand undaunted is testament to my unmatched skills in swordsmanship, born of natural talent and honed through years of studious effort!”
“Really? Wow. It really is secret. I don't recognise it at all. Is it an adventurer thing?”
“This?” I looked down at my footwork. “Why, this is … this is the pouncing cobra sub-stance of my secret fencing style! A highly defensive position favouring swift counter attacks! Only a fool would attempt to break through my infallible parry and suffer my undodgeable reprisal!”
The elven woman narrowed her eyes at my perfectly acceptable way of holding a sword
“Hmmmmm. It doesn't really remind me of a pouncing cobra?”
I smiled. Hard.
To be so studiously examined was … well, a little bit embarrassing.
But no matter!
Once I defeated her, all thoughts of my supremely unorthodox pose would be forgotten!
Yes, my underhanded strike at her undefended flank had shockingly failed. And yes, this was now an open fight with an A-rank sword saint. And yes, this was indeed a minor problem. After all, for an untrained princess to defeat a sword saint in a fair fight was an impossible feat. The difference between our skill and experience was a canyon wider than the eyes could see.
That's why–I had absolutely zero intention to fight her fairly!
Ohohohoho!
If I were to defeat the Snow Dancer, then it would be with guile, subterfuge and an utter lack of chivalry!
And so, I turned to my assistant in crime!
There, safely tucked away behind a truly impressive snow bastion, my future handmaiden was peering over a solid battlement, ready to come to my assistance at a moment's notice.
And upon the walls of her castle, was a giant message written in the snow.
~ Fight On! Fight On! Juliette Official Fan Club! B-E-L-I-E-V-E ~
“You can do it!~” she cried, her hands forming a tunnel around her mouth. “We believe in you!~”
Quack, quack. Quack, quack.
Squeezed under her arm was the crystal beaked duck. She hadn't bothered plucking the arrows from it.
I pursed my lips.
Then I turned to the elven woman.
“Oho … ohoho! S-See the peril you find yourself in, Snow Dancer! Even my loyal handmaiden sees no need to come to my immediate aid! Challenging me with a sword is as futile as challenging the stars!”
Far from fleeing at my proclamation, Ophelia's eyes lit up with anticipation.
Ugh, people with swords!
Why did they only think with their foreheads and not anything behind it?! Just go headbutt a wall if you want to expend energy!
“Funny, that,” she said, for some reason sheathing her sword. “I actually did try challenging the stars once.”
Her hand never left her sword's hilt.
Then, she smiled as a circle of white flames suddenly erupted around her.
“Spoiler alert–I failed,” she said, her hair rustling magnificently amongst the ring of blazing light. “But I learned how to get a bit closer to them at least … so, [Gravity Reversal].”
The Snow Dancer drew her sword.
I was aghast.
How did everyone know how to conjure flames except me?! Furthermore, was it a rule that overdone names were necessary for sword techniques?! Why, it's because of people like her that Coppelia wished to rename [Spring Breeze] to [Ball Of Doom]! Just what was a [Gravity Reversal]?!
As expected, names should provide clear and concise information! How was I supposed to prepare for something so ominously named with so little context?!
I already suspected I couldn't rely on my scowl to still her next attack! Even so, this sounded like something else entirely! Was she about to throw something at me?!
“–Hieee?!”
The moment her blade left its sheath, I could feel the ground … no, the snow beneath me beginning to rise.
And then I realised that what she was throwing was, in fact, me.
To my absolute chagrin, everything in a wide circle around me was suddenly lifted up into the air.
I was appalled. There were very few scenarios in which I wished to be removed from the ground, and all of them involved being carried by Coppelia as she rescued me to a dramatic backdrop of something exploding.
This was not that!
“–Hiiieeeeee?!”
T-This sensation!
It was practically the same as when my mother's maids woke me each morning! The hopeless indignation as I was swept away as part of my duvet and unceremoniously dumped to the floor!
And worst … it wasn't the sparkling floor of my bedroom which awaited me, but a ceiling as dull as it was dusty!
Glancing up, I witnessed the dark stonework slowly … slowly approaching.
So slowly, in fact, that all I could feel was the insult being levied against both my time and my high standards for any demise!
A plain ceiling without a hint of embellishment? It was disgraceful! Of all the ceilings I wished to be splattered upon, it would be the magnificent Plafond De Dix Mille Cygnes, painted upon the vestibule of Reitzlake's cathedral!
No, just as much as I refused to accept being hoisted into the air against my will, I also refused to be crushed against such an artless ceiling … especially by a bed of snow!
So the Snow Dancer wished to test winter against me, did she?
Ohohohohoho!!
How dare she belittle the kingdom's sharp seasonal changes! To wake up and witness the horror of a blanket of heavy snow suddenly throttling my begonias was a sight I was all too keenly aware of! Why, it was not merely insects which threatened my orchard, but the elements themselves!
That's why–
I leaned down, then shoved Starlight Grace directly into the snow.
“Such fine snow you offer. Let's see if we can make it finer yet, shall we?”
And then–I began to dig.
“Witness the dawning morn, breaking these chains of malaise! Gardening Form, 5th Stance … [Winter Snow Shovel]!”
Ohhhohohohohoho!
Here it was!
A finely honed technique used specifically to remove mounds of snow without the need to painstakingly shovel away like a peasant in a field!
By digging my sword in overlapping, cross-crossing motions, I could make any mound of snow into powder so fine that once I blew at it, all the snow was instantly swept to the abyss!
… But this time, I had no wish to turn this snow into mist.
No, for the Snow Dancer's slovenly attack, she would receive the most slovenly [Winter Snow Shovel] in return!
Because instead of turning the snow into fine grains as I dug … I ceased, allowing the partially hewn icy snow to remain gathered beneath my boots.
I peered down at the snowy ground, seeing the innumerable tiny fissures I'd created.
And then–I gently blew.
BWOOOOOOOOOOOOMPH.
The mass of snow beneath me shuddered and exploded.
Suddenly, a hailstorm of my very own making shot towards the direction of the Snow Dancer, each rough, yet artistically shaped shard capable of being propelled by a single breath!
Ohhohohohohohoho!!!
An A-rank sword saint! And yet what was [Gravity Reversal], but an overly named way to throw a snowball?! Perhaps it could be used to bring down pigeons from the sky, but such an attack was worthless against the power of my snow shovelling skills, tested and refined in the unremitting cold of Tirea's winters!
Containing the cutting edge of a sharpened dagger, each icy shard utterly exposed the sword saint's poor naming sense as her technique was instead turned into a falling rain of doom … nor were the shards the only things to fall.
For a moment, I found myself suddenly suspended in the air, taking my place high above everyone's heads like the veritable angel I was.
And then I dropped, not yet having bloomed my wings.
“–Hiiiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeee?!”
I blinked, all my worst nightmares resurfacing as the Snow Dancer's silver sword swept towards my neck.
In that moment, I saw a premonition of what was to come if I failed in my duty to rescue my kingdom and secure plentiful supply of inexpensive soap to the peasantry.
A glint of steel, no different than the cruel edge of a guillotine, its swift onslaught the herald to our fair realm falling into ruin and rubble as a newly raised republic.
I shuddered as images of fire, smoke and anarchy zipped through my mind, our libraries overrun with illiterate looters and bandits while farmers burgled our royal kitchens for the produce we'd bought from them at a price so extortionately low that they could never hope to leave poverty.
But that's all they were. A terrible premonition.
It wasn't yet time for my life to flash before my eyes. And so I answered the coming sword with the only answer that befitted a princess of this dignified kingdom.
I scowled.
How dare this woman attempt to behead me!
Even in my worst nightmares, whole crowds of angry peasants filled the streets! A deluge of rotten fruit tossed and thrown at me as they decried the life of luxury I deservedly lived at their expense! I had an audience! A death befitting my high status!
Even in my last moments, I could look down upon the unwashed masses from the raised platform built for my execution!
But here?
This was a frozen chamber, with the crowds consisting of frozen guards barely tall enough to keep their heads above the snow!
The insult was palpable!
And so–my expression creased beneath the weight of the indignity I felt.
Faced with a scowl hardened by 3 hours of daily practice over 4117 consecutive days, it's little wonder that the sword approaching me instantly slowed.
Indeed, the Snow Dancer positively quailed at the sight … even if she was still smiling in highly off-putting joy!
Brows dented, I twisted around to face the silver sword, taking advantage of the lapse in concentration as I swept Starlight Grace up.
Then, with all the elegance of a troll merchant clubbing away an unsatisfied customer, I batted the silver sword with the utter disdain it deserved.
Immediately, the Snow Dancer pirouetted, her speed as she brought her sword around at odds with the weak commitment of her strike.
Clearly fazed from my utter contempt at this terrible choice of location, the blade that approached my side was as easily slapped away as the falling leaves in my orchard.
And then … she blinked away.
Gaining several steps of distance, the elven woman stood still and tilted her head, looking down at her own sword with an expression of puzzlement.
After which–her blue eyes took in my scowl.
“Wow,” she said. “Now that was something.”
I held Starlight Grace aloft, adopting whatever pose I knew looked most fashionable against the billowing snow at my back.
Ohoho … this sword saint!
She'd underestimated my ability to instantly cower opponents with facial expressions alone! And no wonder. Who else could crease their brows faster than physics could allow? When a servant spilled wine on my dress, I could adopt an expression of outrage faster than the liquid could stain me!
“An opportunistic attack, Snow Dancer. But I advise you not to underestimate me. The strike of your blade is less swift than the fumbling of my attendants.”
Ophelia blew a puff of silver hair away.
“Ouch, that hurts, comparing my [Butterfly Horizon] to whatever it is maids try on you. But I guess I shouldn't be surprised you parried that. Being high up the fancy ladder must mean having a sixth sense to attacks from behind, huh?”
“Quite so. It matters not from which direction they come. When they seek to stain my dress red, I will know before the deed is done.”
The Snow Dancer twirled her sword, drawing the falling snow towards it.
“So sneak attacks won't work? And to think I still can't catch a whiff of anything scary about you. Now that's a strong presence concealment. How long have you trained with a sword to get like that, Miss E-rank Adventurer?”
I smiled in response.
All the while, I came to a sudden realisation.
I, Juliette Contzen, time trained with a sword, zero hours, was currently duelling with a sword saint.
“O … ohohohoho! I've … I've been trained in a secret fencing style before I could even use a fork! As … As you can see, my ability to stand undaunted is testament to my unmatched skills in swordsmanship, born of natural talent and honed through years of studious effort!”
“Really? Wow. It really is secret. I don't recognise it at all. Is it an adventurer thing?”
“This?” I looked down at my footwork. “Why, this is … this is the pouncing cobra sub-stance of my secret fencing style! A highly defensive position favouring swift counter attacks! Only a fool would attempt to break through my infallible parry and suffer my undodgeable reprisal!”
The elven woman narrowed her eyes at my perfectly acceptable way of holding a sword
“Hmmmmm. It doesn't really remind me of a pouncing cobra?”
I smiled. Hard.
To be so studiously examined was … well, a little bit embarrassing.
But no matter!
Once I defeated her, all thoughts of my supremely unorthodox pose would be forgotten!
Yes, my underhanded strike at her undefended flank had shockingly failed. And yes, this was now an open fight with an A-rank sword saint. And yes, this was indeed a minor problem. After all, for an untrained princess to defeat a sword saint in a fair fight was an impossible feat. The difference between our skill and experience was a canyon wider than the eyes could see.
That's why–I had absolutely zero intention to fight her fairly!
Ohohohoho!
If I were to defeat the Snow Dancer, then it would be with guile, subterfuge and an utter lack of chivalry!
And so, I turned to my assistant in crime!
There, safely tucked away behind a truly impressive snow bastion, my future handmaiden was peering over a solid battlement, ready to come to my assistance at a moment's notice.
And upon the walls of her castle, was a giant message written in the snow.
~ Fight On! Fight On! Juliette Official Fan Club! B-E-L-I-E-V-E ~
“You can do it!~” she cried, her hands forming a tunnel around her mouth. “We believe in you!~”
Quack, quack. Quack, quack.
Squeezed under her arm was the crystal beaked duck. She hadn't bothered plucking the arrows from it.
I pursed my lips.
Then I turned to the elven woman.
“Oho … ohoho! S-See the peril you find yourself in, Snow Dancer! Even my loyal handmaiden sees no need to come to my immediate aid! Challenging me with a sword is as futile as challenging the stars!”
Far from fleeing at my proclamation, Ophelia's eyes lit up with anticipation.
Ugh, people with swords!
Why did they only think with their foreheads and not anything behind it?! Just go headbutt a wall if you want to expend energy!
“Funny, that,” she said, for some reason sheathing her sword. “I actually did try challenging the stars once.”
Her hand never left her sword's hilt.
Then, she smiled as a circle of white flames suddenly erupted around her.
“Spoiler alert–I failed,” she said, her hair rustling magnificently amongst the ring of blazing light. “But I learned how to get a bit closer to them at least … so, [Gravity Reversal].”
The Snow Dancer drew her sword.
I was aghast.
How did everyone know how to conjure flames except me?! Furthermore, was it a rule that overdone names were necessary for sword techniques?! Why, it's because of people like her that Coppelia wished to rename [Spring Breeze] to [Ball Of Doom]! Just what was a [Gravity Reversal]?!
As expected, names should provide clear and concise information! How was I supposed to prepare for something so ominously named with so little context?!
I already suspected I couldn't rely on my scowl to still her next attack! Even so, this sounded like something else entirely! Was she about to throw something at me?!
“–Hieee?!”
The moment her blade left its sheath, I could feel the ground … no, the snow beneath me beginning to rise.
And then I realised that what she was throwing was, in fact, me.
To my absolute chagrin, everything in a wide circle around me was suddenly lifted up into the air.
I was appalled. There were very few scenarios in which I wished to be removed from the ground, and all of them involved being carried by Coppelia as she rescued me to a dramatic backdrop of something exploding.
This was not that!
“–Hiiieeeeee?!”
T-This sensation!
It was practically the same as when my mother's maids woke me each morning! The hopeless indignation as I was swept away as part of my duvet and unceremoniously dumped to the floor!
And worst … it wasn't the sparkling floor of my bedroom which awaited me, but a ceiling as dull as it was dusty!
Glancing up, I witnessed the dark stonework slowly … slowly approaching.
So slowly, in fact, that all I could feel was the insult being levied against both my time and my high standards for any demise!
A plain ceiling without a hint of embellishment? It was disgraceful! Of all the ceilings I wished to be splattered upon, it would be the magnificent Plafond De Dix Mille Cygnes, painted upon the vestibule of Reitzlake's cathedral!
No, just as much as I refused to accept being hoisted into the air against my will, I also refused to be crushed against such an artless ceiling … especially by a bed of snow!
So the Snow Dancer wished to test winter against me, did she?
Ohohohohoho!!
How dare she belittle the kingdom's sharp seasonal changes! To wake up and witness the horror of a blanket of heavy snow suddenly throttling my begonias was a sight I was all too keenly aware of! Why, it was not merely insects which threatened my orchard, but the elements themselves!
That's why–
I leaned down, then shoved Starlight Grace directly into the snow.
“Such fine snow you offer. Let's see if we can make it finer yet, shall we?”
And then–I began to dig.
“Witness the dawning morn, breaking these chains of malaise! Gardening Form, 5th Stance … [Winter Snow Shovel]!”
Ohhhohohohohoho!
Here it was!
A finely honed technique used specifically to remove mounds of snow without the need to painstakingly shovel away like a peasant in a field!
By digging my sword in overlapping, cross-crossing motions, I could make any mound of snow into powder so fine that once I blew at it, all the snow was instantly swept to the abyss!
… But this time, I had no wish to turn this snow into mist.
No, for the Snow Dancer's slovenly attack, she would receive the most slovenly [Winter Snow Shovel] in return!
Because instead of turning the snow into fine grains as I dug … I ceased, allowing the partially hewn icy snow to remain gathered beneath my boots.
I peered down at the snowy ground, seeing the innumerable tiny fissures I'd created.
And then–I gently blew.
BWOOOOOOOOOOOOMPH.
The mass of snow beneath me shuddered and exploded.
Suddenly, a hailstorm of my very own making shot towards the direction of the Snow Dancer, each rough, yet artistically shaped shard capable of being propelled by a single breath!
Ohhohohohohohoho!!!
An A-rank sword saint! And yet what was [Gravity Reversal], but an overly named way to throw a snowball?! Perhaps it could be used to bring down pigeons from the sky, but such an attack was worthless against the power of my snow shovelling skills, tested and refined in the unremitting cold of Tirea's winters!
Containing the cutting edge of a sharpened dagger, each icy shard utterly exposed the sword saint's poor naming sense as her technique was instead turned into a falling rain of doom … nor were the shards the only things to fall.
For a moment, I found myself suddenly suspended in the air, taking my place high above everyone's heads like the veritable angel I was.
And then I dropped, not yet having bloomed my wings.
“–Hiiiiiiiiiiiieeeeeeeee?!”
