章 9: 08: Exhibition Match
An overwhelming number of nobles stood before Lore, dressed in finery and chattering in a low murmur. They were the buzz of angry bees, just waiting to swarm her. As she and the two Emperors behind her, the nobility fell silent in an almost miasmic wave. Propriety and propriety alone were what shut the mouths of those who found themselves the best.
"As thanks for your attendance, and consideration to the late King who himself was a warrior, I will be providing you with an exhibition match." Lore said almost boredly, revealing as much as she could in as few words were considered appropriate.
Emperor Huang hummed in surprise from behind her, his long-favored wife, Queen Consort Yeung now at his side. "Between whom will this match take place?"
Lore smiled thinly, as thin as the sheen of gold atop her head felt. "Between the captain of our Palace Guard, Gwidon Fiore–" surprised sounds erupted at this: Fiore was one of Breacia's foremost warriors, and a man surrounded inasmuch mystery as Lore herself. "–and myself, Breacia's Queen."
It was quiet, and then a bitter sense spread across the crowd. An exhibition match was to be exciting, and Lore was considered a mere Queen. Forgetting she was Drusus, though she saw her kin looking disappointed in those around them. A handful of others looked uncertain, as if remembering her threadbare reputation before marriage, but these came in few. Perhaps they didn't notice the finely made sword at her hip, or simply wrote off the silver blade as ornamental.
The blade was not that simple, and definitely not the ornament they considered it. It was an ancient Drusus blade, one of the ones that rarely saw sunlight let alone the sheen of blood from where it was locked away in the vault. A powerful blade, and a blade that had chosen Lore when she was only fourteen.
This blade was named Endsworn, impossible enchantments allowing it to get stronger with each life it took.
Lore wondered just how negative the reaction would be if she was more visibly pregnant. Both due to her garments and her tall frame, the curve of her stomach was not quite visible at four months. If the Ball was a month later, she could imagine rage rather than discontent.
Not ten meters behind the crowd was the elegant palace barracks, and just behind that was the training field. Whereas Lore would be using only her trusty blade, Fiore would be using his handful of spells and the enchantments on his own greatsword. A sword that looked almost comical in the hands of the short man, though he always seemed to find others' amusement with the spectacle equally hilarious.
With idle grace, Lore led the nobles to the gravel field, where seats and refreshments were already prepared for while they watched the match. Many were simply chattering while indulging in the fine provisions. Holding her tongue for fear she might lash them with it, she drew Endsworn from its simple leather sheath. The runes, thin and faint, warmed the blade comfortingly. She felt that warmth of the runic magic pulse once within her before fizzling out in the wake of its own power. Fiore pulled his greatsword from over his shoulder, the massive, hefty blade of fine black metal was remarkable, yet still less potently powerful than Lore's Endsworn.
At a smooth flick of Lore's wrist, Endsworn's blade came to face her as she offered the hilt to Fiore. He did the same with his own blade. A traditional ceremony before dueling: a test of the blade by the opponent.
The greatsword was almost light in Lore's patient hand despite how it bit deep into the earth. She examined the make, the rougher and far more bold runes christening the blade, the deeply worn and feathery leather wraps sojourning the hilt.
Both seeing no fault in the other's weapon, they traded again, before bowing respectfully to one another. It was time for the duel to commence.
Breathing somewhat shallowly in an effort to temper herself, Lore shifted into a stance. It put a lot of her weight forward, but that was necessary with how Fiore's much heavier blade slammed into her own steel with a dire screech and the scent of battle. Lore was calm, unaffected, as she shifted from the stance and slid to the side smoothly. Her bladework flowed like water against Fiore's unrelenting, ruthless way of battle.
This was not a fight where Lore had to eliminate her opponents as fast as possible. This was a show; a show during which she could show her true bladework, let her hand guide Endsworn just as it almost loomed over her, gently parroting her every step.
Impassive, Lore pushed Fiore back. In a swift clang of steel, she was quickly countered and forced to dodge. Gravel shifted beneath her feet, displaced stones dancing amidst the longest lengths of her dress. An exhale, releasing the tension of warbling steel. Lore moved faster; limbs wearied by her own circumstance rather than bitter poison. The pleasant burn of casting her blade upon a worthy opponent was a worthy familiarity. Distantly, she observed the crowd beginning to take interest. Eagle Emperor's gaze was heavy, whereas Emperor Huang's was light. She felt the approval of her own kin pushing forward her blade.
Another smooth movement, another block. Lore was deep in the dance of blades now, a familiar dance wherein every step begot potential peril. Another breath, and she pushed hard enough Fiore's grip began to falter. With the grace and finality of a master, she waltzed into more and more swift strikes. Each pass of steel against steel drew him back. Then she twisted her blade, causing the greatsword to fall to the ground. Unfaltering, she grasped the hilt and tossed it aside. Another moment, and her gentle bladework led Endsworn to Fiore's neck. It proved her prowess, if not her intrinsic connection to the enchanted steel.
"Do you yield, Gwidon Fiore?"
Her dear friend gave a hapless smile, raising his hands in a gesture of surrender. The blade pressed closer to the skin with his movement, a careful balance between leaving his skin hale and drawing a fine line of blood. "By your blade, my Queen."
Lore allowed Endsworn to fall to her side, ignoring the burning gazes and putrid whisperings that burned her as she flipped the ancient steel in hand. "Then it is done." Smoothly as the dance she had just endured, Lore raised her sword to the sky. It shone, unmarred and unfettered. A perfect blade for a battle from which she would bear no scars, no bruises and no aches. A battle that ended with tentative ease, neither party facing serious injury as the match ended with one decisive strike.
Fiore grinned, the skin around his warm brown eyes crinkling with elated glee. He bowed at her side, acting as though a presenter on a stage. "And there you have it! Our victor, Queen Bonaventura!" Much teasing adoration seeped into his words.
Smiling thinly, Lore sheathed her bloodless blade at her hip.
"Now that the exhibition is done and over with, it is time for the ball to begin in earnest. I wish that all guests enjoy," there was something faintly vicious to her words, an almost unrecognizable viciousness, "what gifts Breacia has provided for the event. May this year be as remarkable as the last."
Moonlight Palace's doors yawned, open and daring. The scent of flowers and fresh delicacies suffused the air, elegant music lingering longingly through the air. Lore sat on the throne of Breacia as she watched and waited. Even as the music played and the feast began, the ball had not truly begun in earnest. After all, it could not until the benefactor was offered a dance.
The nobility dared not beg a dance from such a fearsome benefactor as her. Lore smiled. Just as she desired it.
クリエイターの想い 
Angela_Erdosy
Angela_Erdosy I missed updating due to being bedridden, but I managed to scrape this chapter out. For now, updates will be delayed. I'll update you on the situation as I figure things out.
As always, thank you dearly for reading. I appreciate the fact I can write something that people will actually read... even if you don't necessarily enjoy it. Whether or not you do enjoy it, I am gladdened by your presence and the fact you bothered to read at all. All the same, I sincerely hope you enjoyed this chapter.
If there are any misspells, please notify me. I blame them on the fact I'm so sick my hands are shaking like my grandma's.
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