If You Win, Your Prize Is The Princess

The next morning, Sylia awoke to the sound of knocking on her door. There was still some lingering pain but she felt good enough that she slowly climbed out of bed and answered it.

“Who is it?” she asked through the door.

A man’s voice replies,

“It’s the manager of the inn. I’ve come to tell you there’s a messenger from the royal castle here to see you.”

Please come to the lobby when you are ready. Sylia could hear the man’s footsteps as he left.

“From the royal castle?” Sylia asked herself.

She thought it was about the grand prize for the competition. It was already confirmed that the royal family was the one organizing the tournament.

And on a different note, she thought it was early morning, but judging from the brightness of the sunlight beaming through the window and how high up in the sky the sun itself was, she supposed it was noon now. It seemed she’d slept longer than she expected.

“Maybe I should hurry up,” Sylia thought.

As she considered the possibility that the messenger had been waiting long, Syria suddenly started making herself presentable. Everyone knew it wasn’t good to give a bad first impression.

She had little luggage, to begin with. Lugging around large cargo is conspicuous and makes mercenaries easy targets. It’s standard practice to procure as much as you can locally so that you can move on a moment’s notice. That’s why it didn’t take her much time to prepare herself.

With her sword in her hand and a bag in the other, she left the room. Besides, if she gets the prize money, she’d want to stay at a slightly better inn for a few days, so she’s acting with the expectation she wouldn’t be back here later today.

The inn was a two-story building, if you went down the stairs from the second floor where Sylia was staying, you’d find yourself right in the lobby. There, a man who seemed to be the messenger was sitting on a simple sofa for visitors and guests.

Perhaps the innkeeper told him that Sylia was already coming, as he stood up and greeted her as soon as he noticed her coming down the stairs.

“I am from the royal castle, my name is Kranz,” he said. “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“………”

Sylia found herself in a rare state, staring open-mouthed. As the messenger approached, he requested a handshake and she obliged him, stunned, but she still couldn’t believe it.

“Ehh, why?” Sylia asked.

“… Did you not expect this?” Kranz asked.

He was dressed in formal attire as aristocrats were wont to wear, but Sylia has a strong memory for past opponents.

“Yesterday, that knight…” she said. “That was you, wasn’t it?”

“I thought you wouldn’t recognize me with that armor and helmet on, but yes, I am him,” Kranz said.

Yes, he must have been the knight she fought at the tournament yesterday. Although he looks completely different, Sylia remembered how he acted and the aura he gave off.

“Eh, your injuries, how are,” Sylia started.

“The helmet prevented any permanent damage but, well, it still hurt,” Kranz said.

He tapped his head lightly as he spoke.

(That’s incredible,) Sylia thought.

Yes, he used a helmet to protect himself but the shock must have still been considerable. At the very least it wouldn’t be something you’d recover from in a day and a half. Yet this man stands before her perfectly composed as if nothing had happened. He was exceptionally resilient.

“So, um, what is it?” Sylia asked.

She was surprisingly bad at non-combat situations. And now that she’s caught off-guard by the scene before her, she’s even less on point.

(No way, is he coming for revenge…?) Sylia thought.

Kranz is before her, dressed up and carrying a sword. It doesn’t look like he’s going to come and abruptly seek payback for yesterday’s loss, but it’s too early to tell. Sylia shrinks into herself to expose as little of her as possible.

“You were unconscious yesterday, so I came here to try and invite you to the royal castle to accept your prize there,” Kranz said.

It seems that it’s ready to be claimed. He looked at Sylia, gestured, and said, “Please follow me.” and when Sylia obeyed, she found a carriage waiting outside.

“This will bring you to the royal castle,” Kranz said. “It’ll be a little bumpy, we ask you please bear with it.”

“Hah, haah…” Sylia muttered.

" "

She gets in as ordered. It’s a large carriage and with no one else but them inside, it’s too big. Sylia gets in and the knight from yesterday settles on the seats opposite her.

“Take us away,” Kranz said.

He said it through a small window facing outside, the carriage slowly started moving. Sylia couldn’t see what direction they’re traveling in but she can see the surroundings passing by through the windows.

The somewhat rough and lonely houses around the arena gradually become decent and splendid. Along with it, the carriage’s shaking begins to subside. It seems they’re now traveling on well-maintained roads.

(Something about this feels awkward…) Sylia thought.

The knight sitting across her doesn’t seem to care but this wasn’t very comfortable for Sylia. Above all else, she was the one who beat him down yesterday. He doesn’t seem to intend to start trouble over it but Sylia can’t read the feelings of other people.

“Anyway…” Kranz starts.

Sylia hears him over her frustrated thoughts. Of course, Kranz was right in front of her.

“Before the fight yesterday, I thought you’re rather petite, aren’t you?”

“Yes, well,” Sylia started.

She grimaced at suddenly being reminded of her physical condition. She wasn’t hoping to become a glamorous woman but she’s not happy to be reminded that she’s poor.

“Forgive me my rudeness, but do you mind if I ask you your age?” Kranz asked.

“I’ll be 15 years old this year,” Sylia replied.

“Ohh…?” Kranz said.

He seemed a little surprised and impressed.

“Such strength at that age. Furthermore, being a freelancing mercenary is a considerable talent in itself, isn’t it?”

“… What about it?” Sylia asked.

He didn’t know Sylia. She had seen and been to many different places as she had fought various opponents, sometimes ones stronger than her. She couldn’t just nod her head when she was told she had similar capabilities to them.

“We’ve only fought once, but if you like, may I ask you about your background?”

“It’s fine, but…” Sylia started.

She would speak about it, but she started by saying that nothing about her past was going to be fun. She didn’t know when they would arrive at the royal castle, so she figured it would be easier to talk with this knight than ride in silence.