She had talent with the sword.
She realized that fact when she was ten years old.
While she was doing chores as usual, her half-brother approached and tossed her a wooden sword.
"Hey, let's play at dueling. You're half a noble too, so you should at least know how to handle a sword, right?"
It was nonsense.
He was an older brother who went around calling her lowborn every day, refusing to acknowledge that they even shared the same blood.
She'd never once handled a sword—she'd never even sat at the same table with him—so a sudden duel game made no sense.
It was obvious bullying, but Felicia had no right to refuse.
"I'm attacking first! Try to block it!"
With his excited shout, the one-sided torment began.
He would feint as if to strike, then the moment her stance wavered even slightly, the wooden sword came flying.
Every time it struck her thigh or shoulder, a scream burst out from the searing pain.
To avoid the pain, Felicia had no choice but to struggle desperately.
And then, something unexpected happened.
"I can see it."
Strangely enough, the wooden sword flying toward her was perfectly visible.
More precisely, she could grasp the movements of his muscles and feet as if they were right in her hands.
Before long, Felicia was knocking aside every single strike that came at her.
She even slipped in counterattacks through the occasional gaps she spotted.
"S-s-stop! Stop it! Aagh!"
Her brother, who had trained with the sword for several years, was soon completely overwhelmed by Felicia.
And when he finally came to his senses, he realized that their father was watching the scene.
Her heart began to pound at the talent she herself hadn't known she possessed.
She even dared to hope that her father might praise her.
That hope was soon shattered to pieces.
"Damn it. A woman whose very birth is a stain goes and steals even the talent meant to pass from my blood to my son. There's not a single thing about you that I like."
"M-My lord! It's a talent bestowed by the heavens!"
"So what do you want me to do about it? What use is talent in a worthless girl who can't even put it to use? I don't even want to look at her—send her to help out in the stables!"
"My lord!"
It felt as if her world were collapsing.
Her father had been overjoyed by the paltry, grain-sized talent of the son lying at her feet.
Yet no matter how great Felicia's talent was, he spared it not even a glance.
On the day even her last shred of hope vanished, Felicia wept until her eyes were swollen.
But no matter how wronged and sorrowful she felt, she never let go of the wooden sword.
The sensation of moving freely, exactly as she wished, was intoxicating.
When she swung the wooden sword, it felt as though she were in another world altogether.
Her brothers and the retainers under them mocked Felicia for it.
No matter how skilled you are with a sword, they sneered, you're destined to die serving others.
It was an insult steeped in jealousy and inferiority—but it wasn't wrong.
"I'm nothing more than a mere maid."
Who would ever acknowledge Felicia as a swordsman when she was neither a noble nor even a man?
A talent that could overturn the heavens in a man's hands was worth less than a piece of rotten fruit in a maid's.
So she soothed herself by telling herself it was nothing more than a maid's hobby.
That she did it because she liked it, and therefore had nothing to resent.
"I don't know what it is that you saw, my lord, but all I see is a swordsman blessed by the gods. An unparalleled genius swordsman, shackled by status and gender, unable even to breathe freely despite possessing the potential to cleave the sky and part the seas."
The dam holding back her heart burst at those words.
Yes—everything until now had been a lie.
She didn't want to live and die as a maid. She wanted to become a knight.
She wanted to swing her sword on the battlefield and carve the name Felicia into everyone's memory.
She wanted to tell the world that she was right here.
She had only given up because she believed all of it to be impossible.
"Right now, there will be many who don't understand you, just as your father didn't. They may sneer behind your back, saying you've done something foolish. But that ridicule will one day turn into praise. They'll say that Lucian Valdeck was the one who discovered the next Sword Saint, nearly buried by history."
The man standing before her was speaking of that abandoned dream.
That she could leave her name behind.
That she could even aim for the seat of the next Sword Saint.
It sounded like a dream.
Honestly, she still couldn't fully believe it.
But regardless of Felicia's doubts, the man was sincere.
The tears that began to spill at the faith she was receiving for the first time would not stop.
"If I really can become a knight…"
She had never once thought about choosing someone to whom she would pledge her loyalty.
In the first place, she couldn't even become a knight—so how could there be anyone to choose?
But if by some miracle, truly by some miracle, she could become a knight…
"I want to swear my loyalty to this man."
***
"You're still all smooth talk."
The Grand Duke cut off Lucian's words with a cold expression, as if anything not proven directly held no value.
"I'll watch and see. What kind of results your decision brings about."
With a sharp motion, Grand Duke Sigmund turned his back.
Yet at the very moment he did, Lucian saw it clearly.
The corner of his lips twitched ever so slightly.
"Honestly, you really are terrible at being honest."
He could have simply said that his third son was treating them this well, but instead he deliberately struck Lucian down first, only to have Lucian raise him back up himself.
It must have been the Grand Duke's own brand of staging.
Your master knows the worth you fools fail to recognize.
So be grateful for the good fortune of having met a good lord, and give him your loyalty.
It was a roundabout way of doing things, but it wasn't bad.
Thanks to that, Lucian was able to reveal his sincerity to everyone else.
"Thank you, Father."
Lucian bowed his head slightly toward the Grand Duke's back, sincerity in the gesture.
No matter how cold he tried to appear, Lucian could feel the consideration that had seeped into him all the same.
"Heh heh, not only the Third Young Master, but Your Highness has come as well."
At that moment, Aizen's voice rang out from deeper inside the training grounds.
They hadn't even turned the corner yet, but it seemed he had sensed their presence.
"This is no ordinary matter—recommending a disciple to the Sword Saint, after all. Even setting aside my role as head of the Valdeck family, I couldn't suppress my curiosity as a knight."
"A disciple, you say. The Third Young Master certainly did say something along those lines, but…"
Aizen stroked his beard, his expression peculiar.
He still seemed half in doubt of Lucian's words.
Lucian stepped forward and presented Felicia directly before Aizen.
"Sir Aizen, I've come to keep my promise. This is the person I told you about."
"Hm."
Aizen's gaze settled on Felicia.
Under the eyes of the Sword Saint, Felicia stiffened and offered a formal bow.
"My name is Felicia. To the Sword Saint—"
"That's enough."
"Pardon?"
"I don't need your name. I'm not curious. Come—pick up the wooden sword."
Aizen stabbed the wooden sword into the floor of the training grounds with a sharp thud and jerked his chin.
After hesitating for a moment, Felicia stepped forward toward where the wooden sword had been planted.
It was embedded so deeply that the wooden sword had sunk nearly two handspans into the stone floor.
When Felicia put strength into her arms and pulled it free, Aizen's brow furrowed.
"Where did you learn such crude mana control?"
"Y-Yes?"
"Mana. You don't even have the basics down. Who was your master?"
Faced with the disappointment and rebuke in his voice, Felicia didn't know what to do.
But unable to endure his cold gaze, she soon stammered out an answer.
"I… I don't have one."
"What?"
"I don't have a master. I just… watched others and roughly copied what they did…"
"No one taught you, yet you learned circulation on your own and even how to use mana? Do you think that makes any sense?"
"What is circulation?"
At Felicia's question, this time the Sword Saint was left speechless.
She could use mana, yet she didn't even know what circulation was?
"It refers to the process of spreading mana throughout the entire body and then drawing it back in."
"I-I'm not sure about that. I've never seen anyone do it…"
"Hah! This just keeps getting more absurd. Then try copying this as well!"
Aizen's face twisted sharply as he stood completely still.
The others tilted their heads, unable to understand the Sword Saint's behavior.
He wasn't doing anything at all—what was she supposed to copy?
But after glancing at Aizen once, Felicia answered awkwardly,
"L-like this, you mean?"
"…!"
Aizen's eyes flew wide open.
To everyone else, nothing seemed to have changed, but there was unmistakably some kind of silent exchange between the two.
"C-can you copy this as well?"
After a brief pause, Aizen spoke in a trembling voice.
Once again, no visible change could be seen—but Felicia alone nodded.
"Is this what you did?"
"H-Heh… hahaha!"
Aizen let out a hollow laugh, and the light in his eyes changed.
Where before he had looked at her as one might look at a stone by the roadside, now his gaze was that of someone appraising the purity of gold.
"Pick up the wooden sword! Now!"
"Pardon—ngh!"
Clang!
Startled by the sudden shout, Felicia reflexively grabbed the wooden sword.
It was because Aizen had rushed in all at once and swung his own wooden sword.
As Felicia reacted just in time, Aizen followed up with a relentless series of strikes.
Clack-clack-clack-clack!
The sharp clatter of wood striking wood rang loudly through the training grounds.
Lucian and the other onlookers stared blankly at the scene.
Whether he was adjusting himself to Felicia or not, the speed was ordinary—but the sheer brilliance of his technique more than made up for it.
The neck and thigh, below the knee and the groin, from the ankle up to the pelvis.
Even a seasoned knight would have lost sight of those strikes in an instant.
Yet Felicia was catching and batting aside every single one of them.
"Can you handle this as well?!"
Boom!
"Ugh!"
A groan escaped Felicia as she received Aizen's blow.
The force of the impact, enhanced by mana, seemed to exceed what could be met head-on.
Gritting her teeth, Felicia immediately changed her movement.
Boom—skreeeek!
"Hoh!"
An exclamation slipped from Grand Duke Sigmund, who was watching.
By extending the wooden sword forward ahead of the point of impact, she minimized the shock, then let it slide off at the very moment they collided.
It was easy enough to explain in words, but a difficult technique to execute while a wooden sword was flying at you in real time.
The instant Felicia found a countermeasure, Aizen's swordplay changed once more.
Faced with the dazzlingly shifting movements, Felicia panicked—but somehow managed to keep up.
Three minutes passed like that.
"Hah… hah…"
Parched breaths leaked from Felicia's mouth.
Her body was trembling, as if her muscles were already pushed beyond their limits.
Yet even so, seeing her prepare to respond to yet another attack, Aizen finally stopped.
After standing still until her breathing settled, Aizen turned his gaze toward Grand Duke Sigmund.
"Your Highness, what did you think?"
"Why ask me? This is the moment for the Sword Saint to decide his disciple."
"I've already reached my conclusion. I'm merely curious how it appeared to Your Highness."
"Hm."
The Grand Duke stroked his chin as if pondering, then replied.
"I've only used it twice in actual combat."
"Twice?"
"The technique that child just used. Bringing the sword forward ahead of where the opponent is aiming, then letting it slide off. In theory, it's simple enough, is it not?"
When swinging a sword, anyone naturally aims for the point where they can put the most force into it.
The moment you intercept the blade ahead of that point, its power inevitably drops.
It was a simple principle—one that anyone who'd even done a bit of fighting, let alone swordplay, would understand.
"But doing it in real combat is exceedingly difficult. Fail to block, and you're practically offering your body to the enemy's blade. Even if you do block, one small mistake and you lose a finger. I still have a scar on my fingers from my second attempt."
"A wooden sword isn't sharp like a real blade."
"Instead, wouldn't your finger bones be shattered? For someone without the means or money for treatment—unlike me—that's a death sentence. You'd have to give up the sword entirely."
Yet Felicia had attempted it without hesitation—and succeeded.
And each time the sword strikes changed, she devised and executed similar measures.
All while knowing that even in a spar, a single failed defense could leave her permanently crippled.
"On the battlefield, a decision made in less than a second decides whether you live or die. At the very least, in that regard, she's exceptional—perhaps not yet as a knight, but as a swordsman, she has astounding talent."
"You observed her well. I was impressed by that very point myself."
"Then now it's your turn to speak, Sir Aizen. What did the Sword Saint see?"
At the Grand Duke's question, Aizen's gaze shifted to Felicia.
Felicia wore a dazed expression, as if she hadn't even realized she was being praised.
"I have one question for you."
"Y-Yes… I'll listen carefully."
"Can you see mana?"
After hesitating for a moment, Felicia nodded and answered.
"If you mean the bluish energy used when swinging a sword… then yes, I can see it."
"Heh heh heh."
A laugh of complete transcendence escaped from Aizen's lips.
It was a laugh as though he were casting off a resentment that had weighed on him for many long years.
After gazing up at the sky for a moment, Aizen then dropped to one knee before Lucian.
"Third Young Master, please forgive this old man for ever doubting you, even for a moment."
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