I was utterly aghast.

I was a princess, for goodness sake! 

I did not duel knights! Certainly no more than I duelled adventurers in my orchard! It was an event which never occurred, and should anyone have seen anything to the contrary, then they were due a meeting with me in a darkened corner of the Royal Villa with a tearful violinist playing ominously in the backdrop! 

Suffice to say, the sight of the knight before me brandishing his blade while leaping towards me was against all protocol. 

As he pushed off the earth, the grass beneath him remained unspoiled and untouched, even from the caress of his tall cloak as it billowed behind his agile form.

Frankly, I couldn’t recall a single similar incident happening. 

And while suffering countless faux pas was merely a daily rite of passage as a member of royalty, this was beyond even the level of presenting a gift which didn’t result in personal bankruptcy.

… This! This right here! This was the problem! 

Always, my mother would ask me why I refused to accept venturing out on some dull diplomatic mission outside my bedroom. A short carriage ride, she insisted, to tour the golden shores of Lissoine, the textiles workshops of the Summer Kingdoms or the burning fields of Weinstadt embroiled in civil war.

Well, this was the issue right here! 

How could I possibly go so far afield when the knights of other realms were so lacking in propriety that they’d attempt to stake me with a sword? Why, if I wished to perish without dignity, I’d consume her cooking!

Instead, here I was, outside my bedroom as desired. 

And my reward? 

To experience equal parts grief and exasperation as I witnessed a knight’s silver blade piercing the air towards me, as if I was some ruffian in need of removal!

Ugh. The absolute indignity of it all. 

Who was next? The maids assailing me with trays the next time they came to wake me from my slumber? The chefs with their knives as I chastised them for attempting to purée carrots into a truite braisée d'escargots gratinés as though I’d never notice? Perhaps the chimney sweeps and the stable boy after I sneezed in their direction? Why, they may as well pick up their broomsticks and be done with it!

I let out a deep sigh, then focused on matters at hand.

There was an order to all things. The maids, the chefs and the chimney sweeps would come next. At this moment, I needed to defend myself against the leaping charge of an armoured knight. 

A ridiculous prospect.

To be struck down by a champion of chivalry was the absolute height of ignominy. Not only would I die, but so would my royal aura. Two deaths, and I could hardly afford one.

Why, the public disgrace would have me rise as an oathbound spirit in this knight’s place!

That’s why–

“... Absolutely not!!”

I, Juliette Contzen, 3rd Princess to the Kingdom of Tirea, refused to meet my end here!

Here, in the ruins of a fallen kingdom, surrounded by bergamot oranges of uncertain quality!

I drew Starlight Grace from my side. As the light from my sword flared against the setting dusk, its shine was no less than those of the embers simmering within the heart of that elven blade. It knew my strength, my resolve, and my complete lack of shame to use every underhanded method at my disposal to survive!

But even so– 

I had witnessed enough of knights sparring in my own courtyard to realise that I was unable to match the brutality of their strikes. A fact this oathbound spirit knew well. As his sword approached, his one act of chivalry was to offer the dignity of a single, sweeping strike, its decapitating edge rushing towards my neck with the grace of a butcher’s cleaver.

Starlight Grace shimmered in answer. 

But I knew even that was not enough.

I sucked in a deep breath. 

Because against an Emerald Knight whose techniques were honed through countless centuries of bloody victory, it was all I could do to clench my teeth against the painless strike to come, struggling as I sent my sword rising upwards …

Pwiing!

… Before effortlessly whacking the sweeping blade up with it!

Starlight on silver reverberated as a perfect A minor throughout the still air.

For a moment, a wide pair of eyes matched mine through the visor of a songbird helmet.

However!

Just as the elven knight’s sword had been sent up, so too did it come back down. 

Ignoring any odes to martial finesse and displays of swordsmanship, he brought the blade down with the savage ferocity of a giant elk trampling a fruit slime. As he did so, the embers in his sword lit up like the horizon peeking between the canopy of leaves.

“[Flamefall Descent]!”

I sucked in a deep breath … again!

Because against a knight whose ancient sword came crashing down like a barbarian swinging a warhammer, it was all I could do to clench my teeth against the probably not painless strike to come, struggling as I sent my sword to the side …

Pwiing!

 … Before effortlessly whacking the coming blade along with it!

For a moment, the knight almost seemed to stumble as the embers in his sword flickered and faltered.

However!

His movement continued unabated. Following the momentum of his turned blade with an elegant pirouette, he sent his burning sword towards any part of my torso with vicious disregard.

“[Solar Arc]!”

I sucked in a deep breath … yes, again!

Because against a knight whose speed of thought and dancing feet were trained with death as his partner, it was all I could do to clench my teeth against the most definitely not painless strike to come, struggling as I sent my sword to meet it …

Pwiing! 

… Before effortlessly whacking the coming blade to the side!

Immediately, the Emerald Knight leapt once again … and yet no silver blade, nor armour glimmering with my own reflection came to smother me.

No … because this time, the oathbound spirit leapt away from me. 

For a moment, he stood perfectly still, sword held at arm’s length as he maintained a significant distance. Then, he partially raised his helmet with his spare hand, not enough to pull it away, but enough to free his face.

The gaze upon me no longer paid heed to the hazy horizon or the shadows beneath the leaves.

His eyes were now solely on me.

“Sword princess,” he said, his tone grave. “What is your name?”

I blinked at him, looking between the tip of his outstretched sword and the one held by my side.

“... Juliette Contzen,” I replied, a moment longer than usual. “3rd Princess to the Kingdom of Tirea.”

The elven knight nodded. 

As I shifted but an inch, his sword followed me, the tension clear in his arms.

“Princess Juliette. I offer my apologies once more. It seems I performed a discourtesy beyond failing to address you with the correct title. I confess I did not take you to be a master swordswoman eclipsing even the elven blademasters of my time.”

Several seconds passed. 

Within the sudden quiet, all that answered the elven knight’s words was the sound of leaves rustling in the newly come breeze, the bluebirds trading whistles in low tones as they watched atop a broken bust, and the clear sound of chewing as Coppelia ate an orange while sitting atop the branches directly above me. 

For a moment, I could spy the shadowy mist dribbling from a black scythe readied upon her lap. A sight which joined the already considerable confusion I now felt. For if my loyal handmaiden saw cause to summon her weapon, then she also saw reason to use it.

However–

What stayed her hand … was doubtless the same thing as what I saw.

There was no doubting the elven knight’s intent. He meant to kill me. Cleanly, less cleanly, and then with utterly no thought to cleanliness at all. 

And I had just turned away all of his strikes. 

Even those empowered by the ember heart of his sword had been brushed aside.

I, a princess who had only watched the knights from afar, shuddering as I felt the strength of the blows they traded even in mock battles. And yet somehow, I had parried strikes from a knight whose years and acumen bettered all of them.

For a moment, all I could do was blink.

And then … I answered the elven knight with a nod as understanding slowly came to mind.

Indeed, I finally knew the truth of it, each blade turned away hardening the dawning realisation.

Why, this knight … 

He had become utterly, tragically enfeebled by the centuries!

His attacks … they were so … pitiful!

Striking with intent, yet with all the speed of a wounded slug shrivelling beneath the summer heat, he offered enough time for me to ensure there were no more errant strands of hair ruining my side profile from his reflective armour!

All at once, overwhelming condolence filled my famously kind and merciful soul.

An oathbound spirit, sworn to uphold his vows for all eternity!

… Well, no wonder! 

He needed all eternity to see his vows through! And even that may not be enough!

How … How cruel! To think that the flow of time had weakened him to such an extent! Even a lich couldn’t drain him as much as the passing of the seasons had!

Indeed, no matter how dedicated the soul, there was little he could do against the centuries of waning magic fuelling his existence. A vow may last forever, but even the spirit does not. 

Whatever anchored him within this fountain courtyard of oranges, it was clearly not enough! 

“Y-Yes … You’re quite right, of course … I am … I am indeed a … a master swordswoman …”

The elven knight nodded solemnly. 

All the while, tears threatened to paint the corner of my eyes as I bemoaned the injustice of such loyalty made mockery of.

Here was a knight sworn to duty, willing to stare upon the same bleak ruin while surrounded by … yes, they were most definitely not passable quality oranges. Ugh, the bitterness. I could smell it as Coppelia chewed like the wasted tea leaves they’d be paired with. 

And that only made his suffering all the more tragic!

The last knight. A true knight. 

And though he was not one of mine, there was nothing more important than loyalty to the Crown. 

Even when shackled to the bidding of a vagrant king worth less respect than the worms which flocked to his boots, this knight continued to honourably uphold his vows … even as his very spirit betrayed him, centuries after his body already had!

To remain steadfast in his duty, even as others would have left, deserted, or turned their colours …

I … I could not permit him to realise the truth of his weakness! 

Such a cruel fate was unworthy of such a fine knight!

“In my time, I’ve known sword princesses aplenty,” said the tragic knight. “Though they were deft and brave at heart, they were but warriors with finer titles. And like all others, they too fell. Never would I have expected that all these years later, I would meet a sword princess who would answer the call of expectation. One who can do justice to the dreams of young maidens as they read of noble heroines vanquishing all evil within their path.”

“Y-Yes … well … I … I too was certainly one of those … those young maidens dreaming of … vanquishing evil and … and lowering taxes for the poor … even though they should be crying with gratitude … while wiping snot from their noses to live under the care and auspices of their wise rulers …”

The knight paused for a moment.

A moment later, he displayed a small smile as he continued to follow the merest turn of my head with his sword with unyielding diligence.

“I see. Then allow me to wield that gratitude. Though I stand beneath a dying dusk, to see such colour as the radiance from your swordsmanship is more than my eyes could have hoped to witness.”

“N-No … I actually believe that to be, well, just my general radiance …”

“Indeed, I believed myself to have suffered. Yet though the years spent bound were torturous, I still possessed my memories of childhood, of comradeship, of dreams as comfort … one can only wonder how many years of your young life you have surrendered to a prison of discipline and training.”

“W-Well, certainly, my tutors are akin to wardens? They prowl every corner, stacks of vengeance in arm as they seek to press the knowledge physically upon my head …”

The knight nodded … though still never understanding the true scale of the adversity I’d endured.

Between the maids disturbing my afternoon naps and the strawberries on my shortcakes frequently scraping past the minimum guidelines on diameter, my hardships were innumerable and my comforts fleeting.

“An incredible sight. To think that even now, these long years of darkness built up like flotsam upon my soul can still be washed away by the tide of something so resplendent … and for this brightest of gifts, I would offer my own.”

His gaze hardening, the knight raised his sword high above his head.

Turning the angle of his blade, he caught a streak of dusk peeking between the leaves, inviting shimmers of light to coalesce around the keen length. The embers within grew brighter than any hearthfire, before flowing out to coat the entire length in unnatural, silken flames. 

“How many years has this now been … ?” he mused with a nostalgic smile. “I cannot recall the last time my fingers quivered at the thought of striking an opponent. And yet I find the sword in my grip heavier than it has ever been.”

Demonstrating such, his grip briefly released from his hilt, before clutching it anew as though it were a scorching brand.

“A weight I shall use,” he added, the flames upon his sword blazing to life like a phoenix reborn. Scarlet and violet, they interwove into a dance as beautiful as it was deadly. “... Lady of Twilight, heed my prayer. I stand as the messenger of your divine intent. May my blade serve as the guiding lantern, parting the veils between shadows and light.”

He took a single step forwards. 

The moment he did … the grass beneath him finally moved.

Bending as though swept by a powerful breeze, it was joined by a cloud of dust as the elven knight pushed off with both feet, driving towards me with a single leap. Flaming wings blared out from the sword held high above his head, carrying him forwards to the cry of some unseen creature of legend.

As he closed the distance, he hammered down with his scarlet and violet sword.

“Twilight Harbinger Form, 1st Stance ... [Horizon’s Judgement]!”

A full, arching attack as he sent his sword cleaving downwards with the motion of a lumberjack, followed by a trail of melting air as he moved to strike me in half like a piece of firewood.

In that moment, I saw a vision of what was to come. 

My fragile and delicate self torn gruesomely asunder, helpless against the overwhelming strength and fury of an attack which could cleave a mountain asunder …  

A horrifying prospect.

Why … if those flames struck a single blade of grass, this entire courtyard of orange trees would turn into a graveyard of ashes!

Just because they were well below my high standards didn’t mean they served no function! They were the only source of colour in a world of bleak ruin! Passable decoration amidst a backdrop of broken statues and crumbled stone claimed by moss and insects!

They may be worthless as bergamot tea, but they at least served as fruit to be tossed at those who missed a single high note during the course of an unremitting 9 hour theatre performance!

That’s why–

“My apologies, but I shall have to reject your gift.”

I stepped to the side of the visually impressive, but woefully dragging attack.

The elven knight’s eyes widened in shock, his gaze turning towards me only as his sword burned the air where I’d stood.

Ordinarily, I’d use this moment to rightly chastise him for the lack of qualifications required to redesign an interior garden. And perhaps gloat at his misfortune a bit. A little. A lot.

But for his adherence to loyalty, I would reward him where his long line of lieges had failed.

An end to his vow.

The greatest reward there was. After all, for his spirit to fade further into lethargy, until the indignity of a whimper was his last utterance was far too demeaning a thought.

I would offer a princess’s kindness.

A problem, then.

I couldn’t use my delicate gardening techniques. That’d just be insulting. Which was ordinarily what I wanted, yes. But in this rare circumstance, it was also a slight which was unwarranted.

Fortunately, I was more than talented … I was multi-talented! 

I didn’t know swordsmanship, but I knew showmanship!

Even without my formal training in the performance arts, I knew enough from seeing the displays of ruffians in my orchard, elves tripping over my ankle and the Background Trees of my kingdom to know what was broadly expected. 

And as the leading actress of this grand theatre I called my kingdom, I would not disappoint!

Thus, I offered the greatest prize as I swept around the elven knight’s flailing figure.

Yes … a chance to star opposite me.

Now, what would an acceptable name for a sword technique be, were I to name one in actual earnest … ?

It’d have to be somewhat mysterious, obviously regal in nature, but also … aha!

The answer came to me like a shortcake falling atop my head.

And thus, with a needless twirl–

I raised my sword, Starlight Grace burning brighter than any horizon as I took a deep breath.

“Witness the dancing stardust across the heavens, strewn by my sword as a comet's tail. Beneath the cascade of falling light, I offer you this stella requiem, woven amidst songs of endless dreams …”

I swept my sword towards the elven knight, even as he futilely dragged his own towards me.

“Celestial Starlight Form, 1st Stance … [A Blossoming Ballet, A Thousand Falling Stars].”

The moment I swung–all else seemed to darken.

Adhering to excellent timing, the last gasps of dusk melted away as nightfall took its place. And all that I saw was the brilliance of my sword as I struck against the Emerald Knight’s ancient armour.

For a moment, I blinked as my sword cleanly swept through his torso as easily as a drop of rain.

He neither fell, nor dissipated.

Uncertain if I’d harmed the oathbound spirit, and absolutely not panicking that I’d made up such a dramatic attack only for it to fail humiliatingly, I awkwardly brought my sword back and swung again.

And again. And again. And again. And again.

Each time, the brightly illuminated blade cleanly swept through his armour as I swung with so little technique that even I could feel the brashness of my movements.

And yet despite my earnest strikes, not a hint of damage could be seen.

Thoroughly not sweating in the knowledge that I was being judged by the elven knight, my loyal handmaiden and the bluebirds upon the statues, I pulled my sword back, ready to resort to using my delicate gardening techniques to instead punt the evidence away. 

It was at that moment–

That the elven knight turned his gaze to the sky. And then dropped his sword.

Clunk.

Making a noise despite it not crushing the grass beneath, the flames upon the blade evaporated, swept aside as though by a sudden gale. And as the embers in his sword died out, so did the vow which haunted his eyes.

For a moment, he merely stood still. A feature amidst the orange trees, silent and passive.

And then he calmly turned.

With clumsy, unwieldy footsteps, like an old man without his cane, he stumbled over to the fountain and sat, his cloak once again sliding gracefully across the water’s surface as he did so.

A cloak now frayed and broken, its fabric unravelling like a spilled yarn.

The helmet he wore cracked. As did his armour, its glossy surface coming apart like a common dress at the seams. And for the first time, I witnessed a true smile devoid of the weight of centuries upon his soul. 

He gazed calmly at me, then sighed.

“That was a terrible fight,” he admitted.

I offered a nod. 

If he didn’t wish for consolations, I wouldn’t provide it.

“It was through no fault of your own,” I said still, none-too-harshly. “Many centuries have passed since the Elven Kingdom last called upon your service.”

“Quite so. And how glad I am that this will no longer be asked of me. To be truthful, my vow was a regret I held long before the day I died. Though I have served many kings and queens, I believe that the particular brand of admiration we elves possess towards violence, folly and self-destruction make us especially unsuited to ruling.”

“That’s only to be expected. Though because not your rulers were elves. They simply weren’t me.”

The elven knight laughed. A sound as clear as the bluebirds as they took to flight.

“Perhaps. I would not know. I have never experienced serving under any other than elves.”

“Then be glad you won’t have to repeat the process with this vagrant king. Rejoice, for I acknowledge your honour. And upon this courtyard I call my own, I declare your vow fulfilled.”

I received a bemused smile. 

Even so, if he wished to argue the strength of my declaration against his elven vow, he chose not to. He offered a bow instead, as much as he could while his very being began to disintegrate upon the edge of the fountain.

Before he did, I had important questions to ask.

Namely, directions.

“Now, I expect there won’t be any issues with pointing me towards the local troublemaker?”

The elven knight raised a brow. For a moment, he almost looked indignant.

Yet after a moment, he nodded towards an archway conspicuously unbroken.

“The way to the tower spire. All the chamber and upper floors he has claimed as his own solar. Though I warn you, Eucian of the Stars is not a foe to be trifled with. He wears the Crown of Sages. And it would not allow itself to be worn without recognising his power.”

I offered a smile in gratitude. 

But it wouldn’t be my only parting gift before I departed.

“... I do not know of this Hollow Vow you were named for. But it is an ill-fitting one for a knight who has upheld their obligations. I shall offer a more suitable one. And know that should the prospect of peace be too appalling, there is no shortage of ruffians who seek ever the treasures of my kingdom. At the very least, you will find no finer an orchard than in the Royal Villa. My farewells, Sir Carrius of the Orange Fountain.”

I swept past, choosing not to acknowledge the last image of a wide mouth gawking at me.

A moment later, Coppelia landed beside me from the tree branches. She swallowed the orange held in her mouth, then brought her hands together with stars shining in her eyes.

“That. Was. So. Coooool!!!”

She broke into applause. 

A highly garish noise echoing in the still air, offering little tact towards the elven knight still disintegrating behind us, even gracious in defeat as he was.

For a moment, my eyes only rolled in exasperation against the highly unnecessary plaudit towards my bout of theatre. After all, as elegant as I doubtless appeared, now was the time to be modest. To be delicate. To be graceful.

And then–

I swept my hair behind me, hand barely covering my smile as I accepted the praise instead. 

“Ohhohohohoohohohoho! Naturally, all I do is as exquisite as the swan dancing upon the lake! Against the overwhelming shine of my brilliance, even the blade of an ancient knight is but the flicker of a firefly perishing in the night!”

Somewhere behind me, I heard the sound of an oathbound spirit dying yet again.

A tragic soul to the end.

But in this play, he would leave with his head high. A feat few would ever boast.

The local jester, on the other hand?

Well … he was no mere extra, and so I’d offer a menu of endings to choose from. 

They were all bad.