The Dragon of Calamity retreated, but only for a time. Soldiers, with mundane skills and mundane combat expertise emerged from the fog to assess the damages and erect new fortifications, while the swordswoman’s aides rushed out to lead her to her quarters. When, or where, the monster would appear again was a mystery, and none truly saw the battle, through the valley’s dense fog.

            While she was preoccupied with the Dragon of Calamity, they had been fighting a war of their own. A battle against the fiends, winged subhumans and carrion-eaters that followed in the dragon’s wake, like flies.

            With a triumphant roar, the ordinary soldiers drove away the monsters, whose ranks lost cohesion, confused by their master’s disappearance. And, on that barren plain, ever swaddled in cold, pale fog, the tale of a hero was born.

 

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            “Your Highness!”

            “Thank goodness! You managed to chase that thing away!”

            “Bahahaha! See that?! The young lady’s genuine power can cut even dragons!”

            The swordswoman acknowledged three especially rowdy followers’ presence with a subtle nod in their direction, and headed to her tent, leaning on a maid for support.

            A red faced man who struggled to walk because of his mass, straining to keep his opulent travel attire intact. And older, mustached gentleman with fish-like eyes that stared emotionlessly even as the rest of his face smiled. And a graceful woman in green colored priestly robes, decorated with streaks of gold.

            “Hoooo-aaahhh… This young lady is too rude!”

            “Minister, it isn’t right to speak ill of the sick! The princess is doing her best!”

            “Hrmph! It troubles me greatly that I must run around in this garbage heap of a province! Even with that tainted blood, she must’ve learned basic courtesy!”

            “Oh, Minister, you can’t say that…”

            “What?! Who in the royal family, the family that comes from the Saint of White’s lineage, has black eyes and hair? Moreover, her witch-like intuition…”

            The portly minister and the priestess went back and forth, while the third watched on with an inscrutable expression. And, perhaps because they’d already gotten used to his bizarre gaze, the argument continued, until a sharp interjection, like a spearing javelin, cut through their disagreement at once.

            “Be silent, Guiraud. You have already committed lèse-majesté. I will let it go, but you must stop now.”

            “Urk!”

            “And you, Abbess Colette. The princess is, indeed, in good health.”

            “A-ah… That’s good to hear!”

            His name was Rollo, and he was a soldier, with 40 years of experience. Instead of blood power, a stranger thing dwelt in his body. An art of which he was the sole origin, that allowed peasants to fight knights and monsters. And for this achievement, once assassination attempts proved fruitless, he was awarded land and peerage, in the dark and barren land of recently conquered Nagan-Tal.

            “Still… It would appear Her Highness’ mission here is not to win, but to die.”

            The faint murmur of his observation died without leaving his lips. Rollo’s strange energy condensed and shot out as invisible threads, carrying the message into a crowd of common soldiery. And one figure in the rank and file sighed, nodding twice in response.

 

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            In a tent somewhat more luxurious than the others’, at the summit of a small hill, the swordswoman removed her armor with the help of her lady-in-waiting, and fell into her bed.

            “Shall I bring a light meal?”

            “…”

            “Please do have some chilled water, at least.”

            “Thanks.”

            The smaller, graceful noblewoman supported the cup as the princess took small gulps of unpalatable, lukewarm fluid. It was water from a jug, polluted to a sickly smooth texture with preservatives, medicinal extracts, and even table salt. A drink designed to aid in a knight’s recovery after battle.

            “Ugh. It’s refreshing.”

            “I apologize.”

            Uncomfortable silence enveloped the tent, as the princess’ attendant stashed away the cup and stood beside her bed, looking down at her charge piteously. Until the swordswoman blurted out a question that gnawed at her for the last few days.

            “W-why did you decide to follow me here? My sister could’ve offered you a much better station.”

            “I’m your attendant, Your Highness.”

            “Still… You know what father meant to do when he sent me here, don’t you?”

            “Whatever His Majesty intended, is for His Majesty to know. I’ll still be your attendant, even if he sends you across the Northern Sea.”

            “Pfft!”

            The swordswoman’s tension, and her worries, died down for a time. But in the back of her mind, the bewildering scene of her fight with the dragon was alive and well. An incomprehensible thing, that, even as they laughed together, showed as a distant look on her face that the lady-in-waiting couldn’t help but pick up on.

            “Your Highness, if I may ask-“

            “Scary. It was really terrifying.”

            “Listen to my question first, Marielle!”

            “Ugh. Alright.”

            “Ahem. Your Highness, how was the battle?”

            “Eh… I was toyed with, but it became disinterested and left.”

            “No way! Is that even possible?!”

            “I might have large reserves of blood power, but it was faster, and its hits were too heavy. Moreover, it has really dreadful reach.  I mean, I couldn’t see what it was doing with one of its arms because of the fog, so I could barely react!”

            “Oh…”

            “I’m scared. I’m really afraid of what will happen next time we meet, Annie.”

            “Can’t you ask Baronet Rollo to come with?”

            “I can’t. In any case, that man… He’s too suspicious, so please avoid contact with him unless you can’t help it.”

            “How so?”

            “He doesn’t have a warrior’s eyes. His are really like an animal.”

            “Just because of that?”

            “Please, trust me, Annie. That guy is bad news.”

            They continued to talk through the evening, and ate, before retiring for the night. But, as the sun set, and even as seasoned warriors dozed off at their guard posts, the princess couldn’t get a wink of sleep. Because a sense of pointlessness and doom gripped her, refusing to let go, ever since she met the dragon’s gaze.

            Such a thing couldn't be defeated by a human being. The mere fact that she was made to face it, even though the royal court already knew of its power, was clear cut confirmation. Further proof that she had been thrown to the dogs for the sake of a clean succession. Not even worthy of being removed from the picture via political marriage. She was used as a mere stopgap, no, food for the monsters. For the dreadful lizard she would have to face again, some day.

            When the sun first peeked over the horizon, alarm horns wailed, signaling her executioner's approach.