“You are… from the Cavalier Kingdom…”
The last rays of the setting sun cast a warm golden glow over the exquisitely crafted, silvery heavy armor.
The pronounced curves of the armor outlined a stunning silhouette, voluptuous and wild—a stark contrast to the Valoran Kingdom’s mainstream preference for “flat-chested lolis”—yet at this moment, it was filled with a reassuring, untamed beauty.
A few loose strands of hair, damp with sweat, clung to the side of her forehead.
On that heroic face, a few streaks of blood had yet to dry. Far from diminishing her charm, they only added to her valiant, Battlefield Valkyrie-like presence.
When the Order of the Knight Princess’s gaze met Wendy’s still-shaken, peach-blossom eyes, a fleeting hint of unease flashed through her emerald star-like pupils.
She instinctively straightened her back, as if to cover something up with a more authoritative posture.
Her voice, too, quickly shifted from ragged breaths to the calm and capable tone unique to a battlefield commander.
“…Prince Wendy Black?”
“Uh…” Wendy’s mind was still buzzing.
He couldn’t help but look up at the young woman before him—the First Princess of the Valoran Kingdom, Astreia.
The very same woman who, in Witch’s Conquest, drew the Demonic Sword and ultimately succumbed to darkness as the Witch—and also… his “fiancée,” in a certain sense.
She was also the childhood playmate he had met at noble banquets when they were little.
“It’s me… Long time no see, Princess Astreia.”
Wendy blinked, a few droplets of blood still hanging from his lashes, lending him a fragile, shattered beauty.
Astreia’s gaze swept over the orc corpses strewn about, then fell back onto Wendy. She spoke urgently:
“They say the Cavalier Kingdom possesses a legendary Holy Sword—[Sword of Glory and Ruin, Bamruke]?”
“Only those of royal blood who have made a contract with the Holy Sword can awaken its power, isn’t that right?”
Here it comes!
So she really is after that damned thing!
Alarm bells exploded in Wendy’s mind.
Holy Sword?
What a load of crap!
That was the Demonic King’s cage—a source of all corruption!
If Astreia draws the Demonic Sword…
Unbidden, those CG cutscenes flashed through Wendy’s mind again—along with even more exaggerated images…
“Ahem!”
He suddenly coughed, forcibly cutting off his wild thoughts.
No way!
He absolutely couldn’t let Astreia draw the sword!
Otherwise, he really would go from “the prince who gives everything away” to “the puppet princess’s consort”!
Survival instinct forced Wendy’s mind to race.
He’d studied this First Princess’s character countless times in the game.
Steadfast in chivalry, loyal and courageous, with an overwhelming sense of duty to her people.
But because of that, Astreia could be… rather stubborn.
Once she set her mind on something, it was almost impossible to change it.
Especially now—with the orcs invading, the Cavalier Kingdom fallen, and the Valoran Kingdom on the brink—she would not let go of any hope, however slim, that could save her nation or drive back the enemy.
The legend of the Holy Sword, to her, was undoubtedly a ray of hope in the darkness.
Just tell her the Holy Sword is actually a Demonic Sword?
Would she believe it?
Who would believe the ravings of a defeated, ornamental prince?
She’d probably just cut him down on the spot for demoralizing the troops…
He had to find another way.
Wendy shot a quick glance at Astreia.
Though the princess was trying hard to remain calm, her gaze always turned ever so slightly… unnatural when it landed on his face.
The game’s data hadn’t lied: this “Northern Lioness,” with a figure so at odds with the Valoran Kingdom’s “flat” standards, had faced no shortage of criticism since childhood.
Deep down, she was quite self-conscious—especially around attractive members of the opposite sex, she got especially nervous.
Perfect.
There was the breakthrough.
He had to completely change her first impression of him!
He could no longer be that “beautiful but useless” ornamental prince.
He had to show enough value to make Astreia believe that relying on him was far more dependable than putting her faith in that illusory Holy Sword!
In an instant, Wendy transformed from a terrified captive into an Oscar-winning actor.
He took a deep breath, forcing just the right amount of grief and despair onto his face. His bright peach-blossom eyes quickly filled with a layer of mist.
“Holy Sword…?” Wendy sounded as if he’d just heard the world’s cruelest joke, or was recalling some unbearable memory. His shoulders began to tremble.
“Princess Astreia… That’s nothing but… nothing but a lie made up to reassure the people!”
“There is no invincible Holy Sword!”
“If there were, then how could the Cavalier Kingdom have… have fallen to this point?!”
Wendy’s words grew more and more agitated, until they became a hysterical cry.
Combined with his current battered, bloodstained appearance, he truly looked like a heartbroken, destitute prince of a fallen nation.
“A lie?”
Astreia frowned slightly.
Her star-like eyes bore into Wendy, as if trying to discern the truth in his words.
The legend of the Holy Sword had circulated for centuries; it couldn’t be dismissed with a single sentence.
“Princess Astreia, relying on such an illusory legend is far too risky!”
Wendy steadied his breath, his gaze burning bright.
“I know you want to draw the Holy Sword to protect the kingdom… but you’ve seen the orcs’ strength yourself—cruel, bloodthirsty, and overwhelming in numbers.”
“What we need isn’t some unrealistic fantasy, but a real, effective strategy!”
This sudden shift in aura, this resolve born from desperation, startled Astreia.
“Strategy?”
“Yes. I have a way to deal a heavy blow to the orc main force, maybe even… reclaim our homeland!”
Wendy’s tone was firm, completely different from his earlier hysteria.
Though he knew nothing about military tactics, he had the Witch’s Conquest walkthrough!
He knew all the weaknesses in the orc encampments, the terrain that could be exploited, the character flaws of the orc commanders… all of it!
“I know you don’t believe me right now,” Wendy’s aura settled, his peach-blossom eyes seemingly able to see into her heart, “but you risked coming here, didn’t you? Isn’t that because you’re searching for a way to turn the tide?”
“Between an illusory legend, and me—a former prince of the Cavalier Kingdom who knows the orcs’ deployments and can offer you a winning strategy—which chance is greater?”
Astreia stared at Wendy for a long time, the tip of her spear slowly lowering.
The young prince before her, though ragged and covered in blood, had eyes that shone with astonishing clarity.
There was no more sorrow for a lost kingdom in them—only clear calculation and a fierce will to survive.
“What… do you want?”
She couldn’t help but take a step forward, the dazzling silver armor radiating a blinding pressure as she approached.
“Me?”
Wendy smiled—this time, not with despair, but with a hint of cunning.
“I just want shelter. A chance to live in peace.”
He lifted his face, meeting the Knight Princess’s eyes—she was half a head taller than him—and said, word by word:
“And you, Princess Astreia, need the orc intelligence in my head…”
“That’s fair, isn’t it?”
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