Chapter 56: I Became a Swordsman in the Middle Ages

Demon King’s Army Subjugation (1)

“I am Duke Faust, Supreme Commander of the Northern Front.”

“Cecilia of the Windsor Knights.”

Upon arriving at the northern fortress of Winterhold, Cecilia met Duke Faust, lord of the region and Supreme Commander of the northern forces.

After a formal salute, Faust burst into a broad smile and energetically shook Cecilia’s hand.

“I’ve heard the rumors, but you’re even more beautiful in person! Our soldiers’ morale will be sky-high! Wahaha!”

He seemed to have a very cheerful personality.

Cecilia couldn’t keep up with his energy and simply stared at him with tired eyes, letting herself be shaken.

“Oh? And the ones behind you, are those reinforcements? To think I’d get to see so many from the Windsor Knights Order! What a lucky day, truly fortunate!”

Including Cecilia, the total count was 25.

Each knight was a high-value asset capable of turning the tide of war alone.

And yet here were 25 of them, from the undisputed strongest order, the Windsor Knights?

To a commanding officer, this was a dream force. Faust seemed ready to march on the Demon King’s Castle that very moment.

“Now, now, don’t just stand there everyone, go and get some rest. When the time comes, I’ll issue the summons. When that happens, all you need to do is swing your swords hard. Don’t worry about anything else. Just relax. Make yourselves at home.”

Cecilia narrowed her eyes.

‘A snake.’

That was the single word that summarized Duke Faust’s speech.

‘You don’t want to bother with tactics and planning, right? Just follow my lead.’

Under the pretense of being considerate, he was subtly trying to absorb command over the Windsor Knights’ operations.

It might’ve worked on other knights. Someone like Jerriway would’ve happily gone off to drink.

But Cecilia? Not a chance.

“The Windsor Knights follow only our own code. We’ll determine when and how we fight ourselves.”

“…Ho? So you’re not just some elegant Sword Princess?”

“Anything beyond that will be taken as an insult.”

‘Quite aggressive. Direct, too. But maybe… that makes her easier to handle.’

Faust smiled briefly, then assumed a more serious expression.

But it lasted only a moment—he soon returned to his ever-cheerful demeanor and spoke in an upbeat voice again.

“Haha, no need to get so worked up. There’s no denying how exceptional a knight you are. I read your record. It’s impressive. No matter how many pages I turned, your achievements just kept coming.”

Duke Faust slowly circled around Cecilia.

He looked just like a hyena eyeing its prey.

And in doing so, he subtly asserted his presence.

“But think carefully. I’m 122 years old this year. I've been rolling around on the battlefield for nearly a century. Doesn’t that mean I’m better suited for command than you?”

“No.”

“And your reasoning?”

Duke Faust halted.

A perfectly calculated either-or move.

If she pointed to martial prowess, it wouldn’t work, as he held the title of Sword Sovereign in the North.

And if she brought up tactics or strategy… well, his century of experience couldn’t be ignored either.

But if she gave a weak justification, it would open a much deeper question:

‘Does adherence to your code matter more than winning a war against demons?’

So it came down to one question: hand over command quietly, or become a traitor.

Faust mentally ran through every possible answer Cecilia might give, preparing counterarguments for each one.

Though she was a knight hailed as a once-in-a-century genius, she was still only 16.

She couldn’t possibly overcome a lifetime of experience.

This was a ruthless battle of wits, every word laced with layers of political implication.

At that tense moment—

Cecilia opened her mouth with her usual blank expression.

“Because I’m cuter.”

“……”

Faust turned to stone where he stood, unable to process the answer he’d never even imagined.

How’s that Cecilia taste?

Behind her, the Windsor Knights smirked.

There were even rumors that the notoriously fierce nobles of the royal capital would flee at the sight of Cecilia.

Because… she was impossible to reason with!

***

With cuteness alone, Cecilia had safely subdued the Supreme Commander of the North.

She set up a field camp for her expedition team.

Without any outside interference, she pitched tents and established a command post right near the Demon King’s Castle.

“Man, that was amazing back there.”

“Did you see that duke’s dumbstruck face?”

“Pwahaha! He looked like his wife just ran off.”

“That was a masterclass in debate. To throw out such an absurdly out-of-context line and end the whole thing with zero justification… terrifying.”

The Windsor knights gathered around the campfire, chatting gleefully about what had just happened.

‘Was it… really that amazing?’

Beatrice was deeply skeptical.

After all, Cecilia still sat there munching on her baguette with a blank, mindless look on her face, just like always.

‘It just seemed like she was bragging about being cute and pretty, like she usually does…’

Their eyes met, and Cecilia tilted her head with puffed-up cheeks full of bread.

‘…Okay, she is cute.’

“—Troll!”

“An ice troll!”

Just then, an uninvited guest showed up at the freshly finished camp.

‘Ice troll? That’s a species I haven’t seen in this region yet.’

Monster enthusiast Cecilia immediately stood up, ready to investigate.

But a knight walking past gently pushed her shoulder back down.

Cecilia plopped right back down on her log seat.

“C’mon now, finish your baguette. You’ve barely eaten a fistful in the past hour.”

The knight gripping a massive axe—so big it could’ve been forged from four normal ones—stepped forward.

“Stand aside! This Battlefield’s Storm—Herald—will handle this!”

Vwoooom—! KRAAANG!

The ice troll was obliterated in a gruesome manner within 3 seconds of its appearance.

Soldiers from Winterhold who’d been lingering nearby collapsed to the ground, trembling.

“Puhahaha! ‘Battlefield’s Storm’ my ass.”

“Like the Queen would ever grant such a childish title!”

“Wh-what? Is it that bad? Then how about ‘Red Axe’?”

“Look at Cecilia’s face. That’s a ‘you just ruined my bread’ face.”

That wasn’t it.

Her appetite wasn’t ruined.

‘My troll…’

She had been imagining all sorts of delightful things—

Would mixing troll blood into juice make a smoothie?

Trolls were tough, perfect for Beatrice to practice Flash Cuts on!

But that rotten old tank of a man ruined it all!

‘Stupid, rotting relic! Not even cute! Doesn’t even have hair!’

Though Herald did have a very impressive beard.

Cecilia, realizing that cursing his baldness internally was a bit much, offered a silent apology as she stood up.

“Lady Cecilia, your skirt—”

Beatrice freaked out and hurriedly unfolded Cecilia’s flipped-up skirt.

Unfortunately, Herald happened to see it from behind.

“……”

The expressions of the nearby knights immediately turned cold.

“I’ll go think about tactics for a bit. Rest while you can. No drinking.”

With a blank expression, Cecilia vanished from the scene.

And then—

“Did you see it?”

“N-No, she was wearing shorts, so I didn’t really—”

“So you did see it?”

“I guess so.”

“Looks like we’ll need a memory-wipe spell.”

Herald let out a deep sigh and looked up at the sky.

‘Mother… I’ll be seeing you soon…’

Roughly a dozen knights tackled Herald all at once.

***

While Herald was getting turned into a sandwich…

Cecilia returned to the command tent, sat atop a tall chair in front of the map, and swung her legs idly.

“My mission is… to kill the Demon King and then broker a ceasefire.”

In Cecilia’s calculation, this was the final mission before the game’s official launch preparations began.

If she could wrap up this crisis, the demon side would also need time to reorganize. A truce would be necessary for the time being.

‘The problem is, now that I’ve been assigned as Commander, if I kill the Demon King, the credit’s going to go to me.’

She considered killing him in secret and feigning ignorance—

The Demon King suddenly died? I don’t know why!

…But she couldn’t allow herself to be remembered as such an incompetent Sword Princess. That would hurt her chances of preparing properly for the game’s open launch. Preparation required a lot of authority.

‘Mmm. Playing dumb is just too risky.’

So how should she proceed?

Cecilia pondered deeply.

She needed a way to maintain her image as the Sword Princess, to kill the Demon King, and to negotiate a one-year ceasefire with the demon forces, all at the same time.

“Ah.”

A faint smile touched Cecilia’s lips.

She’d thought of a brilliant plan.

“Betty.”

“Y-yes?”

Beatrice was quickly dragged from the middle of a group of knights who were grilling and devouring wild boars.

Under the flickering lamplight in the tent, Cecilia whispered secretively.

“I’m going to step away for a bit.”

“You’re leaving camp?”

“Top-secret mission. And ease up on the barbecue. If you go over 50kg, you’re disqualified as a female knight.”

“T-that’s kind of an unfair standard! I’m 170 cm tall…”

‘I’ll make her run 50 laps around the capital once this is over.’

Cecilia was a kind senior who even worried about her subordinate’s weight management.

‘No, wait. That’s not the point right now.’

Anyway, Cecilia pulled out a ‘Halloween costume set’.

“……Where did that big box even come from?”

“Doraemon’s pocket.”

“……”

Beatrice knew better than to ask “What’s that?” at times like this.

“You can pretend to be me, right?”

“What?!”

“Shh.”

Cecilia covered Beatrice’s mouth and pulled her in close while glancing toward the back of the tent.

“Once those old men wake up, it’s hard to get them back to sleep. So let’s keep quiet.”

“…Okay.”

‘They’re all awake, though…’

Anyway, Beatrice whispered as loudly as she could:

“You want me to pretend to be you…? How am I supposed to do that?”

“You don’t even need to talk. Just tilt your head and nod now and then. I don’t talk much anyway.”

“Still…”

“It’s fine as long as the people from the North don’t find out. There’s no need to hide it from the Windsor knights. Honestly, it's impossible to fool them anyway.”

‘Our knights could tell it’s not me just by the sound of my footsteps.’

Because they often dealt with stealthy demons, the Windsor Order was trained to recognize each other’s presence intimately.

So hiding it from them was unrealistic. But openly admitting it would be risky.

Not to sound mean… but the knights’ ability to keep a secret was worth about one silver coin.

“Just let your peers know and get their help. The rest? Keep it a secret. They’ll just think I’m playing around and go along with it.”

“……”

As ridiculous as it sounded—it was true.

If Cecilia explicitly told them, “This is a secret, don’t tell anyone,” word would spread like wildfire. But if it seemed like one of her usual pranks, they’d all keep the act going just to play along.

“Mmm… This should do, right?”

Beatrice had put on a wig and makeup.

“Not quite as cute as me, but you’re still kind of cute.”

From an European model look to idol-center-tier beauty, Beatrice looked enough like Cecilia at a glance (her body looked suspiciously better). Cecilia’s disguise (makeup) skills were top-notch.

‘Pretty girls tend to look alike anyway.’

This only worked because Beatrice herself was a certified beauty.

“Hide your figure with a light-refraction spell. And when others are nearby, stay seated at all times.”

And the most important part—

Cecilia, looking very very bitter, held up a bandage roll.

“We need… to bind your chest.”

Cecilia was extremely offended, but it had to be done.

***

A man seated on the throne opened his glowing red eyes.

In the massive throne hall, he gazed down at the silver-haired girl who had boldly stepped in.

Crimson light flickered in his eyes as a deep, weighty voice echoed through the room.

“Last time we met…”

The air trembled just from the resonance of his voice alone.

Even the act of speaking carried an oppressive force—like the weight of existence itself.

“Didn’t you say… if we ever met again, you’d kill me?”

He leaned his cheek on his hand atop the throne with a nonchalant air, his crimson gaze sharpened.

“So… why have you come?”

But his tone wasn’t hostile—if anything, it brimmed with curiosity.

“Cecilia Windsor.”

Cain Baltazarion.

The number one ranked Duke of the Demon Realm.

A being known by the epithet The First Devil.

And the candidate Cecilia had personally marked as the next Demon King.

“Would you spare me a moment?”

Cecilia spoke in a languid tone, as if greeting an old acquaintance.

“It’s not a bad conversation, I promise.”

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