Losa was about to refuse when a hand gently tugged at his arm.
"Captain, this is my battle."
In Viviana's hand, a candlestick lit up. Her other fair hand reached into the flames, and with a clink, drew a double-bladed knight's sword nearly a meter long: "Let me handle it myself."
She was quite familiar with Ruprecht's gaze, reminiscent of challengers who had once been forced to accept the script of a "loser," like her colleagues in the Rose Knight Order.
They believed that her skills were merely a fluke of talent, privileged upbringing, and the Emperor's favor, cobbled together like a fancy vase more ornamental than useful.
As if with these conditions, anyone could piece together a Sword Master.
Losa hesitated; Viviana's current strength compared to her peak was far too inferior, not to mention Ruprecht had twenty more years of experience; even at her prime, she might not be his match.
Lavinia whispered, "Losa, let me make up for the power Anna is missing."
