Even though the Princess and I were far apart, reading her notes felt as if we were having a conversation right in front of each other.
When was the last time I had exchanged personal letters with someone outside of official business? Most of the content was trivial—brief greetings or comments about the weather—but for some reason, looking at them made my chest feel strangely ticklish.
As I reached the end of the note, a particular passage caught my eye: it said she would use a "special means" to contact me from now on, as she couldn't have "Liz" constantly running back and forth with letters.
I didn't mind the method, but she could have at least told me what it was.
"Special means?"
When I muttered this aloud, noticing the addendum that I should "look forward to it," Sir Elizabeth, standing before me, nodded as if she understood.
"Ah. That likely refers to Her Highness's pet snowy owl. Its name is 'Snow.' An incredibly intelligent creature."
"I see."
Hearing a stoic knight specifically emphasize the owl's intelligence piqued my curiosity. While pigeons are common messengers throughout the Empire, I had never heard of a bird of prey delivering letters. It must have undergone specialized training.
[I will grant you a temporary grace period as my schedule is busy, but you must be ready to come running whenever I call. The sin of daring to throw an Imperial Princess's heart into such turmoil... you are still a long way from being forgiven.]
"Haha..."
The note, packed with more words than its small size suggested, concluded with a cute threat that now felt almost endearing. Is this how it feels to receive a "love letter"? We weren't quite at that stage yet, but it certainly felt that way.
While I was deeply pleased by this undeserved honor, I also felt a bit bittersweet. If only the Princess's behavior in person were even half as normal as the note she just sent.
"Have you finished reading? You may keep the note for yourself or dispose of it for security. If you have no need for it, give it here. I will ensure it is thoroughly destroyed."
"No, I'll keep it."
I folded the note carefully and tucked it into my breast pocket. After all, it was the first personal letter I had ever received from a woman. It felt like a waste to just throw it away.
"...Understood. However, please be exceptionally careful not to lose it. Though it is unofficial correspondence, you must treat it with the same gravity as a Class 1 classified document."
"Don't worry."
On one hand, I felt relieved that we had taken a first step toward a "normal" relationship. Since it was already too late to avoid her, it was only right for me to take responsibility as a man.
For the first time, I felt grateful to my family—who had practically discarded me by sending me to the front lines—for bequeathing me a lineage that wasn't entirely lowly. Though I might endure insults for "not knowing my place," at least my status wasn't so low that associating with the Princess would result in immediate execution.
Of course, the difficulty of my life from here on would be grueling. To overcome the vast gap in status, I might as well be preparing for a new war. Still, as long as I could somehow handle the Princess's perverted sexual preferences, everything else seemed minor.
Truly, in the worst-case scenario... if word got out that the "Precious Flower" of the Imperial Family was actually a pervert, who would be held responsible? Who would they think corrupted the innocent Princess?
Publicly, no one would believe the "Benevolent and Pure" Princess fell into dark pleasures of her own accord. They would assume someone influenced her. And the prime suspect to take the fall for all of it would be...
—Shiver!
'Me.'
The thought was so horrifying it made my skin crawl. Wiping the ominous thoughts from my mind, I spoke calmly to Sir Elizabeth, who was starting to look at me strangely.
"Forgive me, I had some things to consider. Let us return to business. Specifically, what kind of experience do you wish to gain from me?"
"Ah. That is..."
I began to seriously coordinate the training schedule and curriculum with Sir Elizabeth. However, during our conversation, I realized it would be a waste to have the Imperial Guardsmen here only for their own education.
"Sir Elizabeth. While combat experience is important, isn't the Imperial Guard unrivaled in the Empire regarding the mindset and technical skills of a knight?"
I spoke with a hint of flattery for a specific purpose, but the female knight before me simply nodded as if stating a fact.
"That is true. It is a gathering of those considered the most excellent individuals."
There was no arrogance in her voice, only the quiet pride of a true elite.
"Then, perhaps you could offer some instruction to my subordinates? Any method is fine—lectures or sparring."
"Hmm. We came to receive experience from you, Commander. Teaching the Black Lion Knights was not part of our instructions..."
True to her background in the rigid Imperial Guard, Sir Elizabeth agonized over the decision for a long time.
"I believe that much should be fine. If our efforts make another Knight Order more excellent, it leads to the strengthening of the Empire's overall defense."
A positive answer, finally. Honestly, I wondered if I was asking too much of a mere Decade Leader, but she seemed to have enough discretion as the commander of the dispatch unit.
"Thank you. A truly excellent decision."
"However, the knowledge we can share is limited. Please keep that in mind."
Even as a Decade Leader, Sir Elizabeth possessed a refined aura that suggested she could hold her own against my 1st Century Leader. The subordinates I saw earlier also looked exceptionally capable for rank-and-file knights. Having the Black Lion Knights, who were unrefined in many ways, be influenced by such people would be a great stimulus. It was a significant harvest.
A week had passed since I received the Princess's first note.
In that time, two letters had traveled between us, and I had grown somewhat accustomed to the white snowy owl that would suddenly fly through my window in the middle of the night.
The first reply I received was a scolding for writing too stiffly, like an official report. Yesterday's letter contained a minor complaint that my sentences weren't "elegant" enough. I had to wrack my brain to write replies that would satisfy the Princess, who always sent long-winded letters. Yet, it didn't feel unpleasant or like a chore.
Of course, it would have been wonderful if our secret exchange remained romantic and wholesome.
'Please, Princess...'
The problem was that "obscene and vulgar" content—so bold I feared to even describe it—took up nearly half of every letter. It felt like being harassed through text. The most "tame" sentence was at this level:
[Every time I think of a single scar on your face, my 'baby-room' trembles. Even now, as I write this, my lower half is moist...]
...Was that a sentence a sane person could write? I didn't even want to know what the mysterious term "baby-room" meant. The descriptions were all so unnecessarily vivid that my mental anguish was doubled. I had already begged her to restrain herself, but she didn't listen at all.
'If anything, it's gotten worse...'
At this point, I truly feared the moment we would meet in person. If she was like this with just a few lines of text, what would happen face-to-face? Before meeting her, I never dreamed an Imperial Princess could be such a degenerate.
"Hah!"
I pushed myself harder than usual in the private training ground, desperately trying to purify my polluted mind. This was the newly established physical conditioning hour I had added to the official schedule using my authority as Commander.
I had carved this time out by slightly reducing the unnecessarily long mana cultivation and "mental education" sessions. The old schedule had been incredibly inefficient. While mana cultivation is important, exceeding a certain amount of time just turns it into sitting around being lazy. And mental education? Why do knights who have already proven their loyalty through investiture need that?
Rather than wasting time on a decades-old manual, it was better to overhaul it. As my master said: what matters to a knight is strength and willpower. Furthermore, it is said that pure mana dwells in a strong body. Even for superhumans, consistent physical training is an absolute necessity.
Of course, there were voices of complaint regarding the sudden change, but everyone went quiet when I told them, "This is how I survived the battlefield."
Working out while listening to the lively conversations from the central training ground made for a fulfilling day.
"Stand straight, Sir Hassan! What is that posture? How did you even get knighted with movements like that?"
"Ack! I will correct it!"
"Is that the best your voice can do?!"
"My apologies! My apologies!"
It was heartening to see the awkwardness between the Imperial Guard and the Black Lion Knights fading. I was enjoying the peaceful afternoon when—
"Commander!"
A familiar, urgent voice called for me from outside. Realizing the urgency, I opened the door immediately to find my Vice-Commander, drenched in sweat and wearing tight training clothes.
Her skin peeked through the damp, semi-transparent fabric. The pair of large peaks, suppressed by tight training underwear but impossible to fully hide, created an admirable valley, and her solid "11-line" abs were truly spectacu—
'No, stop.'
I had to try my absolute best not to notice the provocative sight or the fragrant scent of her sweat. Come to think of it, I was also shirtless, and her eyes were trembling as they fixed on my upper body, creating an incredibly awkward situation for both of us. My body wasn't weak, but with so many scars, it must be unpleasant to look at. I felt bad for her.
—Gulp!
I could hear her swallow hard, perhaps because she was thirsty from running, but that wasn't the important thing.
"What is it, Vice-Commander?"
"Huff... Ah! It's an emergency. We just received an emergency request for support from the 2nd Century deployed to the Bartok territory."
Instead of the mission completion report I had been waiting for, it was a request for support. And an "emergency" one at that. Something had gone very, very wrong.