Chapter 2 – Part 6

“We’re going to fight.”

“Oh, to fight… wait, what?!”

Mail shot up from her bed, her instincts as a warrior moving her tired body automatically. She repeated what she’d just heard in disbelief.

“To fight? You’re going to fight?”

“Yes.”

“Why? With whom? Where? I mean, you just arrived in the Empire yesterday, and now you’re going to fight?”

A storm of confusion and questions swirled in her mind. Looking for answers, Mail turned her gaze away from Riela, who had reached near-mastery in the art of giving unhelpful answers, and instead sought out someone who might provide a clearer explanation. Of course, there weren’t many options.

“…Rose, can you please explain what’s going on?”

The explanation she received was as follows:

There was a young lady named Ormil Petten. She was from the Kingdom of Bainsha, located at the far eastern edge, and had never had any interaction with Belthier. She had arrived in the Empire a day before Riela and had been listed as a candidate in the Empress Selection.

Despite being the second daughter of a count, a relatively modest background, she was known for her striking beauty, standing out even among the competition—although Riela did not agree. Her eyes and hair were sky blue and deep blue, respectively.

And last night, at the banquet hall, she had picked a fight with Riela.

“Huh.”

Mail expressed her incredulity in a single syllable.

Riela was, objectively speaking—based on public opinion—a rare beauty. On top of that, she was born a royal. With her beauty and status combined, it wasn’t surprising that she would be seen as a formidable rival.

Of course, for that perception to hold true, the judges would have to completely disregard any need for ‘intelligence’ in the qualities of an empress. But strangers meeting for the first time wouldn’t know that, so Riela likely appeared to be quite a strong candidate.

If Ormil saw things that way, it made sense that she would consider Riela a rival and make a provocative statement at the banquet hall.

It was the first meeting of the competitors. Some minor skirmishes, a few verbal jabs, and a bit of glaring—it was all fairly natural.

That is, until Ormil Petten sent an invitation today under the guise of a dinner, which was actually a challenge to a duel.

‘This… this energy…!’

The energy of someone without a brain!

Mail immediately sensed something was off. Her well-developed instincts, sharpened from her time dealing with Riela, warned her that this was no ordinary situation.

The Empress Selection hadn’t even properly started yet. The candidates hadn’t all arrived, and the Emperor had yet to make an appearance.

Acting on her own and stirring up trouble like this before the official proceedings—this was something even the most foolish person wouldn’t do.

And let’s be clear: even fools have brains.

If Ormil Petten had really sent Riela an invitation with the intention of fighting, there was a high probability that she didn’t have a brain at all. It was astonishing. How could a person function without a brain?

“Princess, I stand corrected. How could I possibly miss a fight? You’re heading out right away, aren’t you?”

Mail, who had just been preparing to relax, sprang out of bed and grabbed her coat. The only thought running through her head now was one thing:

‘This is dangerous.’

If Riela were to go alone, there was no telling what might happen. Of course, she wouldn’t be entirely alone since Rose would be with her, but it was more accurate to consider Rose as a weapon rather than a companion.

If things went south, instead of stopping Riela, Rose might just follow her mistress’s orders and turn the opponent into someone who would never return. A terrifying human weapon. Having her along only increased the danger, making it impossible for Mail to back out.

“Let’s go, Princess.”

The warrior had been given a quest: Go to the place where a clash between brainless innocence and pure idiocy is about to occur and prevent the end of the world.

With a resolute expression, Mail took her place behind Riela’s right side. Rose stood on her left.

“Hmph, who does that oatmeal-looking girl think she is?”

Even as they headed off to a fight, Riela didn’t neglect her adornments, stepping out in full splendor. Her voice dripped with displeasure, clearly annoyed by the fact that someone had dared to challenge her.

As they made their way to Ormil Petten’s residence—she had summoned Riela there—Mail held onto a sliver of hope in her heart.

‘Maybe we misunderstood? Perhaps there was a communication error, and she really just wanted to have a meal?’

Nope.

The moment they arrived, Mail felt as though someone whispered in her ear, “Nope. No hope. Give it up.”

“Since you’re here, have a seat.”

When Riela’s group opened the door and walked in, Ormil didn’t even bother to stand up from her seat. She didn’t greet them, either. It was the attitude of someone addressing their inferiors. Mail felt a bit dizzy.

‘No brain!’

It was clear. In all her experience with crazy people, none of them had ever acted this way toward someone of higher status.

In accordance with the law, such behavior could be met with severe punishment, even the death penalty in extreme cases. Even someone with a broken mind would know to protect their own neck. But her?

“I said sit down, and get your maids to move to the corner. They don’t seem to understand where they belong.”

‘It seems she doesn’t even have a brain to hurt!’

Though she had just been demoted to a mere servant, Mail didn’t feel angry.

More accurately, she didn’t have the mental space to be angry. She was too overwhelmed by the shock and awe of encountering someone who might actually be a new breed of brainless human. Instead, it was Riela who flared up.

“Who do you think you are, ordering people around? There’s no one here beneath you.”

“What did you say…?”

“Bring more chairs. We’re short on them.”

Riela said this after sitting down in the chair that a maid had politely placed for her, her eyes wide in irritation. Mail, caught in a whirlwind of astonishment and disbelief from being in the presence of such a brainless creature, snapped back to reality.

‘Princess! You’re using words instead of resorting to pulling her hair!’

It was a remarkable feat.

As Riela had pointed out, there weren’t enough chairs in the room. There was a round table in the center with just one chair on either side. It seemed Ormil had deliberately removed the extras.

Ormil Petten sneered at the request for additional seating.

“In my room, lowly maids don’t get to sit.”

Mail nearly clapped at the absurdity. That was quite the nonsensical statement. Many maids who serve royalty up close are of noble birth themselves. This was true even if they were dressed in maid attire. If nobles were lowly, then Ormil herself was also lowly.

Riela surprisingly honed in on that point with precision.

“She’s the daughter of a duke, not lowly at all. Oh, was it based on rank? So, you should be the one standing, then. Give her your chair.”

Well, that settles it! Riela grinned triumphantly, pleased with her solution. She not only rebuffed her opponent’s words but launched two counterattacks in the process.

Your name isn’t Ormil; it’s Oatmeal. And you’re lower than the maid you just insulted.

Though it wasn’t exactly a planned remark, it hit the mark nonetheless. Ormil’s face twisted in fury, and her eyes twitched.

“How dare you…”

“Dare what? Hurry and give us the chair. You said lowly people can’t sit, so why are you sitting?”

“How dare you speak that way! Do you know what fate awaits you, daring to behave like that in front of the future Empress?”

Ormil spat the words out viciously. Although she was from a different country, Mail was curious about what gave her the audacity to behave this way toward a princess. It seemed Ormil was relying not on her current status but on her imagined future role. She smiled, her lips twisting cruelly.

“When that time comes, even if you crawl to me begging for forgiveness, it’ll be too late. If you want to live, you’d better start asking for my mercy now. I might still be willing to forgive your rudeness.”

In that moment, Mail couldn’t help but marvel at Ormil’s sheer nerve. Regardless of future titles, wasn’t she afraid of Rose standing right there? Rose’s muscles were practically twitching with tension. A single punch from her and Ormil could be dead before the Empress Selection even began. Becoming Empress posthumously wouldn’t earn her any recognition.

‘Such courage. Maybe she traded her brain for that.’

It seemed she had made a poor trade. While Mail was lost in these thoughts, Riela raised her voice.

“You bow down! And who told you you’d be Empress? Do you really think the Emperor would ever even look at you?”

“That’s for you to say! I’ve already seen the future. It’s decided that I will be the Empress!”

“It’s my future!”

“It’s *my* future!”

‘What about the Empire’s future?’

TL NOTE: More advanced chapter of this story is already up to the site. Visit dusk blossoms for more advanced chapters and stories