Fallen Queen (Mariposa Book 1)

by Y. R. Shin

  Paseid briskly looked around at the soldiers and knights lined up, and then at Reuyen and Denjak. “As requested by the person of merit, the evaluation will be based on single combat on horseback, and killing is not allowed.”

  The band waiting outside the fence grabbed their drumsticks.

  Bang. Bang. Bang.

  Across the empty ground, free of any obstacles or cover, the sound of drums echoed and rang in their hearts.

  “Begin. All those present will be witness.”

  With the conclusion of the drums, a suffocating tension covered the training ground.

  Denjak glared at the woman standing across from him. She wore light leather armor. She straightened her back and fixed her grip on the sword. Her relaxed, serene face and fearless eyes were enough to provoke him.

  But despite what she presented on the outside, Reuyen was quite nervous. The opposing knight was menacing enough that no one could even joke that he was kind. When was the last time she’d engaged in combat with a knight?

  Two hundred years ago.

  The twenty-two years she’d spent as the daughter of a horse dealer were far from diligent training. Even if she’d had a not-so-weak stamina from horseback riding or running various errands since she was a child, it was nothing compared to knights who spent their lives swinging swords. The only kind of training she had done was spending time with the local young men who wanted to become volunteer guards, and with Eivan, practicing sword fighting and archery.

  Reuyen was resolute to give all she had. At this point, it was irrevocable.

  Like the scenes from her past, myriad eyes were looking up at her in silence. Letting go of a short ecstasy, she focused all her attention on the point of the sword in Denjak’s hand. Denjak gazed at her staring at his sword, then charged without a warning.

  Sidan anxiously watched as his sister stared at the knight charging across the large ground with his sword pointed at her.

  “Reuyen!” Sidan shouted in fright.

  His shout broke the focus of the soldiers surrounding the fences and caused a commotion.

  Reuyen glanced at him for a split second, then tensed her thighs. Fuming ferociously, Den quickly realized her intentions and ran toward the edge of the fence.

  Denjak’s blade brushed her shoulder ever so slightly. It was an infinitely merciful move compared to his vigor, like he thought all he had to do was to knock her off the horse.

  Reuyen glanced at her left pauldron, now marked, and quickly turned her horse. The old sword in her hand flashed as she swung it to smack the left side of Denjak’s head. His scoff echoed across the silent ground.

  Denjak angled his sword to block and push away Reuyen’s with ease. But instead of pushing back, Reuyen’s sword changed its track like a stream of water, passing the back of his hand and down to his hip. The blade hit the thin metal armor and made a loud, screaming clang.

  Like the seasoned knight he was, Denjak kicked Den’s neck without hesitating.

  Neighhhh!

  Startled from the great shock on his bare neck, Den reared.

  “Whoaa!” Reuyen hastily pulled on the reins. While the excited Den shook his head, Denjak’s fierce blade flew from above at the left side of Reuyen’s head.

  She saw the shadow of the blade.

  Reuyen looked up at the sword swinging down with such formidable force. She had no intention of blocking every attack. She instinctively realized that she could not block this one.

  Anxious groans sounded from here and there.

  Unperturbed, Reuyen lowered her sword and pulled her foot out from the stirrup. Then, she completely leaned her body to Den’s right and hung closely on his side. Bang. Denjak’s sword swung through the air and dug into the left side of Den’s saddle.

  Denjak scowled at the woman’s nimble movement to dodge his attack. He was not the only surprised one.

  The eyes of the soldiers were as wide as a walnut shell as they watched the woman balancing on the side of a horse with one foot on the stirrup and one hand holding the harness.

  The same went for Sidan. Was that really his sister? This was a whole new level compared to when she was just beating up the local young men.

  Den started to jump up and down from the weight focused on one side of him and the shock of the sword digging into his thick saddle. Denjak stumbled and tightened his grip on the stuck sword, trying to pull it out.

  Not missing the opportunity, Reuyen used the opposite side of the harness as a handle and swung herself under Den. Without a moment’s delay, she stabbed her sword up toward Denjak. The reins Denjak held instantly split in two.

  When Denjak stepped aside at the sudden spring of a blade, Reuyen promptly leaped back onto Den’s saddle.

  Her movements were clean-cut. Without hesitation, she ran over to Denjak, who had stepped to take control over his horse after the reins got cut off, and raised her heavy sword. It plummeted down to the horse’s neck, not Denjak.

  Neigh!

  The scream of the horse stopped.

  Brown hair floated through the air. The short hairs drifting on the wind blocked the motionless knight’s view. Denjak’s surprised horse fumed excitedly.

  Reuyen bitterly watched the elegant mane, equable to a fine horse’s pride, floating down to the training ground floor. She calmly opened her mouth. “Is that not enough? If we were on a battlefield, your horse would have lost his head. The second you fell on the ground, I would have trampled you to death.”

  Denjak’s eyes flashed with anger as he looked down at the severed reins and the floating hair.

  “Damn…” Jacalrin cursed in awe, forgetting that Paseid was standing right next to him. Evinbur, the man in charge of chastising his relentless speech habits, was also flustered and kept his mouth shut.

  Denjak was a high-ranking knight with great experience. Even if he was indeed off guard because the opponent was a woman, he was unable to overpower an injured person, and lost. But they couldn’t blame him, either. This outcome was due to her unexpectedly exceptional movements, not his lack of skill. Everyone was surprised.

  Evinbur carefully opened his mouth. “Sir Calandok, it seems clear enough without Sir Ranu having to step in.”

  Paseid frowned. He had no retort to Evinbur’s statement. The woman was clearly extraordinary, and there was no need to continue the evaluation. Though Denjak had showed mercy in the beginning, considering that his opponent was a woman, he had an apparent desire to dominate. And yet, the result was this. This only added assurance to Paseid’s doubts that she was an ordinary woman.

  Paseid looked at the woman standing at a distance. Her reddish-brown hair, shining even brighter under the sunlight, naturally swayed with the wind. The light, mahogany-colored eyes flashing under it did not show any signs of joy for her victory, or contentment.

  They were serene, as if this was…customary.

  Teread, who was standing behind him, automatically clapped a few times as though awestruck, then lowered his hands at Paseid’s glance.

  “Step aside, Sir Deusak. Sir Ranu,” Paseid ordered.

  Glaring at the reins that were no longer useful, Denjak finally dismounted his horse and stormed out angrily. Sir Tabajen Ranu grabbed the horse’s mane to mount him.

  “Wait! Wait. Me, me, me! Me!” Jacalrin’s shout echoed over the audience’s suppressed excitement.

  Reuyen gazed at Denjak stepping back and looked back at Jacalrin with half-open eyes. Jacalrin ran around the fence and stopped in front of Tabajen. “Sir Ranu, allow me.”

  “Sir Chesa?”

  “I’ll take your place. Sir Calandok, will you allow it, please, sir!” Jacalrin shouted at Paseid, exhilarated. Tabajen looked back at Paseid, obviously flustered.

  “I’ll allow it.”

  As soon as Paseid finished his sentence, Jacalrin swiftly jumped onto the riderless horse without a second thought. Then he jumped over the fence straight into the training ground. Reuyen let out a short laugh at the passion of the young, skinny
knight who wasn’t even wearing proper armor. The knight’s lively eyes and Reuyen’s smiling eyes met in the air.

  Jacalrin’s lips arched. He hadn’t jumped in because he was in love with Reuyen’s tricks on the horse. And definitely not because he wanted to avenge his fellow knight’s defeat. Those eyes, those animated eyes, were what drew him in.

  The dead, sunken, light brown eyes were nowhere to be found; all he could see in them now was vibrant life. It was like that from the moment she’d started fighting Denjak. Jacalrin thought her change quite curious.

  He went into fighting position at a fair distance from her and yelled, “You’re really out of your mind. You know that, right?”

  “I do, sir.” Reuyen gave a dry smile and fixed her grip on her sword.

  “How long have you swung that sword?”

  “A while, sir.”

  “And who taught you those sneaky equestrian skills?”

  “My father, sir.”

  Reuyen glanced at Sidan, standing among the soldiers close to the fence, approximately in the middle between her and Jacalrin. He looked frightened.

  A lie…

  Sidan had watched his sister defeat a knight without receiving a single wound. He tightened his lips.

  A lie. That was a lie.

  No one in the Detua family could ride like her. Their father was a mere horse dealer who raised horses and sold them, not a trained, practicing equestrian. In fact, if any of his children had practiced such stunts, he would have scolded them not to do something dangerous.

  Jacalrin inattentively nodded and swung his sword over his shoulder. “Shall we?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Reuyen stopped looking at Sidan and fixed her grip on her sword. Her not-yet-healed thigh muscles were trembling like leaves from having to hang on to the horse for dear life. For that reason alone, she was actually glad Jacalrin of House Chesa had come out.

  There was a specific style of sword fighting passed on in each noble house. As the children grew and trained, these styles were completed in different ways, but rooted in the same basic principles. Assuming that the young Chesa’s master was not completely unaffiliated with Chesa, if he had learned and trained in the old Chesa style, she wouldn’t even have to think that hard to read his moves.

  Without the time-consuming act of trying to psychologically dominate each other, Reuyen attacked first. She ran across the wide circle and raised her sword in the air.

  As she had expected, Jacalrin lowered his head and tried to dig his sword into her chest. Considering that all she wore was thin leather armor, his move was filled with murderous intent, one that completely disregarded the rule forbidding murder.

  Before the audience watching could even let out a grunt, Reuyen turned her body at an angle like she was expecting it. Jacalrin’s sword couldn’t change its track; Reuyen pressed her arm closely against his level blade.

  “Hmm?” she said.

  Jacalrin’s intention to turn his sword was annulled. But that was the end of her predictions coming true.

  With a short nasal sound, Jacalrin took back his sword, throwing the reins aside, and grabbed the hilt with both hands. It was a confident move that didn’t even take falling off the horse into consideration.

  “I’m not gonna go easy.”

  With the kind warning, his attack commenced.

  Reuyen grimaced, unlike her usual self. It was clear that she couldn’t match the force of one of his arms, but now that he was using both, blocking each attack was a risk itself. Alarmed by his storm of attacks, Reuyen arched her back and hurriedly moved backwards.

  Clank! Clank! Clank!

  His sword swung in from every direction, like he was not about to allow any time for her tricks. This was nothing like the Chesa style of sword fighting. This was no longer a matter of whether she could predict it or not, but whether she could block it or not. She could not help thinking that he was swinging that sword however he wanted.

  She could barely contain her anger.

  This crazy old bastard! How can a knight of House Chesa swing his sword like a back-alley thug!

  He swung at her thigh, her side, her arm, her neck, her chest. Jacalrin was pounding at her so hard, like he had decided to win this by force. She was nearly driven out of her mind just from absorbing the impact shaking her bones. Her arm felt like it was about to shatter to pieces.

  But somehow, the more she clenched her teeth and evaded his attacks, the more her movements gained speed. Of course, this was not something that would allow her to overcome her physical limits, but rather a resurrection of her senses.

  After a long while, Jacalrin suddenly stopped and made a weird face. “Is it because of your injury?”

  Not missing the chance to catch her breath for a second, Reuyen fixed and tightened her shaky grip on the sword.

  “Seems like your body and mind are moving separately,” he continued.

  Reuyen froze. His precise observation had attacked her most vulnerable spot. As he said, even if her mind and instinct intuited the next move a step early, all her relatively untrained body could do was follow their instructions.

  She swallowed her voice and panted. Jacalrin had so ruthlessly stormed her with attacks that she was completely out of breath from just blocking and evading. Her throat was dry and she was beginning to feel nauseous.

  “Don’t just block,” he said. “Come at me.”

  She had defamed him to herself that blood was blood and that he was a cheeky little descendent, but now that she thought of it, he was worse than Hansen when it came to taunting. Reuyen glared at him.

  “Or I can go harder.”

  Like Denjak had done, Jacalrin brought his sword down as hard as he could, aiming for the crown of Reuyen’s head. She almost unconsciously reacted to the flow of air caused by the falling sword and slid over to Den’s side.

  With a huge grin, Jacalrin stopped his sword right before it hit the saddle. He smirked at Reuyen, who was barely hanging by Den’s harness.

  “Saw that coming. You’ve pulled that trick on a number of knights, haven’t you?”

  He pointed his sword at her hiding under Den’s belly. Denjak had let his guard down because he hesitated when he was surprised by her nimble move, but Jacalrin had already done his being surprised.

  Same old trick. What is she thinking against a Chesa?

  But instead of attacking by going around and under Den’s belly, Reuyen sprang back up on the saddle as soon as the tip of Jacalrin’s sword pointed downward. She was clearly slower, but her movements were still clean and natural. As soon as she found her balance, she kicked Jacalrin’s hand without a moment’s delay. At the sudden attack, Jacalrin’s sword hit his horse’s barding and fell on the ground.

  Startled by the clang, his horse raised his head and whinnied. Still keeping a level head, Jacalrin immediately reached down to grab the backup sword hanging on the horse’s side.

  Then, Reuyen threw her sword on the ground.

  Is she too tired to go on?

  Questioning gazes slid to her.

  Then she stepped on the saddle with two feet and jumped onto Jacalrin’s horse.

  Chapter Twelve

  Jacalrin gaped at Reuyen’s face nearly running into his before he could even realize what was happening.

  Reuyen sat on his saddle and tightly wound the reins around his left wrist. She pulled them behind her waist.

  Huh?

  Within seconds, Jacalrin was practically holding her by the waist with one arm.

  “Did you see this coming too, sir?” Her almost arrogant breath touched his. Lightly smiling eyes stared straight at him. Their foreheads seemed as if they would touch with the slightest tilt. Soon, Jacalrin’s face lightened up too. Not because he found it amusing, but because he thought it absurd.

  She was exerting this degree of agility with injuries, and without any moans or grunts.

  By heavens, this woman…

  “Don’t your wounds hurt? How’s your
feet?” he asked.

  “Nothing you should worry about, sir.” Her nonchalant answer as she caught her breath was even more absurd. Jacalrin’s horse let out a small whinny under the sudden additional weight between his neck and back, and flexed his legs.

  There were awestruck cries for the woman who’d just exhibited her talent of jumping from horse to horse. Sidan, Paseid, Evinbur, and even Denjak, who had to step aside before he could really do anything, observed in silence. Tabajen, who was originally assigned as her next opponent, seemed quite impressed as well.

  Receiving an almost overwhelming amount of attention, Jacalrin twisted his wrist held behind Reuyen’s waist. The restraint was pretty tight.

  “Is this enough, sir?” she asked quietly.

  But instead of surrendering, he blurted out a question. “Are you a spy from Morgana?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Really?”

  “I swear it,” Reuyen answered without delay. “I have never done anything of the sort, nor will I ever in the future, sir.”

  Instead of pulling out his held arm, Jacalrin tensed the arm around her waist and pulled her closer to him. “So, the only reason you’re going to this extent is your brother, huh?”

  Still not entirely convinced, Jacalrin leaned his head toward her and looked straight into her eyes.

  The life in the woman’s eyes. That was the kind of vitality only possessed by those whose hearts had turned to stone. He did not know why he read that in the eyes of a mere daughter of a horse dealer, but now he was starting to think her shooting the enemy commander was quite plausible.

  “I get that your family has a tragic story, and that you have an odd set of skills to do with as you wish,” he said. “But this kind of trick doesn’t work on the battlefield. Not all knights wield their swords fair and square, either. Why don’t you stop causing a havoc and go home like a good girl? Your brother really insists on staying, and respecting that is a way of showing love…I think?”

  Reuyen swallowed a laugh down her dry throat. Her muffled laughter resounded in Jacalrin’s ears.

  “It’s too much,” he continued. “I mean, who wouldn’t worry about their men if they were at the front? But Paseid isn’t someone who would sacrifice anything and everything for victory.”