### Chapter Fifty: ???
On this day, the Royal City was draped in red and green, with drums and music playing as if it were a grand festival.
News of Queen Elizabeth’s victorious return had spread several days prior, thanks to the palace’s over-the-top publicity. No matter where one went, there were countless bards singing triumphant songs, warming up the atmosphere. When the silver-armored Her Majesty rode in on her stunning white war chariot, half the city erupted in cheers.
The significance of this victory was monumental.
For most citizens and nobles alike, it meant the stabilization and unification of royal power, which meant they wouldn’t have to live in fear anymore, scrambling to survive in the complex web of interests among powerful people. It meant their country, and their young queen, was firmly seated on the throne for the foreseeable future—at least they wouldn’t have to worry about being ruled by war criminals like the Old Duke, who cared little for the welfare of the common people.
They celebrated and cheered from the bottom of their hearts.
This was a time of peace, prosperity, and tranquility for Ethanbel.
I took a day off from Teacher Melville today.
As for the reason…
Of course, it wasn’t to run off into the crowd outside for a bit of fun, nor was it to see Victoria immediately—absolutely not. I just thought… when Victoria returns to the estate, Sharman is sure to discuss what happened here and propose remodeling ideas, seeking Her Majesty’s opinions… who knows, Her Majesty might have her own ideas, probably some embarrassing ones, and I need to be involved, keeping an eye on them, loudly saying no.
I can’t let those two get up to mischief while I’m not around…
Otherwise, things might get dangerous at home…
Yep, that’s the reason.
The weather today was great, and the estate was quiet.
A few days ago, after the construction work around the flower beds, roads, and gardens had been completed, all those noisy stonemasons and carpenters left, leaving the courtyard quite peaceful. I didn’t have to keep pulling the curtains of my bedroom shut, and I could even hang my freshly cleaned linings outside without feeling like a thief.
I woke up this morning, stepped outside, and bought some ingredients from the market, hoping to cook dinner myself. So I planned to give Sharman a heads-up that she didn’t need to prepare food tonight. But after searching around, I couldn’t find her at all. When I asked a maid in the garden, I found out she had gone to the palace early in the morning.
“It should be very busy over there today. There’s a lot for the head maid to arrange. Only a few of us are left here at the estate… Miss Silvya, if you need anything, just let me know…”
After hearing what the young maid said, I thought for a moment and asked, “When will Her Majesty be back?”
“Um…”
She hesitated for a moment, then shook her head. “I’m sorry, Miss Silvya, I’m not really sure… she should be back in the evening…”
Evening, huh…
I nodded to the maid with a smile.
The maid looked a bit flustered: “M-Miss, if you need to see Her Majesty, I-I can go to the palace and report this to the head maid—”
“Thank you, but that won’t be necessary…”
Victoria just returned, and she must have a lot to deal with… I didn’t want to disturb her.
Waving to the maid, I left the courtyard and returned to my inner quarters—my own inner quarters—ran upstairs into my bedroom, flopped onto the soft bed, buried my face in the pillow, rubbed it a bit, and fell quiet.
Evening felt like ages away.
What should I do…
After thinking for a bit, I decided to keep practicing using the manual.
Yesterday, I began practicing the basic force application, so today I figured I could do it for another two or three hours, repeating that one or two moves, and I’d be close to getting it down… At least that would give me some muscle memory. The rest would just be about practical application, and that would require finding a proper sparring partner… but I wasn’t in a rush.
I dragged myself off the bed, picked up the wooden sword leaning against the wardrobe, weighed it in my hands, and stood on the carpet by the bed. Gripping the sword hilt tightly, I took a virtual stance, shifting my weight onto my back leg, recalling the movements from the manual. I inhaled lightly, focused, and suddenly raised my elbow, aligning the sword’s blade with my brow. I extended my right foot forward, placing it first as I assumed a near-retreat block position. Then, twisting my waist, I slid the wooden sword down as if removing an imaginary force that came crashing down, while the tip of the sword swiftly turned upwards, slicing through the imaginary air, creating a whooshing sound.
Virtual stance, sword drawn.
This was a fundamental technique every swordsman knew, mainly used for blocking; however, under the Sword Saint’s modifications, it had become a clever move that could pierce through an enemy’s throat in a single strike.
Of course, this was still the very basic technique in the manual.
Practicing such basic techniques could be quite dull, especially for someone like me who was used to overwhelming my enemies with sheer speed and brute force. Suddenly being told to abandon all my strengths and practice finesse like a complete beginner, without anyone to spar with, naturally made it a long, tedious affair.
But I adhered to the practice. When I grew frustrated, I’d grab a snack and then dive back into it until I grasped the techniques.
Because I knew these beginner skills might seem useless at first, but once I mastered them and could blend them with my strength and speed, regardless of the weapon I wielded—even if it was just a reed—it would be a whole lot more powerful than wielding Captain Gray’s sword now.
The Sword Saint’s core philosophy is to take down an enemy in one strike.
No matter how gifted or strong an enemy might be, as long as you find the right opening, it only takes one strike to finish them. That’s the ultimate goal of this old man; it’s not really about “using a sword,” but about “perfectly controlling every part of your body.”
To achieve this, there are no shortcuts, only relentless practice.
So I practiced over and over again, until I was drenched in sweat, my garment clinging to my body, my frustration boiling over. But after a moment of rest, I kept going.
I practiced all afternoon.
When the sky outside turned red, I put away the wooden sword, headed to the washroom for a shower, and changed into a clean dress. I dashed out to the terrace to have a look—still serene in the courtyard, except for a few maids scattered about tending to the garden’s fruit trees.
Where were Victoria and Sharman? They were taking forever to return…
I leaned over the railing, pressed my hands down, and jumped lightly, swinging my legs off the ground, bored and thinking: They really are slow…
My stomach was starting to grumble…
What should I have for dinner…
I felt like a cake…
After a while, I gradually noticed the railing was digging into my chest, so I hurriedly jumped down, rubbed my chest a bit in annoyance, and walked back inside. A few steps later, I couldn’t help but look back, my hand slowly moving from my chest to my stomach, continuing to rub it before heading downstairs.
Time to make something to eat…
I arrived in the kitchen, took the ingredients bought that morning from the cabinet, and laid them out on the stove. Rubbing my cheek, I quickly scanned them… there were cabbage, tomatoes, cucumbers, Jerusalem artichokes, peas, thistles, carrots… and other fresh vegetables, plus some eggs and beef shanks, but no meat or any sweets.
Except for some oranges.
But oranges are tangy-sweet; surely, Victoria would enjoy them…
As I pondered, I started a fire, got the stew pot out, added water and began to heat it, cutting up the cabbage, tomatoes, cucumbers, and the rest… My chopping was rather haphazard… but that’s okay; I could make a salad out of it.
I finished the salad and set it aside; the water had already boiled, so I tossed in the beef shank to cook. Then I took out the frying pan for roasting and, after a quick inspection, felt I could stir-fry in it, so I poured in some oil and got started. I cracked two eggs into a dish and whipped them together.
Just when the oil was ready to fry the eggs, I realized I had no spatula, so I scrambled through the cupboards until I found a ladle to make do. In the meantime, the stew pot started overflowing, so I quickly lifted the lid and tossed it aside. I crouched down to reduce the heat but overdid it and nearly put it out. So I pouted and blew, “Hoo—” and ended up with soot all over my face.
But the fire flared back up.
“Cough, cough! Cough…”
I coughed a few times, wiped my face, stood up, and continued my chaotic cooking, silently regretting why I hadn’t learned how to cook better earlier…
Not long after, just as the tomato and egg dish was about to be finished, I heard the sound of war chariot wheels outside.
Were they coming into the estate…?
Had Victoria returned?!
Suddenly, I was struck by an idea—I had to hurry and tell her I cooked dinner tonight to celebrate her victorious return. So without even putting down the ladle, I dashed out of the kitchen, thud-thud-thud past the living room, swinging open the door to the inner quarters, and sprinted out. A few steps later, I felt the cold stone tiles beneath my feet and realized I had forgotten to put on my shoes. I thought about turning back, but Victoria was already stepping down from the carriage.
She saw me instantly.
Beside the carriage, along the main road, the stunning Queen with her golden crown and beautiful silver armor, adorned with a long sword inlaid with azure gemstones, stood nearby, calmly gazing at me with a stern expression.
Uh-oh…
Why are there so many soldiers behind her…? Oh no, am I looking ridiculous like this? Everyone’s staring at me!
Glancing down at the ladle in my hand, I shrugged my shoulders, immediately wanting to turn back.
But the next moment, the queen of Ethanbel was walking towards me.
Her golden-hued eyes fixed on me, striding forward with confidence, her hair flowing behind her. I stood frozen, my mind still debating whether to run, but by the time I snapped back to reality, Victoria was already in front of me.
I caught a whiff of her familiar scent.
“Um…”
Why does it feel so awkward…
“I-I cooked… food.” To mask the strange feelings rising within me, I waved the ladle in my hand, “You just wait, come over here—”
Before I could finish the sentence, Victoria suddenly hugged me.
Then, her breathtaking face seemed to expand in my startled view, warm breath brushing against my face, and then… a soft, moist sensation tickled my forehead.
“Boop…”
Our lips touched and then quickly pulled apart.
???
I held my forehead, a bit dumbfounded.
All of a sudden, my head went “boom,” and my cheeks felt burning hot.
