Amira of Ironclad Empire

Weeks had passed since the monster subjugation in Xylos, where I had fought side by side with the knights under the command of Sir Marcus. The battle had not only tested our mettle but had also forged bonds of camaraderie and respect among us. Sir Marcus, with his steadfast leadership and unyielding courage, had earned my utmost regard during that trying time.

Now, as the chill of autumn crept through the Ironclad Empire, those bonds would be tested anew. Word had arrived that Sir Marcus was returning to the capital, this time accompanying a figure of notable significance: Kazmir Xylos, the Grand Duke of the Northern Region. The news of their arrival stirred a mix of anticipation and unease within me. Sir Marcus had briefly mentioned Kazmir during our time in Xylos, noting his exceptional skills as a swordmaster and his somewhat notorious reputation.

Back to the present…

I jolted awake, my heart racing, remnants of a nightmare clawing at the edges of my mind. Flashes of Papri's tear-stained face, the glint of Bronzite Knights' armor, and—most vividly—Alexios, his eyes brimming with a feeling of sorrow I couldn't place, haunted me. Even in waking moments, his presence clung to me like an unwelcome shadow.

It had been months since that encounter, and the ache of anticipation mingled with disappointment. Part of me had expected him to return, insistent on his claims and determined to jog my memory. But no. The only one persistent was my annoying subconscious, parading his image at the oddest moments.

I sighed and reached for the bell beside my bed. The soft chime brought Patricia, my ever-dedicated maid, to the door.

"My Lady, it's Patricia. May I come in?"

"Come in," I muttered, rubbing sleep from my eyes.

Patricia entered with a basin of warm water. As I splashed my face, the memory of Alexios's resolute gaze flashed in my mind, irritating me more than it should.

Why did I care? He was just a character from a webtoon—fictional, nothing more. Yet, there was a tug in my chest I couldn't explain like I was losing something precious without even knowing what it was.

Shaking off the thought, I instructed Patricia to prepare my imperial knight uniform. "No armors today, Patricia. Just my trousers and long sleeves."

Later, cloaked and incognito, I rode through the bustling streets of the Ironclad business district. My horse, it's battle markings hidden beneath a dark blanket, snorted as if offended by the disguise. I patted its neck.

"Don't take it personally, Warrior. Not everyone appreciates a warhorse in the middle of a town's market."

At Papri's shop, Spices and Herbs—a name I'd coined in a rare moment of irony—I slipped through a hidden entrance that led to her private office.

"Morning, Ms. Gem-obsessed," I called as I flopped onto the couch.

Papri, with her usual mix of elegance and exasperation, rolled her eyes. "If you keep calling me that, I might just start charging you double for teleportation scrolls."

"Fair," I said, smirking. "But we both know you'd never overcharge your favorite knight."

Papri Martens was a former noblewoman from the Bronzite Empire who had clawed her way back from betrayal and exile. Her sharp wit and even sharper business acumen made her an invaluable ally.

After securing a scroll from her, I wandered the market square, enjoying the lively atmosphere. My hood stayed up, but I couldn't resist lowering it slightly as I bought a skewer of grilled meat. Balancing my food, I sat by the fountain, savoring the rare moment of peace.

Then he appeared.

A hooded figure approached, his steps purposeful. When he lowered his hood, I almost choked on my skewer. Platinum hair, sharp jawline, forest-green eyes sparkling with infuriating confidence—his face looked like it belonged on a coin. Or maybe a wanted poster.

"Planning to feed the entire knight's barracks, or do you always eat like you've got a dragon's appetite?" The guy teased, taking a seat beside me, uninvited.

I looked at him, my expression flat. "I like to eat, and I see no reason to justify my habits to a peacock who wanders alleys."

His laugh was easy and warm, disarming in its genuine amusement. "Fair enough. But if you ever need help, I'm quite the expert at consuming large quantities of food without a trace."

I stared at him in disbelief. Won't he just go on wherever he will be going instead of picking on someone who just wants to enjoy their meal?

"Enjoying the view?" he asked, a smirk playing on his lips.

At first glance, this guy appeared almost fragile, his delicate features belying the reputation I'd heard about. He doesn't even look like he lifted anything except the sword. He looks so thin for someone like a swordmaster or was he in disguise just like me? His attire, though finely made, gave him a somewhat ephemeral quality, as if he could not possibly partake in the gritty realities of knightly duties.

Reputation-wise, I haven't heard anything about him being able to fight on the front lines. So I have no idea if wielding the Grimwald Sword was just for show or if the strength and skills were from the sword itself.

I stared flatly at him. "Wow. That's original. Let me guess, next you'll tell me I should consider myself lucky to be in your presence?"

He laughed, crossing his arms. "You wound me, Miss… Food-hoarder."

I blinked. "Excuse me?"

"Food-hoarder," he repeated, gesturing at the ridiculous amount of snacks I'd accumulated. "Do you plan to feed an army or just yourself?"

"If you only muttered meaningless words from that mouth of yours, please get lost. I don't even know you," I said flatly shooing him and pulling over the food I ordered next to me.

He huffed, clearly not used to being ignored. "Kazmir Xylos. Grand Duke of the Northern Region, swordmaster, and sole wielder of the Grimwald Sword. As you know the Grimwald Sword was quite popular to the entire empire as one of the strongest ego swords."

Ah. That explained the arrogance. As if I care.

"Congratulations," I said dryly. "You've won the 'Most Titles in an Introduction' award. Your prize is… nothing. Get lost, please? I don't even care if you're Picasso or the great Michael Angelo. Just. Get. Lost"

Before I turned, I heard him saying who is Picasso and just saying "Pica-what?" deliberately ignoring him, and handing some untouched food to a group of street kids. Their delighted expressions made the encounter worth it.

Minutes later, I stumbled upon Kazmir again—this time cornered by a gang of thugs.

"This is all I have! Just let me through!" he was saying, surprisingly calm despite the situation.

The thugs sneered, demanding his clothes. I leaned against a wall, watching in mild amusement. Was he going to strip?

When they drew weapons, my amusement faded. With a sigh, I stepped in, dispatching the thugs with ease. After weeks of rest and preparation for my escape plan, I could use this as a warm-up. Kazmir retrieved his cloak, muttering a sheepish "thanks."

"Don't wander into alleys you can't handle," I said.

"I wasn't wandering! I followed you," he admitted.

I raised an eyebrow. "You followed me? What, you don't have a hobby? Knitting with your grandma, maybe? I am not either your nanny."

"Curiosity," he replied with a grin. "And Sir Marcus said he'd introduce me to Captain Amira. I had to see for myself who had made such an impression."

Before I could respond, Sir Marcus appeared, slightly out of breath. He froze upon seeing Kazmir, his gaze darting suspiciously to me.

"Your Grace," he began, his tone laced with exasperation. "I've been looking for you everywhere! Who's this you've found now?" His eyes glanced at me, but my hood obscured my identity.

Kazmir's playful smile deepened. "Oh, just someone I bumped into while exploring. She's quite… capable."

Sir Marcus frowned, looking at Kazmir, then at me. "Your Grace, stop this flirting nonsense. We're meeting Dame Amira, Captain of the Silver Crow Knights, soon. She'll surely knock some sense into you if you keep playing these games."

At that, I stifled a laugh beneath my hood, biting the inside of my cheek to remain unnoticed. The irony of his words wasn't lost on me.

Kazmir caught my amusement, his emerald eyes twinkling with understanding. Leaning toward Sir Marcus, he whispered, "You're right, Marcus. Perhaps I'll leave the games behind… for now."

Adjusting my cloak, I stepped back into the crowd, leaving them behind. Sir Marcus's muttering about "womanizers and noble decorum" trailed after me. I smirked, shaking my head.

But as I melted into the bustling streets, I couldn't shake the feeling that Kazmir's arrival wasn't just a disruption—it was a sign of trouble.

And trouble always had a way of finding me.