To keep her identity as a pirate from being exposed, Roy had left her pirate outfit and Isk Scimitar at the inn before coming to the castle. The only weapon she had with her was the black pistol with silver engravings—and it wasn’t even loaded.
In other words, she was practically unarmed.
Now that was some timing.
Roy watched the silver blade gleam with a cold light and quickly identified it. It was a standard-issue silver sword from the Olan Military, even sharper than an Isk Scimitar. A light, handy weapon made for killing.
The uninvited guest who pushed open the door stood with his back to the moonlight. A black veil covered his face, making his true appearance impossible to discern—but the shoulder insignia he hadn’t yet removed gave away his identity.
He was an Imperial officer, a captain.
In the Olan Military, where discipline was strict and standards exacting, even the most ordinary second lieutenant needed exceptional ability and unwavering loyalty to become an officer. Their family backgrounds and records were scrutinized down to the smallest detail. The whole system was practically impenetrable, with no gaps to exploit.
And yet, even so, it seemed some ill-intentioned rats had still managed to infiltrate it.
“Stay right here. Don’t get in my way.”
Roy rose lightly to her feet. Her body, sore from practicing her posture and dance steps, went taut in an instant. She could even feel the blood coursing freely through her veins, her heart pounding like a war drum made from whale hide. A long-missed excitement began to spread through her, carrying her back to that dangerous sea of cannons and great ships.
That was more like it. A pirate belonged dancing between blood and fire—not cooped up in a hall full of lavish drapes like a canary on display.
Roy thought happily, then took a deep breath. Her toes barely touched the floor before she shot forward like an arrow loosed from its string.
Ever since they left the isolated island, the cheap first mate she’d tricked into joining her had gradually begun to show what he could do. As a result, she, the captain, had nothing to do all day but eat, drink, have fun, and tease Jackdaw. Even her body seemed to be going soft from such a comfortable, easy life.
But as it turned out, someone as dangerous as her was always destined to keep company with blades. Even if she didn’t go looking for trouble, trouble would come knocking. Though this time, she didn’t seem to be the target.
When Kain heard the movement and looked back, his gaze went straight to the shoulder insignia reflecting the moonlight. It took him only a moment to identify the newcomer. He was about to stand and demand an explanation when the captain’s unyielding command rang in his ears. After a brief struggle within himself, he finally remained seated in silence.
No matter how unwilling he was to believe it, how hard it was to accept, the man was standing outside the door with a silver sword in hand—and he’d chosen the moment when every soldier, including the major, was most off guard. The force he represented was already obvious.
“The Black Crow Society.”
Kain’s cold whisper echoed through the dim room, setting the tone for an assassination that was unexpected, yet seemed inevitable.
There was no conversation, no threat—not even a sound of wind. A perilous fight began before a pair of azure eyes tinged with worry.
Almost no openings. That was Roy’s strongest impression after their first exchange.
In the captain’s hands, the Orlan Empire’s standard-issue sword seemed to become a tower shield. Roy couldn’t find a chance to get past that sturdy defense, whether from the front or the flank. She could only crouch low and fall back, watching his every move with beastlike golden eyes.
“You’re the pirate who’s been staying with the young master?”
Seeing Roy maintain a safe distance between them, the captain lowered his silver sword to his side again and asked in a flat voice.
“The young master?”
Roy furrowed her brow in feigned confusion, then said as if she’d just realized, “Oh, you mean Kain? He’s my first mate now.”
Just as she’d expected, the moment he heard the words “first mate,” even the captain—with all his iron will and years of military service—couldn’t help but falter.
He was a Black Crow Society plant in this remote borderland of the Empire, but he’d still spent decades in the military. He knew what the young master of House Howard represented, and he also knew there could be no reconciliation between the Imperial Navy and pirates.
And yet this pirate standing before him claimed that Kain—the Empire’s admiral, heir to Governor Naren’s title of Lion—had become a pirate, and her first mate, no less. Any Imperial soldier who heard such news would be left stunned.
A flash of light suddenly caught his eye. The captain raised his silver sword across his body without a second thought. He’d caught a glimpse of the pirate drawing the pistol at her waist with unbelievable speed. By now, she must have it aimed at the space between his brows.
As an Imperial soldier, the captain knew all too well how fast the fine pistols issued to big shots of brigadier-general rank and above could fire, and how precisely they were made. They far outclassed the matchlock guns pirates usually used.
But they were also much less powerful than those crude, brutal weapons. Unless a shot struck the head or heart—vital spots—it was unlikely to kill in one hit.
And no deadly firearm of this era could fire two shots in quick succession.
In the briefest instant, the captain made the right call and settled on his next move. If he blocked this shot, then no matter how vicious the unarmed pirate was, she’d be nothing but a toothless tiger.
One second… two seconds…
Time seemed to slow a thousandfold, passing by in the hush of their clearly audible, restrained breathing. But even when the captain silently counted to three, the gunshot he’d expected still didn’t come. His heart began to tighten, and an inexplicable sense of danger crept over him.
Given the explosive force and speed the pirate had shown as she charged, the sharp report of a gun should have rung out with a flash of fire before her first breath was over. After that, he’d have only a brief window to kill them and escape before the soldiers surrounded the pavilion.
But why? Why hadn’t the gun gone off? Why was everything moving further and further from his plan?
“Clack.”
The pistol’s metal frame hit the floor with a crisp sound, far too clear to escape the captain’s sharp ears. He heard the approaching footsteps at the same time. Releasing the left hand gripping the back of his sword, he tried to shift his stance and meet the attack—but he hadn’t expected that pale hand to move so fast.
It was almost beyond human speed!
The hand came down hard on the back of the blade. The Orlan Empire’s standard-issue sword wasn’t sharpened along its back, but it was so thin that even the blunt edge could easily cut a person’s throat.
The instant her hand met the back of the silver sword, bright red droplets sprayed outward. The delicate hand, seemingly as precious as a jewel, had been cut deep.
The captain saw that his enemy’s most important weapon—her right hand—was injured, but he had no time to celebrate or press the attack. A tremendous force traveled through the silver sword into the hand holding it, like a heavy hammer dropping from the sky to smash his hand and wrist to pieces.
“Crack!”
A sharp snap of breaking bone rang out, and the silver sword fell to the floor.
Clutching his wrist, the captain staggered back. He didn’t even notice the cold sweat running down his forehead, or remember to show the pain on his face. He could only stare in terror at those dark golden eyes—and at the tall girl walking toward him step by step, utterly unconcerned with the vicious gash across her palm.
As if he were looking at a devil.
