Chapter 73
‘That went way better than expected, didn’t it?’
Solinor was in an excellent mood. It was his first attempt, and everything had clicked into place.
He figured there was no way Sid and his crew—foreign spies though they were—would have prepared for spirits.
He gave it a try, and thanks to their panic, everything unfolded far easier than anticipated.
Then again, if not for meeting Aiorin, he wouldn’t have known spirits existed at all.
After all, Spirit Mages were only known to exist among the elves in the far north of the Northern Continent.
This was why asymmetric information was such a terrifying weapon in warfare.
What should’ve been an impossible fight turned completely around in under a minute.
“Huff… Huff…”
Sir Hamilton was panting after the intense battle.
Solinor bowed his head and gave the thanks he naturally owed.
He stopped Hamilton with a hand gesture when the man tried to kneel to receive the thanks.
“Sir Hamilton, well done. Thank you again for risking your life for me.”
“It’s an honor to fight for Your Highness.”
It had been a long time since Hamilton had real combat experience.
Even during his time with the Capital Defense Knights, most battles were simulated drills.
After all, if the capital needed defending in real combat, something had gone terribly wrong.
His last real fight had been on his journey to Solineum, when he still aspired to become a Capital Knight.
He recalled the day he encountered a group of bandits on the road.
Following the sword training he’d received in the provinces, he had cut them down—and vomited afterward.
That was the first time he’d seen human blood.
Now, seeing Princess Muriela calmly standing before the bloodied corpses of fallen enemies…
Even after acknowledging her composure under threat, this was on another level.
To remain unfazed with corpses bleeding rivers of red lying at her feet—this was beyond belief.
‘She is truly remarkable. No amount of training could prepare someone for this. Her Highness cannot be judged by common standards.’
Of course, that was a misconception.
Solinor had lived longer as an adventurer than Hamilton had lived at all.
Naturally, he had seen many battles, faced countless dangers, and overcome many foes—this much wouldn’t shake him.
The enemies weren’t the only ones who’d bled.
Hamilton himself was wounded.
The cramped space had worked in his favor for dispatching enemies quickly—but the reverse was also true.
With so little room to dodge, he’d been scratched and stabbed in several places, and was now bleeding.
Fortunately, none of the wounds were serious.
And since it was a spy hideout, it was well-stocked with first aid supplies.
Florina, who found bandages in one of the drawers the Tree Spirits had pulled out, quickly began treating him.
“Thank you.”
“No, thank you—for protecting Her Highness.”
Florina, too, was deeply impressed by Muriela’s fearlessness, just like Hamilton.
The thoughts she had before—thinking the princess was crazy or strange—were nothing but small-minded misunderstanding.
It made sense that a person as exceptional as the princess would be different.
She’d simply been foolish not to see it sooner.
“Now then, what should we do next?”
Solinor began thinking through the next steps, but Florina—who was more of a specialist in this area—took charge.
“Your Highness, I’ll alert the other agents to handle the cleanup. When this man wakes up, we’ll interrogate him, and afterward I’ll have him handed over to our operatives.”
“Good. Let’s do that. Also, make sure to investigate the false identities used by the dead, and uncover their real ones.”
“Of course, Your Highness.”
With that, Florina hurried out of the house.
No one stopped her.
The two agents who’d been keeping watch outside had rushed in during the earlier commotion—only to be taken down by Hamilton.
Once Florina had gone, Solinor began inspecting the enemy one by one.
“This one’s dead… So is this one… Oh, look at how small that wound is. Sir Hamilton, what precision! A clean, economical strike. Excellent work. Hahaha.”
Princess Muriela poked at corpses with a dagger she picked up from the floor, checking for signs of life.
She even lifted their clothing to examine their wounds, humming with amusement.
Hamilton was honestly taken aback.
No matter how exceptional she was—this much was just scary.
Still, since she called him by name and offered praise, he couldn’t exactly ignore it, so he awkwardly replied.
“Y-yes, thank you, Your Highness.”
But inwardly, he thought:
‘Truly… She’s different from ordinary people. If she ever ascends the throne, she may go down in history as an iron-blooded monarch. Those around her will have to be especially careful to help her avoid cruel decisions.’
Had Princess Muriela’s reputation risen or fallen today?
As Hamilton was still reeling from her awe-inspiring, terrifying display, the inspection concluded.
“Let’s see. We’ve got two survivors, huh. What should we do with them?”
Of course, that was the one Zephyr had knocked out by cutting off his airflow, and Sid, who’d been knocked out by Hamilton.
“This Sid guy—of course that’s not his real name, right?”
“No, Your Highness. I doubt it is. These seem to be spies sent from a foreign power to gather intelligence on Silbrenoa. They’re likely using aliases, just like our agents.”
“Ah, thank you, Sir Hamilton. Hmm… With two survivors, we might be able to extract a good amount of information. Would you mind tying them up?”
“My apologies. I should’ve done that right after subduing them.”
Things had moved so quickly that everyone had simply forgotten to restrain the survivors.
Then again, both of them looked completely unconscious—as if they were already dead.
Hamilton quickly found some rope and tied up the surviving spies.
“All right, wake them up now. One at a time.”
“…Pardon?”
“We need to start the interrogation, don’t we? That way we can get back to the palace for dinner and sleep. I’m exhausted.”
Her Highness’s matter-of-fact tone left Hamilton stunned once again.
When she mentioned interrogation earlier, he assumed she meant letting the other intelligence agents handle it once they arrived.
Who would expect an eight-year-old princess to interrogate criminals herself?
But Muriela was no ordinary eight-year-old. Hamilton scolded himself for forgetting that again.
‘You fool… Didn’t you see with your own eyes what Her Highness did earlier? She’s terrifying… truly terrifying.’
It seemed that the opinions of those around Muriela were increasingly laced with fear.
Regardless, Hamilton began making preparations before waking the unconscious spies.
He removed any hidden weapons from their clothes and stuffed cloth into their mouths to prevent suicide by biting down.
Once all that was done, he prodded the one Zephyr had knocked out awake.
“You awake?”
“Gasp?”
As soon as he opened his eyes, Muriela was already staring him down, questioning him.
“If you answer quickly and honestly, it’ll be good for both of us. Got it?”
The eight-year-old girl rubbed a dagger against his cheek, exuding an unnerving pressure.
Even though the man had undergone training for torture resistance, this was too much.
Humans don’t fear threats they can understand and anticipate.
But they are incredibly vulnerable to those they cannot comprehend.
Of course, he tried to act tough—he had received training and steeled himself for the mission.
But just as he was about to speak, Princess Muriela thrust the dagger right in front of his mouth.
“Who gave you permission to speak?”
Wait, wasn’t she the one who told him to answer? Even Hamilton, watching from behind, was confused.
Then she nicked the spy’s cheek slightly with the dagger and smiled.
“All right, I’ll start asking questions now. You’re only allowed to answer with a nod or shake of the head. No talking. First question: Did you eat?”
“…”
What kind of question was that? What nonsense was this?
Inside, the spy’s perception of Princess Muriela was rapidly turning into that of a full-blown lunatic.
Even Hamilton had his jaw dropped in disbelief—no further commentary needed.
And that made the scene even more terrifying for the spy.
If even her allies were scared, what kind of monster was this child?
But in truth, this was all part of Solinor’s strategy.
Ordinary thugs break down under standard threats and a bit of intimidation.
Like Queen Irina’s former maid had.
But if you’re dealing with a thoroughly trained operative, that just won’t work.
Normal threats and logical questioning won’t scare someone who’s prepared to die.
What works is showing them you’re unpredictable—utterly insane.
“Hmph, so you don’t want to answer? Got it.”
Nod, nod.
He responded desperately. This was a nightmare. What sin had he committed to end up in the hands of a psycho?
“Ah, so you did eat? Bet it was tasty. What’d you eat?”
And then came a question that couldn’t possibly be answered with a yes or no.
The spy was so frightened, he honestly just wanted to die.
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