Otome Game Villainess? Who Cares? I Want Giant Mecha. 6

Otome Game Villainess? Who Cares? I Want Giant Mecha. 6

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Commissioned by Shaderic

Wordcount: 2500

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Clarisse hummed as she planned her days with meticulous precision with a mage’s light over her shoulder. Her desk was covered in books with worn spines from her personal use, and notebooks filled with notes on academia, while the left of her room was filled with equipment to train her body and form. Her untouched bed, as she worked with the moon and stars shining through her window, beckoned her as classes were to being in just five hours… but she preferred to do otherwise.

After all, she had to work hard now, so that she could attend every showcase of talent Lady Lenore attended.

“Painting, my goodness. I can’t possibly miss that!” Clarisse smiled and gave a light hum, fending away the drowsiness that she ignored with naught but a hum, as she circled the date for the event and modified her existing schedule. “An hour simply watching her create wonderful art? How majestic.”

It was an hour she would normally use to study, to take notes, and to recite from memory all that she learned until she knew everything perfectly. The academy was very forthcoming when it came to providing her with supplemental knowledge and she took every ounce that she could, so that she could excel and hope to rise within reach of Lady of House Baude.

“Ah, I shall make a recording of my studies and listen to them whilst I train. That will work nicely!” Clarisse smiled at her own idea, as she looked to the training equipment in her room and cast her gaze upon her most recent achievements. Slowly and steadily, she was improving in how much strength and she could call upon every week. “Hm, I wonder if the kitchens can provide me with fare that is faster to eat?”

Clarisse thought on the matter and put it on her plans and schedule.

“Lightly sweetened whey and berries was what all the guards back home swore by. They always said that it helped them train.” Clarisse hummed as she recalled fond memories of home and dissected them for anything that she could use to her current ends. A light pout formed on her lips as she recalled the services and food provided by the cafeteria at the Academy. All the food was made for the elite and she had already drawn stares eating all the roasted meats and vegetables she could find. But she disregarded the stares and continued her course. “I’ll have to ask the kitchen staff. Surely they have some… or I’ll simply have to get some myself to save time.”

Any other peasant girl would’ve floundered at the thought of eschewing the food of nobility for peasant fare, but Clarisse did the numbers in her head, and found saving time from eating, going to the cafeteria, and being seen there worthwhile.

“If I cannot find it tomorrow, then I’ll just skip meals for a while, so that I can get my training it… after all I cannot miss Lady Lenore’s bout within a Chevalier!” Clarisse nodded to herself with the knowledge and gently crossed out her mealtimes in the upcoming days to accommodate her plans. She gave a dreamy sigh towards the moon and shivered at the thought of what was to come. “Ah, if only I could fight against her. She’ll defeat me handily for sure… and she’ll look the most magnificent then.”

Clarisse’s voice lingered lightly in her room for a moment, before she gazed upon her schedule for the week and nodded at it all… before frowning at a singular spot.

“If only I didn’t need to showcase my talent at healing. I would be able to see Lady Lenore at the melee.” Clarisse rose and fell into her bed with her frown. She took pillows and carefully arranged them to support her body where they were needed and cast cooling spells upon them. The ache in her muscles abated and all her bruises from harsh training were instantly soothed, but she paid the relief as little heed as she did the pain. It was all for the sake of growing strong more swiftly. Nothing more and nothing less. “But, I suppose at least that dunderhead will be there to treat her properly.”

Clarisse huffed at the thought of the faraway noble from the outskirts who excelled more than he ought, until she reminded herself that he was not holding back when it came to teaching her and Lady Lenore properly and without hesitation. In every mock fight, he fought against Lady Lenore, he gave his all, and in every training session that they had he did not hold back. So, though he opposed Lady Lenore, Clarisse accepted him because he did so respectfully. He stood before her as a true challenge that her lady would overcome… and conquer.

Clarisse’s heart beat quickened at that thought.

“Lord Ashdown… I can’t wait to see Lady Lenore triumph over you and steal your heart like everyone else.”

With that thought in her mind, Clarisse fell asleep in her room… dedicated entirely to reach the dazzling star that she had witnessed.

She only rested because she needed to.

If she did not need it, she would have never ceased in her pursuit.

…

The day came when the showcasing of talents would begin and my past life bid me to go forth, meet people, and befriend them. Though I questioned my past’s bidding, it did not take me long to understand his goals. He meant for me to prime the audience to look at me on the stage, to make it so that I would have their full attention the moment I arrived, instead of allowing my talent to enrapture them.

With that knowledge in mind, I smiled and made my way through the very first venue with a smile upon my face. The scarlet and black dress that I wore felt tight and constrained my movements, and it felt strange to walk without my blade at my side, but I did so with the intention of making the very most of my achievements this day. I did not intend for any moment I spent here to be wasted, because the more that I excelled the greater less work my parents had to do.

I gave them much trouble for my dreams and whims, but I assisted them whenever I could ever since I became a Chevalier, and I will continue to do so without fail.

So, I smiled and interacted with the nobility of the Kingdom to increase my fame, even as it wore me down between all my performances.

Thankfully, all my performances went incredibly well, and when I did not take the first place, I took second or third. My past self-spoke to me of a grand, international competition where the best in the world was awarded medals. He spoke to me of second place being the first loser, because they contended for the prime spot, but that third place being better than the rest who competed below him. It was a humorous thought that carried me through what I initially believed were failures, but which I learned later was seen as incredible performances when one recalled that I participated in a multitude of showcases… and most of the medals the I gained were in first place besides.

However, in the end, unlike in all the other competitions, I couldn’t bare to “schmooze” before the melee as my thoughts warred within my skull. Although dressing dueling clothes, and outside of the constraining dress so many complimented, I felt like a stranger in my own skin. My anticipation and nerves were like innumerable needles dancing across my entire body. From head to toe, pinpricks flew through me like chilled waves, as my match against the Ashdown Heir loomed closer and closer.

Even though what he said was true, in that I had to compete and struggle against many others, I fought with all my strength to reach the foremost point.

Meanwhile, in all his matches upon the stage, he stood unequalled and unparalleled.

And all present knew this.

He had spoken to no one and all others avoided him as he wore a simple uniform and maintained through generations through his lineage. Others whispered of him, mocked his presence, and all but spat on him at the meeting before the melee. I had watched as the family of those about to fight spoke highly of their sons, while their sons smiled and nodded in silence as they knew the outcome of their battles.

From his very first match in the Academy’s stadium, in the eyes of all the nobility that deemed them greater than him, he silently became unrivalled.

No matter the greater size of his foe, no matter their speed, and even despite petty tricks such as magic being used by his foe to try and strike at him from afar… he emerged unscathed, victorious, and utterly dominant over his foes. The first bout shocked all those who watched, the second silenced them all, and the third caused many to wonder if he somehow had tricks of his own… until the King himself bid the questions silenced… and for applause to be given for true, nigh-unfathomable skill with the sword.

The Ashdown Heir gained in a single day that which many great houses competed for over the course of generations: the respect and awe of the King.

His house will achieve much after this. The King will seek to make them allies and fasten them close to the throne. They were far from the capital and a new house compared to the rest of the nobility, but that made them finer allies for the King. He could have them under his control with all the aid he gave, and secure their loyalty with less than any other house, and their lands were far from any other nobility that would seek to gain influence over them, especially when the King made his intentions known.

A part of me told me to not give my all, to not waste his achievement, but a burning flame within my chest spurred me onward towards the stage. I might ruin his glorious victory, besmirch his achievement, and have his household lose their glorious chance… but the moment I stood ten paces away from him none of that mattered.

Ashdown raised his sword for me in a salute and gave me a nod, before taking the defensive against me unlike all his other foes.

All the spectators might have whispered or screamed at his decision to raise his guard for the first time against me, as I struggled where he had not, but I did not care. I saw in his eyes… respect that I truly, completely earned. In the eyes of the King, and perhaps even my own parents, I had struggled to reach him. However, in his eyes, I fought and won against all my foes to stand before him in the final match.

That was all that mattered to me.

Or, so I thought.

Again, unlike all others, he suddenly charged and showcased his true skills in combat born from rigorous training and experience in countless battles. He did not claim mastery over the blade, of course, but it was apparent to all the rest that he had talent in spades and that had been honed to a razor’s edge through battle and training. He could switch between styles of combat with the sword in a heartbeat, as well as change from defense to offense, because he adapted countless times in many, many battles.

Against me, he bore all that skill, experience, and talent without a hint of hesitation for the sake of his house’s future.

It was true acknowledgement.

And, so, my body moved out of instinct to answer him.

I was acutely aware that he did not use his favored sword, that we were armed with the same arming sword that was allowed for the competition, but that did not detract from him in the least. All his prior fights accustomed him to his new sword and he used it against me with complete mastery of its existence. He diverted my strikes with its tip or hilt, knowing fully its construction and length after a mere afternoon of usage, and he bared its blade against me and I felt as though I was defending against his favored, larger blade. It lacked the flamberge curves of his true blade, but he sent shockwaves through my arms whenever our blades met nonetheless, by clashing his blade against mine at the perfect spot, often with the blade’s flat, and threatening to disarm me with every close clash we met against.

He struck against me, and I tried to strike against him in turn, but he used the lighter blade to his advantage as well. His attacks were swifter, his thrusts becoming more ferocious, even while the strength behind his swings stayed the same. Though I tried to stand my ground, I found myself taking steps back to avoid the blows, and having to perfectly adapt my stance with every step lest I found myself struck… until suddenly I took a step back and found no purchase.

The furious blows still resonated in my mind and in my arms, as I found myself looking at a dusky sky with traces of a sunset lancing through them.

I was defeated, forced out of the ring, through attrition unlike all the others Ashdown fought.

When I looked at him from below, as he sheathed his blade, he offered me a smile and a nod as a drop of sweat fell from his temple.

The arena was shaking, his victory was being declared, and both our performances being applauded. In the back of my mind, I realized that our bout had taken far longer than any other, and that I had been entranced by our duel which extended from late afternoon to sunset. I heard words about the melee being the greatest in centuries, and that the Kingdom now had two masters of arms, but I paid that none of that any heed.

The Ashdown Heir took a glove off his hand and offered it to me to raise me back up as an equal… and that was all I needed.

He stood ahead of me, but he was no longer beyond me, and he was within my reach after so many weeks and weeks.

Thus, I felt content.