Life of Being a Crown Prince in France

In the center of the arena, Soleil touched swords with her opponent as a salute, then she stepped back three paces, turned sideways, her left hand behind her, and assumed the standard starting position.

The audience below immediately began to whisper to each other:

"Look! This lady seems to really know how to use a sword."

"Don't you know? She's the sister of Viscount Frey, trained under the Marquis of Villafuerte, and her swordsmanship is very impressive."

"The Marquis of Villafuerte? That famous Spanish swordsmanship master?"

"Exactly, that's him."

"Ah ha, it looks like we are in for a good show today!"

The bell from the referee rang out. Soleil's gaze instantly sharpened. Her Swift Sword feinted toward her opponent's left chest, her footwork was extremely agile, and almost at the same time, she had pivoted to the right at an angle, pressing down with the tip of her sword, aiming straight for the young man's abdomen.

The tall noble young man was no novice either. Although she had taken the initiative, his defensive stance didn't break at all, fiercely pushing his sword to the side.

Soleil didn't wait for the swords to clash; she retracted her sword and moved back half-step to the side, then, looking up, she saw an opening in her opponent's upper body and stabbed at his face again.

The young man felt he couldn't dodge it and had no choice but to swing his sword horizontally with force in an attempt to push Soleil back.

She, like a butterfly dancing through the flowers, gracefully drew back, dodging beneath the sword light, and once more thrust straight for the opponent's thigh.

What followed were the young man's two clumsy blocks and counterattacks, both easily avoided by Soleil, who then responded with tricky straight thrusts.

The audience erupted in applause and cheers.

However, after only five or six exchanges, Soleil felt her left heel hit against something.

She immediately realized she had reached the edge of the platform, and her heart tightened. She was accustomed to relying on speed to hop and dodge, looking for opportunities to counterattack, but had neglected the size of the platform.

Her opponent took advantage of her momentary distraction and swung his sword down without hesitation — hundreds of nobles were watching, even the Crown Prince, and he was not about to show any leniency towards a lady. He intended to show off his swordsmanship before the King the day after tomorrow.

Soleil, with her back against the wooden rail of the arena, could not dodge, and had no choice but to raise her sword to block.

A "clang" rang out, and she immediately felt a numbness in her wrist. Strength was never her forte.

Her opponent seized the opportunity to chop down from another direction, and she had no choice but to block again.

The gap in strength between them was too great; this time, her sword was even knocked sideways. The young man then lifted his wrist, and the sword's tip, wrapped in a wooden cover, was pressed against her abdomen.

Lost...

She had come for the crown, and yet, she had lost her first match!

Soleil felt a void in her mind until the referee came to urge her, and she walked off the platform in a daze.

She remembered how smugly she had told the Crown Prince to bet on her victory, even assuring him of a cash prize, and now felt so ashamed she wished she could bury herself in a hole.

Before her flashed the image of the Crown Prince extending five fingers when he made the bet, causing a tremor in her heart. With the Royal Family's ways, he must have bet at least 500 livres!

Or even 5,000 livres...

Yes! It must be 5,000 livres!

It was over, all over! Soleil almost burst into tears, the Crown Prince had helped her get a chance to fight, but she had caused him to lose so much money. What was she to do? Would the Crown Prince hate her? Yes! He definitely would hate her!

Laughter from the audience reached her ears. Indeed, they were not mocking; the majority found this incident quite amusing.

To Soleil, however, the laughter rang like that of a little cat caught stealing food; she bowed her head and hugged herself tightly, chanting silently, "They can't see me, they can't see me, they can't see me!" as she ran past the stands, disappearing into the crowd.

No! This won't do!

She shook her head continually as she walked; that was 5,000 livres! She couldn't act as if nothing had happened!

Right! She resolved, although she couldn't pay that much now, she would definitely repay the Crown Prince in full one day!

Up in the stands, Clementine was still carelessly waving candy, looking somewhat disappointed:

"Cousin, I had planned to give that lady candy after she won, but she left so quickly."

"Hmm, but it's alright, you only bet 10 livres on her."

Joseph said with a smile, "Perhaps this isn't her preferred environment."

"Then where is she good at sword fighting?" Clementine asked, tilting her head.

Joseph smiled and didn't say a word, thinking that she would do just fine at the Royal Palace, where hundreds of soldiers couldn't stop her.

When the afternoon's swordsmanship competition ended, Joseph, the Spanish Crown Prince, and the little girl left the stands talking and laughing. Eman quickly approached Joseph and whispered:

"Your Highness, Archbishop Talleyrand is back, waiting for you in the reception room."

Joseph nodded slightly. He knew that Talleyrand had returned from his tour around America and the European Continent and surely had quite a bit to report.

Thus, he excused himself from Antonio and handed Clementine over to her maid, then headed toward his private chambers.

On the way, he also remembered Antonio's environmental-friendly hat, which needed early arrangements.

After pondering for a moment, he turned his head and gave Eman some instructions. The latter promptly went on his way.

Joseph returned to his reception room. Archbishop Talleyrand hurried to greet him, bowing solemnly:

"May God bless you, Your Highness. I have missed you ever since I left Paris. See, I came to you immediately after getting off the carriage."

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