Sinatro
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Chapter 95 (Bk 2). The Princess of Ma'la
🕑 Added 2025-06-05 15:00:13 +0000 UTCA/N: Hey everyone. I just wanted to inform y'all that an idea I've been playing around with crystallized today. There is every chance I'ma be writing it soon. It's going to be a comedy. I just need to build up my backlog on my main story. The Wandering Sword will probably take me years to finish, so a shorter project will do me good. I don't plan to start drafting until next month at the earliest, as I find it better to give the story time to grow in my head and I have to build up my backlog of the main story just in case. Anyway, if any of you read on RR, I'd appreciate your help in the future when the new story begins. Probably around mid-August to October.
Friend.
Such a tiny thing. In her language, the word for friend could also mean comrade. It literally just meant anyone you worked closely with. It was a normal word.
Yet when Rafael had said it, Helare had known there was a difference. Rafael did not speak Primus standard. Or the Ma’la tongue, or any of the other tribe's languages.
She had not thought about it at first, but he likely had an expensive translation skill. And why would that be a surprise? He had a lot of credits. And he was almost as good at making swords as any F grade blacksmith from the Burned. He wasn't so good at other things yet.
He had the potential. He had the potential to be great. He had made a pair of earrings for her, and those things were beautiful. The metal work was not sophisticated, probably because his dexterity was still low, and he'd leaned into that. He'd made a competent shell. Then he'd thoughtfully chosen already cut gems.
Maybe he didn't want it known he could work on gems too. Helare knew he'd done something personal to the tiny gems. Which is why the earrings had faint echoes of insight infusion.
Crafters did not have techniques like warriors did. Well, they had their crafting techniques, but those tended to be general especially for people still in the tutorial sector. They did not have techniques to imbue their insights in order to use concept abilities. They did not need concept abilities. Mages too. What they had instead was the ability to infuse their insights into their creations, improving the abilities of the final product.
Mages used their insights the same way they used concepts to magnify their spells, so theirs were very straightforward to use from the beginning. Crafters and warriors though.
And yet this young man from a newly integrated planet seemed to be doing this and more without going through a true tutorial.
He was clearly not an average individual. A warrior crafter. She'd seen him kill beasts she and Filoria would have struggled with. Beasts that had trampled the knight-23 golem.
And she'd also seen him test swing his blades. He'd only relied on his strength stat when he'd saved her life way back when, but he was clearly skilled. He was hiding something, but she and Hestus had agreed early on that it wasn't important.
Because once Rafael had settled down and finished setting up shop, he'd surpassed their expectations. Not in terms of quality. In terms of quantity. It took twenty of Helare's fastest engravers to keep up with the number of swords he was making those first few days.
And the swords sold well enough on the system shop, especially since there were new planets just starting their tutorials currently. There was no reason to dig too deep into the boy as long as he stayed productive.
But for some reason, Helare had become obsessed.
“You do lose your princess-like poise when you talk to me, you know?”
The statement had floored her, but her unthinking words in response had shocked her even more.
“I guess I'm comfortable around you,” she had said without thinking. “Do you not like it?”
And her whole being had been taut as a bowstring, waiting for his response. He had been distracted. He had answered distractedly. He hadn't seen the impish grin his unthinking response had caused. Thank Ma'la for that.
But then he'd changed the subject and she'd thought herself safe. Then he'd said the word.
It had stirred something in her. Something she hadn't known she needed. Something else. Something other, ethereal, even more important than that elusive goal that had bid her come here once her father had asked. She had come here even if none of her siblings wanted to.
It was a dangerous word. He was a dangerous man, Rafael Kingsley. He was so very dangerous.
She had resolved herself not to go back there. It wasn't two days later that she'd gone to him. He didn't even seem to care if she came or not.
“Another perfect sword,” she said from behind him.
He wasn't even surprised, just turning and snorting at her assertion that his creations were perfect. He swung it. His swing was perfect. And she wasn't just saying that because of some stars in her eyes. He was a genuinely good swordsman. Hiding his skills for some reason.
Then it hit her. Could he be a double core? The chosen was. Filoria's father. A double core, though he hid his second core. Be it profession or class, no one knew. That was his secret. That was why he was the strongest person on Primus. And there was a rumour he was soon reaching the D grade. He would be the first.
Rafael said something about an imperfection at the tip of the blade, and Helare had to struggle not to roll her eyes. That was not something a princess was supposed to do. But she supposed around him, she stopped being a princess or something. But then what did she become? What was this new persona that she had unearthed only after being snubbed by some boy from another world.
Fortunately, just as her thoughts were starting to spiral, Rafe said something that had her turning with surprised delight.
“Is that Filoria? When did she get back?”
Yes, Helare almost jumped for joy. Her comrade. The one thing she needed to take her mind off Rafe for a bit.
“Who is that with her?” Rafe asked.
“Oh, that's Collab Seawhisperer. He's her trainer. He has a weak affinity for water, so he took the warrior route. He also trained the chosen for a bit.”
Rafael didn't seem of a mind to continue chatting, as he was examining his moulds for the next ready to shape metal. She left him to it. Hopefully, she would not see him for a long time.
“I heard Rafael cannot use a sword?” Filoria asked her the next day.
Helare turned a glare on her supposed friend. It hadn't even taken a day.
“Yes, he cannot,” she said slowly. “Now, please let's not talk about that person.”
“But Collab wanted —”
“Filoria!” Helare interrupted. “There is a master and a servant in this relationship of ours, isn't there?”
Filoria took her time, but she still responded. “There is.”
Had she always sounded so … unwilling? This was a new realisation. Helare had not been one to care about how her words affected someone. Usually, they just obeyed what she said anyway. Now she was finding it helped to pay attention to the subtle ways people communicated their moods. And…she was thinking about that person again.
“Listen, Filoria. I… just don't speak to me about that person.”
“But—”
“Please, Filoria. Please.”
She did not want to think about him. Just thinking about him was enough for her to break character now. It was infuriating.
“You want to join us for a hunt, you said?” Filoria questioned.
“Yes,” Helare answered with a cheery smile. “I need to stretch my wings a little.”
Since the incident when the girls had met Rafael Kingsley, Helare had become fragile cargo. She was a princess of the Ma'la and she had been in danger. She was always being watched. Everyone who went to this particular hunting expedition knew they were going to do less than the typical scouting missions. And so it was.
They came back not even four days later. It was like they had just gone for a stroll around the dungeon expanse.
“I hope you had enough of a rest from hearing that name,” Filoria whispered as she brushed past Helare.
“What?” Helare asked, but the other girl had already sauntered off.
“Princess?!” A familiar voice called from deeper in the camp. “Princess Helare!”
“Hestus?” she mumbled to herself.
She found herself moving at a faster clip. Moving to meet him in the middle.
“What did he do?” she asked instead of greeting her long time associate.
“He succeeded in branching out, is what he did,” Hestus answered excitedly.
“Pardon?” Helare wasn't sure whether she should strangle the little man. He had scared her.
“Yes. With new products on the market, we are doing quite well. He's been making all sorts of weapons. War axes, war hammers. Regular hammers, a shield. He even made scale armour when he was supposed to be resting. He's learned how to work with leather. It's like instead of rune smith, he's going for an all smith profession upgrade.”
That was suitably interesting, no doubt.
“More importantly, Hestus, is that why you were so riled up just now?”
“Ahh! I got sidetracked. It's just that it was so impressive, if you'd been here—”
“Get to it, Hestus,” she said.
“Well, there have been challenges issued. In your honour, princess,” Hestus said.
Helare blinked. The words reached her, but they failed to register for some reason. That could not be right. Could it? That had not been right, had it? Challenges?
“Who is challenging who? And for what now?”
“They have challenged Rafael for your honour, my lady. Everyone. Even the Burned youths.”
“Everyone?” She asked.
“Everyone around level sixty-nine to seventy-five. Even the demons came.”
“And?”
“He turned all of them down. Said they were too weak.”
Helare groaned. “I guess that went over quite well.” she half joked half hopped.
They were still there when she arrived, crying their outrage to the skies.
“I only have one rule,” Rafael Kingsley said from where he continued to hammer a piece of metal. “Only one challenger, right. The strongest among you all. I can't really take a whole week out of my schedule to fight you all one by one.”
Helare looked around Rafael. Not at the crowd arguing, but at the things he was in the process of crafting. The hundreds of partially built things Rafael Kingsley had surrounded himself with. His open air forge was clattered. And he had projects he could pursue even when he was away from his forge.
Why was he rushing? What drove Rafael so? She wanted to know. She wanted to know everything about him. She wanted to…own him.
She did not examine the thought too closely. She did not have the time in any case. She needed to step in now.
“I guess maybe I could help,” someone said before Helare could do anything.
“Filoria…” she found herself murmuring, her voice rife with disbelief.
Rafael looked up from the forge and snorted. Then he closed his eyes for a bit. Helare wondered what he was doing.
“Hmm, I suppose you might very well be the strongest F grade here,” he said.
Filoria didn't say anything. She instead unsheathed her sword and swung it around in a showy manner.
“So…when shall we schedule this duel for my lady's honour?” she asked.
Rafael snorted again. “Your lady's honour? At least it's more believable, coming from you. I'm ready to fight anytime. The sooner the better.”
“Oh. Even right now?” Filoria asked.
Rafael stopped his work. He looked up at Filoria, then at the crowd of people who seemed to differ to her, even though the demons seemed to hate her.
“Just so you know,” Filoria said. “I'm great with a sword.”
“I'm not great with any specific weapons,” Rafael said. “But I am a better fighter than you. Of that I am sure. I don't have any magic stuff to distract me.”
His hair had grown long. It covered his face almost to his upper jaw. It wasn't quite enough to tie into a bun, but he still had to make a concerted effort to pull it out of his line of sight.
Then he grabbed a large war axe from a hook somewhere behind him. He examined Filoria. He looked at her long enough that Helare got uncomfortable. He had never examined Helare that much before.
Then he grinned. A dangerous grin. A predator stepping into a cave its prey had willingly trapped itself in. So this then, was what it meant to play with Rafael Kingsley?
