Alas, this was the Fourth Palace. If Prisca and her mother claimed that they didn’t know any of that, their words would be taken as the truth, meaning that Amelia and her companions would be treated as trespassers.
Perhaps Amelia, who was technically a princess, and Luke, the son of a duke, could worm out of the sticky situation. Helt, however, would likely face severe punishment. After all, a guardian knight cross-dressing and infiltrating a palace was the very definition of suspicious.
Possibly noticing Amelia’s concerned gaze, Helt fleetingly glanced over his shoulder at her with a warm smile. “It is all right, my princess. I shall stop them here, so the two of you, please go ahead of me.”
“I could never,” Amelia muttered in a low voice.
Helt was empty-handed and cross-dressing. In contrast, his opponents outnumbered him and were armed. Leaving him behind wasn’t an option. She had to ground those men here one way or another and escape from the Fourth Palace without losing a single person.
The men taunted, “Well, well. What a strong-headed maid we have here. We’ll all come together and enjoy you thoroughly, little girl. How about that?”
Helt’s temple twitched with irritation.
Amelia placed a hand on her hip. “Helt might be sexy, but it’s not a valid excuse for you to do that. I’m the one who’ll enjoy him thoroughly!”
Helt froze. “My princess, I wouldn’t recommend using such wording…”
Meanwhile, Luke seemed exasperated. “Amelia, do you even understand what you’re talking about?”
She’d meant it as a display of anger at the men, so she couldn’t figure out why her two companions were appalled at her instead. She declared, “Putting different outfits on Helt and having a good time is my exclusive right!”
Sighing, Helt muttered, “I suppose I should have expected nothing else. It is Princess Amelia we are talking about.”
Luke shook his head. “I can’t say that’s the most sensible thing to say either. In any case, we can’t get anything done unless we leave this palace.”
He was right. Their top priority was to escape, so she had to leave Helt’s sexy and alluring fashion show for later on.
“Something that will stop them…” Amelia muttered. “Something that can neutralize them…”
The moment she whispered that, strawberries rained down from above the guards. The fruits fell and struck the men’s heads with springy plops.
As one would expect, they were bewildered. “What in the world is happening?”
“Amelia…” Luke sent a baffled gaze in her direction.
“My princess.” Helt seemed equally taken aback.
Unfortunately, Amelia was just as thrown off. “It isn’t what I was aiming for. This is just sharing fruits with them. No, what I wanted was something that’ll actually ground them in some—”
Before she could even finish her sentence, this time, a gigantic clump of jam poured down onto the guards’ heads.
Even these soldiers couldn’t conceal how shaken they were at the abrupt assault of strawberry jam. “Aaaargh?!” They yelled in alarm, wildly flailing their hands.
At this point, Amelia’s actions were practically childish harassment. Helt and Luke looked conflicted.
“Amelia.”
“My princess.”
“W-Wait!” She stammered. “I’ll, uh, summon something that’s a bit more useful.”
You could do anything if you had strawberries. She knew that for a fact, so she had to rack her brain for ways to detain them or to stop them from moving.
Amelia analyzed the situation. At the moment, the swords attached to the guards’ hips were the biggest threats. She wanted to take them out of the equation before anything else.
“I’ll treat the sheaths as containers and fill them right up with molten strawberry candy! The type with less water and that isn’t too runny!” she exclaimed.
Unfortunately, nothing seemed to happen. Even the guards, who’d been relatively wary due to the strawberries and jam, sighed as they pushed up their jam-slicked hair with their fingers.
“I can’t quite figure out what’s going on, but stay right there. If you resist…” A guard placed his hand on the hilt of his sword.
Helt and Luke’s faces tensed up. Without delay, they put themselves between the enemies and Amelia.
To everyone’s surprise, what followed wasn’t the sound of the guard pulling out his sword, but his dumbfounded yelp. “H-Huh?!”
Amelia blinked. He seemed to be trying to unsheathe his sword, but it wouldn’t budge. Upon closer inspection, a sticky liquid candy—the type you’d use in Japanese amezaiku—was oozing out from his scabbard and had partly hardened, fixing the sword in place.
“Oh, the mizuame’s unexpectedly pretty effective?” Now that was great news to Amelia. “Okay then, let’s go with a bigger candied strawberry that’s even more solid!”
Immediately after her command, red semi-liquid candy crawled up from beneath the guards’ feet before hardening all at once.
“Amelia…”
“My princess…”
In contrast to the pair’s slightly appalled reaction, Amelia was impressed. “I knew it. Strawberries are the best. They live up to their reputation as being able to do anything.”
“How were strawberries even involved?” Luke muttered.
That got Amelia’s attention, and she hummed thoughtfully. “Now that you mention it, candied strawberries are called that because there’re strawberries in the middle. Which means this would be…candied men?”
It sounded like the furthest thing from appetizing. As soon as she had that thought, the candy covering the guards’ abdomens and legs began cracking.
Startled, Amelia yelped. “Wha?! Hold your horses! There might be strawberry juice added to the candy part! No, there is strawberry juice in it. It’s got an incredible amount of juice! It’s one hundred percent strawberry juice!”
As if responding to her cry, this time, a flood of semi-solid candy covered all the cracks in the blink of an eye. When she stopped to think about what she’d said, though, one-hundred percent juice was pure juice—none of it was candy. Which meant that the actual percentage of the juice didn’t matter, but her own thoughts did.
She nodded to herself. “I get it now. Your imagination is what’s important when it comes to magic.”
Helt hesitated. “You could say that, yes, but I am getting the impression that something is different in your case…”
Without warning, a shrill, grating voice resounded, shrouded in a sweet aroma. “What is even going on here?!”
Someone marched up from behind the candied men—Prisca, trailed by female attendants. The moment she spotted Amelia, she creased her brows. Ignoring the candied men trying to report something to her, her gaze shifted directly onto Luke.
“Lord Luke. I hear that you have come to see me,” she said with narrowed eyes.
“I am here to see Amelia. I’m afraid I have never stated your name, Your Highness—my sole purpose here is to bring Amelia back with me.”
With that statement, the younger girl scrunched up her eyebrows even more. Her outfit was a separate one from when Amelia had last seen her, meaning that she had changed for Luke’s visit.
Ever so slowly, she whispered, “Do you think I will allow you to leave?”
Luke inclined his head. “It is still not too late—you can still smooth over the situation by stating that Amelia and I have come to greet you. After all, even a princess like you wouldn’t be let off without any repercussions if someone discovered that you kidnapped and confined Amelia, a princess and a Saint. Am I wrong?”
His statement could be taken as a threat, and Prisca’s attendants were astir with indignation. Gesturing for them to settle down with her hand, Prisca pulled the corners of her lips into a superficial smile. “I am the Saint, I’m afraid. My sister has deceived you, Lord Luke. My goodness, what a travesty… Don’t worry, I shall steer everything back onto the rightful path again.”
Prisca likely meant that she intended to restore the events of the original Luke route. It was a most ruthless declaration from the heroine herself, and Amelia’s shoulders shivered minutely with apprehension.
Luke wore an unimpressed smile. “The rightful path, hmm? Were you planning on kidnapping Amelia and forcing us to break our betrothal? Or was your strategy to make her produce orison stones in your stead?”
His words must have taken her off guard, because Prisca’s expression, which had been brimming with confidence, clouded over a tad.
“Your Highness, the orison stone in your possession belongs to the previous Saint, the fifth consort,” Luke stated. “You may attempt to weave a web of excuses to convince others, but it is only a matter of time before someone finds out.”
“What nonsense are you saying? I am the Saint! That is my orison stone!”
Wow. She has guts, making such a brazen statement after stealing it. Amelia was almost impressed by the girl’s shamelessness, but perhaps such assertiveness was necessary if you wanted to be fit for the role of a heroine.
“I can’t say I share your confidence,” Luke replied. “Your Highness, you are a prideful and arrogant princess—I highly doubt that you would miss any chances to flaunt your orison stone to others. However, that is exactly what you are doing. I suspect your aversion stems from your inability to produce your own orison stones. Am I wrong?”