The Romantic Trials Of A Transmigrated Empress

Chapter 378: New Emmah, new Fox.

Roland was as drunk as a bard in a mead hall after seven rounds and one tragic ballad. When the servants brought him into the bedroom, he was sloshed, staggering and singing to Jesting about beautiful his whitish hair looked.

Jesting was mortified.

He and the servants could not hand over the crown prince soon enough to the crown princess and they could not escape fast enough after their duty was finished.

Sigrid pinched her nose when he belched and a storm’s worth of booze breath came from his mouth. She cleaned him with magic and changed his clothes. When she finally got into bed, he curled up to her like a cat seeking warmth.

"Smells good." he muttered.

Sigrid sighed. "Sleep." she patted his back gently and put him to sleep. The tiresome three days were over, it was time to rest again.

She decided to put off the plan to take on Emmah or any of the other mages that were in the empire, sniffing around for the lucky halo. Closing her eyes, she slept off.

****

For Emmah Fairfax, now known as Ciara Fox, there was no sleep that night. How could she, when training to become a female knight under Dame Amelia was a life threatening experience. All wannabe knights were entitled to only six hours of rest a day. The rest of the time was dedicated to training with little breaks to eat and catch one’s breath.

pale witness to Ciara Fox’s determination. Where others were sleeping, she was facing off against

of her bones, she readied herself for another attack. In her mind, she reminded herself of why she had to do this. It was

would be afraid of her. Like the old farmer that had sold her the identity of his dead daughter that

fire too, leaving no

ethereally in the moonlight. She was one of the women that took up the sword by Dame Amelia’s side and challenged the law against women being knighted. She was stern and tolerated no nonsense of illusions. "We don’t have time for you to learn how to control your breath Fox. You parry too

The less she talked, the less people tried to talk

at her one at a time, their blades like judgement. Each time she saw a flash of silver,

"Mind on the sword at all times Fox." she warned while bringing her sword

away. Her ribs were sore where she had been kicked but she did not show the pain on her face. Just as she was standing, the hit of a sword hit her in the stomach

said coldly,

got to her feet, coughed and

than a tiger going after prey. She was fond of twirling her sword like it was stitched to her wrist naturally. It

move and pushed her sword to

slow Fox." Sir

she tried to stand out. As

as Sir Lucy approached slowly, sword behind her back. Sir Lucy was as broad as a bear twice as tall and equal in strength to it. With one hand,