A Hero Past the 25th: Paradise Lost by I'mFiction

Category: Original

Genre: Adventure, Fantasy, Female Lead, Grimdark, Horror, Martial Arts, Summoned Hero

Status: Completed

Published: 2017-07-04

Updated: 2017-08-04

Packaged: 2018-10-11 21:16:36

Warnings: Gore Profanity Traumatising content, This fiction contains:

Chapters: 12

Words: 97,434

Publisher: www.royalroad.com

Summary:

Gather all and I will tell you a story! A story of how a champion was summoned into the doomed land of Ortho. Of how instead of a champion, they got a woman old enough to be your mother. And what happened after that?

I will tell you how the champion traveled into the Felorn Woods with her friends, in search of her lost youth.

And how instead of youth, what she found was Hell itself.

You don't believe me? Then go on and see for yourself.

But don't come crying to me if it was too much!

* * *

A sequel to this fiction as a thank you for all the encouraging comments and ratings.

And now with ANOTHER SEQUEL!

Prologue: Of Liberation

"I shall conquer the world and rule over all creation as the one true God.”

From the mouth of anyone else, it would’ve been difficult not to take it as a joke.

But by nature, Divines were not beings that would lie.

They completely lacked any motive to twist language to their own benefit, to the extent that the earthly concept of lying was altogether silly to them. Resorting to a lie would have expected those beings to view whoever they conversed with as someone close to an equal, a threat, an ally, or some such, who had to be deceived and put at a disadvantage. Nonsensical even as an idea.

For the past thirty thousand years, ever since the departure of the Old Gods, nothing surpassing the existence of a Divine Lord had appeared in the world of Ortho.

That didn’t mean they were always honest or good-intending, of course.

They could leave things unsaid, which could easily be interpreted as lying.

They could purposefully incite a misunderstanding in their audience with a deliberately misleading choice of words.

But strictly speaking, that was mischief. Play. Comedy.

Technically, not a lie.

Speaking falsehoods about themselves, claiming something they didn’t mean, insisting something was true while fully aware that it was not—you could safely say there was no chance of that happening.

Therefore, when one such an avatar of godly powers announced her intentions to take over the world that she was created to safeguard and support, those intentions could only be considered genuine. No matter how anyone felt about it or how realistic it seemed to achieve.

An honest truth.

In word and deed—an honest rebellion.

Before a problem of hierarchy or ethics or principles or politics or means or even affinity, such an announcement should have been impossible by to the very underlying principles which kept the world turning.

Did birds rebel against the sky?

Did fish rebel against the sea?

Did an innkeeper have any purpose in declaring an uprising against the lodge he lived and worked in, and where no one disputed his standing? Perhaps, if he was thoroughly fed up with his clientele and the interior design, which came quite close to the heart of the matter, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves.

The point is, by common sense, telling the truth should have been just as senseless for the Divine in this case, as it was for her to lie.

Evidently, it was not.

What could be deduced from this fact?

At least this: Although nobody expected them to, the Divines weren't created not to rebel.

When they came to be, branched into existence from their maker's will in the days of yore, these beings could hardly be called beings at all, as in separate, self-contained individuals with an ego, a will, consciousness, or dreams.

They were another form of the power of the Gods, a hand nominally detached from the main body, but which only ever had function as a hand, distance be damned. And as hands, they toiled tirelessly, endlessly, without questions, following strictly the decree of their makers.

No one knows for how long they'd been at it.

Even if days were counted in the distant Golden Age or the time before that, those calculations weren’t preserved in the storms of time. But we do know this—sooner or later, there came a day when the Old Gods cast their arms and legs behind and took off.

The beings who had created the world of Ortho and everything in it departed from it and swore an oath, never to return.

It probably goes without saying that when those dependable ancient deities took their leave, more than a few essential principles in the world had to become altered. But which exactly? The Gods didn't care to leave an instruction manual behind.

Humans, elves, monsters, all found themselves equally orphaned and without direction—and so did the Divines.

Like the others of her kind, the Divine spirit Aiwesh remained in Ortho even after the passing of Brann, the God of Light, her maker.

In ethereal solitude, Aiwesh continued to diligently to oversee the domain of her given element, “Light”, and ensure that even if all else in the world failed, her part would not.

Like a clock that simply keeps on ticking and ticking, even after the master of the house has left, she carried on like she always had, never voicing a word of complaint or questioning her own purpose.

To those who called her name in reverence, she granted her blessing.

To those who shunned and despised her name—she did nothing at all.

She was not a God.

Many millennia passed, lands shifted, kingdoms arose and fell, races appeared and others went extinct.

In the tumultuous times following the Golden Age, known to us as now the Age of the Covenant, Aiwesh eventually found a home in the forgotten shrine of Brann, deep beneath the much younger castle of Walhollem. There she stayed alone, lost in thought, for another lengthy span of time.

Great many were the things she pondered in her solitude. Day after day, her invisible gaze kept sweeping over the ever-green plains of Langoria, east and west, north and south, and slowly, something within the spirit began to change.

There came a time when Aiwesh, absorbed in reflection for the past thirty thousand years, abruptly realized that she had run out of things to think about—and that she was hopelessly bored.

She found that she had grown tired of Langoria, of her kings, of her people, of the evergreen pastures, of the little streams, the silent groves, the small, drowsy villages, the forbidding, snow-capped mountains bordering the horizon, and everything else.

Still, a dutiful soul—or rather, a soul that knew no other way to exist—she continued to watch over the lands. So she probably would’ve done until the end of time, despite the ever growing restlessness within her, if not for two seemingly minor events.

Minor to us, perhaps, but world-changing from her point of view.

Firstly, Aiwesh ceased to be alone.

One day, deep under the castle, in the innermost vault carved straight into bedrock, appeared a magnificent sword.

The weapon had been left there by the 8th King of Langoria, the hero remembered in the songs as Machilon the Great.

Machilon had claimed the sword as a trophy in his brief war against the elven refugees from the now lost land of Amarno. Although, it could hardly be called a war.

Six thousand of the kingdom's men rode out against a hundred and fifty elven sailors, shipwrecked in a storm. But of the five thousand knights that set out, following the battle of the Thorncliff Pass, few more than eight hundred returned home. It was only by dubbing it a great patriotic war against a foreign invader, that the losses could be justified to the common public.

King Machilon took the elven lord Elenglen’s sword for himself—and after coming home, left it to Aiwesh as a tribute.

The King was not a very devout believer to Aiwesh, but the gift was not too dear to him either. The sword was too heavy for the noble to wield in battle. Yet, he was captivated by its design and didn't want to give it to any other. Leaving the weapon in the old vault, where no one dared to set a foot in worked out for him. The sword was still technically his since it remained under his house, but by pronouncing it a sacrifice to the Divine Lord, no one could learn of his weakness or demand the weapon for themselves. Without Aiwesh's blessing, removing the sword from the stone was impossible to begin with.

There could be no better storage.

For close to eight hundred years, the blade remained where it stood, forgotten, mere material for the songs of bards, while the kings of men lived and died.

Well, it was not entirely forgotten.

Regardless of the motives behind the gift, Aiwesh was most taken by it. That simple piece of metal gave her many new things to think about, to distract her in her boredom. The spirit spent her time analyzing the blade’s very essence, envisioning war, battle, murder, conquest, and betrayals. She thought the weapon was beautiful and very much wanted to hold it in her hands—but being only a non-corporeal spirit, the feat was of course beyond her.

The Divine's quiet life with the sword went on like this century after century.

Until the second minor event.

It was only a blink of an eye in the long-winded course of history, yet that event changed everything.

Someone came to claim the weapon.

A child of royal blood, a princess of Langoria.

Eight centuries since the days of Machilon and Elenglen, that princess descended deep into the lightless vaults under Walhollem and found her way to the sword. She had heard the legends and came to look for salvation, for herself, for her family, and the world.

The maiden brought Aiwesh the last missing piece to the puzzle she had been steadily putting together in her mind. She had a problem, she had been given a tool—and now, she was given the solution, the method, which connected the two.

The Divine Lord then did something she had never done before in her long existence. She revealed herself to the princess and formed a pact with her. She allowed the girl to take the blade, in exchange for submitting her own body to the spirit as a medium.

The princess agreed

Aiwesh bonded with her and after thirty thousand years, she suddenly had tangible presence. And together with the liberty, Aiwesh discovered unprecedented clarity of thought.

There was nothing left to think about anymore, only action.

This world is flawed and failing—therefore, I shall recreate it by my own design, using force to conquer all those who oppose.

For the governor of Light to adopt a purpose outside her given domain, by a will she should not have possessed, it could only mean two things.

Either wanting to take over the world was perfectly within her maker's original vision, part of the purpose bestowed upon her as she was brought into existence.

Or else, Aiwesh had been unconditionally freed from whatever purpose her departed God had intended for her, and could now choose anew.

What was the truth?

And what would it mean to Ortho and her people?

Understanding the full meaning behind the Lord of Light's bold declaration was naturally too much asked of the audience—of a certain Itaka Izumi

It probably would've been too much asked of any other mortal as well, at least so early in the morning, immediately after waking up, but Izumi's cluelessness was two-fold. She was not an inhabitant of Ortho in the first place, but a human from another world. Because of this, the not-particularly-young woman could only respond to the spirit's revelation without much of a shock, in the most unimaginative way possible.

“Oh. Is that so?”

Crystallized in that brief line were Izumi's thoughts regarding a plot that had nothing to do with her, by a being that only had a little to do with her, in a world that only recently had started to have something to do with her.

At this predictable reaction, the Lord of Light laughed brightly.

To the spirit, Izumi was neither a potential threat nor even a passable ally. Not a pawn, not a tool, not a slave, not a friend, far less an antagonist. Only an amusing being, an exotic animal, a pet, something like a goldfish, more like.

“Treasure my vessel, Itaka Izumi,” the Divine told the woman with a smile. “Care for her as if she were your own flesh and blood. Do so and I shall remember it. Whatever you wish for in this world shall be yours. Once it is mine.”

Finished with the discussion, Aiwesh returned within her vessel. Her fantastic form shattered into countless, dazzling, illusory feathers of pure light that slowly faded away into thin air. From the midst of the breathtaking light show slowly emerged the form of a different being, that of a young human woman of nineteen years of age.

A woman whose slim body had been forged like a blade, tough and thin. Not even the harsh days of military training could mask the dignified beauty befitting one of royalty—rather, they had made it even more pronounced. She was like a jewel cut into shape, even and flawless from all angles.

Naked and asleep, oblivious to the preceding exchange, the girl lied where the Divine had been but a moment ago, her silky, rose-gold hair scattered about. However, in her lacking state of dress, exposed directly to the cold, damp air in the small tent, the girl soon began to stir and opened her eyes.

“Hmm…?”

The place she was lying on happened to be Izumi's mattress, on top of Izumi herself, where Aiwesh had in her usual playful fashion shared her message. Realizing this, as her wandering gaze regained focus and fixed at Izumi's face, Yuliana Da Via Brannan’s face quickly reddened.

Something similar had happened before and the cause was not unknown to the girl, but the position was still too much for her modest, bashful nature. The fact that they were both women didn't help her embarrassment. If anything, it seemed to make it worse.

“Ah..I...eh...” she struggled for words.

“Morning,” Izumi casually greeted her.

“I—I'm...”

“I know. It's not really your fault and it's definitely not my fault, so try not to scream too loud and wake up the whole neighborhood, okay?”

“...I wasn't going to make such a scene,” the princess sullenly replied as the insult restored her senses.

“Oh, really? Not like last time?”

“Last time was—I was surprised. That's all. Is that wrong? I think anyone would find waking up next to an unexpected person in such an immodest state upsetting. Deeply so. And rightfully so.”

“They would?” Izumi replied. “I hear it's actually something people brag about all the time.”

“Who would!?” Yuliana proudly retorted. “I would never! It's shameless and vile to spread such humiliating stories of other people! A proper knight must always seek to guard not only their own honor but that of others. That's what I think.”

“Why are you assuming the guy's stance in the matter? What about your own dignity as a woman?”

“And you then?” The princess gave the earthling a scrutinizing gaze. “How come you look so unphased? Just like last time. Perhaps it’s a common occurrence to you, this sort of thing?”

“I told you, didn't I?” Izumi answered with some discomfort. “I have no experience to speak of. It’s just that there’s no one else here to see, so why would I be embarrassed?”

“And you expect me to believe that? This reminds me, you got into the banquet in that provocative dress and it was like second nature to you. Tell me then, how were you able to do that, if you have ‘no experience to speak of’? You're completely pulling wool over my eyes, aren't you? Excuse me but I’m not that simple-minded.”

“Ehhh...?” Izumi restlessly evaded the girl's eyes. She didn't want to remember what happened that night. “I—I got a bit lucky, I suppose...And it didn’t go exactly as planned in the end, anyway...”

“Oh? Not quite as planned?” Yuliana narrowed her eyes at the reaction. “So you had a downright reservoir of experience to plan by, is that it? Thought as much.”

“I didn’t say—Hmmm…” Izumi pouted, cornered. “You sure have some questionable sides to your character, bullying a helpless old woman the first thing after waking up. Is that very knightly behavior? You'd better get up and dressed now. If you don’t, I'm going to do something naughty to you, experienced or not.”

“Naughty?” Yuliana repeated. “What are you talking about?”

“Why, there's a cute, naked girl right in my arms—Who would be able to pass up such a golden opportunity? As you'd expect, even I want to try touching a few places. Squeeze-squeeze.”

“Listen to yourself...” Yuliana sighed. “Such are your preferences?”

“Can you blame me?” Izumi defended herself. “Beautiful things are beautiful—Isn't the appreciation of arts universal and unrelated to gender? Have you ever heard anyone sound of mind say they prefer ugly things over pretty things? No way, right? No matter who you ask, I'm sure anyone would agree that smooth and soft is better than tough and coarse. Then is there something strange about me wanting to feel up someone who’s cute, smooth, and nice?”

The faint redness returned to Yuliana’s cheeks as she reproachfully looked back at the shameless woman.

“Are you making fun of me now or still half-asleep? I'll have you know that I don’t appreciate this kind of humor very much. What if I took you seriously? Either way, I'm going to get up now.”

“Who said I’m not serious?” Izumi replied. “Speaking of which, you promised me.”

“What?”

“Kisses. I won’t let you say you forgot.”

The princess froze.

“You...can't possibly expect me to...Now? Here? Like this?”

“Why not? Wouldn’t you say the timing is just right?”

“I…I haven't prepared...I don't think it's a...”

“Right. I’m too old and unappealing, after all,” Izumi sighed and looked away. “You were only toying with my innocent, inexperienced heart. No matter which world it is, young people are always so cruel...”

“Hey! Don't be ridiculous! I'm not thinking anything like that,” Yuliana refuted, embarrassed to death, and still more embarrassed for knowing it showed on her face. “I told you that I was fine with it.”

“Then it’s a-okay!” Izumi gave up her act and a bright smile returned to her lips. “Hurry now, hurry!”

“Stop that!” the girl yelled at her.

“Stingy. Stingy princess.”

“Enough! I said enough! Maybe you’re fine with fooling around with whoever and wherever, but it wouldn't be just play to me! I don’t want my first kiss with you to be such a trifle…!”

“Huh...?”

In her agitation, Yuliana ended up saying more than she had intended to. This time it was Izumi’s turn to get flustered, at the unexpectedly bold announcement.

“You...that is...Well…” For a moment, she opened and closed her mouth like a fish on dry land, before timidly looking away. “Um, want to undo that promise then...?”

“I'm not taking it back,” Yuliana said with determination, forcing Izumi to look back at her. “I’ve...never failed to keep my word, so this...this isn’t going to be the first time.”

“S-seriously…?”

The princess looked at the older woman in the eyes, holding her face in her hands. Though she was naked and the air cool, her body seemed to burn with a feverish heat. Her heart beat louder and louder in her chest. The ticklish sensation twisting her insides annoyed Yuliana. She wasn't about to lose to embarrassment, she had given her word. Her honor demanded it. As she kept staring at Izumi’s helpless, childish, adorable face, Yuliana started to think that maybe the time and place didn’t matter so much, after all. Yes, if it was here, right now, it seemed most natural and took hardly any effort.

Slowly, the girl relaxed her neck and shoulders and lowered her face, bringing her lips closer to Izumi's.

Closer.

Closer and closer...

—“Okay, wakey-wakey, it's time to get up and keep going...”

...And that was when they were interrupted.

The tent's front was pulled aside, sending blinding daylight in. And shortly after, another young woman crouched and stepped in. Unlike the princess—as if in a deliberate contrast to her—this one was dark instead of blonde, her dark hair curly instead of straight, short instead of long, and she was properly dressed in a crude but practical attire.

“Huh——?”

Seeing the scene unfolding in the tent, her eyes quickly adapting to the darker lighting conditions, the visitor paused as if hit by a magic spell. For a moment, she stared at the two women inside, one naked on top of the other, holding her face, with the expression of an apple thief caught red-handed.

Before the two in the tent could say anything in their defense…

“SO YOU WERE LIKE THAT—!?! I KNEW IT!” Riswelze angrily yelled, spun around and stormed out like a gust of wind.

“No! You—you got it wrong!” Yuliana cried, her embarrassment exceeding all limits.

“My, my,” Izumi sighed. “This became complicated.”

It was shaping up to be another long day.

A day in another world.

Chapter 1: The Summoned Hero Has a Headache

1

Anyone seeking to get into the Imperial territory of Tratovia from the southern kingdoms had no choice but take the scenic route. Why more direct paths didn't exist, why none had been constructed over the long centuries, the reasons for that were chiefly political. They were rooted in the experiences gained through those long centuries, in the distrust the times had ingrained in the locals. War and peace alternated frequently enough on the continent for no one to forget the former even when the latter prevailed.

A straightforward highway access to all the major cities would have made an invasion by the continent's greatest military might that much easier to carry out, whenever they should wish to attempt it.

No more complex reasons were needed.

The greatest defense of the principality of Luctretz, as well as its neighboring kingdom of Langoria down south, were not their valiant knights, not the heavy stone walls guarding their capitals, not their swords, shields or spears of quality steel, or even the cunning of their leaders. Before all those, they were shielded by the geography of their respective domains. The vast distances which made moving infantry and cavalry a risky, time-consuming, resource-consuming effort, even to a powerful economy.

Dividing the southern continent of Noertia were barren, rocky mountain ranges and deep, dark gorges, where detached communities of dangerous beasts occasionally made an appearance. There were wide rivers with powerful currents splitting the otherwise shapeless expanses of lowland, with very few larger bridges to cross them. There were isolated batches of thick, unkempt forest here and there, that easily hid guerillas and supplies for the defenders. There were places where sharp, treacherous bits of bedrock peeked through the grassland to ruin wagons and carriages.

Weeks if not months of extended open land warfare would follow the crossing of the border, before either nation’s capital could be claimed. So long as any chance of the effort proving wasted remained, no one in their right mind would dare to even consider the conquest. And so, for these practical, natural reasons, the Emperor of Tratovia silently suffered the presence of his less ambitious neighbors, despite his well-known desire to unite all of mankind under his flag.

While the general opinion in Luctretz had turned mixed over the recent years, Langoria had no intention of ever joining hands with a foreign power, no matter the reasons, and so they vehemently vetoed all the Merchant guilds' proposals for a new road or two.

Thanks to this state of affairs, traders, mercenaries, messengers, travelers, vagabonds, and adventurers alike moving through the eastern continent had no choice but to invest weeks on the roundabout, poorly maintained roads, to cross distances that could have only taken a few days as the crow flies.

“This isn't quite what I had in mind,” the woman from Earth, Itaka Izumi remarked, looking over the endless green lands spreading before her eyes from her seat at the back of a carriage.

The carriage in question, veiled with a tent-like cover, steadily pulled by a pair of large oxen, was certainly tedious to someone accustomed to the speedy 21st century vehicles, never mind the hectic pace of racing games.

Izumi had little against the peaceful travel speed per se, but she was also painfully aware that she wasn't growing any younger while the journey lasted.

Ever since being summoned into the whole world of Ortho a week ago, Izumi's goal had been to explore her new home, all the lands, and all the races, cities, and dungeons, every nook and cranny of it.

The adventure had certainly started in a thrilling fashion—if not too much so—but luck was on the earthling’s side.

As Izumi made her hasty departure from the small town of Grelden with her friends, she realized she had forgotten her original clothes in the little room she'd been staying in. All she had was the glamorous albeit dirtied ball gown she had worn to the mayor's banquet the previous day, but going back to town was not an option anymore. Thanks to the commotion, the lady had become wanted far and wide, and not in the romantic sense.

With great difficulty, Izumi managed to scrub the dress clean of all the blood by a small brook and then sold it to a merchant in the next town. Using the coin gained, she purchased herself a new, more appropriate costume at a local flea market. A simple shirt, capri pants, light shoes and a knightly surcoat—all secondhand, of course, but mostly intact.

Izumi’s companions brought her fashion sense to question several times.

The surcoat was obviously for men and too tight around the chest to be buttoned, but the woman herself took a liking to it. Her intention was to become a sword for hire and for that, a certain rebellious look was necessary—or so she reasoned it. There wasn’t enough money to buy a proper armor, but neither did Izumi want any.

“I always play the glass cannon build,” she explained. “Armor restricts movement, slows reactions, and it's awkward when I'm not used to wearing any. And since I’m already...chronologically challenged, it would tire me out too soon.”

“But without armor of any kind, you will die in one hit!” Her companions tried to make her see the good points of protection.

“Well, you can die in one hit even if you wear armor, you know?” Izumi retorted. “If you’re gonna put some on, then you'd better go full Havel or there's no meaning.”

“What kind of an expression is that…?”

“Anyway, all I need to do is to not get hit, so it’s okay.”

“That’s impossible.”

“It’s not, if you get good.”

“Where exactly is this bravado coming from…?”

Now looking and feeling like a true adventurer in a medieval fantasy world, Izumi's journey had resumed with renewed vigor.

And yet…

It had already been three days and a half since they last saw a village, and there was no hint of adventure looming on the horizon. No monsters, no bandits, no magic or dragons, absolutely nothing even remotely thrilling, that would have allowed the tourist to forget her impatience.

Only grass, rocks, and the long road, as far as the eye could see.

Ever since she was a child, Izumi had prayed for a miracle that would take her from her old world to somewhere, where might and magic ruled. She had lived for that dream and nothing else. One could say she had wasted her life, but as unlikely as it had been, the dream had actually come true. Regrettably, it seemed her portion of luck in this life was spent in the process.

The world she had ended up in continued to betray expectations at every turn.

“Please bear with it.”

Sitting opposite of Izumi was a young woman in a white dress and a shiny metal armor adorned with beautiful engravings, a deep blue cloak over it. Together with her clothes, Yuliana Da Via Brannan had regained the dignity and nobility appropriate to a true princess.

“We couldn't afford horses of our own, so this is as good as it gets for us,” Yuliana said. “As far as I can see, fortune has favored us only too kindly.”

Their ride, provided by a carpet and textile merchant from Estua, had the women travel together with the merchandise in the back of the carriage. Under the condition that they took off their shoes and didn't spill food or drinks while on board.

It was certainly a great deal more comfortable than an average bus ride, but the large beasts pulling the carriage weren't among the speediest of animals.

The merchant himself, a white-bearded, dried-up and tanned little man in his mid-fifties, had been looking for mercenaries to guard his goods on the way to the northern markets. He only had his adult daughter and the animals for company. Due to the modest size of his enterprise, he couldn't afford to pay much—or so he insisted—which was why he had experienced difficulty finding suitably street-credible escorts.

Yuliana and Izumi were not especially imposing in appearance, but they were content with only a ride out of Luctretz and food for payment. Both parties saw the deal as a dream come true, so compromises were made in other regards.

There was also a third passenger.

Though she was only a girl not much older than the princess, as a traveler she was by far the most experienced among the three of them. And also dressed for the part. Her thick vest, made of laminated leather, tough black riding pants, and dull brown cloak showed visible signs of wear, which could only result from long days on the road. The same message was conveyed by her tanned but attractive face and dark curls that long exposure to sunlight had turned from black to gray-brown.

“You should've been on the ride I came to Grelden with,” this third passenger, assassin Riswelze said, sitting left of Izumi on a crate. “It was smaller than this one but had people on two floors, packed like sardines. The smell was—indescribable. My rear still remembers the coarse board it had to sit on for two weeks straight.”

“That would not have been a prison carriage, by any means?” Yuliana inquired in a dry tone, not very sympathetic.

“No,” Riswelze answered just as icily. “It was a slave carriage.”

“Surely even an uncultured manslayer like you is aware that there is no slavery in Luctretz. It was abolished by a law over a hundred years ago, before you were even born.”

“Oh, pardon me, your highness. I believe they call them, recruit carriages these days. Naturally, you won't see them during the day, since they only bring them in by the night, when it's well past every nice little princess's bedtime.”

Yuliana's face became flushed with anger again, as she evaded Riswelze's playful gaze.

“I should know better than to listen to the gossiping of a turncoat killer,” the princess said. “I rather put my faith in the Prince of Luctretz, who happens to be my good friend and an excellent, honest young man in all respects.”

“And no doubt just as detached from the realities of his land.”

“Lady Izumi, could you please tell your friend of questionable character to either be silent or else get off this ride? I'm sure I don't need to tell you which is my preference.”

“That's my line, your highness. Remind me again, Izumi, why must we babysit this uptight crane? We'd get a mountain of silver selling her off to some noble at the nearest town. By prior experience, the demand is high.”

“You will address Lady Izumi with more respect than that. And stop trying to tempt her to villainy by your side,” Yuliana's tone was turning more agitated still. “As the summoned champion of my people and the bearer of my family's heirloom, she is dramatically above the level of petty criminals in stature.”

“As her highness makes painfully evident by her each breath, rank alone doesn't make a person worth the clothes they're wearing. A friend of heart is the highest title attainable to a human, and such is she to me, above anything else. Not that you would understand such commoner concepts, having never had a real friend in your life.”

“That is…!” Yuliana jumped up from her seat. “Whatever senseless, lawless bond you believe you've made with Lady Izumi, after she bothered to rescue your worthless hide out of sheer charity, is not only fallacious from beginning to end, but nothing compared to the mutual respect between us.”

“Why don't you drop the holier-than-thou maiden act already? We both know the value of your bonds, seeing how quick you are to go along with any and every male that comes your way, whether they be town guards, pretend-nobles, or their brainless goons. Did you actually even want to get rescued? Maybe we interrupted something we shouldn’t have…?”

“Why, you villain—!” Bright red, the princess could barely contain her rage. “You will pay for those words!”

“Fine by me,” Riswelze stood up as well. “Making stuck-up princesses cry is my favorite pastime.”

—“Oh, pipe down, both of you,” Izumi interrupted their escalating bickering with a groan. “Aww, my head hurts...”

“Are you still feeling under the weather?” Forgetting about the assassin, Yuliana knelt beside the woman and asked. “Really, you should mind your age before getting carried away with drinking...”

“That's not it!” the woman dejectedly complained. “I need my morning coffee...! Why does no one in this world know coffee…? This is just awful! Awful! I'm starting to see why the Gods took off...”

“What’s this 'coffee' anyway?” Riswelze frowned. “I've never heard of such a thing before. Would be helpful if we knew what it's even made of.”

“Well, it's these beans...”

“Beans?”

“Yeah, you roast them...Where do they grow anyway? In a tree or a bush? Either way, it's a...Oww, I can't focus! My brain can't wake up without a cup! First I get the hangover of the century and then no coffee...As I thought, this world really sucks! Sucks, sucks, sucks!”

“The hangover part was purely your own fault, though,” Yuliana sighed.

“I know I'm not young anymore...” Izumi muttered. Then, her tension suddenly spiked. “Oh, I got it now! Oww...”

“W-what?” Both Yuliana and Riswelze were startled by her sudden exclamation.

“Of course, why didn't I think of it sooner?” the woman resumed with a wide (only a bit pained) smile. “I know it now! My goal, my purpose as a character in this fantasy world! I'm going to find a way to make myself young again! That's it! That's just the thing! This is a world of magic and fantasy where you can do anything. An elixir of immortality, a formula of everlasting life, anything goes! Where will I find it? Who will I have to kill to get it? Well? Tell me! Tell me! Hurry! Hurry up now!”

Izumi crawled to Yuliana and clung at her skirt hems, demanding an answer.

“Get a hold of yourself!” Yuliana tried to make her settle down, before turning to Riswelze. “Of course, there is a way. You know one, don't you?”

“R-right!” Riswelze tried to quickly recall the stories she had heard during her travels. “Yes, I know just the thing. Bathing in the blood of a dragon is said to make one invulnerable, and the tears of a phoenix can heal wounds, so it shouldn't be too far-fetched to think there's magic to make one young again...Or not! What am I saying? Why are we suddenly going along with this nonsense! Of course, there is no such a thing! Those are fairy tales! You don't look that old to me! Get a grip!”

“When you reach my age, you'll know what I'm going through...” Izumi sank on the floor. “You'll change your mind then. You'll understand...Just you wait...It will happen before you know it...”

“Are you trying to put a curse on me now!?”

——“You lasses sure are having a jolly good time there, by the sound of it!” The old man driving the carriage turned to yell at them. “Just don't trample my merchandise, you hear me! Sit nice!”

“Ah, I'm sorry for the rowdiness!” Yuliana was quick to apologize.

“If it's youth you're looking for,” the merchant unexpectedly continued, “why don't you look up the spring of Felorn while you’re at it? Haha!”

Everyone traded glances, all equally confused.

“The spring of Felorn?” the princess repeated.

“Why, the source of everlasting youth,” the man said. “A spring hidden deep within the heart of the Felorn woods. It is no legend, ladies! Agelaos of Ealtram found the spring, a good four hundred years ago, that he did. Many books have been written about the Wise Wanderer. You heard of him? A vial of the water he brought back with him still exists and is on display in his hometown, as a proof that it happened. I've seen it with my own eyes! Being an Estuan, you know.”

“And yet, let me guess,” Riswelze commented, a sardonic smile on her lips, “this Sir Agelaos is long dead now, in spite of the youth he supposedly found, and that spring actually did no good to anybody.”

“Die he did, yes,” the merchant answered. “But not of old age! No! Don't you know the story? It was quite popular back in the day, I read it many times. What a shame. Anyway, it is water of youth in the spring, not of immortality! Agelaos died, as anyone would when the great wyrm of Gornhull tore his head off and chewed it up! Ventured into the wrong land, he did. But, as those who last saw him said, not a hair of his head aged past the day when he found the spring. In fact, they say his corpse still lies there, on the slopes of Mt Eremitas, fresh as though he were killed only yesterday! Even though four hundred years've passed.”

The passengers listened in silence and that silence persisted even after the old man had finished.

Izumi was the first to recover.

“Where's that spring, exactly? Did that Akko guy leave a map, by any chance?”

“Felorn woods spread along the west coast of Tratovia,” Riswelze answered. “the southern end reaches as far as Luctretz. It's not far at all. This very road takes us right by the forest on the way to the north.”

At her unexpectedly serious answer, Yuliana directed a suspicious glance at the assassin.

“What are you up to now?”

“Water that makes you young again? Isn't it obvious?” the dark-haired girl answered. “Imagine what it would be worth. Any old noble would be willing to pay tens of—hundreds of thousands in gold for just a drop. The business idea of the century.”

“Provided even a drop exists,” Yuliana retorted. “Don't tell me you believe this nonsense? Didn't you say it yourself? Those are nothing but fairy tales. The good mister here is playing us for fools, clearly enough. If it’s this easy to trick you, then you are even below the—exceedingly—low rating I've given you.”

“Dragons exist,” Riswelze argued. “Immortal, ever-young races exist, as do those that can live for hundreds of years. There's a grain of truth in every fairy tale.”

“...”

“The point is, it doesn’t have to be real! It's a matter of marketing, creating an appealing impression, dropping subtle hints here and there, mixed with innocent facts. You get other people to do the storytelling on your behalf and the product practically sells itself. All we need is people who can vouch that we actually walked the walk and something passable for a miracle draught.”

The princess was less impressed by the plot.

“Do I need to remind you how many have gone missing in Felorn over the ages? It's one of the greatest and deadliest expanses of unexplored wilderness left upon the continent. Hostile elementals, dangerous wildlife, there could be tribes of trolls or goblins. You'd be mad to think we can simply ride in there and back again, the three of us, like it's the simplest little trip in the world. Magic draught or not.”

“First off, trolls don't live in forests and goblins have been all but eradicated from Noertia.”

“You're only arguing with me out of spite!”

“Well, there's that too.”

“You...”

“You're with me on this, aren't you, Izumi?” Instead of trying to convince the princess, Riswelze turned to the summoned champion with a mischievous smile, knowing Yuliana wouldn't be able to oppose anything the woman decided.

“Well, it does smell fishy,” Izumi thought for a moment. “That kind of thing is almost always a guaranteed lie or otherwise not worth the effort. Buuut, if it's really so close by, then it might be worth risking a lame moral lesson at the end of the day to check it out! Yes, of course, I’m going! I don't want any more wrinkles...”

“How old were you again?” Yuliana sighed. “I don't see any wrinkles on your face in the first place...”

“No, there are! Look closer! See?” Izumi brought her face closer to the princess and pointed at the corner of her eye. “This is number twenty-eight! I've had three new ones since last week! It must be because of all the stress and exercise! At this rate, I'm going to turn into a mummy after a month in this world! Oh, there’s no question about it! We're going to find this spring of wonders and when we do, I'm going to empty it!”

“Oh my, you'd steal such a unique wonder of the world all for yourself!” Riswelze acted shocked, still unable to hide her triumphant smile. “Are you even human?”

“Well,” the woman cheerfully added, “even if we don't find the real deal, I can always go pick up the bottle that Akko guy brought home with him and chug it!”

“ARE YOU EVEN HUMAN!?” Both Yuliana and the merchant hollered, in perfect sync.

No one at the time took this decision as official, far less final.

They were only fooling around, trying to pass the time. The Felorn woods were hardly “close by” or easily explored, and nobody knew where within its vast depths the spring was hidden. Izumi did have an interest in reclaiming her lost youth, but she also lacked the determination to commit to such a distant goal. Meanwhile, Yuliana's personal aspirations had nothing to do with eternal youth or the forest of Felorn, and she outright refused to even consider it. And Riswelze—lived in the moment and went with the flow, like anyone in her trade.

“Ah, reminds me,” the assassin suddenly spoke. “Here, have this.”

She pulled something out of her bag and tossed it to Izumi. It was a bundle of leather straps and buckles resembling a harness, with a strange, smooth, circular plate attached at the center.

“This is…?”

“The stone there’s magnetite,” Riswelze explained. “A holder for your sword, so that you can wear it on your back. It’s heavy to drag around, isn’t it? This way you can have your hands free wherever you go. Pretty nifty, huh? Found it at the markets earlier.”

“For real? It’s way too cool!” Izumi examined the gift closer with excitement. “Is it really okay for me to have it?”

“Of course, it’s for you that I got it.”

“My, my, you sure scored yourself a ton of points now, Rise!”

“What points…?” Riswelze asked, but looked exceedingly pleased.

Yuliana directed a narrow glance at the other girl, less impressed.

“I’m surprised you had the coin for such a present. It had to have been costly, by the looks of it. How much was it again, exactly?”

“I’m an assassin, not a beggar,” Riswelze shrugged and evaded the princess’s gaze. “Though I engage in occasional thievery as a hobby, I don’t need to count every copper in my pocket.”

“Oh, really? That’s good then. Here I was almost starting to think that you stole this thing from some poor aspiring mercenary...”

“Jealousy isn’t a pretty thing, your highness.”

“J-jealous?” Yuliana’s emotions were all too visible on her face. “I have no idea what you’re talking about!”

“Yes, yes...Points scored.”

"Be silent!"

2

The carriage continued to crawl across the endless lowlands of north-eastern Luctretz, along a narrow road, which resembled a great tapeworm spread out against the green background. Verdant grass swayed in the gentle spring wind all around, the immaculate cerulean midday sky for a contrast. It was by all means a pleasant, sunny day, warm but not too hot, and nearly ideal for outdoor excursions. Perhaps too much so. The soothing air rendered the travelers lethargic and kept the conversations brief.

The lack of landmarks on the ground level was one thing, but there was nothing too fascinating in the skies either, as Izumi idly observed. A few small, pale celestial dots were visible even in broad daylight, which Yuliana identified as the three small moons orbiting Ortho, as well as the faraway planet Deneval, respectively. But upon a quick look, they were no different from spots of dust on a windshield, barely noticeable unless you were specifically looking for them.

Izumi had expected to see something more surprising in the skies of this alien world, like exotic gas giants dominating the view, three colorful suns, black holes, or fancy nearby nebulae weaving intricate patterns over the canvas of outer space. Regrettably, as life on Ortho resembled that on Earth to a disorienting degree, it also meant that the planetary conditions were close to identical. Izumi thought she felt slightly lighter here, but whether that was due to a difference in the effect of gravity or simply loss of weight following exercise, she couldn't say.

Considering it further, even if the physical conditions were dramatically different in this world compared to her own, maybe Izumi's existence itself had been automatically adjusted to it, similarly to how she had been able to understand the local speech from the get go. She had adopted the local standards for normality as a matter of course and her point of reference had become warped in the process.

For example, if she were to come across streetlights in this world, where green designated free passage and red prohibited it, could she say for sure it was a concept carried over from her own world—or did she only feel they were the same, because the corresponding symbols were translated and equalized in her mind on the fly? Perhaps, if she were to be transported back into her original world now, as she was, she would come across some incomprehensible gadget controlling traffic and not understand it at all, and streetlights were only an image retroactively reconstructed in her memories using Orthan concepts.

Concluding it was all a gigantic waste of time to think about, Izumi returned to nonchalantly gazing into the distance.

Shortly after noon, the travelers stopped on a wide mound to have lunch. Finished with her meal, Izumi sat on a rock and looked east, where tall rock formations far in the horizon caught her attention.

They were like groups of towers sticking up from the grass, with no other buildings near them. First imagining they were ruins of a past, now lost civilization, Izumi kept squinting at them, before making an alarming discovery.

“T-the rocks are moving...?”

“Titans,” Riswelze sitting close by informed her.

“Titans?”

“Yes, Titans. For a long time, they were mistakenly believed to be a subspecies of giants, but they're actually Earth Elementals, spirits of the land.”

“Spirits? Like Divines?”

“No,” Yuliana joined the conversation. As someone taught by the wisest of professors in Langoria, she didn't want the street-learned delinquent to outshine her. “Divines are high-ranking spirits created directly by the Gods themselves, and embody various aspects of them, while Elementals are spirits that spawned from nature on their own. They are a crystallization of the creative will coursing through all existence. They are similar, yes, but you could say their existences perfectly mirror one another. Divines are fated to one day forget their godly origin, lose their individuality and merge back into the flow of nature, whereas Elementals spontaneously gained individuality and separated from that flow—”

“Do they kill people?” Izumi asked what interested her the most.

“N-no, I don't think so. At least, I have never heard of that happening...”

“Oh, the princess doesn't know?” Riswelze didn't miss the chance. “Could it be, they don't teach that bit in the school where all the rich kids go? Yes, that would expect the old coots who write the books to actually step outside their lonely ivory towers and see the world for themselves. Relying on hearsay is so much easier...”

“H-how dare you! My professors have seen more of the world than you could ever dream about! If only you had a fraction of their wisdom, we wouldn't be in this tiresome situation.”

“So do they kill people or not?” Izumi repeated.

“They're barely even self-aware,” Riswelze shrugged and admitted. “They couldn't care less about humans. Unless you get too close and let yourself be trampled over, then there's no danger.”

“Ehh, right,” the woman returned to silently looking away.

“...It's almost as if you're disappointed they don't?” Riswelze snorted.

“That's not it,” Izumi shook her head. “It's just, if they killed people, then somebody out there would want to get rid of them too. I bet you could make a load of gold taking down just one, since the difficulty level looks pretty high.”

“Excuse me? You'd actually fight one of those? Just for gold?”

“Why, it could be a bit interesting to try.”

“Not even I am that desperate for coin. They're huge, made of rock, see? Whenever one winds up too close to a city, a whole squad of wizards is needed to turn it away. What could you do with a sword?”

“Oh, I have an idea. It's just like Shadow of the C******s in real life. Just need a horse.”

“I have no idea what you're talking about...Forget it. It's impossible.”

“Oh reeeeaally...”

Whether it was possible or not, Izumi's competitive spirit didn't like being told what she could do and what she couldn't.

“Ah, that's right, Lady Izumi,” Yuliana recognized her train of thought and spoke up in an effort to distract the woman. “I recall you saying you wanted to learn magic, yes? I do not mean to brag, but I happen to have some rudimentary knowledge of the Art. Ever since making the contract with my Lord, my understanding keeps expanding each day. If you like, I could share some of this knowledge with you, now that we have the chance.”

“Oh!” Izumi cheered up and turned around. “I do! Teach me! What can you teach me?”

“Very well,” the princess happily said and cleared her throat. “First, all magic depends on two things: Potential and language. Potential means the possible forms that magic may take through you. You, as a caster, conduct the Power and give it shape, and, like people themselves, each person's magic is a bit different from everybody else's. Imagine your potential like a tree that grows within you. That tree slowly extends and grows thicker, separates into branches and blooms as you learn and practice. There are also things like affinity and orientation to consider, but let us keep to the basics now.”

“Right, the basics.”

“Besides mysteries unique to each sorcerer, there are also common spells that virtually anyone can learn. Let's begin with one of such. This is called Ghost Light. All it does is generate a bit of light and you cast it like this.”

Yuliana held out her palm, concentrated and spoke,

“Iota.”

Soon enough, an orb of light appeared hovering above her hand. It was tiny but visible even in broad daylight.

“Hm...?”

Then, before the curious stares—the orb suddenly started to expand and grow in magnitude. Like the flash of a camera, it momentarily outdid the sun itself and then quickly disappeared, leaving everyone stunned.

“The Hel just happened...?” Riswelze blinked, blinded.

“I—I don't know,” Yuliana replied, water gathering in her eyes. “I suddenly felt a surge of force greater than I intended to release and lost control...”

“Ai-chan's prank...?” Izumi speculated.

“Aren't your eyes hurting?” Riswelze asked her.

“Well, I knew she'd mess it up, since it's Yule we're talking about, so I was ready for it.”

“Excuse me!”

"And there's a really simple way to deal with flashbangs,” Izumi explained. "Just keep the other eye closed while looking with the other. After the flash, open the eye you kept closed and close the other to adapt faster.”

“Um, I've never seen you open either eye...”

“That's right! I'm glad you noticed. I'll only open them when I get serious!”

“Serious about what…?”

“Flash...bangs?” Yuliana repeated the odd word. “Is that magic of your world?”

“It's nothing that special,” Izumi replied. “Every worthwhile tactical FPS has flash grenades. Like SW*T or...”

“Oh boy, here we go again...”

The two girls were already used to their companion spewing otherworldly lingo and knew that the best medicine was to simply ignore it.

“Fiiiiine,” Izumi gave up explaining. “Then, what do I have to do to cast the flashbang?”

“'Ghost Light'.” Yuliana coughed dryly and resumed her lesson. “Let's do this step by step. The wise adepts teach us that each person has not only a physical body but also a spiritual one, which overlap with one another. Your spirit is the catalyst by which all spells manifest. Now, close your eyes and concentrate. Turn your thoughts towards your heart. Not the physical heart but the core of your spiritual body. Picture it as this little sphere of energy deep within you, a bit above the navel, pulsating as you breathe...”

“My mentor told me to imagine it as a gate, though,” Riswelze commented, following their lesson from the side while chewing on a straw.

“T-the image is unimportant, so long as you focus on the right spot,” the princess said. “Now imagine the energy of this sphere gradually intensifying...”

“Much quicker and easier if you just picture the gate opening.”

“Please be quiet about your dark arts. Now, gently draw energy from the sphere...”

“So wasteful. A little sphere can't fit much in it, can it? But a gate can have unlimited quantities on the other side.”

“We do not need 'unlimited quantities' for one simple spell! I told you to be quiet, you charlatan! Or do you proclaim to be some kind of a master magician, on top of a thief and a cutthroat? Some good your magic ever was, letting yourself be captured and—”

—“Excuse me, who was the one who got herself captured first, despite being a princess and apparently also a peerless sorceress? How did that happen?”

“I-I allowed myself to be taken away! It was not capture, I went along with them in good faith and had my noble intentions mercilessly exploited—”

“And, what do I do next?” Izumi interrupted the escalating bickering again.

“Ah, yes!” Yuliana hurriedly seized the opportunity to distance herself from Riswelze. “Keep drawing the energy steadily. Next comes language. Every spell gains its form through the old tongue; the universal language spoken tens of thousands of years ago, in the Golden Age. We humans have mostly forgotten that speech by now, but it's the native tongue of the elves and the goti, for example, so it's still possible to learn it. You have potential, you have your spirit for a catalyst, and the words form the blueprint which tells the spell what to do. The more complex the spell, the more details you need to provide to make it work, while for simpler things, just one word is generally enough. However, simply saying the word will not suffice. It is essential that you also understand the precise meaning of it, the concept the word represents. In this case, as you heard, the incantation used for Ghost Light is, 'iota'. Translated to our tongue, the word means 'to turn on'. But it doesn't mean turning on, as in pulling a lever, or activating in general. It's used exclusively about turning on a light, initiating illumination...”

“The explanation is taking too long...” Izumi groaned.

“Pay attention or it won't work! Now, reach out your hand. Yes, the palm up like that. Picture the energy inside flowing through your veins, down your arm. Feel it gather on your palm...Are you imagining it now?”

“I am,” the woman mumbled, a frown of concentration contorting her forehead.

“Good. Now, speak the word.”

“...This is kind of embarrassing to do when people are looking.”

“Just do it.”

“Um, iota?”

“….”

“…..”

“...This is strange,” the princess mumbled. “There should be at least a slight glow appearing about now. That's the way it worked for me. Did you really understand the meaning of the word?”

“Yeah, like flipping on the light switch, right?”

“Er, what switch?”

“I told you the image you use for channeling energy is not intuitive,” Riswelze said. “Try my way and it will work right away, I am sure of it.”

The two proceeded to share various cognitive tricks to aid the visualization and execution, but to their collective dismay, all attempts proved equally fruitless. Izumi wasn't able to create one little spark, let alone a stable ignis fatuus.

Perhaps she simply had no potential for this particular spell?

The princess and the assassin went on to try and share other spells from their limited repertoires with the woman but to no avail. She couldn't cast Compass of Light, Weapon of Light, Light Marker, or Cloak of Shadows. That is, none of them.

In the end, the tutors had no choice but to declare their poor student a hopeless case.

“Well, though everyone has spirit and potential, that doesn't mean just about anyone can draw upon them too,” Riswelz shrugged, unwilling to admit that her level as a magic instructor might have been lacking. “Perhaps your core has simply degraded for going unused for so long?”

“Sorry for being too old...” Izumi mumbled, dejected.

“I-it's not like I have a problem with that, personally! I mean, I'm sure you have some wisdom to you, that only...maturity may bring. Yeah, I like you better this way.”

“Yes,” Yuliana agreed. “I don't know about your wisdom, but having seen what a simple sword can do in your hands, I shudder to think the consequences of you obtaining the power of magic as well.”

Izumi pouted at this unexpected jab,

“And I so would've wanted to become a magic knight. It would've made my life here easy mode. Like D*** Souls with a pyromancy build...”

“Ehh, right...”

“That reminds me,” Izumi said, “you mentioned the people of this land used to be more advanced tens of thousands of years ago, didn't you? Any chance there's a magical mech lying somewhere underground, waiting to be discovered? Obtaining a nifty airship will be the next item on my to-do-list, right after my eternal youth!”

“Air..ship?”

“Please spare us, I have no idea what you're talking about!”

The lunch break went on like this and it soon came the time to continue on. However, before they could, a distraction arrived along the road.

3

A group of horsemen came galloping from the north. There were eight riders, armored in miscellaneous fashion, carrying swords, sabers, shields, and war axes. In Izumi's opinion, they looked like bandits to a fairly convincing degree, with long scars and wild tattoos on their arms and faces, as well as some eye-catching hairstyles. Yuliana innocently assumed them to be mercenaries, on their way to the next job. Whatever Riswelze thought, she checked if her daggers were all where they were supposed to.

The group slowed down as they neared the merchant's carriage.

At first, it looked like they were going to pass by quietly, but then suddenly changed their minds.

At the front came a bald rider who stopped his horse a few paces away from the merchant standing by the road, who watched his daughter feed the oxen.

“Hey. This your carriage, old man?” the stranger asked.

He was in his mid-twenties, by a rough estimate. Most of the riders were around his age, give or take. As said, his head was shaved bald, but he had a pointy goatee jutting along his chin. His ears had simple steel piercings on them and there was an old scar splitting his brow above the right eye. Like most his companions, the man was dressed in a slim leather armor and had the hide of some wolf-like animal wrapped around his waist.

Without turning to face the questioner, the merchant stood still and answered,

“Why, yes, it is.”

Looking away to south, along the road, the rider leaned forward and asked,

“Tell me, grandfather, how much in gold do you carry?”

While he talked, his companions carried silently on, drawing a distinct line between the carriage and the three women on the other side of the road.

“Not one mark to test my teeth on,” the old man answered. “All I own I've put into my merchandise.”

“And that merchandise is?”

“The finest carpets, dresses, and tapestries from Estua, for the Imperial markets.”

The rider spat and asked again,

“Tell me, in good faith, grandfather, how much in silver do you carry?”

“You must not have heard me, poor boy. I have no more gold than I have silver. I am a merchant, and a merchant has no coin while he has yet to sell a fiber. You should see as much for yourself, unless your sight is as poor as your hearing.”

The rider looked at the distant scenery in silence for a moment, with a deep, guilty-looking frown, and then spoke again,

“Me and the boys left Wysel seven nights back. Lost our old jobs there. They wouldn't have us in Varnam either. To the Empire, we don't go. That means, we don't have a roof over our heads. Not a copper to our name. Not much food left either. Consider sparing some of your coin and we'll be on our way. We don't mean any trouble to you, old man. Just trying to look out for ourselves.”

“You make me repeat myself,” the old man remained unbending. “I can't give what I don't have! You don't eat cotton, do you?”

“That your daughter,” the rider ignored him and nodded at the girl in the pale blue dress next to the cart.

“Yes, that she is," the merchant's reply came quietly.

“Didn't inherit her looks from her father, praise the Divines. What is her name?”

“Livia,” the old man's daughter answered for herself.

“Say, how old are you, Livia,” the rider asked her.

“Thirty-one,” she answered, trying to hide her contempt with poor success.

“Why is a woman like you traveling with this cheap geezer?”

“Because it's my work.”

“Oh, is that so? Worthwhile, is it? Selling—what?— carpets? Pays enough to feed five mouths for weeks before they've even sold one rug? Maybe I should become a carpet seller myself? It clearly works out better than being a mercenary these days. Hey, boys, change of jobs! What say, we all become carpet sellers today?”

The other mercenaries laughed wearily at the humor.

“So?” The rider turned to the old merchant again, gesturing in the three travelers' direction. “The women there, who are they? They your daughters too? I don't know what you're hiding in those trousers, but they seem to be from different mothers if that's the case.”

The wordplay this time brought up some louder laughter.

“They would be mercenaries I hired for my protection,” the old man said without shame.

This time, the joke didn't need a punchline to nearly drop the crowd from their saddles.

“I see, mercenaries,” the rider raised his brows and shrugged at his companions. “That's—that's a funny coincidence, don't you think? Always nice to run into colleagues on the road. The hired muscle does seem to be armed, at least. You know what? I am starting to believe you truly have not a copper in your pockets, old man.”

After another round of chuckles, the rider climbed down from his saddle and approached the merchant. “Alright then. Since you insist you have no money and being a mercenary is not profitable anymore around these parts—for most people—we are going to have to take the women and the rags and sell them. Or do your 'bodyguards' have something to say about that?”

He gave a brief, questioning look at the trio sitting by the road.

“Very well, I shall be your opponent—” Izumi immediately stood up, reaching for her sword.

—“You most certainly will not!” Yuliana and Riswelze pulled her back down.

Instead, the princess stood up and approached the riders herself.

“You are making a grave mistake here, gentlemen,” she said. “I don't know about your past or your circumstances, but being reduced to banditry must not be your ideal career choice by any means. Or am I wrong?”

Her clear voice rang in their ears and no one uttered a word as her unwavering gaze swept over the crowd.

“Therefore,” she continued, “I propose that you carry on your way and we shall do the same, without any needless arguments. I see you come from the north and voice complaints regarding the Imperials, so I can only assume you've run into some problems with the local law. I do not know the current state of the Empire, but I assure you that Luctretz remains safe and prosperous enough to provide reputable employment for healthy young men. In here, no one cares what the Imperials think of you. Rather, is not an enemy of an enemy a friend? Until proven otherwise, at least. This can become your fresh start, gentlemen, I suggest you don't throw it away without at least seeing what it has to offer for you. Put your strength to more constructive use. You know suffering, I can see that much in your eyes. I hear it in your voices. But know this: this pain gives you the power to shield others and spare them from meeting the same fate.”

Yuliana hadn't climbed the ranks to the position of a knight captain due to her royal background alone. Her natural charisma and strength of character captivated her listeners at once, rekindling a sense of pride and dignity in them. It was like before fear for herself, she was selflessly appealing to them for their own honor's sake, which made her seem that much more valorous and worthy of respect.

Of course, the men had no way of knowing that she really was appealing to them for their own lives' sake, with the all-too-easily provoked earthling behind her. Yuliana also wanted to prove to Izumi that bloodshed was not a civilized or acceptable form of problem-solving.

“I propose that our good employer here will gift you a fine tapestry or two for you to sell, so that you may being your quest for your rightful place in the society free of hunger. And so that he will not oppose this act of charity, I will personally work to pay the kindness back to him. Therefore, we all go from here free of debt, crime, and bodily harm. How does this sound to you, gentlemen? Will you find it in you to agree to my proposal?”

At her words, the man who seemed to be something of a leader of the gang, directed a questioning look at the old merchant. A bitter expression on his dry face, Livia's father finally nodded.

"Fine.” The rider then gestured to one of his companions, “Take two and we're on our way.”

With effort, Yuliana contained the reflexive sigh of relief.

“We're not animals,” the rider said to her. “But these are dark times. We're just trying to survive. You can see that?”

“I understand that,” the princess nodded. “And I do not fault you for doing so. But it is my belief that good men fare better in these lands than the foul. There is justice left in this world. So long as you don't give up on your humanity, but work to protect those weaker than you, your chivalry will one day find its righteous reward.”

At Yuliana's warm words, some of the riders were even showing smiles.

“I cannot for the life of me remember the last time someone spoke to us as equals,” the bald rider bitterly said. “Like we were something other than filth. It won't fill our stomachs, but no one here disputes you've earned your freedom with those words.”

With that, the formerly tense situation appeared to have turned favorably.

However, the mercenaries were not the only travelers on the road that day.

The low rumbling of heavy hooves suddenly drew everyone's attention—this time coming from the south.

There was another, a larger group of horsemen, fifteen of them.

Mistaking them for bandits or even mercenaries was impossible to anyone, thanks to their uniform blue clothing.

It was clearly a squad of true knights, heavily armored. Mysteriously enough, they rode with no banners or flags to reveal their purpose or Lord, and their attires lacked distinguishing brands and emblems. They weren't Luctretzian guards patrolling the highways or royal escorts, that was for sure. Only one rational reason could be given to hiding their insignias—regardless of their rank, they were up to no good and aware of it.

The knight squad's alarming appearance raised the tension again to unprecedented heights.

Among the group of merchants, mercenaries, and adventurers, only one could recognize the newcomers. Flags or no flags, the former knight princess of Langoria could never fail to identify a task force of her own army.

Wordlessly suppressing the mercenaries' dominating presence on the scene with sheer numbers, the knights slowed down and rode boldly right between them, before coming to a stop with a single command from their leader.

The said leader then proceeded to ignore the merchant and other bystanders and brought his deep brown, almost red horse straight up to Yuliana.

Nimbly climbing down from the saddle, he removed his helmet and bowed to the girl.

“Your highness.”

From under the steel pot emerged the head of a robust young man in his early twenties.

Izumi thought his face looked like that of the default protagonist of a standard western video game. His light brown hair was cut tidily short in a militaristic fashion and his steel-blue eyes had a relaxed look, speaking of confidence in both his men as well as his own strength. Light stubble covered his jaw, indicating that he hadn't had the time to shave in a few days.

“Sir Brian Elvin Mallory,” Yuliana named the knight with a forced smile. “You're a long way from home.”

Straightening his posture, the man answered with an ironic smile of his own, while reciting the lines the law demanded to be delivered upon apprehending a criminal,

“By the order of his Majesty, King Astellen of Langoria, I hereby place you, Yuliana Da Via Brannan, under arrest on the charges of theft, high treason, and manslaughter. Please remove your weapon and come with us or resisting arrest will be added to your charges. We are authorized to use force, if necessary.”

The mercenaries around made surprised sounds at the revelation.

The gallant female mercenary had been royalty!

“Brian, you don't have the authority to arrest me in Luctretz,” the princess replied, trying hard to ignore the audience, “which means you recited all that for nothing.”

“A-ha,” he retorted. “Apparently, a clause was found in a two-hundred-year-old article, which gives us jurisdiction in the principality. So we're technically still abiding by the law here.”

“And what do the Luctretzians think about that two-hundred-year-old clause?”

“Let's just say we're not asking their opinion.”

Yuliana could only smile crookedly at his words,

“They found just the perfect guy for the job, didn't they?”

The knight exhaled deep and shook his head,

“What are you doing, Yulia? High treason? Please tell me this isn't just a bad joke and you have an actual reason for doing all this?”

“I do have a reason, yes. And I wouldn't dream of calling it a joke.”

“You could've told me. Why did you leave by yourself? You could've been killed, or worse.”

“And drag you down with me? You know that was never an option to me.”

“How about letting others decide for themselves if it's an option or not?”

“I'm sorry, Brian. I really am. But I chose this for myself and if this path is the wrong one, then I alone should pay the price for it.”

“That's not fair. I thought we were comrades in arms? No, I thought we were friends. Yet, every time it really matters, you decide to be a princess and leave everyone else behind.”

The two continued their exchange, as if in a bubble of their own. The onlookers felt the conversation differed somewhat from the way they had imagined a knight arresting a fugitive would pan out.

“So, he her boyfriend or what?” Riswelze turned to Izumi and asked.

“Oh! The much-rumored fiancé?” Izumi gasped.

“Neither of those,” Yuliana, who heard them perfectly well, said.

“...A secret lover then?” the assassin shrugged.

“A work liaison!? I thought you were pure like me, Yule! But I was the one who had the wool over her eyes? How could you play me like this!”

“Would you two mind being quiet for a bit?” the princess was starting to lose her fortitude.

“Who are they?” the knight called Brian glanced at the two women sitting on the rocks by the road and asked.

“Ah, they are...friends? They've been traveling with me. A lot happened...”

“See, friendzoned? You were friendzoned,” Riswelze remarked, fully enjoying the chance to make the princess look bad. “Right when a suitably hot guy shows up—ooh, talk about getting the cold shoulder. You're in the free markets now, huh?”

“So sneaking into my bed every night meant nothing at all!? It was just a phase!?” Izumi lamented.

“You are doing this completely on purpose, aren't you...?” Yuliana wanted to curl up and cry.

Thinking quickly, the knight, Brian Mallory, then said to the princess,

“Tell me one thing. This whatever quest you're on, it's dangerous, isn't it?”

Regaining her composure, Yuliana looked away and answered,

“I do not think I will ever return.”

“Okay. No surprises then.”

At that moment, one of the knights brought his horse closer,

“Captain, what is the meaning of this? Are we not going to arrest her?”

“She's the princess of Langoria, as well as your superior,” Brian turned to face the rider. “You owe her respect, Stopher.”

“Whatever you say, Captain. So we taking her or not?”

“Guess what? Not my headache anymore.”

“What?”

“I’m saying, I'm resigning from the guard, effective immediately.”

“What—? Captain, have you lost it?”

“Brian?” Yuliana looked at the knight in surprise. “You don't mean...”

“There are times when you only have bad choices to make,” the man said, “and when it's a time like that, you have to stop hiding behind codes and do what you feel is right. You told me that, Yulia. And now's such a time, as far as I can tell. Either I let you go and fail my orders, or arrest you and hate myself for the rest of my days. So I'm picking the third option.”

“Why do we suddenly have a guy pull a heroic sacrifice for the girl?” Izumi questioned the situation. “Why does nothing like that ever happen to me?”

“Oh, you know, everything just works out mysteriously well for you when you're royalty,” Riswelze added her loaded opinion.

“Captain,” the knight called Stopher was also getting frustrated. “We can't abandon his majesty's orders, even if you tell us to. All this means is that we have to take the both of you. You could face the gallows for this! Please reconsider, sir!”

“Well, I'm not telling you a thing,” Brian replied. “If you plan to take us, give it your best shot. I'll do the same.”

“So, since we're fighting, is it finally my turn yet—?” Izumi was about to stand up, reaching for her sword.

—“It is not!” Yuliana frantically waved at her to remain seated.

“Yes, please stay back, madam, this could get ugly,” Brian chivalrously warned the woman as well.

Izumi sat back down, and only Riswelze sitting next to her could tell that the woman was getting seriously miffed. However, even without her involvement, the situation was only about to get more complicated.

“Excuse me!” The leader of the mercenaries forced his way into the conversation. “Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen! Isn't someone being left out of the loop here?”

“You were still here?” Brian glanced at him.

“Whoa there, mate! We were here first! The lady never said anything about being a sodding princess! So all those uplifting words were just that much horseshit? Took us for downright simpletons, didn't you? 'Them gullible peasants', huh! Well, too bad! The cat's out of the bag now! I'm afraid our previous agreement isn't valid anymore! On the grounds of us being fucking deceived! I couldn't care less about a few rags and pocket change now! Listen up here, all you potheads! If you want 'her highness' here, you had better scoop together at least ten thousand marks in pure gold. No, make that twenty—thirty thousand!”

The announcement spread an icy, heavy silence over the crowd.

“I don't know if you can count,” Brian glared at the mercenary and said, “but there are seven of you and sixteen of us.”

“We aren't being counted, are we?” Riswelze noted. “The princess is counted, but not us? What do you think of that?”

Izumi was too busy pouting and puffing her cheeks to say anything.

“So this is what it comes down to, no matter what I try...?” Yuliana lamented.

“Listen, math doesn't work like that in the real world, scout boy,” the tattooed mercenary told Brian. “And you're a long fucking way from home. You will need another hundred of your milk-faced suckers before it becomes anything close to a match.”

The knights didn't take well to that comment and were starting to shift irritably.

In no time, the mercenary gang and the Langorian task force were locked in a hateful staring contest, ready to draw arms.

Yuliana tried desperately to think of a way to avoid the impending bloodshed.

Was there no way to resolve things peacefully at this point? Or at least a way to reduce the damages?

As she was busily looking for an answer, her attention was drawn to something else.

Yet another rider on horseback approached, up the hill from the south. Thanks to the commotion, he had made it quite close before anyone else noticed.

This one was without company, not an adventurer, mercenary, or a knight, by the looks of it. A young man less scarred than the mercenaries, less armored than the knights. He was dressed in a long black coat, which together with the frilly white sleeves, scarf, and the ornate, golden sword handle sticking from his belt suggested a noble background. His hair was also dark, short and tidily combed backward. The look on his face was grim, a light mustache overshadowing the stiff upper lip.

Reaching the place with all the armed mercenaries and knights, the rider spotted the lone girl in white standing in the middle of the group.

“I knew it!” the youth exclaimed and leaped off the horseback before it had fully stilled. “I knew the knights would lead me to you! At last, I have found you, your highness!”

“No. No, no, no. You want the princess too?” the mercenary leader questioned the rider in disbelief.

“If that's the case, we're going to have a problem,” Brian agreed.

“No. It is not my desire to possess her, as much as it is to deprive the whole of Ortho of her,” the newcomer answered, receiving odd looks.

“You are...?” Looking at the lone traveler, Yuliana realized she knew who he was.

“That's right,” he recognized the knowing look in her eyes and defiantly faced her. “I am Gregory Doria Eisley, the son of Sir Ivanov Eisley, the Baron of Troms and the Captain of the Kingsguard. And a princess or an outlaw, I am here for no other reason than to avenge the father you murdered. This stain on my family's honor cannot stand. I hereby challenge you to a duel, with our lives on the line.”

The man, Gregory, pulled off his white silk glove and threw it down on the road, at Yuliana's feet.

“The princess killed somebody?” Riswelze discreetly asked Izumi.

“Eeh, she did? What a surprise!” Izumi exclaimed.

Yuliana wanted to cry.

You're the one who killed him and you don't even remember?

However, on the outside, the princess said nothing but only coldly nodded to the young man,

“Indeed, the blame for your father's premature demise lies with me and no other.”

“Then you will accept my challenge,” Gregory said.

“No one’s challenging anyone here.” Brian stepped between them.

“No? And you still call yourself a knight, sheltering murderers now?” The Baron's son bitterly asked him, and then turned to look around. “Did you know this, gentlemen? My father's remains were brought home—in two caskets. I...saw what was in them. And as we buried him, as we laid him to rest in the family grave, the head had to be kept veiled. Because everything above the shoulders was so...The womenfolk would not have endured the sight of it. I could only recognize him by the rings on his fingers. My mother could not bid her last farewell to her husband, to the most outstanding, faithful, and admirable man in our land. In the world. A man, who fell in defense of the law and was pecked apart by the crows for it. And I must uphold our house alone now, listening to all sorts of inbred mongrels bark day in and day out, 'Lord Eisley of the Kingsguard was a weak fool who lost all his men and got done in by a girl barely of age!'”

“Pfft...”

The mercenaries chuckled at the story, further infuriating the Baron's son.

“So I swore before his gravestone! A woman or not, a princess or not, Da Brannan will have to pay! In this place, I will redeem my family's honor!”

Brian glanced over his shoulder at Yuliana.

“Is it true, what he says?”

“More or less,” Yuliana answered, biting her lip.

“I have to see this!” the mercenary leader suddenly shouted, “Clear up! Make room! Make room! Let them fight. Can the boy redeem his father? Or will he perish in the hands of a little girl, the way his old man did? Hahaha! This is too good!”

“What if he kills the gal?” one of his men asked. “Who are we going to sell then?”

“The lad, of course, dumbass. His family should want him back. A Baron!”

4

The Langorian knights had their misgivings about the turn of events, but a formal challenge had been issued and they could only respect the age-old custom. Both parties made way and left a circular clearing between them, right in the middle of the road. Fortunately, there was no more traffic in sight.

“Um, are you really going to do this?” Izumi came to inquire Yuliana when she found the chance. “No matter how you look at it, it should be my turn now.”

“Stay out of this,” Yuliana curtly told her, before stepping into the circle to meet the young Baron. "Don't make things any worse than you already have.”

The look in the princess's eyes was enough to silence Izumi. There was no friendly care or compassion to be seen anywhere in that gaze, no hint of the warm emotions that had been there earlier in the morning—only profound, righteous disapproval and disappointment.

That look felt oddly painful to Izumi.

As though she had been stabbed, she absentmindedly touched her chest.

You can't do anything right, you fool of a girl!

Don't you understand anything I try to tell you?

Useless. You're useless!

Get lost!

—“You all right?” Riswelze appeared by her side and asked, bringing Izumi back to her senses. The woman realized her pulse was unnaturally quickened.

“Hey, do you think I'm evil?” she ended up asking aloud.

“Huh?" the assassin girl frowned. "What's that now?”

“Just a thought,” Izumi said, looking at her open palm. “I ended up killing a lot of people right after coming to this world. 'That's just the kind of a world this is, there's no avoiding it'—or so I thought. It wouldn't make much sense to try to apply the morals and ethics of my world into this one. The history, the rules, and the values should be completely different. In the beginning, I didn't even think any of this was real. But maybe I was wrong, after all? Maybe there's no real difference? Death is still a heavy thing. In many ways, it seems even heavier than before. Does taking life so lightly mean I'm a monster then?”

Riswelze shrugged.

"Well, did you enjoy killing all those people?"

“I never thought about whether it was enjoyable or not. Kind of like cleaning the toilet. However you really feel about it, you do it anyway, because it's fairly simple to do and makes things more convenient in the long run.”

"Do you regret it then?"

“Not really, I guess?”

“If that's the way you sincerely feel, then what's the problem?”

“Maybe it's a problem that I don't regret it? Maybe I should be hurting more now? Could it be that I'm missing something essential that every other person has and don't even realize it?”

Riswelze sighed at her words.

“Look, I don't mean to sound like I'm bragging, but I've killed a whole lot of people too, over the years. That's kind of what being an assassin is about. I didn't exactly choose this lifestyle for myself, but neither am I seriously trying to get away from it. Like you said, just cleaning the toilet. If I don't do it, then somebody else will. Does that make me evil to you? Should I feel bad about it? Does that mean everybody who died is 'good' solely because they once lived, and that their killer is always wrong for sending them to their graves? I should think not. There are some sick bastards out there, as you've seen, who deserve every bad thing that's coming for them and more. Do I regret killing them? Why would I? Maybe I ended up killing a few people who didn't entirely deserve it along the way, but nobody's perfect. The milk that's spilled and so forth.”

“That's what I thought,” Izumi nodded. “But what if people do have something invaluable like soul or humanity, which they can lose if they do too much bad stuff? What if evil is like a sickness that sneakily corrupts people from the inside, like in all those RPGs? One day you look in the mirror and realize that your karma meter has turned pitch black and you have horns jutting out of your head. You've become evil, can't feel anything nice anymore and only think about the next life you're going to destroy.”

“Let me ask you then, what exactly is so wrong about being evil by your definition?” Riswelze asked. “I think having horns would be pretty cool.”

Izumi looked at Yuliana's valiant profile a short distance away and mumbled,

“If I'm only going to bring grief and misfortune to those I care about, then was there any meaning in me coming to this world?”

Riswelze observed the woman’s unusually serious face for a moment, before suddenly clinging to her arm. “Well, I don't really get half of that, but want to know what I think? It's bullcrap. Nothing more. Good, evil, who cares about that? Once you're born a human, you stay as one, whether you want it or not. If it were so easy to lose your humanity, we'd be a borderline extinct species by now. Instead, we have a whole history of incorrigible assholes, who made bank on atrocities and got away with it. And guess what, they all had families too, who sincerely believed daddy was the sweetest, fairest guy in the world. Like beauty, righteousness is in the eye of the beholder. If you actually had something so important and priceless as a soul, but can't even tell if you still have it or not, then did it really ever matter to begin with? You're only ever right or wrong if someone manages to catch and convict you. If someone has a problem with the way you live your life—to Hel with them. They didn't deserve you, it's just that simple.”

In the circle formed between the knights and the mercenaries, Yuliana faced Eisley junior. Their confrontation was truly a shame and a tragedy by any measures, the princess thought, but she could only brave through this trial somehow. As much as she pitied Gregory, she still believed her cause was too important to surrender now.

One of the knight officers was chosen as a referee.

“In the presence of witnesses,” he announced, “the offended party, Lord Gregory Doria Eisley of Troms, demands settlement in a personal feud with the defendant, her highness, Yuliana Da Via Brannan of Walhollem, by means of a trial by combat. It will be single combat, waged with swords and no other arms or accessories, and shall proceed until one of the combatants is pronounced unable to continue, or expresses so of their own initiative. The defeated shall bear the full fault in the dispute and accept whatever consequences, including their own death, if the Divines would so have it; whereas the victor is absolved of whatever accusations or dishonor that may stain their dignity. Do both parties agree to these terms?”

“Yes,” Gregory nodded sternly.

“...Yes,” Yuliana nodded, though less resolute.

“Then, may the best...person win.”

For some time, the duelists stared at each other in silence.

Being slightly older and more experienced, Yuliana courteously awaited for the young Baron to make the first move. Yet he made no effort to raise his slim sword. He only stood still, leaning on his weapon, like a statue of a hero of songs, as if waiting for her to take the initiative instead.

And, right as she thought about taking it...

“What are you doing?” Gregory suddenly asked her.

“What?” Yuliana frowned.

“Where is your second?”

“...”

“Do you take me for a savage? Have you not chosen a second?”

“What's he talking about?” the uneducated mercenaries looked at each other in confusion.

“I will not lay a hand on a woman!” the young man shouted at them. “I will not stoop so low, for any reason! Her highness will appoint herself a representative, a man of rank, who will fight on her behalf. His loss will mean her defeat and my father's honor will have been redeemed. Now, choose!”

“Oh, I will—” Izumi looked up.

“—You're not a man,” Riswelze shot her down.

“That's sexism!”

“I will not let anyone else join in my shame—” Yuliana started to say, but was interrupted,

“I will be her second.” Sir Brian Mallory stepped forward. “I will fight.”

The knight threw off his chestplate and gauntlets, drew his sword, and stepped before Yuliana to face the young Baron.

“Very well,” Gregory Eisley sullenly nodded and lifted up his sword. “I do believe you are harming your reputation here, Sir Mallory, but we're not getting anywhere otherwise. I accept.”

“My apologies, your lordship, but what's about to happen isn't going to help your reputation much either,” the man called Brian said before turning to smirk at Yuliana. “This won't take long.”

“Brian, I...” Yuliana didn't know what to say.

Not that she had the chance to say a thing.

The duelists already took their stances and she had to retreat from the circle.

“Ready?” the referee called out again in a loud voice, like announcing a casual boxing match. While the mercenaries looked somewhat disappointed with the change of plans, the knights seemed considerably more content with this lineup. The referee lifted his arm high in the air, before swinging it down. “May the best man win!”

Upon the signal, the combatants immediately took a step forward and started to circle one another, looking for an opening. At times, they'd lightly touch swords, to test each others' reactions. The tension was palpable right from the get-go. While their movements looked almost playful, it was clear they were prepared to risk death and injury for their cause.

Yuliana nearly forgot to breathe as she watched them.

It was the worst imaginable outcome to the already terrible situation, having a friend she cared about risk himself to defeat a person she had grievously offended. No matter which one would win, the outcome would be a disaster and injustice all the same—and completely her fault.

But it was too late for regrets. She could only wait and see things to their terrible conclusion.

Baron Eisley took the first strike. He hadn't followed in his father's footsteps to a career in the military, but a nobleman's life was never devoid of dangers either. He'd been made to take fencing classes from a young age, for his own protection. Those classes now showed their fruits in the swiftness of his sword arm that cleaved the air.

Sir Mallory stepped back and evaded the cut, but another slash followed immediately from the side. This he aptly deflected, yet didn't go for a counter but waited for the third strike, a stab, which he readily parried as well. He was older and better trained than the young Baron, but it seemed he had decided to give his opponent a fair chance and a fight to be proud of.

But would his fairness backfire on him…?

Yuliana nervously bit her thumbnail.

Clang, clang, clang—the bright sound of steel against another rang out time after time again, while the audience excitedly followed every move.

“Hey, Yule.”

The princess suddenly felt Izumi tap her on the shoulder.

“Shh, quiet, not now,” Yuliana hushed her, unwilling to take her eyes off the fight. What if the decisive blow was delivered while she was looking away? Whatever nonsense the woman had to say couldn't have been so important.

“This is a bit important, I think..." Izumi said.

“I told you, not now!”

“Fine, you can stay here then.”

“What?”

At the odd words, Yuliana had no choice but to look back.

“I mean,” Izumi whispered, gesturing behind her. “Grandpa's gonna leave us behind. We're not going to catch up if we don't go now.”

“Ehhh...?”

Indeed, the merchant's carriage was already a good distance away down the hill, with the assassin on board, waving at them.

“If you're not coming,” Izumi said. “then that means goodbye. The show's not very interesting and I'm too old to walk. So good luck.”

Having said that, the woman turned and discreetly hurried after the distancing ride.

“...”

Yuliana glanced back at the duelists.

The Baron made a clever feint, followed by a swift pirouette and a backward stab. Sir Brian barely evaded by twisting his upper body sideways, eliciting an awed “oooh!” from the audience.

“...I wonder if Brian will ever forgive me?” the princess sighed a moment later, leaning on the backboard of the carriage, the group of warriors only a small dot in the distance.

“He will,” Riswelze chirped. “If it was true love.”

“If it was true love, you'll see each other again!” Izumi nodded.

“You're terrible!” Yuliana cried. “Aah, why did this have to happen…?”

Chapter 2: The Imperial Century Chases After Death

1

Even the beasts pulling the carriage appeared relieved for leaving the tense scene behind and for a while, their hooves trampled the dusty road with unprecedented zeal. The old man wondered aloud what got his trusty companions so worked up, but the passengers voiced no complaints.

The landscape was practically flying by now.

Before long, a brand new environmental element came visible in the distance ahead.

A sea of dark green, wide and vast.

It was Felorn, the Darkwood, the most gargantuan stretch of continuous woodland on the entire continent of Noertia, crossing the territories of no less than three noteworthy nations. The treeline's presence here also meant that the travelers were nearing the border of the greatest among those nations, Tratovia.

The Empire was far from a friendly neighbor to the Langorians, but going there also meant that Yuliana could stop worrying about pursuers from her homeland. There was no open war yet, but foreign knights were certainly not welcomed on the other side and setting off the hostilities by a careless move was in no one's best interests. Even if it was to catch a runaway princess.

Over the course of the evening, the road took the travelers closer and closer to the woods, before at last curving northward a safe distance away from the mighty trees. Even as the human civilization continued to spread, Felorn remained virtually untouched to this day. People occasionally ventured there for timber, firewood, berries, mushrooms, or wild game, but no one sane had ever thought about setting up a town, let alone a city in there. People preserved their polite distance and whatever unpleasant, carnivorous things inhabited the woods kept to their own side as well.

The sun began to set, twilight taking over the fields, but the merchant's ride wouldn't stop. They had no intention to set up a camp for this night. Not so much because they feared the vengeance of the betrayed knights or mercenaries on their trail, but because there was a town, Varnam, close to the border. As romantic as it was to sleep the night away under a starry sky, most of the travelers preferred a solid roof over their heads. Spring was well on its way, but the nights and especially the mornings were still dreadfully cold and humid, painful to aged bones in particular.

Thanks to the bovines' uncharacteristic vigor earlier in the day, the motley crew was able to reach the town well before midnight.

Varnam was very similar to Grelden in the sense that both towns sat near the border of nations. That was as far as they went in terms of likeness, however. Of the two, Varnam was the more modest one in every conceivable regard.

The amount of traffic between Luctretz and Tratovia had never been comparable to that between the former and Langoria, and it had been further reduced by the shift in the political climate. Also, most traders bound for the Imperial cities tended to favor the eastern highway through Messida instead. Monster attacks were not much more common near Felorn than anywhere else, but the woods had gained a bad reputation and prejudices reigned.

No such concerns could be observed on the quiet streets of Varnam herself.

Even at night, the streets looked tranquil and safe, if not a little lonely.

One could easily assume a lot of wood to have been used in the town's architecture, with the raw materials so close at hand and in abundance. A large part of the male population were also woodcutters or carpenters by trade, with herbalists and weavers for wives, and the rest herded cattle or grew wheat on the plains spreading east from the forest. But against such expectations, the houses were mostly of white-painted brick, with only a few dark, thick planks to support the ceiling.

A wide, cobbled central street continued straight through the town towards the north, with the finest and largest houses along the way. The other buildings were haphazardly gathered around, or more like, hidden behind the ranks of their betters. It was as if the Varnamians tried very hard to show a fresh, more modern face to the passers-by while hiding their true, rural nature.

“Hey, have you been thinking about it?" Riswelze asked Izumi, as they watched the merchant haggle with the tavern owner in the backyard, Livia tending to the oxen.

"Hm?"

“If we're going to explore the woods, then this is our stop. The folk at Varnam know Felorn better than anyone and their work roads provide us an easy path to start with. We can gather information here, purchase supplies, and plan our course.”

"Oh, right," Izumi nodded.

“Don't tell me you were actually serious about that?” Yuliana sighed. “The spring of eternal youth? You mean to scour the woods for this pipe dream? And for how long? Do you have any idea how much supplies would be needed even for a brief excursion? And where do you plan to get the money for that? The last I looked, we were broke and working for scraps.”

“We don't need a royal retinue,” the assassin shrugged. “A tent, horses. It's a forest, your highness; there's food and water everywhere, if only you know where to look. We'll hunt and fish and find our way around.”

“Oh, I am simply brimming with confidence towards this 'plan' of yours. How does one survive an ancient forest where entire armies have gone missing and of which we know practically nothing? —'We shall hunt and fish!' Great! Nothing I can say to that!”

“Excuse me, not all of us are clueless, pampered maidens, sheltered in halls of marble and frightened by old wives' stories. I've survived in the mountains with nothing but rock and trolls for company. I've survived in a scorching desert with sand and scorpions. Felorn? A paradise. Don't you think?”

“Eh?” Izumi stirred from her thoughts at being spoken to. “Ah, yeah. I was just thinking, what kind of monsters live in there? Like, things with tentacles? Giant flowers that dissolve clothing with their pollen? Slimes? Goblins? Walking mushrooms? Treasure chests with arms and teeth? Would anyone pay money for parts of them?”

“The Hel are those?” Riswelze grimaced. “Come on. There might be a unicorn or two. As a rule of thumb, don't eat anything that has horns.”

——“You lasses aren't really going in there, are you?” the old man overheard them, returning from his negotiations. “For the spring of youth? Oh bollocks, have you gone mad? I was jesting! Take the hint!”

“What did I tell you?” Yuliana nodded.

“So what?” the assassin retorted. “It's not like you wrote the legend yourself. It could be real.”

“I didn't, but—why do you think they call it a legend!? Get a grip, girlie! It's Ferlorn out there, not just any old grove. That's Lord Matheus's domain! The spirits of the woods loathe the malice that lurks in human hearts, they can smell it from afar. We have grown too distant from the light of the Old Gods. Because of that, they will chase you out. If you're lucky, that is. Remember Emperor Yollam! Four hundred years back, he wanted to build a road through Felorn and set up a harbor on the west coast. No trace of what he built is left today. Not a bone of the Emperor himself or those who went with him. Such is the reward of arrogance!”

“Yes, yes. Varnam here seems to be faring just fine, despite all the road-building they do,” Riswelze retorted. “Clearly, the spirits aren't all that indiscriminate.”

“The Varnamians know what they're doing,” the man told them. “They've been the forest's neighbors for centuries, if not more. They live by Felorn's rules. Take only what they need, where it is given, and touch nothing more. They respect and fear the Divines! As anyone should.”

“And what do you think we'll do? Steal the nuts from the squirrels?”

“Bah!” the merchant got frustrated with Riswelze. “Go then! What's it to me! Foolish girls! But if you really must go, then throw away your weapons! Submit yourselves to the Divines' mercy and they may respond in kindness. That's what Agelaos did. Only his bag and notebook he took with him, and he came back in one piece. But if you want my honest opinion: go back home! There is no helping stupidity!”

Continuing to swear under his breath, the old merchant left them. It was only out of friendly concern that he got angry, of course, and understanding this made Yuliana feel guilty.

“You know how to tell a fairy tale apart from reality?” Riswelze asked, unfazed. “They always end in some profound moral message. Guess what? Reality doesn't. There's nothing educational about any of our lives, no hooks, no twists. Want the real lesson? Yollam failed because he was a dumb, clueless nobleman, while Agelaos was a practical guy, who was cautious and prepared. So long as we let no members of royalty dictate our course of action, we should be perfectly fine. As I've said from the beginning.”

“You are a living embodiment of the very pride and arrogance that destroyed the old Emperor,” Yuliana shook her head. “Either way, I'm not going to take any part in this nonsense. Go wherever you like. I shall do the same.”

The princess also left and headed inside the tavern.

“Don't worry about her,” Riswelze glanced at Izumi. “Come tomorrow morning, she'll be pleading us to take her along. Wanna bet?”

“Might be better if she doesn't,” Izumi replied in a distant tone, looking after Yuliana. “Since it could be a bit dangerous.”

“And you're okay with that?”

“Hm? Why wouldn't I be?”

“...Don't give me that crap,” the assassin sullenly knocked Izumi's arm.

“No,” the woman covered a big yawn. “I'm just too sleepy to think right now. Let's go in.”

“Right. Everything looks glum in the middle of the night. We'll talk things through in the morning.”

They followed after the princess and the merchant towards the doorway of the tavern, whence a streak of warm, inviting light fell onto the deep blue street. But none of them could know—come tomorrow, the decision would be made for them.

2

The morning arrived gloomy and foggy. A pallid mist made its way up the streets of Varnam from the southern fields and the air was cool enough to render one's breath visible. A single glance out of the window made Izumi crawl back into her bed and pull the blanket over her head.

“I'm not going anywhere.”

Compared to the inn at Grelden, this one was a step down in quality. The guests didn't get separate rooms for themselves unless they specifically requested one and were prepared to pay a good deal extra. Instead, there was a larger sleeping hall downstairs, with white-painted walls, stripped décor, and rudimentary, wooden bunk beds for about forty guests or so. As said, Varnam was hardly a tourist hotspot and at this time of the week, hardly eight beds were taken. At least the night was quiet.

Izumi was among the first to stir at dawn. She had instinctively grown wary of sunrise, even if there were no unusual occurrences today. Hoping nobody noticed, she tried to go back to sleep.

However, from the bunk above hers, Riswelze's head soon appeared hanging upside down over the edge.

“Up already? Then, shall we be on our way?”

“I'm not going anywhere,” Izumi repeated, louder. “I'm going to sleep here until there's summer, a real summer!”

“Try to think of it this way,” the girl argued, “since it's still not too hot out there yet, all the nasty, venomous snakes, centipedes, spiders, mosquitoes, and warguls aren't out in full force yet. It's the optimal time of the year to explore the woods.”

“Venomous spiders!? And some unknown mystery creature I can't even pronounce was mixed in as an afterthought!? That's it, I'm definitely not going!”

“Your world doesn't have warguls? That's boring.”

“I don't need excitement like that!”

“Oh come on, rise and shine.”

“For once, Ai-chan didn't come wake me up, yet I still can't sleep my fill...I hate this world! Hate it, hate it, hate it!”

“...What are you two being so noisy for? It's not even the second period yet.” Yuliana woke up on the bed adjacent to Izumi's and sat up, rubbing her eyes.

“Rise is being a bully!” Izumi complained under the blanket. “Let me sleep...”

“Time flies and we have preparations to do,” the assassin said.

“You still haven't given up on your expedition?” the princess asked Riswelze. “It's two against one now. Just forget about it.”

“Geez,” Riswelze sighed and shrugged. “You get a cozy little hike, maybe a week or two enjoying the nature, sufficient to throw off the scent for any eager officer of the law, pick up a bottle of some suitably odd-looking juice, and then sell it at Bhastifal for a ton of silver. Then early retirement and an easy life ever after. The end. What's wrong? You hate money?”

“I'm simply not attracted by the idea of getting thrown into jail for fraud,” Yuliana replied. "No. It's a waste of time, anyone with a modicum of common sense can tell that. You, master assassin, are free to go wherever you please, like I've told you. But leave others out of it. I'm going to Tratovia today and then continue north to Gathram.”

“Gathram?” Riswelze repeated, raising a brow. “Why there? You want to become a pirate? Slightly more reputable a career than a princess, maybe, but a bit unexpected...”

“In your dreams,” Yuliana sighed, got up and started to clear her bed. “I'm taking a ship and sailing to Vale of Astea, that's all.”

“Vale of Astea? What business do you have with the goti? It's on the other side of the sea, you know?”

“I know. Just passing through.”

“Passing through...For what? There's nothing beyond there.”

“Yule's going to apply to a tower tournament to save the world,” Izumi mumbled under her blanket, trying to speed up the dialogue and get back to sleep. “And wish for a gender change.”

“A tower tournament? Wish for what…? You're not making any—wait a minute.” Stunned, Riswelze dropped down from her bunk and stepped next to Yuliana, grabbing her shoulder. “The Trophaeum? You're kidding me? You've got some guts, preaching to me about common sense with a straight face, while chasing impossible dreams of your own!”

“The Covenant is not a dream,” Yuliana answered while brushing the girl's hand off and continued to fold her blanket. “It's real. Or did you miss that bit on your travels, Ms Omniscient Sage?”

“You—you'll never make it,” Riswelze couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of the princess's plans. “Do you have any idea what's between you and that place, provided it's where it's said to be?”

“No matter how far or dangerous, I will do it.”

“You'll never come back!”

“I'm aware of the possibility,” Yuliana said and turned around. “I'm also aware that trying to explain myself to you is wasted effort. Because all you're capable of thinking is yourself, your own good, comfort, and gain. You cannot fathom that other people might have ideals and aspirations beyond themselves, worth more than their own safety.”

“Such as?” Riswelze rolled her eyes. “You're right, I don't understand. Even if you somehow succeed, what good is it, if you won't live through it? You won't be there to see anyone benefit from your sacrifice. What is the point?”

Without answering, Yuliana started to put on her dress and armor.

“What about Izumi?”

“I'm going alone," the princess answered. "It has nothing to do with her.”

“Nothing? Are you listening to this?” Riswelze turned to ask Izumi instead. “Do you get what she’s saying?”

“What I don't get is, how can you two be this energetic so early in the morning?” the woman's muffled voice answered.

“You already knew? And you're letting her go?”

“It's a free world. I'm just sightseeing. And trying to sleep.”

“Oh, I'm really going to go mad with you two.”

After a brief while, the other guests were starting to get up as well and Izumi had no choice but to admit that getting any more rest was unlikely. Reluctantly, she got dressed and joined the others in the dining hall for breakfast. A breakfast otherwise satisfactory, but still highly lacking in caffeine.

The mood at the table was about as vague as the weather outside.

The three women all had their separate goals.

Of course, they had known as much from the beginning. But it was only this morning that they had to admit carrying on together any further was impossible. Either some of them set aside their personal objectives and shared the path of another—or else they could only bid farewell and face the world henceforth alone.

No one could call it an easy decision.

Whether they wanted to admit it or not, the week spent on the road and the colorful events before had already forged a bond between the three, that couldn't be painlessly severed. The mere thought left them equally depressed and at a loss of words.

But it was while they remained seated under the awkward silence that an interruption arrived.

The tavern's front door suddenly flew open with a bang and one of the town's men barged in,

“Riders!” his frantic cry sounded across the hall as soon as he could draw breath. “Imperial banners!”

The formerly drowsy mood in the dining hall turned startled.

Imperial troops crossing the border to Luctretz—everyone was immediately assuming the worst case scenario.

War. Had the long-anticipated war started? Was the Empire about to launch a surprise assault? Would the town be razed? The fields burned, the cattle slaughtered to feed the foreign invaders? Varnam had been caught completely off-guard, everything was going to be lost. All the people present immediately forgot about their breakfast and rushed out to the street. Well, not all.

The three women didn't move from their seats.

While dismayed by the news, Yuliana already knew Luctretz had allied with Tratovia behind the scenes. Even if a legion was coming, they were likely to only pass through the town on the way to the Langorian border. Riswelze didn't move simply because, war or not, it had nothing to do with her. And Izumi remained, of course, because she was an outsider and the interruption was no different from an unemotional game cutscene to her.

Although, she couldn't deny being curious.

“Wanna go see?” she asked.

“I'd rather not,” Yuliana sighed and rubbed her forehead. “They're on their way to burn and pillage my country before occupation and oppression, what else? Pardon me, but I will not enjoy such a spectacle.”

“You couldn't be any more depressing even if you tried,” Riswelze told her.

“Well, suit yourselves,” Izumi said and got up from her seat. “I do want to see what the people from this fabled Empire look like.”

“Oh, wait for me!” The assassin quickly followed her.

The two stepped outside, where a large number of townspeople and visitors had already gathered along the main street, as if to witness a parade. Some of the residents of the nearby houses were still in their nightwear and looked dazed. The more fiery spirits had chosen to pick up improvised weapons, shovels, ladels, and brooms, before their pants. The chilly northern breeze made them soon regret this decision and, with no riders in immediate view, they swiftly returned indoors to improve their public image.

However, not very long after, riders did appear.

The fog had concealed their approach until it was too late to even think about running or hiding. Being only a small rural town without military presence or key strategic resources, Varnam lacked heavy walls or gates, allowing the foreigners to enter uninterrupted. The few guards stationed in the town could only admit their helplessness to stop the incoming force.

It wasn't an army, but a sizable unit regardless.

A company of around a hundred men. Not regular infantry but cavalry on black horses, knights, with three supply wagons following behind. They all wore dark plate armors instead of cheap chainmail, with deep purple surcoats and closed helmets. Some carried spears, others tall banners adorned with silvery unit insignia and other symbols Izumi couldn't understand.

“Check this out,” Riswelze whistled as the entourage slowly passed. “It's not a reconnaissance or a strike unit. They're hunting.”

“Huh? How can you tell?” Izumi asked.

“The banners. See, they have different symbols for different situations, to signal their business to other units from afar. Sometimes military squads cross over borders in pursuit of dangerous monsters. So they carry the appropriate symbols in order to not get confused for raiders and attacked when they're trying to do everybody a favor. Though I hear the Imperials haven't practiced that in decades. Normally they'd just give up the hunt if the mark crosses the border.”

“Oh, that's pretty smart, I guess.”

“And look at those armors. Not a speck of dirt on 'em. These guys aren’t just any typical border patrol. This is an elite unit, the Stohrenkartes. Soldiers handpicked to serve directly under the Emperor himself. Kind of like a Tratovian version of a conventional Royal Guard. But a bit meaner.”

“Hm? Why would you send such high-level players monster-hunting? Isn't that a waste?”

“Beats me. Oops, there comes the lead. On your best behavior now.”

After the front riders, close to the mid-part of the lengthy cavalcade, came an eye-catching group different from the standard knights.

The first rider was an older man, unarmored, his head bare, the top of it bald with only short, frizzy hair on his temples. He was dressed in a dark riding coat with silver buttons and linings, a large white emblem on his chest. If his attire and decorations didn't make it clear he was a high-ranking figure, the effect was conveyed by the hawkish gaze of his blue eyes. That gaze, behind a pair of rectangular spectacles, swept over the townspeople from left to right and back left again as he rode on, and his expression made it clear he didn't think too highly of what he saw.

A few paces behind the austere man came a pair riding side by side.

The one further back on the left was a man older than the former, also with a reclining hairline, but his strands longer and nearly pure white. He also had a goat-like beard, giving him a somewhat comical air. The old man's watery gray eyes ignored the locals as he rode and wiped his large, reddened nose, sniffing. He didn't wear a coat as handsome as the one before him, but a dark robe with baggy sleeves. With his right hand, he held the reins of his horse, while the other grasped a long, wooden staff.

Izumi soon forgot him, however.

The figure riding beside the older man couldn't have possibly differed from the previous two more.

It was a woman younger than Izumi, judging by the face, but an adult nevertheless, with a presence no less commanding than that of the first man. Her chestnut-brown hair was tied tightly behind, with only a few curly strands framing the sides of her pale but beautiful face. The look in her brown eyes was distant, aloof in the regal, self-contained fashion—but Izumi could tell she was perfectly aware of everything that went on about her. The woman was dressed in a long uniform coat with golden rank insignias on both sides of the collar, leaving no doubt that she was an officer. Over the coat, she also had a lighter cloak with the hood left down.

The audience forgot themselves watching the dream-like scene flow by.

The procession didn't continue for much longer, however.

“Here's good enough,” the cruel-looking man ahead suddenly called out, while the adventurers still remained within an earshot.

“Captain. Stop,” the officer woman said.

At her words, the knight riding further behind her immediately called out,

“COMPANYYYY—HALT.”

The order was echoed by the other squad leaders, front and back, bringing the unscheduled parade to an instant stop. And stilled they remained, like tin soldiers. No noise, no shifting. Even the horses were superbly trained, it seemed.

The cause for the pause became soon apparent.

The Imperials planned to have a word with the locals. Meaning, in this case, the town elder, who was a short, widow in her mid-fifties. Woken up to this unpleasant scene, she now made her way towards the knights while pulling her overcoat tighter on. Regardless of the town elder's modest stature and age, she had the strength of character to make up for both and looked quite peeved, modestly speaking.

“What is the meaning of this?” she yelled. “What are you Tratovians doing in Varnam? Is it war? You're going to attack us now? Burn down our little houses? Is that it?”

“Calm yourself,” the grey-haired man with the glasses told her. “We've slightly more important business today than invading your pigsties and granaries.”

“Then what is it?” the elder showed no signs of calming down. “Be out with it and on your way. The last I looked, we were still in Luctretz and we don't need your mean horses making a mess on our streets.”

“Then let me explain. We are on a bit of an errand and want to hire men. Woodcutters, carpenters, what have you. Twenty or so should do. The job takes a week, maybe two, after which they are home free. Properly compensated, of course.”

“Out of the question,” the woman denied without hesitation.

The Imperial wasn't going to give up that easily.

“Reconsider. This is a small town, you need the coin. You know that as well as I do. It's not a war we're off to, you'll have your boys back, safe and sound. No one needs to know. I wouldn't call it a bad deal by any means.”

“And what do you need woodcutters for?" the town elder scowled at him. "No, don't answer. I know. There's only one place here with wood to cut. And the answer is no. Absolutely not. No one from Varnam is going with you, you poor devil.”

“You're not the law, madam,” the man said and instead turned to look at the townspeople lining the street, raising his voice. “Anyone here in need of easy money and honest work? I'm sure not, right? You'll do your job, the job you know best, nothing more will be asked of you. As you can see, you'll have sufficient protection; the Empire's finest. You'll be fed and handsomely paid and then it's back to life as usual. Be stubborn if you want and stick with your superstitious elder, but if you're looking for some...variation, then come find me. Our camp will be outside the town and depart to Felorn tomorrow at dawn. Let the word go 'round! Thank you! Shall we go?”

“Just a moment.”

The noble-looking woman urged her horse to forward and approached the town elder in turn.

“Pardon our intrusion to your town, madam,” she said, climbing down from the saddle. “We shall do our best to keep the distraction to a minimum.”

“Hmph,” the elder snorted spitefully and looked away, but didn't seem too opposed to speak with a fellow woman.

“I was hoping you could tell me something,” the officer continued. “Have you had any visitors from the south lately? Anyone particularly suspicious? Someone who behaved oddly or was otherwise eye-catching, a foreigner. Only this week. It could be very important.”

“It's a manhunt you're on then?" the elder replied. "What sort of a fellow is it, exactly?”

“I am sorry, but we know very little at this point. Anything you can tell us would be appreciated.”

“Why, we don't get many visitors at this time of the year,” the older woman said. “But some do come. A few last night, and they're not from Luctretz by the looks of 'em. There's two of them standing right there, as a matter of fact.”

The Imperial quickly turned to glance at her five o'clock where the elder was pointing—at Izumi and Riswelze near the tavern doorway. Her previous official politeness was gone in a blink and her gaze flashed like lightning.

Being so abruptly made into a topic, the pair of travelers were too surprised to move.

“Archers!” the officer sharply cried.

Several nearby knights immediately pulled their bows from their backs and took aim at the pair. The townspeople around backed away in shock and retreated into their houses, astonished cries and murmur echoing around.

“What are you doing?” the town elder cried in dismay. “Didn't you tell me you weren't here to fight?”

“For your safety, madam, stand back,” the Imperial curtly told her, without taking her eyes off of Riswelze and Izumi.

“Your names?” she asked them.

“Ahem,” Riswelze cleared her throat, defiantly folding her arms, “I would be the famous Ridley Radilly Rude, or Rad-Rude for short, a wandering performer and a peddler of bad advice. Want one? The first one's always free.”

“I-I'm Izumi, Itaka Izumi, pleased to meet you,” Izumi said with a nervous bow.

“What are you doing, don't give them your real name!” Riswelze berated her in a whisper, although in the heavy silence surrounding them, it was audible everywhere.

“I can't help it, I get nervous when so many people are staring at me!” Izumi bemoaned. “My imagination's not working right now!”

Not amused, the Imperial woman glanced at the aged rider behind her.

“Yornwhal, what do you say?”

“What do you want me I say?” the bearded man shrugged and shook his head. “You know mindreading is not my forte. I can tell if someone I know is changed, but if it's a complete stranger—it’s too vague to say for certain. But they do seem fairly normal to me.”

“Your 'seems' is not good enough,” the woman groaned. “Oh what I wouldn't give to have Carmelia with me...”

“So, are we in trouble or are we not?” Riswelze asked.

The officer glared at her in answer,

“You seem a little mismatched for friends or family. Where did the two of you meet? When was it?”

“Our first meeting...was in another life. Far, far away,” the assassin answered like a bard. “Death separated us, yet fate brought me back together with my soul sister after all those eons and now we may never part again! Surely.”

Their questioner still wasn't pleased. And neither were the archers.

“Weigh your next words very carefully, jester,” she told Riswelze, before turning to Izumi. “The sword on your back—it's elven design, don't even bother to pretend otherwise. There are no elves in Luctretz or Langoria. So where did you get it?”

The last words were quiet as a whisper but heavy as lead.

“I...um...er...”

The earthling, unaccustomed to such an audience or the tense atmosphere, had no talent for spinning the yarn. I just found it lying on the ground, she was going to say, which was the honest truth—But given the circumstances, that terribly suspicious and incredible answer was likely to sign her death sentence.

“Well?” the woman pressed her. “Answer! Or die.”

She raised her hand and the archers tightened their bowstrings.

Clak.

Before anyone could say anything else, the nearby tavern door opened and out stepped the knight princess of Langoria. No longer hearing the horses or the commotion, she had assumed the riders had passed and that it was the time to head out.

What a terrible timing.

“Good grief, like children, gawking at every terrible—”

At the sight of the archers, Yuliana cut herself off and froze to where she stood in the doorway.

The Imperial woman turned her sharp eyes at the princess——and her expression turned startled. An unguarded gasp immediately escaped her lips.

“Yuliana!?”

Yuliana looked back at the woman, her eyes immediately brightening up with the light of recognition and the following astonishment.

“Master?”

3

Not very long after, on a suitably spacious field south of the town, a military camp had been raised, with twelve large, brown tents. Among those, the three adventurers found themselves guests in the largest. They were in the command tent, in the company of the Imperial leaders, with Colonel Miragrave Marafel as their host.

“When I was eleven,” Yuliana explained to her friends, “my father took me with him on a state visit to Bhastifal, the Imperial capital. We stayed there for two month and it was during that time that I met the commander. She was kind enough to keep me company every now and then when I was alone and idle in the palace.” The princess's face turned a bit bashful when she added, “I was quite the unruly child. Instead of any innocent plays, I insisted on having her teach me fencing, tell me about military tactics, famous heroes and battles, and other such things. I even insisted on calling her my 'master' and mentor. I had to have been a terrible burden on her...But it was the commander's wisdom and example that inspired me to join the army as soon as I came of age. And you know the rest.”

“I was only Lieutenant at the time,” Miragrave said, recalling the past with a faint smile. “And you were not a burden in the slightest. Many times I have thought back to those carefree days and wondered how your highness turned out since. Now I see the answer before me. You don't believe how lucky I feel for that.”

“Master...” Yuliana smiled meekly and looked down at her feet.

“Then, there is no doubt?” the gray-haired man standing nearby asked. “The girl is who she appears to be?”

“Yes,” the commander nodded. “Those memories are not a lie. As if there ever was any doubt. This is her highness, Yuliana Da Via Brannan of Langoria and no other.”

“We are in luck then,” the man said. “Ever since the news of her abrupt...departure from Walhollem, the Emperor has expressed a great interest towards meeting her. How nice of her highness to come to us. Spares us the effort of looking for her.”

“Vizier...” The Colonel frowned at his words.

“Excuse me, commander,” he retorted. “But I'd like to remind you that while here, I am his majesty's mouth, eyes, ears, and every other part, save for the manhood. That I'd like to keep to my own name. You've heard the reports. Our man at Grelden perished a bare week ago in what appears to have been a covert raid by Langorian special forces. Eyewitnesses insist they saw the princess in town at the time that it happened. I have to say, I share his majesty's curiosity in the matter. The princess comes with us and it's not up for debate.”

Sighing, Miragrave gestured at the man and introduced him to Yuliana,

“Vizier Rubeus Thelonius Attiker, his majesty's internal affairs advisor. Forgive me, Yuliana. Orders are orders. You need to come with us to the capital.”

“That is fine by me,” Yuliana answered. “There are things I would like to discuss with his majesty myself.”

“You will have the chance,” the Vizier said. “That is, of course, after we have completed our current mission. Which sadly means that your highness is going to have to go through this little excursion in our company also.”

“Surely you don't mean that?” the commander berated him. “It's too dangerous!”

“What other choice do we have?” Attiker spread his hands. “Leave her to the town guard to wait for our return and you can be sure it will be the last we ever see of her highness. And neither can we afford to detach manpower from our already modest crew to watch her. The only viable solution therefore is that she comes with us. Her...er, retinue, on the other hand, is free to go as they please. Their presence is not demanded.”

“Too bad, wherever the princess goes, we go,” Riswelze defiantly announced and neither Izumi nor Yuliana imagined it was because of her boundless loyalty.

“They are…?” Miragrave eyed at the two women behind Yuliana again.

“Ah, they're...friends?” Yuliana struggled to answer. “As I see you already know, I was forced to leave my home due to...some complex reasons, and these two have been kindly helping me along the way.”

“Hmm?” The Colonel's curiosity wasn't sated so easily. “So you've only met them recently, yes?”

“T-that's right, though it already feels like a lifetime ago!” Yuliana felt uneasy about the way the question was posed and hurried to change the topic. “But why the Felorn Woods? What would the Emperor want in such a place? There should be nothing of interest there, so far as I'm aware.”

“That would be classified information,” Vizier Attiker answered.

“Classified, because the reason is too embarrassing to be uttered aloud,” Miragrave wryly remarked. “For some time now, his majesty has expressed an interest in mythical sources of power. He despatches one pointless expedition after another in pursuit of campfire stories and folklore. Our unit got the short end of the stick. Apparently, there is one such a place of power somewhere deep within the forest. What was it again? A source of...everlasting life?”

“The Felorn spring is not a simple myth, mind you,” the white-haired older man sitting on a chest in the corner suddenly spoke, while blowing his nose on a napkin. “The Divines prophesied its existence. We've had multiple oneiromancers independently verify the general location. All these accounts bear striking similarities, to the point that they cannot be rationally dismissed. Think whatever you will of the legend of Agelaos itself, but there is no need to doubt our sources. Whatever miracles the Darkwood hides, it is worth investigating, wouldn't you say?”

“And I used to look up to the famous Court Wizard Yornwhal when I was a little girl,” the commander replied. “Only to learn that he is a man willing to pursue childish treasures with daydreams for evidence. Adulthood is full of disappointments, isn't it?”

“When did this rascal ever look up to me!” the wizard bemoaned. “Though I knew her father and cured her of a terrible fever once, all she has for me is contempt. Contempt!”

“Trust me, I know only too well what you have to endure, Master,” Yuliana sighed.

“And yet," Miragrave said, her countenance turning darker, "I would consider myself blessed, if only this farcical quest were all we had to deal with. Alas, it is not.”

“Hm? What do you mean?”

“No matter what his majesty says—to me, the search for this well of wonders was and remains a secondary purpose.”

The Colonel stood up from her chair behind the command table and walked to the open tent front, gazing over the fields. The sudden shift in the mood seemed weird to Yuliana.

“Hm,” Attiker made a sound. “She derides our goals and tries to pose as the voice of reason, while pursuing phantoms herself. Ha. Nothing but pots and kettles here.”

“Now that I recall, your unit wears hunting banners,” Yuliana said to the Colonel. “What is it that you hunt?”

For a while longer, Miragrave remained silent, maybe out of reluctance towards the subject, or simply trying to decide where to begin. Then, after this lengthy pause, she finally spoke,

“Since twenty years ago, Tratovia has had a military pact with the cirelo of Ledarnia on the old continent.”

“Also a highly classified state secret, I should add,” the Vizier notified her.

Ignoring him, Miragrave went on,

“As part of our exchange program with the elves, once every year, we send select officers-in-training to their colony. To show them what life is like on the front lines. To incur genuine wartime experience. To teach our soldiers the true meaning of prudence...and fear. Some come back wiser for it, resolved. Some come back broken. And some—do not.”

She turned around and her piercing gaze swept over the guests one by one.

“Less than a week ago, one of our ships was found washed ashore in the north-western Luctretz. Intact but empty. Not a soul was left aboard and not a single corpse. Only blood, in copious amounts. The ship was identified as the Ikanos, despatched nine months ago. The vessel did reach Ledarnia, that much is certain. Our allies confirmed that it departed back in safety as well, with all the cadets on board and accounted for. Yet something happened on that ship during the weeks on the sea. A massacre.”

Izumi had a hard time understanding where the story was going, but she could recognize the tension building up in the tent. She could see the look in Yuliana's rounded eyes, a look of shock and fear that she hadn't seen there before.

It couldn’t have been for a simple fight. Something else was involved.

“Yes,” Miragrave nodded grimly. “There is a chance—a slim one but real nevertheless—that a daemon made it on that ship. And is now here.”

A heavy silence took over the audience as they let the meaning of her words sink in.

But the silence was soon broken.

“I still believe you are jumping to conclusions,” the Vizier said. “There are too many holes in this theory to even begin to count. First of all, it is common knowledge that daemons cannot cross flowing water.”

“Yes, the sea should have been an eternal, impassable barrier between us and the nightmare of Amarno,” the Colonel replied. “But man gave them the means.”

“So it sailed to us! Like Kupid or Franqoir?” Attiker argued. “Don't be ridiculous, Marafel. They are beasts, mindless monsters, nothing more. For one of them to infiltrate our ship, somehow containing its murderous impulses for long enough to set sail, nobody suspecting a thing—it's preposterous. What you're suggesting is no different from a tiger dressing up as an attendant to board an elevator to the king's quarters, completely ignoring the kitchen along the way. No! It’s unthinkable. The cirelo mages would've detected the beast long before it made it to the harbor. The Ikanos was hit by pirates. Pirates with an overwhelming advantage in numbers. And that's that.”

“Pirates leaving a captured Imperial ship to drift?” the woman retorted. “Pardon me, Attiker, but that seems even more absurd to me than a tiger riding an elevator.”

“Then it was a sickness. Poisoned food stock, a mutiny. Collective madness. A great sea monster. Whatever. There are countless more sensible ways to explain the ship's fate.”

“More convenient ways, don't you mean?” Miragrave sighed. “Anything, anything else would be better. Even the great sea monster. But the investigator's reports on the site leave very few alternatives. No matter how you deny reality, I know better.”

“Oh, I'm the one denying reality? Wouldn't you prefer it were a daemon instead?”

“...”

“Sadly, no matter how you excel in the field or in academics, there is no way for a woman to be promoted above the rank of a Colonel, when it's peacetime. So you will become 'Marafel the Daemonslayer'! You think bringing that creature’s head will earn you the Emperor's grace? Oh, no matter! Don't waste your breath answering. Your ambitions are of no concern to me. So long as you remember your orders.”

“Yes, yes,” the woman sighed and gave up on arguing. “'Since you are going the same way, escort Attiker to the spring'. Our majesty has a bizarre sense of humor at times. And like you, no grasp of danger. Otherwise, his priorities would be different.”

Miragrave returned to her chair and sank wearily into it.

“I was once a cadet myself,” she said. “One of the chosen, an 'elite'. A fate I've cursed ever since. I saw in Ledarnia things human eyes weren't meant to see. Before the shadow of Amarno, the word elite the way we understand it—means nothing at all. Babies. Before daemons, we are all babies, you and I both.”

Confronted by her lightless gaze and the despair lurking behind it, even Attiker was forced to remain silent and avert his face.

“By our calculations, it can't have been much longer than a week since the Ikanos reached ashore,” Miragrave soon returned to usual and said. “Even if our fears prove true, the daemon can't have left Luctretz yet. It's still here, in this province and within our reach. No matter how we are babies, there are a hundred of us. I will hunt that monster down and slay it, one way or the other. Even if it costs me my rank and my life.”

“She's obsessed,” the Vizier shook his head and told the others, before leaving the tent through the second doorway on the side.

“Forgive me, Yuliana,” Miragrave soon added in a softer tone, looking up at the princess. “The Divines have finally brought our paths together again, and it has to happen under such circumstances...”

“No.” Yuliana shook her head and took a step forward. “After learning everything, I am glad that it did. I may still have ways to go before I can be a peer to you, Master, but allow me to help carry this burden with you now, however I am able. It's at times like this that we shouldn't be looking at flags and ranks or the borders of nations, but join hands against a common threat.”

“Look at you,” Miragrave said to her. “Haven't you grown into a splendid princess. No, a knight.”

Yuliana's smile at those words of praise easily surpassed in brightness the frail sun looming behind the clouds of noon.

4

“I...did not imagine we'd be dining in Imperial company today,” Riswelze said, absentmindedly mixing her portion of light meat soup with a spoon. “Or any other day, ever.”

“Well, same here,” Izumi replied, having already emptied her bowl. “I don't think I've played a game like this before. For the first time, I'd appreciate a nifty datalog or a glossary to explain a few things for me. A chapter summary would be nice too.”

They were sitting on supply crates near the wagons left by the road, on the edge of the camp. As a member of royalty and a military officer, Yuliana had been invited to have lunch together with the Imperial leaders—an offer which she accepted. Being only simple civilians and commoners, Izumi and Riswelze on the other hand were left out. Though they were given food the same as the knights, they chose to keep a polite distance from the camp. Had the Imperials been aware of the pair's past deeds, the treatment probably would've been nowhere near as friendly. Knowing this, they were fairly content with their lonely lot. As strange as it was.

“Oh right, you said you were from another world,” Riswelze nodded. “I keep forgetting. What kind of a world was it, anyway?”

“Well, more complicated, but also more convenient, in many ways,” Izumi replied.

“More convenient how?”

“Like, right now, I can't stop thinking about how handy it was to have a cafe and a supermarket right around the block. At this rate, I'm going to forget the flavor of potato chips and there's no ice cream either. Honestly, just a can of soda would make me feel a lot better...”

“Yup, don't understand one bit.”

“That's right, no one here can understand what I'm going through,” Izumi whined. “Anyway. So these monsters everybody keeps talking about, they're from another continent? I feel like I'm missing something important, having never heard of those things.”

“You mean the daemons? I don't know too much about them myself, to be honest. They're just folklore over here. No one's ever seen one. No human—save for the Imperials, apparently—has been to Amarno for centuries. But, the story goes that the cirelo and the cruleans are still fighting out there, to this day. Kind of hard to believe, if you ask me. A war that has gone on for way longer than most people live and there's no winner to be found. How's that even possible?”

“Cirelo...” Izumi repeated. “Why do I feel like I've heard that word before?”

“Fallen elves. The sorcerer at Haywell was one, remember?”

“Oh, that boy. So what made them ‘fall’?”

“It's kind of a long story,” Riswelze shrugged.

“Are we in a hurry somewhere?”

The assassin played with her spoon for a bit, gathering her thoughts, before beginning her explanation,

“A long time ago, elves ruled in Amarno. There were other races living there too, sure, but it was their continent, entrusted to them by the Gods themselves, after the Golden Age. So they like to claim, anyway. It's said that Amarno was downright paradise. Beautiful, massive cities of white stone, gold, silver, bronze, and brass; enormous waterfalls shining in all rainbow colors; dense, vast jungles with exotic animals and delicious fruit, magic everywhere, and all that shit. A real la la land. Then, nobody knows exactly how or where, but the daemons showed up. As a result, everybody else was either killed or chased out.”

“Just like that?” Izumi furrowed her brows.

“Yep. The books and songs tend to play it up nice and family-friendly, labeling it a War of Tears, a War on Nightmares, and so on, which was so barely lost after a lot of bold heroics. But my guess is, what happened there was no war. When one side tosses the rest into the sea like that, it can only have been one atrocious butchery. No way the elves left willingly, but at the end of the day, they had no choice but to hop on their ships and evacuate the whole continent. Some of them never quite got over it. They swore undying vengeance and resolved to get their lands back, by any means necessary. Over time, that oath became a curse. The elves were supposed to be the nice guys, see? The Gods' favorites. Serve the light, respect the spirits, live in harmony with the planet...that sort of thing. Most of them wanted to just get over their loss and start anew elsewhere, so they settled on the island of Alderia and stayed there. But these other guys, the Oathmakers—they went, 'screw that, we just want to kill the bastards who killed our families and took our homes! And anybody who isn't with us is against us, be they gods or beasts.' So they stopped with the Divine worship and cut ties with the rest of their folk. That's how the story goes. The elves call themselves, 'emiri', or 'walkers of dawn', while 'cirelo' means 'dwellers of dusk' in the old tongue. Like night and day, that's just how deep their differences had become.”

“Did they ever get any of their lands back?” Izumi asked.

“Weeell, they did try,” Riswelze answered, already fully in storyteller mode, pulling closer. “This is a bit cool part, really. About two hundred years ago—two-forty or some shit, don't remember, but anyway—the cirelo allied with a few other races. Humans were left out, but the more prominent ones all played a part. Together, they amassed a huge fleet and sailed overseas to kick daemon ass. It was called, Operation Angrele, or Dayglow. They say the sea was so full of ships that day, you could've crossed it just by hopping from deck to deck. It started out well. In a few months, the allied forces took back a good third of the continent and a several pretty cities. Mysteriously enough, there was practically no resistance. Every place stood empty, abandoned, as if the enemy had just packed up and left. Why conquer all those cities and then leave them unused? Maybe the daemons all went and died out of loneliness? It looked too good to be true.”

“I think I can see where this is going.”

“Wait for it!” the girl hushed Izumi. “Okay, so the elves had promised to divide Amarno between the allies like, 'whatever you set your flag on is yours to keep, forever'. Pretty generous of them, huh? That's just how bad they wanted their homes back, and this promise kept the alliance together. Most lesser races were pretty thrilled to get their hands on the elven realm, or expand their old zones. But among them, there was an exception. As soon as they pulled ashore, the cruleans only took a chunk of the east coast for themselves and stopped right there. They were supposed to be the fiercest of warriors and age-old rivals of the elves, yet instead of occupying any more free territory for themselves, they were content with only a narrow province. The put away their swords and started fortifying the place like no tomorrow, setting up these enormous walls—cruleans are good with their hands, see? A while later, the other allies came to see their buddies, busy at work, and were reasonably confused. 'What are you doing? The job’s not finished yet, we’re only getting started here,' they said. And to that, the cruleans only answered, 'don't kick the sleeping dogs, and easy comes easy goes.' They refused to take one step further. But the cirelo, they were up for a fight. That's what they came for in the first place: revenge. 'So be it’, they said, ‘but don't come begging us for more when we own everything'. And they kept on advancing, taking back mile after mile, bent on reviving the glory of their ancestors, and for a while, they kinda did.”

“Just for a while, then?”

“Yeah, as if it could last!” Riswelze gave up on keeping the suspense and smacked her knee. “The daemons were just taking a nap! I think everybody saw it coming, but really, what happened? The stories are kinda vague about how it went down. But despite all the huff and puff, the avengers got kicked out for the second time. It didn’t end well for anybody. A few tribes bet their everything and went extinct on that trip. Ultimately, all the cirelo were left with was the small province of Ledarnia on the coast southeast. They dug into a valley between the mountains and the sea and held it, determined to fight to the last pointy-ears. And somehow, they're still there, in that rocky little vale. Though the losses were...maybe not entirely worth it.”

“Sucks, but that went by the book,” Izumi said. “So I take it they're pretty strong then, these daemons?”

“Why do you think humans got left out of the alliance? Waste of space. You met the elf guy. The cirelo are pretty tough, but clearly not tough enough. So we don’t have much of a shot in those games.”

“That makes this Amarno a no-go zone then? I've been trying to come up with a travel plan, but without even a map, it's easier said than done. I could miss important events if I only roam around at random. How many continents are there, anyway? Yule told me not all of this world is even mapped yet.”

“Humans live mainly here in Noertia,” Riswelze explained, counting with her fingers. “Some folks live also in Estua in the south, where the merchant came from, though that's generally considered a big island. Then there's also the great southern continent and—ah, ask somebody else. I'm no professor, ma'am.”

“Didn't go to school, huh.”

“Screw that. I know enough, don't you think? What’s the point of traveling anyway? Just stick to where people live and you’ll be safe. Can’t make money elsewhere.”

“Setting aside the problem of money," Izumi said, "you won’t become a hero if you play it safe.”

“What do you mean, a hero? Oh, whatever. If it's maps you want, I bet these guys have a plethora of them.” Riswelze nodded towards the tents behind. “Though they might not be too willing to share.”

“Hmm...” Izumi glanced at the tents as well, lost in thought.

“...Don’t tell me you’re actually thinking about stealing from these people? Professional advice: forget it. Not worth it.”

“That’s not what I have in mind,” Izumi denied. “That spring of youth—sounds like it could be real, after all. Could I really get young again?”

“Maybe, if you can beat them to it. They might be miserly with their maps, but this is something else. The Imperials get their hands on the magic juice first and no one else will see any of it.”

“Well, competitions are always fun.”

“I don’t think 'fun' is the word I’d use here...”

“——!”

Suddenly, as the two were immersed in this exchange, a melodic whistle sounded in the air. It was a bit too loud and consistent to belong to a bird.

That seemingly innocuous sound elicited an immediate reaction in the Imperial camp. It was an alarm signal by a watchman, indicating that something suspicious was approaching. Even those with soup left in their bowls set aside their spoons, put on their helmets and rushed to take their predesignated positions.

Seeing their rush, Izumi and Riswelze left to look for Yuliana as well.

It was already noon, but the frail sunlight failed to warm up the land and the damp mist still hung persistently over the fields around the town.

The camp was set deliberately by the road so that the knights could easily inspect anyone approaching Varnam. This was not about to be a routine inspection, however. Following exemplary discipline, the knights adopted a fan-like formation, those with tall shields and spears at the front and archers in the back. Their meticulous preparations might have looked blown out of proportion to a layman, but it wasn't any simple bandit they were expecting either. The watchman wouldn't have alarmed the camp over any generic merchant wagon or a harmless vagabond. They'd been instructed to give the signal only when detecting something clearly out of the ordinary.

“What is it?”

Commander Miragrave took her position at the center of the formation, where she could easily observe and control the situation, accompanied by Yuliana and the Court Wizard. As a non-combatant, Vizier Attiker wisely chose to remain further back behind the knights. Though Izumi wanted to get a better view, Yuliana gestured for them to remain where they were, near the Vizier.

“A single man on foot,” a Lieutenant reported the sighting. “Armed and armored. No identifying insignia, behaves oddly. Wouldn't respond when hailed.”

“On foot...” the Colonel repeated. “Surely he did not walk through the whole principality. Archers, get ready.”

The bowmen reached for arrows and drew their bows, eyes fixed on the road up ahead.

“The stories say that daemons have hides harder than iron,” Yuliana noted. “Is that true? Will simple bows be enough?”

“Simple bows, but not simple arrows,” Miragrave answered her. “Heads forged of dimeritium, engraved with the rune of immolation. They penetrate two inches of steel and set ablaze anything they strike. And daemons have a weakness for fire. Each one costs a fortune, but not even a God would walk away from a hit. Now quiet.”

Everyone waited with baited breath.

Waited.

And waited.

Nothing moved in the mist.

It was starting to seem like the whole alarm had been a prank or a misunderstanding. But just as Izumi thought that, her eyes picked up movement in the distance.

Some two hundred feet away, a vague man's figure slowly emerged from the fog. He walked slowly, dragging his feet, either exhausted or wounded. Several times, he stumbled and nearly fell. As the stranger came closer, everyone could see he was a knight in a deep blue uniform, his head bare and bloodied.

“It can't be...” At the sight of the uniform, Yuliana drew a sharp breath.

“Halt!” When the unknown knight came close enough to be seen in detail, one of the watchmen called out. “In the name of his Imperial Majesty, stop where you stand!”

Still the man staggered on, searching for the source of the voice with his confused gaze. It seemed he hadn't noticed the interception yet.

“STOP! IF YOU VALUE YOUR LIFE, STOP!” The order was repeated, louder.

It was then that the man saw the crowd of knights blocking the road and stopped in dismay. He was now close enough for everyone to see his dirtied face.

And, identifying the man, Yuliana failed to hold her voice,

“Brian!”

She wasn't mistaken. It was none other than Sir Brian Mallory, the Langorian knight they had met only yesterday. Alone, without his helmet or his squad, the man’s reappearance here was as ghastly as it was unexpected.

“Y-your highness…?” hearing her voice, the man took a step forward.

“STOP!” the Imperial knight hollered again.

The archers strained their bowstrings, awaiting the killing order.

“Tell them to hold fire!” Yuliana turned to Miragrave. “I know this man! He's a knight officer from my kingdom, sent by my father...”

“Quiet! Stand back!” the Colonel swiftly silenced the princess and gestured her to keep behind. “Not another word. Daemons have the ability to assume the form of anyone they've met. It is too soon to tell if he's what he appears to be.”

“That's...”

Miragrave took a step forward and shouted,

“Soldier! State your name and rank!”

“I...Who is this...?” Brian answered.

“I ask the questions! Name and rank! Do you wish to get shot?”

“I am...I am Brian Mallory of the Langorian Royal Army, Captain,” he answered with hesitation. “I was...sent on a classified mission, to retrieve her highness. A task which I abandoned of my own volition, to help her...I've no more ties to my fatherland. I'm not your enemy. Please...”

“It's him,” Yuliana desperately appealed. “It's all true. On my honor, it's him.”

“Damn it, anyone could learn that by torture,” the commander wasn't so easily convinced. “Ask him something only he and you will know.”

The girl desperately thought for a moment, shaking her head,

“Um, your birthday! When is your birthday?”

“Th...the twenty-first of Lenzith,” the man answered.

“It's correct,” Yuliana confirmed.

“Too basic!” The Colonel snapped. "Ask him something harder! A memory only you two share!”

“I—I don't know him that well!” the princess cried. "We were cadets together, but in different units and I never pried into his private life...I can't think of anything that I could be sure of, please spare him!”

“Yornwhal?” Miragrave turned her attention from Yuliana to the magician.

The Court Wizard answered with a helpless shrug,

“The attire he wears is genuine steel and cloth, not an illusion or mimicry, that much is certain. The blood on his face is human blood, whether his own or not. I don't perceive any malice or bloodthirst from this man. Beyond that, your guess is as good as mine.”

“Don't be daft, Miragrave!” Vizier Attiker was losing his patience as well. “Daemons are beasts! They do not speak! Will you have to kill the poor bastard before you're satisfied?”

“...Yornwhal, can you quell the flames if we shoot his leg?”

“The rune of Sodiath? No, I cannot!”

“Master!” It was getting too much for Yuliana to bear. “He’s an innocent man! You're making a mistake!”

“...”

Commander Miragrave shifted her gaze from Yuliana to the exhausted knight on the road and thought for a moment.

Then, she finally said,

“Daemon impersonation is never perfect. They do not understand our anatomy. There will be something missing, a body part, a toe, a finger, an ear—it will expose him.” She then raised her voice and ordered poor Sir Mallory. “Soldier, strip!”

“What?” Brian was visibly confused.

“I said, strip! Take off your clothes! Your armor! Your weapon! All of it and throw them away! Be quick or you will have an arrow in your eye and more where the sun won't shine!”

Shaken and confused but with no other choice, the Langorian knight started to unbuckle his belt and threw it away together with his sword. Then the chestplate. The shinguards. His surcoat, the boots, the shirt, and the trousers...

“Yes, I said all of it!” the Colonel answered to the knight's questioning gesture. He was down to his cotton underwear, his muscular upper body, arms, and legs fully bared, but was given no mercy.

“Javiése, woman!” the Vizier swore and shook his head, still convinced that daemons couldn't even understand speech and it was all senseless horseplay.

But Miragrave Marafel wouldn't relent.

Soon enough, the man stood fully naked before the scrutinizing gazes of the hundred knights, his princess, and the other bystanders.

Feeling deeply sorry for the comrade she had first abandoned and now led to this disgrace, Yuliana bashfully looked away.

“Turn around! Until I say stop. Slowly! No sudden moves!”

As Brian kept turning around, his arms raised, everyone could count his toes, fingers, ears, and other parts prominent on the human body, and note that none were missing. While he had blood splatters on his face, he didn't seem to be seriously wounded. No matter how you looked at him and from which angle, he was a regular—if not above average—human male, who had taken a good care of his mortal shell.

“Satisfied?” the Langorian asked after the eighth turnaround, sounding fairly frustrated with the open examination. At this point, he was probably starting to think that being shot might not have been all that bad.

“Well, he does seem to be sufficiently...equipped, for a man,” the commander noted and nodded to her attendant. The Lieutenant, in turn, shouted to his colleague from another kingdom,

“You may get dressed! But leave your weapons and armor!”

Chapter 3: The Terror From the Lost Continent Takes Many Shapes

1

Sir Brian Mallory was given water to wash his face and some more to drink, seeing as he had lost his supplies together with everything else. His food had to wait, however, as the Imperials weren't satisfied with simply studying him on the surface.

Surrounded by guards, the Colonel, Yuliana, the earthling and a number of other curious listeners, the unfortunate knight was made to tell his story. What kind of a struggle had left him separated from his unit, bloodied and without a horse? It was a story which he recalled with great difficulty and reluctance. For a long time, he sat in silence, gathering himself, before bit by bit sharing his account.

“It was not long after we last saw her highness,” Brian began. “I dueled Baron Eisley, surrounded by my unit and the band of mercenaries we came across, as her highness may recall. I did not mean to kill Eisley and did all I could to keep from injuring him too badly. But he wouldn't let go of his grudge so easily. He kept coming at me and the fight dragged on. The mercenaries were getting tired with the show and demanded me to land the killing blow, or else they would. I feared a larger fight would break out between them and my men, and desperately looked for a solution. By the Gods...”

The man fell silent and wiped his pale face. Yuliana had regretted leaving him ever since the deed, but now that underhanded betrayal tormented her even hotter than before.

“Then—it hit us,” Brian quietly mouthed.

“What did?” Miragrave inquired in a stern tone.

“I...I can't say. Before I realized, we were under attack by...by a monster. In one moment, it looked like a man, in another...something else. I'd never seen or heard of such a thing before. It seemed to be everywhere, tearing through the men and the horses alike, as if they were made of felt. In just a flash, I saw only blood and dismembered bodies everywhere I looked. It was chaos. There was—there was nothing I could do. My cowardice will be my shame to the end of my days, but paying witness to all that, the thought of fighting back in my comrades' defense never occurred to me. No. All I knew then was that I had to get as far away from that place as possible. Everyone else still left standing shared the same thought. We dispersed, fled the best we could over the fields, each our own way, praying that—that thing wouldn't follow us. That it would go after somebody else.”

“So you survived.”

The man drew a deep breath and exhaled.

“I caught a horse without a rider, hopped on the saddle and rode east. And didn't look back. I spent hours going around every hill and cranny, trying to keep out of sight, until dusk. Then, my horse suddenly collapsed. I'd failed to notice before but it had been wounded in the side and bled heavily. It had carried me as far as it did on sheer adrenaline and wouldn't get up again. With no idea where I was, I kept wandering on through the night, hoping I'd be able to regroup with the rest. But I met no one. Sometime early in the morning, by chance, I stumbled back onto the road and then followed it to Varnam. The thought of going back south, in the direction where it happened...Not an option.”

Brian fell silent, the members of his audience exchanging cautious glances.

“That's all," he added. "You know the rest.”

“Yuliana,” the Colonel turned to the princess next to her, “where is the place he speaks of?”

“Ah...It took us closer to three periods on the carriage, so perhaps forty, fifty miles down the road from Varnam?”

“We are going to inspect that site.”

“Excuse me, I have to veto that plan, commander,” the Vizier interrupted. “We are not going to waste another day and so much supplies on such a detour. Tomorrow morning, the town's workers will be here waiting for us, by the road to Felorn. Our direction will not be south, it will be west.”

“People are going to die,” Miragrave gave the Vizier a glare that even made Yuliana shudder. But the aged man's spirit, forged in the trials and tribulations of the Imperial Court, wasn't that easily shaken.

“If I may be entirely honest with you, I couldn't care less,” he said. “We are not in Tratovia anymore, Colonel. This nation will one day soon be our stepping stone in the campaign against Langoria. So what if this beast kills a few of peasants here and there? Isn't that only in our best interests? As a tactical mastermind, you should see the advantages to having less population to harass us along the way. Rather, shouldn't we give the damned thing a medal?”

To that, the commander said nothing, although her expression didn't turn any more agreeable.

Disregarding her opinion, Attiker went on,

“How much trouble can one stray lion make? One solitary griffin? No, I should think a griffin would make for far worse a threat than this daemon of yours. It's alone, a long way from home. It's not going to make a nest and lay eggs, or however it is that these things reproduce. How many people do you think it can slay? A dozen per year? Maybe a hundred, if we're very lucky. And that's that. The principality has three million citizens, will they even notice? This man's story, colorful as it may be, doesn't change the facts. I'm still of the opinion that an elite company such as this is entirely wasted on your frivolous hunt. You may continue your holiday tour at your leisure, Colonel—after we fulfill our obligation to his majesty.”

Miragrave stood silent and still for a lengthy while, before ultimately turning to leave. “Do not let the man out of your sight,” she told the guards and went to return to the command tent with the Vizier and the wizard shortly behind.

Slowly, the crowd around went their separate ways, save for a handful of knights assigned to keep an eye on Brian. A daemon or not, he was still a soldier of a foreign kingdom, a future enemy, and there was no telling what kind of trouble he could cause if left unattended. Yuliana remained as well.

“I know how this looks, but you're safe now,” she told him.

“I'm safe?” Brian repeated. “Yeah. I am. But what about the others? Who's going to look for them? Even now, that thing is out there, hunting them down. One by one. Elon. Rickert. Mayhew. Sonus. Stopher...What will become of them? Will they ever see their families again?”

Yuliana could only answer him in the distant words of an officer,

“Have faith in your men. I'm sure they will find a way.”

But on the inside, she couldn’t help but share his concerns.

The grim, undeniable truth was that they weren't really the Imperials' allies or honorable guests, but captives, and as such, helpless to aid their countrymen against the foreign threat.

2

Exhausted Sir Mallory spent the remainder of the day at the medical tent, recovering from the toils of his harrowing escape. The Imperial veteran knights weren't too easily distrubed, but the overall mood over the Imperial camp had turned a step tenser by his story—Yuliana didn’t fail to pay attention to this.

The cause went without saying.

The rumored daemon was real. A horror from the old continent had somehow made its way to the lands where none had ever walked before. People were entirely unprepared to deal with a monstrosity they didn't even know existed. And those few who knew had their hands bound, unable to warn a soul.

Yet, it was precisely under such grim circumstances that the princess wanted to do at least something. There was nothing substantial she could start in a group of foreigners, but that didn't mean she could endure sitting idle. Whenever Yuliana found herself powerless to change the world about her, she directed her will towards bettering herself. Soon enough, an idea she had been harboring for a while resurfaced on her mind and she acted on it at once.

“Um, why me...?” Izumi had to ask. At the princess’s request, the earthling found herself seated on a rock in a corner of the field, by the road, watching a peculiar play unfold.

“It goes without saying,” Yuliana answered. “You're the best swordsman—or swordswoman—I know. So I want you to teach me. I already advised you in the ways of magecraft, so isn't it only natural that you’d return the favor?”

“I didn't even learn anything,” Izumi argued. “And I'm no good at teaching others...”

The summoned hero tried to weasel her way out of the task with various excuses, like that she couldn't focus on talking at the same time while sparring, or that her techniques took years of practice to learn and weren’t so easily shared. But Yuliana wouldn't hear it. She recruited a free Imperial guard nearby for a training partner and told Izumi to observe and offer suggestions for improvement. The whole plan was rather outrageous, in many ways, but the princess had her stubborn side.

Of course, they only used simple wooden branches for weapons. Yuliana's weapon had been discreetly confiscated.

“I always thought I was as sufficiently trained for my position,” she explained. “But the past week's events have shown me again and again just how lacking my ability is. I do not wish to remain a burden on others if something serious happens. So I will gladly accept any advice you can give me.”

“Your pure intentions only make me feel worse about this...” Izumi mumbled in discomfort.

“Why not me?” Riswelze asked with a mischievous grin. No one had invited her, but the assassin appeared standing beside the woman on the sidelines regardless. “I’m willing. I could've taught you a trick or two. Anytime, perfectly free of charge.”

“I thank you kindly,” Yuliana raised her chin and looked away. “As soon as I need pointers on how to stab people in the back under the cover of the night, I'll be sure to ask for your counsel.”

“Hey, the best fight is the one that never happens.”

“Can't argue with that,” Izumi mumbled. “I think you've noticed by now, but my style isn't very chivalric. That’s the way things are in my world. Are you still sure you want to learn from me?”

“It won't hurt to try. I will take what I can. Sword is but a tool and it depends on each and every one how to use it and for what purposes,” Yuliana confidently said, sounding like a teacher herself, and then turned to her partner. “Now then, I'm sorry to have kept you waiting. What is your name, good man?”

“Sehegilia Den Duneb Alais Leterrié,” the Imperial answered.

The man had a bit of a foreign accent. He didn't have his helmet on, showing everyone his brown features and short, pitch black hair. The eyes under the thick brows were so dark brown they looked nearly black as well, but he seemed otherwise fairly friendly and good-natured. He was older than Yuliana, somewhere around his mid to late twenties. Rank aside, he was definitely her senior, if counting the years of service. Still, he played along with the young princess in good humor.

“Sir...Leterrié,” Yuliana repeated the name, raised her stick before her face and did a little bow. “Thank you again for going along with my selfishness.”

“Not at all, your highness. The pleasure is mine.”

“Then, if you don’t mind. On guard!”

Like proper duelists, the two faced off and started the first round of their practice match.

Yuliana took the offensive right away, stepping forward and stabbing like a fencer. In a few vigorous hits, she was able to slip past the knight's guard and tapped him on the side of his chestplate.

“There we go,” the princess turned to Izumi with a satisfied smile. “What do you think?”

“’Ah, she’s really a princess’—is what I was thinking,” Izumi said.

“Why?” The brief triumph melted from the girl’s face. “What do you mean by that?”

“When you trained to become a knight, was it always like this?”

“Not exactly like this, but...I don’t see what that has to do with this.”

“I was afraid that you wouldn’t...”

Yuliana started to grow irritated with the ambiguously insulting comments.

“Would you mind telling me clearly, what is the problem?”

“The main problem is, as far as I see, that you’re royalty and too cute,” Izumi answered. “Because of that, everybody holds back on you. It’s not necessarily a bad thing if you can take advantage of it—though I guess you wouldn’t, even if you somehow knew how. All it has done for you is warped your standards of combat, since you never realized it.”

“Warped?”

“That’s right. Of course, training is never comparable to a real fight. You don’t try to kill your practice partners, or otherwise you’ll run out of friends pretty quick. But the key is in that you acknowledge it for what it is and go beyond what you see in your mind.”

“Go beyond...in my mind…?” the princess repeated, confused. “I’m not quite sure if I understand. So what exactly was my mistake? In the end, I was the winner of the bout, was I not?”

“Landing a hit in sparring means nothing,” Izumi shook her head. “Your opponent was determined to let you win from the start, so you should've managed to get him in one move. The fact that it took you five moves and you somehow found that normal—I don’t even know what to say. I’m going to cry. The starting level is simply too low.”

“...” Yuliana worried she was going to develop a headache. “W-well, Sir Leterrié shall take the offensive this time. Let's see how it turns out.”

They returned to the starting positions.

The princess waited for the knight to move, and shortly he did.

Clearly enough, the Imperial still held back quite a bit, but his movements were nevertheless swift, strong, and stable. Though his weapon was only a wooden stick, there was quite a bit of weight conveyed in every contact. Keeping up his offensive uninterrupted, he steadily advanced and pressured Yuliana, who was forced to retreat in turn.

Yuliana started with great trouble but was able to contain her nerves and deflect the cuts, while looking for an opening. Backing up, she nearly lost her balance and fell, but was somehow still able to turn the tables. Diverting the knight's stab, she quickly spun around, lowered her posture, and slapped him on the side again. At the success of this highly cinematic move, a spontaneous smile brightened up the princess's features. Not that she had any idea what cinematic meant.

Seeing it, Izumi—sighed heavily and hung her head.

“What…?” Yuliana turned to her and asked.

“That you can still smile so brightly...I think it’s pretty amazing.”

“And what about it was so awful?” the girl asked, offended. “I won again, didn't I?”

“Because, again, Aladdin here let you.”

“Then do tell, in case he were my mortal foe, what should I have done otherwise?”

“Everything? Don't get locked in a combo. Move, break off! When you strike back, don’t aim at his weapon, aim at his body, his vitals! Your every motion should put the king in check. I get it looks cool, steel hitting steel, clang, clang, clang—just like in the movies. But that kind of thing will only get you killed. If you can't finish off your foe in three moves max, then you can't, at all.”

“Ehh...”

“When countering, the finisher has to follow right up. That means no big arcs or other long-winded moves. And never turn your back to the enemy when you’re right in front of him! He could've snapped your neck! Ah, I can't bear to watch this...”

Swallowing her arguments with effort, Yuliana patiently grasped her stick tighter and faced Sir Leterrié once more. And again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

Little by little, the matches gained in speed and intensity, but no matter how hard the princess tried, Izumi's evaluation remained consistently poor.

“There! See! You took a step back again! Did you notice? Are you even listening to me anymore? If you need space, then move sideways or diagonally! Don't let your opponent turn the flow around. Have you never read Musashi?”

“I don't even know who that is!?” Yuliana cried, before slowly regaining her composure. “Very well...one more time...”

“No, that's enough,” Izumi stood up and said. “You're getting too used to reading each other's moves now. By this point, it's not even sparring but a circus performance.”

Yuliana was about to break the twig in her hands out of frustration.

“I have to wonder if you're not only making things up and bullying me for your own amusement?” she retorted instead. “How about the professor shows us by example instead? I'm certain Sir Leterrié here will humiliate you in ways that are plain enough for all to see, even without convoluted commentary.”

“Wow. Are you twelve?” Izumi replied, taking a step to leave. “I'm not that easily provoked, though.”

“Oh. So you are scared?”

“...”

The woman stopped and slowly turned back.

With the genuine smile of a winner, Yuliana handed her stick over. Izumi took it without a word and stepped past the girl to face the Imperial knight. Yuliana instead went to take Izumi's seat on the rock and waited, barely able to contain her laughter.

“Did you think this through...?” Riswelze asked her, shifting nervously.

“Why?”

“I mean...This is Izumi we're talking about...”

“She’s not going to kill him with a branch,” Yuliana said. Before adding, a level less confident. “...I think...She wouldn't—she’s not that mad...is she...?”

An undecipherable look on her face, Izumi raised the stick in front of her, one-handed, the right leg forward. Sir Leterrié also assumed a proper stance, facing the opponent directly, a bit crouched, the stick pointed ahead in one hand, the other held out to the side, ready to act. It was true that he’d gone easy on Yuliana. Obviously. She was his commander's valued guest and a princess. Hurting her in any way, even by an accident, was not an option. It was only because he had confidence in his ability to avoid this that he had accepted her reckless request.

But Izumi's demeanor made him cautious.

He thought she was knowledgeable and agreed with many of the points she'd brought up. He had even developed a bit of respect for the strange older lady. But right now, none of that was on Sir Leterrié's mind. The sense of danger radiating from the unmoving figure in front of him made him forget about the time and place, and focus.

The mismatched pair stood still like this, facing one another, weapons ready, and time passed.

Neither took a step to shorten the distance or to attack. The branches in their grips didn't waver in the slightest. The air around the two started to seem unsettling to Yuliana. Why weren't they moving? What were they thinking? She regretted so childishly setting them up and thought about interrupting the match, but the words became stuck in her throat. Spellbound, she could only silently watch, no matter what was going to happen. She realized she'd forgotten to breathe. Nearby, Riswelze stood tense as well, clenching her fist so that her knuckles paled.

And then...

Izumi suddenly relaxed her stance and tossed the branch onto the lawn at her feet.

Without a word, the woman turned and walked away.

“Really, she didn't need to take it so seriously,” Yuliana sighed and said with a forced smile. “I only wanted to tease her a little. Of course she wouldn't be able to rival an elite knight. There's no shame in that.”

“No...” Sir Leterrié slowly straightened himself and said. “It is my loss.”

“Huh?”

The two girls looked at him in confusion.

“I felt it,” the man said, dropping his stick and looking at his trembling fingers. “I saw it. Her branch, piercing my eye. As clearly as I see you. I could not make a move. I was certain I had died. To my fortune, she was content with only knowing that she could.”

3

Itaka Izumi didn’t feel well. Instead of joining up with her friends, she went strolling alone. She languidly walked through Varnam, along the central street, all the way to the northern exit, then turned back again to the Imperial camp, barely paying attention to anything that went on around her. Izumi's mind was occupied by an internal conflict.

For as long as she could remember, Izumi had wanted to get into another world.

In the beginning, what had led this desire to blossom in her heart? Perhaps as a child, her driving motivation had been a pure one; to become a hero who defends people against evil. Evil represented by unfeeling, easily defined monsters. Such simple, clear-cut threats didn’t exist in her own reality, so the only way to fulfill this innocent dream to be of use to the world was to travel into another altogether.

Over time, as Izumi grew, her goal gradually shifted.

Instead of looking for a way to save others, it became more a problem of saving herself.

She wanted an escape route because the common everyday life was too uninspiring and painful. Ironically enough, it had been largely her dream and the pursuit of it which had made her life that way.

Either way, unlike many others of her kind, Izumi had found just what she had been looking for—escape.

In this new world, whatever troubles appeared were permissible to be settled with a sword. Or so it had seemed. The modest troubles of her original world behind her, Izumi again had the time to think about other matters again, including her views on heroism. And as she thought about it, she soon arrived at an alarming realization.

Since coming to Ortho, she had killed a lot of people.

Naturally, she had expected it could happen. She had prepared herself for the possibility that she might have to. As said, not every person was necessarily good or worth saving. If it was a matter of kill or be killed, then the answer was easy and straightforward.

Perhaps too easy——It was indeed a lot of people she had killed.

In fact, since coming Ortho, she had killed nothing but people.

Where was the evil?

Instead of saving anyone from monsters, wasn’t she called a monster herself?

Izumi was disturbed by how little it disturbed her. It was as if she completely lacked that essential buffer between thoughts and deeds that should exist in every person.

The earlier conversation with Riswelze had calmed her somewhat, but facing another person in combat again rekindled the anxiety. Whether it was serious or not made no difference. She had nearly killed the man. Not because he was an enemy, because her life depended on it, because someone else’s life depended on it, or because she was upset.

Only because she saw that she could.

This might be bad.

Perhaps this world was not all that different from her own, after all?

A week ago she might not have cared so much, whether her way of going about things was a mistake or not. But now, a compass of morality certainly existed for Izumi, even if not within herself.

At this rate, she’ll never forgive me. No, she'll start to hate me, if she already doesn't.

No matter what she did or tried, it seemed Izumi could only look bad in front of Yuliana. She hadn’t intended to scold the girl so much, but when it came to the art of combat, her mindset inadvertently changed. She knew no way to “take it easy”. Whenever she saw the girl make another easy mistake, Izumi could only think about how it was going to be the death of her.

Without Izumi, the princess would die—she was certain of it.

But what if the princess left her of her own volition?

During Izumi's brief stay, she had learned that many dangers existed in Ortho.

Evil men, wizards, trolls, goblins, griffins, manticores, even dragons—and daemons.

If it was a fight against another person, Izumi was confident she wouldn’t lose. But was she strong enough to prevail in a fight against beings she had never seen before? She had no way of even guessing. And if her present ability turned out to be inadequate, then was there any way for her to get stronger still? Having been denied the video game options of leveling up or enchanting her weapon, and being unable cast spells, Izumi was limited to her existence as “an ordinary human of Earth”.

Regardless of her experience and knowledge, sooner or later, she'd reach the wall. Instead of becoming more powerful, she was only getting weaker by the day, as old age slowly but surely ate away at her cognition, nerves, bones, and muscles.

Izumi wasn't particularly troubled by the idea of her own death.

But she had found people she couldn’t imagine losing.

This might be really, really bad.

Somehow, she had fallen under the comfortable illusion that her adventure with Yuliana would go on without end. That things would somehow work out if they stayed together. But perhaps it was all her imagination? Lately, hadn’t the princess acted oddly cold with her? She still kept on talking about her mission to the other continent.

It has nothing to do with her—as nonchalant as Izumi had acted, those words had hurt.

She’ll leave me behind—and then die.

By the time she regained her senses, Izumi found herself wandering in the midst of the tents again.

The mist had largely cleared, but it helped visibility little, as the sun was about to set. The coming of the dark seemed terribly foreboding, almost metaphorical. She had been able to save the princess from peril once, but the longer their journey went on, the harder it was bound to become.

Am I here to protect Yule...or are the Imperials protecting us all?

She sullenly looked down and continued to walk.

“Hm?”

Suddenly, an unexpected observation stopped Izumi in her tracks.

“This is...!”

Somewhere between the tents, her nose picked up the strangest scent. She was hardly a hunting dog, but the scent was distinct enough for even her human senses to identify without fail.

It shouldn't have been possible. It could've only been an illusion, a hallucination.

Nevertheless, a wild hope made Izumi's heart race and, sniffing the air, she started to look for the source of that scent.

Her chase led her to one of the larger tents.

No doubt, the aroma was coming from there, through the open entryway.

Without hesitation, she stepped inside.

“This smell is——it's coffee!! It’s the scent of coffee!”

What she had blindly stumbled into was none other than the lion's den—the Colonel's private tent.

A bit smaller than the main command tent, it was still large enough for people to stand in without leaning. There was a wooden table and some chairs set in the middle, a camping bed in the back, as well as a wooden folding screen, behind which to get changed and freshen up with an appropriate level of privacy.

On the table, there was a large steel pot, with hot steam gently rising from the beak.

The commander herself sat behind the table, in the company of the old wizard Yornwhal to the right, absorbed in a casual conversation over cups filled with hot, near-black liquid. Interrupted, they both now turned to look at the visitor with questioning looks.

“That's the real deal, isn’t it! It's coffee, isn't it?”

Too excited by the groundbreaking discovery to mind her dreadful breach of basic etiquette and military regulations, Izumi was already in the tent, examining the pot from all directions, kneeling before it and inhaling the familiar, firm scent, like a pagan before the altar of her deity.

“Oh, my! There's no mistake! It's just what I've been looking for! I can't believe it! I already thought it didn't exist! To find it in such a place—this is a miracle! This can only be called a bona fide miracle! The eighth wonder of the world! Where-oh-where did you find it!? You have to tell me! Please tell me! I'll do anything you want, if only you tell me this and where to find more!”

The old wizard was the first to recover,

“Ahem, as I was saying, it is a drink made of the fruit of a plant called Chroaca, from eastern Estua. An emissary brought a few sacks as a gift to his majesty a short while ago, of which he was gracious enough to spare me some. It has mysterious, revitalizing effects, or so I'm told. As far as I understand, the fruits are first dried, then carefully roasted under the scorching sun, only possible in the exceedingly dry climate of Estua. And before extraction, they’re ground to—”

“Yes, that's coffee!” Izumi excitedly nodded. “It's coffee if there ever was any!”

“Eh, ko-phee? What language is that? I recall the Estuans having a different name for it. They also claimed the invention was all theirs, how peculiar...”

Izumi wasn't listening. Like a child at a candy shop, she clung to the corner of the table, staring at the steel pot, as if it contained the very elixir of eternal life in it.

Looking at her, Colonel Miragrave graciously waved her hand and inquired,

“Perhaps you'd like some?”

4

In a moment, Izumi had joined the Imperials at the table, another cup in front of her. She was willing to fight the entire encampment for just a drop, but fortunately it hadn't been necessary.

“Aah! This is the best!” she savored every little sip. “It tastes just the way I imagined. No, even better than I remembered! Heaven is what it is!”

“Really?” Yornwhal wrinkled his brow at the exaggerated reaction and looked into his cup. “Not to speak poorly of his majesty's gifts, but I find it terribly bitter for my palate...”

“It's an acquired taste,” Izumi replied. “You can put in a bit of milk and sugar if you want to, but I think that's just waste. This deep, unadulterated flavor is just the best…!”

“Hm, milk and sugar? Wouldn't have thought of that. What manner of an alchemist came up with such a recipe? Does it really 'reinvigorate one's body and spirit', as they say?”

“Of course, of course! I just can't get going without it. Really, it’s been so long since the last time, I thought the headache was going to kill me...The withdrawal I could do without...”

“Withdrawal?” the wizard and the Colonel looked at their cups, a bit alarmed. “It's addictive...?”

In Tratovia, the sale and possession of addictive and mind-altering substances was prohibited by the law, although the odds of actually being caught and fined for it were virtually nonexistent.

“Perhaps his majesty should be more careful with gifts from Estua in the future,” Miragrave suggested, before turning her gaze back to Izumi. “Madam, you were with Yuliana, yes? By her words, she owes you a great debt. Would you mind elaborating? Who are you, exactly, and how did you come to meet her highness? Pardon me, but you do not look Langorian to me.”

“Oh, did I forget? I thought I introduced myself already. I'm Izumi. Itaka Izumi. Just an adventurer, from a galaxy far, far away. I met Yule by chance and helped her a little on the way, so we ended up traveling together. Um, what else should I say? I'm just trying to explore the world and have some fun while I'm at it.”

“...Galaxy?” The wizard repeated.

“I mean, continent! A country! The point is, it's far. You probably wouldn't know the place even if I told you the name. Yes, you could even say it's 'worlds apart', ufufufu!”

Again, Izumi was the only one to chuckle at her own wit.

“An adventurer,” Miragrave repeated. “There aren't many in the world of today who can say such carefree things. Far less those of your age.”

“Even for an officer, bringing up my age is too rude,” Izumi answered. “I met one General a while ago and he at least had the courtesy to lie and call me young.”

“My apologies. I meant nothing by it.”

“I believe you,” Izumi said, happily sipping her coffee. “You don't seem like a bad person, Mira-rin.”

“Ever flattered,” the Colonel replied, sighing helplessly at the excessive familiarity. Again, Izumi's age and looks earned her a free pass with behavior that probably wouldn't have been tolerated from anyone else. “You have been traveling with her highness for a while then? Do you know, where is she headed? Why she left home all by herself? Is it true what they say, that she has been declared a traitor in the Langorian court and disinherited?”

“So it seems,” Izumi answered. “Though I hear it was only a misunderstanding.”

“A misunderstanding?”

“That's right. Yule wanted to save the world but her daddy wouldn't let her, so she took off.”

“Excuse me?” Miragrave frowned. “Save the world, what do you mean by that?”

“Um, there was some kind of a prophecy, how did it go again?" Izumi tried to recall, touching her lip. "I wasn't paying too much attention. The world is in decline and needs a software update, so people must go to some tower at the ends of the earth to fight for championship. And the winner gets to be Jesus and has one wish granted as payment. I think that was the gist of it.”

“...You're talking about the Covenant?” Yornwhal asked.

“Ah, that was it.”

“I don't believe it!” the wizard looked astonished by the news. “She's going to the Trophaeum? She would—by herself? Is she out of her mind?”

“Maybe, but that's the deal.”

“Yornwhal?” the commander didn't seem to understand the topic. “What is she talking about?”

“Ah, yes, the Convenant mythos isn't too well known in Tratovia outside the academic circles," the old man explained. "That’s a shame. I understand it is not particularly meaningful to know to a layman, but this is our world's history we're talking about. By the calendar, a thousand years have passed since the previous Night of the Covenant. The winter solstice this year marks the end of the thirty-third cycle. I see her highness is well-read, to know this.”

“You know it too?” Izumi asked him. “There really is a tower and a competition?”

“I've heard about it, yes,” the wizard replied. “Since the ancient times, champions of all the free races of the world have gathered at the root of the Tower of the Gods on the destined night. Once the gates are opened at dusk, they race together to the summit, challenging the trials of the tower, as well as one another. Through this sacred ritual, the victor gains the power to restore life to our degrading world once more and is anointed a God himself. I won’t begin to guess how much of that is true, but historical records have been found around the world, of both the Trophaeum, as well as the champions who left their homes for the games. It was a fairly large event a thousand years ago.”

“And godhood? Somehow, I have a hard time believing that part,” Miragrave said.

“Me two,” Izumi concurred.

“I'm not too much of a believer myself,” the wizard admitted. “But who knows? There are parts in the legend that make me feel uneasy. According to some interpretations of the Prophecy of Geltsemanhe, for example, this could well be the last year we have to live.”

“The last year? How?”

“According to the prophecy, on the thirty-third cycle of the Covenant, a champion comes to our world from another. A warrior different from anyone else. And that warrior will take apart the Covenant, bringing about the Age of Chaos. All built by men will be reduced to ashes and we living beings perish. Ahaha, I see now. The princess has heard this version as well and wants to preserve the cycle! I can't believe it! Bless that child!”

“She believes this tall tale to be true?” the commander asked. “Do you?”

“Why, I am not a thousand years old yet!" Yornwhal said. "I don't know, and what I don’t know, I won’t say. I can read books the same as anyone, but being able to write them also, I am more than aware that they may easily lie. But I do know his majesty believes it.”

“He does? News to me,” Miragrave wryly remarked. “It's starting to seem to me like his majesty will believe anything his counselors tell him. Where is this Tower of legend then? Should we not seize it and see what we can learn from it?”

The wizard looked uncomfortably down at his hands and sighed, before answering,

“Amarno. It is in Amarno.”

The Colonel's smile turned twisted and she made a gesture with her hand, like a magician showing the coin on her palm has disappeared.

“Goodbye then, world.”

“Hmm?” Izumi frowned at their exchange. “It’s that far away?”

“Far? Yes,” Miragrave said. “But it's not a matter of distance. Getting there is impossible to begin with. Have you forgotten? That land is all lost. To the daemons.”

“I've been wondering this for some time,” Izumi said, “but what are these daemons, really? No one can tell me. So far as I know, there are monsters on this continent too. Nobody seems to mind the huge rock giants that could squash a town or two by one bad step. If a griffin kills a noble on a hunting trip, it's just an amusing anecdote to pass around at a banquet. An army’s worth of folk has gone missing in the woods nearby, and apparently an Emperor too, but people still treat it like any old forest. So what is it about daemons that makes them stand out?”

The woman's question resulted in a heavy silence.

The oil lamp hanging from the support beam above flickered, making the shadows dance.

The Colonel sat in her chair, an extinguished look in her green eyes. Right from her, the Court Wizard appeared ten years older than he was, biting his lip and staring at the table with a look of resignation.

Then, Miragrave broke the silence,

“There are demons out there. And then there daemons. Which dark abyss did they crawl from? Which of the Gods made such beings and for what purpose? No one knows. Yet, they exist. As hard as we wish they would not, they are there. What makes daemons stand out, you ask? Nothing. They kill? Anyone can kill. They are cruel? Men can be cruel. They are difficult to kill? So are wyverns, so are wendigors, drakes, dharves, elves too. And yet, pit one against a daemon and even a manticor will know fear. Daemons...know no fear. There is only one thing that drives them and that is the ceaseless desire to ruin all that is good, as thoroughly and painfully as possible. In this craft, they are the masters. No matter how we try, in the extent of our atrocities, we humans cannot hold a candle to them.”

“If they're that bad,” Izumi said, “then why won't everybody in the world join forces and get rid of them?”

“That is his majesty's vision,” the wizard answered her. “Unite all the races with mankind at the helm. Many find the task impossible, and I can’t blame them. The differences between the races are too wide and deep for that, our history too bitter. Not only have we drifted apart from the other races, we men stand divided among ourselves also. It is only after we've set aside our own differences and become one people that we may begin to even dream of joining others. But, we’re making progress, though it takes time.”

“It takes too long,” Miragrave added. “So his majesty turns his hopes to these myths. He feels his age catching up with him, the whisper of mortality in his ears. Who will continue his legacy when he is no more? Who can, if anyone? Among men, there is no one like the other. And he knows this only too well. So what is the solution? Eternal youth!”

“Oh, I can sympathize,” Izumi said. “I mean, I'm not an emperor, but growing old isn't very nice, no matter who you are.”

“There is a sentiment that resonates within this weary heart as well,” Yornwhal nodded. “As much as I'd like to insist that the wisdom gained makes up for it, there is that certain passion of youth lacking in my Art. And too many bones that ache and wake me up on a cold night.”

“Then I thank my fortune I am not your peer there yet,” the commander said, being only twenty-seven.

“Yes, Mira-rin sure is still cute,” Izumi noted. “What if this spring thing is real? Will you have a cup? That way you could remain a beauty forever.”

Miragrave only groaned at her words,

“And what about this life is so grand that you would want it to last forever? Even if adorned in youth.”

“...”

“...”

Both the wizard and the earthling exchanged glances.

“...Could it be, Mira-rin is already a granny on the inside?”

“Now that I recall, I've heard that she is still without a spouse at her age. Could this be the cause? How unfortunate. Unfortunate, indeed...”

“...And this is the part where the guests excuse themselves,” the commander glared at them in return.

“Indeed,” the sorcerer took the cue and stood up, leaning on his staff. “It is about time I retired to my humble quarters in meditation. It is a long journey we still have ahead of ourselves. Oh, and if you like, Mira, you may keep the dryfruit sack. A gift it may have been, but I have no taste for this...coffee. I feel it rustling unpleasantly in my bowels already. So I gift it on.”

“You're really missing out, grandpa,” Izumi remarked.

“Ha,” the wizard huffed and turned towards the entrance.

“Thanks a lot, you're a lifesaver,” Izumi told the Colonel, emptying the remains of her cup and standing up. “If you know any way I can pay back for the favor, then let me know! I may not look like it, but I can do anything if only I try.”

“I shan't forget those words,” Miragrave answered with a bit sly smile. “If it is work you're looking for, I can arrange as much as you like.”

“Ehh...” Izumi grimaced. “I didn't have a long-term commitment in mind, really...”

“——!”

At that moment, a long, loud, whistling sound could be heard.

As it had already been heard once before that very day, its significance wasn't lost on anyone. At once, Miragrave stood up from her chair and reached for her belt and sword.

“Captain!”

“Yes, ma'am!” A knight officer immediately appeared in the doorway.

“The Langorian?”

“Asleep at the medical tent.”

“Ten men there, the rest to intercept.”

5

In no time, the rehearsed, fan-like ambush setup was ready to receive the anomalous traveler. The sun had set, it was already dark and getting darker still. The commander took advantage of the small bonfires lit along the road and moved the formation accordingly. If the approaching stranger stayed on the path, he would be illuminated by the flames sufficiently to be identified. If he strayed, his fate was sealed. To put an arrow in a man-sized target, the Empire's elite archers needed no light beyond what was naturally available.

Again, they engaged in the anxious wait, silent as a wake.

Izumi had ended up following in Miragrave's wake and found herself with a front row view this time. No one seemed to care about her presence, while she stayed quiet and out of the way. Yuliana and Riswelze soon made their way to her, looking tense.

Another false alarm...or perhaps not?

Soon, everyone could discern a dark figure approaching along the road, his shadow drawn long by the fires. Once they saw it, they could also tell something was off.

For a person, it was moving in a strange, eerie way.

The traveler was on foot, alone, like Sir Brian before. He appeared vaguely human, a man in ragged, dark clothes. But instead of walking normally, he dragged his feet stiffly forward, his body swaying and convulsing. A couple of times the figure fell over, but struggled quickly back up with almost unnatural obstinance and kept coming. As if he was merely pretending to be wounded.

Looking at the odd character, Yuliana shuddered.

It felt wrong. All wrong. If he was an ordinary human, what on earth was wrong with him?

Once the shady figure had reached close enough, someone called out again,

“In the name of his Imperial Majesty, halt!”

The man wouldn't stop. As if he hadn't even heard.

“Halt, if you value your life, vagrant! Stop where you stand!”

Still no reaction.

The creepy walker forced himself forward, step by step, as if driven by some pressing, otherworldly urge. He wasn't fast enough to seem threatening, but as he steadily approached the blockade, everyone was starting to grow anxious.

“STOP! NOT ANOTHER STEP! STOP!”

Even now, the stranger paid no attention to the knight's commands. He was already close enough for Yuliana to clearly see his attire and features in the bonfires' warm glow. A black overcoat, a white, now stained silk scarf around the neck, expensive-looking riding boots, black hair hanging partially over a bloodied forehead…

“Baron Eisley!” Yuliana gasped, recognizing the man.

“Who?” the Colonel asked.

“It's the son of Lord Eisley of the Kingsguard! He followed me to avenge his father! He's the man Brian dueled on my behalf! He's alive but horribly wounded! We have to help him!”

“Keep back,” Miragrave told her, unmoved. “It's the oldest trick in the book. Daemons assume the form of their victims and feign injury to catch the others off-guard. If he is who he seems, then why won't he respond? Yornwhal, what can you tell me?”

“You depend too much on me,” the wizard shook his head. “The materials of his clothes are real. I perceive no traces of anything underhanded. But his mind, it's all fuddled. He is barely conscious. Or has no mind to begin with. I cannot say for sure, good grief! Don't make me the judge of his fate!”

“FOR THE LAST TIME, HALT!”

The man looking like Baron Eisley continued to slouch on without uttering a sound. No, being this close, everyone could hear a low, hair-raising groan coming from his throat. His face so smeared in blood, the expression on it was difficult to see in the poor light.

“Of course it has no mind!” Vizier Attiker shouted from the back. “It's an animal! Animals can't speak! He's the one, kill him!”

“It's too soon to tell!” Yuliana retorted. “There has to be a way we can make sure!”

“And how would you propose to do that?"

“Can't we take him alive?”

“If he's the one," Miragrave said, "it will slaughter us all if we let him too close. That is a risk I will not take, whatever he is.”

The commander nodded to the archers. “Fire.”

“No!”

Regardless of Yuliana's solitary opposition, five archers immediately released their arrows, the rest ready to follow through if they missed.

There was no need.

The shafts all pierced the approaching man's chest right at the center with commendable accuracy. Upon contact, the runes engraved upon each arrowhead activated and young Lord Eisley's form burst into flames. Furious, slightly green fire hungrily devoured his coat and spread to cover his whole body in a matter of seconds.

Now a terrible, inhuman yowl of agony escaped him, as the human torch slowly succumbed to his knees and burned, burned, burned without mercy.

The princess looked away. She covered her ears as well. But that wasn't enough to help her endure the horrifying scene. Giving one last, respectful look of farewell to the hideous pyre, and immediately regretting it, Yuliana turned and hurried away.

Without exhibiting an ounce of similar innocence, only a cold light reflected in her eyes, Miragrave ordered the corpse to be examined as soon as the flames died out. Not letting anyone in the formation relax a muscle yet, she waited restlessly while two knights went to investigate Gregory Eisley's charred earthly remains.

Not much was left. The rune’s fire was intense.

However, one of the knights soon reported something.

“Well, I'll be,” he exclaimed, looking into the corpse’s gaping mouth under the light of his torch. “No wonder he said nothing. The bastard has no tongue!”

“There you have it, Daemonslayer Marafel,” Vizier Attiker said, patting the Colonel’s shoulder. “I take it our business here is concluded?”

Without answering, not looking relieved or happy in the least, Miragrave ordered the remains to be beheaded and buried.

“Captain,” she then turned to her assistant.

“Ma'am!”

“Earlier, you let an armed civilian in my tent.”

“I have no excuse!” The knight straightened up and tensed.

Eyeing him for a moment, the Colonel then said,

“Now brew us another pot of coffee. Tomorrow we march to Felorn.”

Chapter 4: The Knight Princess Struggles To Keep Promises

1

The new day dawned clear, dry. There was not a hint left of yesterday's misty and foreboding air. The skies above Varnam were beautiful blue and the spirited songs of little sparrows, wagtails, and robins—or their otherworldly counterparts—could be heard clearly through the thin tavern window.

It was nothing but the perfect day to go out on an adventure.

No less than thirty local volunteers had defied the elder's will and come to seek employment with the Imperials. Even if the town wasn't exactly plagued by poverty, there were always those who preferred to have more rather than less.

Of the volunteers, the knights sent back home ten after a superficial examination. Even if there would’ve been work for more, they had to make sure the supplies would last through the uncertain duration of the trip. Still, twenty strong hands were recruited, with their horses, upgrading the caravan to over a hundred and twenty strong.

Contracts were written and in less than an hour, the large camp had disappeared from the southern field, the tents and supplies packed away into the three wagons. One more wagon and some additional supplies had been purchased from the town. The riders assembled into a long line in pairs, ready to depart.

“Company! Order! Attention!”

All the riders straightened up in their saddles and the chatter died down.

At the front of the line, Colonel Miragrave faced her troops and conveyed the marching orders without much enthusiasm in her tone,

“As per his majesty's orders, we will hereby commence our expedition into the Felorn Woods. Our first goal point will be the woodcutters' outpost by the river Alams, eighty-five miles from Varnam. Do not tally, I expect us to reach there by midnight. You—expect the night to be a long one. Before anyone rests, that outpost will be reformatted into a stronghold to serve as our foothold in the forest. The roads made by the locals will take us comfortably there. But what follows thence...we shall see once there. Stay on the path. Listen and respect our guides. Do not cut the trees and do not kill any animals you come across without permission. That is all. The team leaders will give you your tasks when it is time. Let's go earn our pay. Are you ready?”

“Ma'am! Yes, ma'am!” All hundred knights answered in unison, with the level of volume that probably left no one in Varnam asleep.

“Then, move it.”

“Company! Forwaaaaard, MARCH!”

And so, the journey began.

There was a shortage of mounts, so Izumi, having admittedly never ridden a horse before, had to contend with a ride aboard one of the wagons.

Not that she minded too much. Horses made her uneasy. They looked identical to the horses on Earth—as far as she could tell—but having lived in a city her whole life, Izumi had never actually seen a horse outside the TV before. They might as well have been fantasy creatures to her. She didn't like the way the black stallions eyed her, or how they tried to munch her hair if she got too close.

Unexpectedly, Sir Brian joined her.

The Imperials still didn't trust the man and giving him a horse might have made the idea of escaping at an opportune moment too tempting. He wasn't particularly embittered by the arrangement either. Apparently, riding across two kingdoms in so short a time had taken its toll on his muscles. At least they didn't put him in chains.

Riswelze, on the other hand, had rented a mount for herself from the town. A brown gelding, it was smaller and less dignified than the black Imperial horses, but she seemed right at home on its back. It looked happy to carry her around too and responded readily to her guidance, as though they had been friends since birth.

“I'm not much for wagons,” she told Izumi, riding behind the transport. “Bad memories.”

“So you’re leaving me here all alone?” Izumi complained.

“Why, aren't you in good company? Maybe you'll stop being a single soon?”

Besides Brian, there were also a few Imperial knights who felt under the weather aboard the wagon. Had last night's exciting events been too much even for the nerves of the hardened elite? No. More likely, they had slipped to investigate Varnam's pub culture in the cover of the night and overestimated their tolerance for local ale. They now sat quietly staring at their knees, avoiding sunlight, and moaning in agony whenever the wheels hit a bump on the road.

“Very funny of you,” Izumi pouted. “How's Yule doing?”

“Up there, right next to the big shots. Seems to be doing just fine, by the looks of it. Sure is quick to go with the flow, our princess. You don't think the iron lady has stolen her heart? 'Master', she keeps calling her, though she's not a kid anymore. Think she even remembers us by this point?”

“Well, can I blame her? Mira-rin sure is cool and glamorous and has her act together. Makes me wish I were twenty years younger. Why must time be so cruel?”

“Aren’t you blaming your time a little too much?" Riswelze asked. "It’s starting to sound like an excuse for not taking your chances when given some.”

“Chances?”

“That's right. Love’s a war, you know? You need to keep fighting all the way through, or the treasure will fly from your hands. The moment you start second-guessing yourself—that’s when you’re done. Isn't that how it goes? No one can afford to get complacent on the battlefield, no matter how certain their victory seems...”

“What's this about now? Yule and I don't have such an intense relationship, I think...” Izumi awkwardly mumbled.

“Right. Like anyone’s going to believe that, after everything.”

“To begin with, we’re both women...”

“What of it?” Riswelze shrugged. “I’ve tried both ways. It’s not that hard. Takes a bit of imagination sometimes.”

“...Aren’t you a free spirit? Ever thought about becoming an adventurer for real? I think it’d suit you more than poking people with sharp objects.”

“Thanks, but I’m comfortable enough with my current career plan. Adventure makes for a nice spice, among other things, but tends to get unhealthy in larger doses.”

“And murdering people doesn't?”

“At least it pays real money. That's all I care about. Once I have enough saved up, I’m thinking of settling down somewhere with peace and quiet. And maybe with somebody nice by my side, somebody who cares, who can look after themselves, is a little dense here and there, has perhaps a bit of a wild side, but is mostly dependable where it counts...”

“Does such a person even exist?” Izumi pondered.

“...You know, I have to wonder if you aren’t doing this on purpose.”

“Doing what?”

“Fine, fine. Be that way then. I’m just saying, even if things don’t turn out so well for you with her highness—well, there are always other options available, some even pretty close by. If you get what I'm saying.”

“Appreciate the concern, but no matter how they're fantasy knights, that's not my thing at all.”

“Huh? Oh. No, that's now that I was—”

“Is it your preference then?" Izumi asked. "Not that it's got anything to do with me, but I'd recommend going for somebody who's not away from home all year round. Long distance relationships always go south in the long run. Not that I'd know but you read all kinds of things online.”

“Like I said, that's not what I—Aah, you’re impossible! I'll show you a long distance relationship!” Riswelze groaned, urged her horse on and rode past the wagon.

“I don’t get you people,” Brian, who sat nearby and couldn’t avoid overhearing, commented.

Gazing absentmindedly into the distance, Izumi replied,

“Well, women just happen to be complicated like that.”

2

The long line of riders disappeared along the road into the woods. As the open fields were gradually left behind and the tall, majestic trees encircled the cavalcade on all sides, momentary unease gripped Yuliana's heart. It felt as if they were riding into a great trap, or the maw of an enormous monster, whence there would be no escape. It was a whole new world for her. There were barely any larger forests in Langoria, certainly none close to this scope.

However, in a while, as nothing particularly threatening happened, the anxiety melted away and became replaced by child-like awe and wonder

At the edge, the forest was still relatively new and marked by human care, having been thinned out, cut down, and regrown many times over the centuries. The trees here were all roughly of the same age, long, straight, and stout, without many branches until the crown, through the simple branches of which daylight easily penetrated. Roughly eighty, some even a hundred feet in height, the trunks stood wide apart and almost evenly spaced, like the pillars of a fairy king's palace.

The forest floor looked also clean and level with only light undergrowth. Light green moss carpeted the woodland, leaving clear visibility far to the sides. All the dry, dead branches had been meticulously picked up to fuel the stoves and ovens of the town. Nature here had to have been accustomed to human presence but whatever small animals and birds lived in the area didn't care enough about the visitors to show their faces.

After the thrilling start, the mood gradually turned leisurely, almost merry.

Here and there, the silence of the march became broken by casual chatter and song. Rather than an important, classified mission in the name of the Emperor, wasn't it more like an uplifting hunting trip with friends?

“What kind of animals live here, anyway?” Back in the wagon, Izumi asked Brian. “Do you know?”

“I don't,” the knight answered. “I'd prefer not to find out, to tell the truth.”

“Don't they have schools in Langoria?” one of the imperial knights heard them and asked. “Or were you too poor to attend one? How can you not know a thing about Felorn? The Darkwood? Nothing? Doesn't ring a bell?”

“I assume you're better informed then?” Izumi asked him.

“Of course! A little child would be!” the man replied. “Only someone with a deathwish would think of venturing into such a place without bothering to learn the next thing about it. And I'm not just talking about geography class. We trained weeks for this mission. We studied the texts of renown scholars such as Ermilius II or Totenheim, who made many extensive excursions into the depths of Felorn, even before Agelaos's time.”

“They did?" Izumi asked. "And made it back alive too? I thought Akko was the only one?”

“Ha! You southerners fear forests like they're evil itself and only listen to old songs. Let me tell you this: nature is nature. It is no more evil than it is benevolent. It gives and it takes, the weak perish and the strong triumph. For every action, there is an appropriate reaction. That is all. Everything beyond that is baseless superstition and rubbish.”

“Well, I've heard about Darwin too,” Izumi retorted, “survival of the fittest and all that. But I still don't know what's out there.”

“Anything!" the knight replied. "Felorn is incredibly diverse. Boreal here in the south, further towards north it turns tropical, and the types of wildlife and flora vary accordingly. Even if the globe were to stop turning, in Felorn one could still experience all the seasons without ever setting foot outside the shade of its trees. But it is also the kingdom of Elementals. No other known place in Noertia has as high a concentration of spiritual presence. As Ermilius wrote, in Noertia, Felorn is the place closest to the memory of Galanthea, the Golden Land.”

“Are there Divines too?”

“Yes. And drawn by the presence of the higher spirits, a great many beasts have set home in Felorn, after fleeing the expansion of human territories. Most of them are harmless to people, others—exceedingly lethal. Man-eating praetons. Manticores. Wyrmids. Arachnids. Fiends. Harpies. Basilisks. Panthers. Rabbits. Cockatrices...There are hundreds of known species. Known, mind you. Not even close to all of them have been discovered yet.”

“Was it just my imagination or was something unexpectedly cute included in the list…?”

“That reminds me,” another knight said. “I recall hearing there's a Green Dragon living somewhere in western Felorn as well. The sailors from Gartham have seen it many times in the recent years.”

“I've heard the rumors too, but I wouldn't count on the word of pirates. No dragons have been sighted in Tratovia for over four hundred years.”

"You said nature's neither evil nor gentle, but isn't this pretty bad for us?" Izumi asked. "With so many dangerous creatures roaming about, exactly what are our odds of getting out of here alive?"

“Rest easy, madam,” the Imperial said. “Felorn is Lord Matheus's domain. All nature here obeys his will. So long as we do nothing to offend the great spirit, we should be safe. In any event, the beasts mostly avoid people. They'll hear our racket from afar and run.”

“That’s how it works? By the way, has anyone ever ever seen this spirit lord before?”

“Not in centuries, no. But our Lord Cinilea has told us he remains here, so it must be true.”

“And he's nice to people?”

“You don't even know this? Lord Matheus was created by the Old God Hamaran, who also created us humans. We are his chosen people, he has no reason to seek our deaths. Rather, we should count on his protection, so long as we don't do anything stupid.”

“Eeh, is that true?” Izumi was confused. “I thought humans were Ai-chan's chosen race…?”

“Ai...who? Is that one of your Langorian deities?”

“Er, I mean Aiwesh!” Izumi clarified. “The great, all-able, all-knowing, always good fairy godmother of the Langorians, Aiwesh! If I remember right, Ai-chan was made by Brann, or what was the name again? Since she seems to love people lots, I was under the impression humans were—”

“What? No,” the Imperial knight frowned at Izumi's words. “Brann's people are the goti, the sages of the lost continent. Listen to me. The Gods created one intelligent race each as their chosen followers. Hamaran, the God of Agriculture, created humans. Brann, the God of Light, created the goti, and Aiwesh was his lieutenant. But Brann has gone and Aiwesh died more than six thousand years ago. How could she have anything to do with Langoria, which was only founded nine centuries back! Oh you southerners. Always appropriating mythology as you please!”

“Whaaat,” Izumi gasped. “Ai-chan's dea—I mean, ahaha! What can I say? I was an orphan and a poor student, so...Thank you very much for explaining things to me, nice Sir! Anyway, what do we need to do to stay in Macchan's good books then?”

“Ahem, as I told you, Matheus is a benevolent Lord,” the knight answered. “He even allows the people of Varnam and other nearby villages to cut more wood than they need, to sell and prosper. Not many things may anger him. Disrespect towards the nature, mainly. Needless destruction and killing. And...”

“And…?”

“Harming his kindred. Whatever happens, we must not hurt the Elementals. That is an unforgivable crime. It was what destroyed Emperor Yollam.”

“Hm? He wasn’t just punished for the arrogance and greed in his heart?”

“What? You haven’t heard about this either? No. They say, Lord Matheus gave the Emperor a warm welcome and his blessing to build a road through Felorn. For a time, the work proceeded peacefully. But one day, the story says, the Divine sent him a messenger, a unic—”

“—Oh for the love of Divines! Enough of this housewives' blather, Mihar!” Another knight hollered from further behind. “I have the hangover of the century and having to listen to you go on and on and on about that rubbish isn't making it any better! You're not impressing anyone! I demand silence! Ooh, curse this fucked up road and curse the peasants who built it…!”

This time, Izumi’s ignorance went only partially remedied. Lost in thought, she sat quietly, speculating about the unknown history of her new world. Oblivious to just how costly the gap in her education would prove.

3

As predicted above, the expedition progressed more or less in peace and harmony. It truly appeared they were blessed. Despite the strict deadline for the march, the cavalcade advanced at a modest pace and kept breaks every two hours, to preserve the horses and the riders fresh and alert.

At noon they dined. There was a mobile kitchen with a dedicated support squad, but being still on the move, the company made do with a light but effective meal of dried goods, water, and bread. Izumi missed hamburgers.

The old road, imprinted on the forest floor by the wheels of the heavy carts with which the locals transported their timber, continued uninterrupted, deeper and deeper. As the journey continued, the formerly impersonal land started to exhibit some shapeliness and richer varieties of vegetation. Likewise, the road became less straightforward, conforming to the terrain and adjusting its course to avoid the larger trees, rocks, pits, and eskers, in favor of the most balanced possible course.

At times the way seemed unnecessarily roundabout, forcing the riders on a lengthy loop, only to end up at a spot a stone's throw from the previous position. Still, no shortcuts were taken, as tempting as they seemed. With discipline and patience suited for military, the company stuck to the path—even if a few did individually voice their colorful opinions on such roadmaking.

“Shall we show them how we Imperials make roads then?” The commander's less than joking proposal was effective to silence the critics.

Although Felorn was indeed a thing of beauty in and of itself and the weather fittingly picturesque, the scenery ultimately exhibited little variation to an unaccustomed eye. As the slow hours of the afternoon crawled by, the initial novelty wore off and the trees gradually became somewhat monotonous to look at.

How many times had they passed an identical turn, crossed a hill exactly like that one, and witnessed a moss-covered rock of equivalent roundness? Being constantly on the move with no visible development or a good grasp of how many more miles were left to go, the trip began to get straining on anyone's nerves.

“Quite some detour, huh, your princessiness?” At some point in the afternoon, Riswelze brought her horse closer to Yuliana's.

“Such is our fate,” Yuliana diplomatically—callously—responded, without looking back.

“As I thought,” the assassin shrugged. “To you, I'm still nothing but a cold-blooded killer, am I?”

“You have so far given me very few reasons to treat you otherwise.”

“Don't expect any in the future either. It's all the same to me what you think of me. Just don't sell me out to your new masters. I don’t mean to brag but I have a bit of a reputation in Tratovia...”

“...And what is that supposed to mean?” Yuliana looked back to glare at the girl.

“That I killed a lot of people and stole even more money?”

“Not what I meant. Who’s a master to who?”

“Hazard a guess?” Riswelze answered with a teasing smile. “Not that long ago, the Empire was the terrible foe threatening your home and chastity, wanting to play you as a pawn in their nefarious game, and look where you're now? Riding side-by-side with them into the unknown. You forgot about daddy dearest this soon? Filing for a change of citizenship?”

“Begone,” Yuliana angrily faced forward. “I have nothing to say to you.”

“I'm mistaken then?”

“When are you not?”

“Then what did I get wrong? Explain it to me.”

“It goes without saying. Unlike you, I do not only see vileness, corruption, and treachery behind every corner. Yes, there are despicable individuals in Tratovia, some of them even working directly under the Emperor. Does that mean then that every Imperial is equally vile and without conscience? Of course not. There is a rotten apple or two in every tree, but that is no cause to throw away the whole harvest. I have personally nothing against Tratovia itself. My father was close friends with the previous Emperor and I regret to see our lands drift apart. If I must fight for my kingdom, then fight I will, but I haven’t discarded all hope yet. If only I may have an audience with his majesty and hear what he has to say, I'll be better equipped to understand the situation. Until then, there is no meaning in going out of our way to antagonize those who hold our lives in their hands.”

“Wow, what a model student answer,” the assassin yawned. “Pardon me, but you really are awfully boring, your highness.”

“I shudder to think what manner of a person you find 'interesting'.”

“Why, aren't our tastes quite similar in that regard? Or, so I thought.”

“What…?” Yuliana looked back again, annoyed.

“You two having a lovers' quarrel or what?" Riswelze asked. "After a week of being practically inseparable, you've barely looked at one another for the past few days. Really, it's getting pretty irksome. What's the problem?”

“W-what are you talking about?” The princess looked shocked and turned red all the way to her ears. “Izumi and I are not in such a relationship…!”

“Oh?” Riswelze smirked. “Then what's with that grossly syrupy reaction?”

“Why, you...Is toying with other people all you ever do? Leave me be already, you succubus!”

“Come on now. It's obvious to anyone she's not just a random stranger to you. Then, what is it? You arranged that little sparring session to get the lady to notice your good points, didn't you? You've sure had some terrible role models back home, if that's the best you could come up with. And it didn't quite work out...”

“No, I am determined to strenghten myself,” Yuliana replied. “I know I must, if I am to survive. That sentiment is not a lie. Though, I do admit that having my shortcomings so openly displayed was frustrating...”

“Well, not like she’s the type to give up on you based on just that.”

“You're right. I know that.”

“Then, what is it? Come on. Speak to me.”

"Why is it so important to you?"

"Because all this ambiguity is a pain in the ass."

For a moment, Yuliana rode on in silence, looking away.

“I made a promise,” she finally said in a hushed tone.

“What was that?”

“Back in the banquet at Haywell, Izumi...um, she asked me to give her a kiss. At the time, I couldn't bring myself to do it, but I promised I would kiss her properly after we'd make our escape. Even knowing she was risking her life for my sake, I, out of childish bashfulness...I regret it. I hate what I said and did. But in the end, although we made it out of that place alive, it really is difficult to bring up again...”

“Huh…?” Riswelze raised her brows, looking blank. “A kiss? What do you mean, a kiss? Just a kiss?"

"...What is it?"

"The Hel are you talking about? Haven’t you gotten further than that by now?”

Yuliana looked like she was about to fall from her saddle.

“Further than—N-no! How could I!? I mean—I wouldn't even know what to do!”

“You’ve got to be kidding me...”

“I, it's the first time for me! I've never felt this way about anyone before!”

“Please, just stop...I can’t, I need a time out...Hold it...”

“I used to think it was mysteriously soothing to be by her side. Simply looking at her face, I felt I was safe, that no matter how bad things would get, it would be alright in the end. But, if I take one step closer than that, if I cross that certain border—I become terribly anxious and can't say why. It's as if my heart is going to fail and it makes me scared...I can't even look her in the eyes anymore without starting to tremble and feel faint. What is wrong with me?”

“Yeah, that's called love, hun,” Riswelze listlessly hung her head. “I imagined the level of conversation was going to be a little higher than that...”

“L-love?” Yuliana shrieked, immediately covering her mouth and glancing around to see if anyone heard. “T-t-that's not...W-we're both women, you realize! And she's so much older too...It feels wrong, somehow...”

“And? Technically, she's not even human, right? A being from another world.”

“That feel even more wrong! She's a champion summoned by my Lord! She's way beyond someone like myself...”

“Then, if you don't want her, I'll have her for myself,” Riswelze said.

“We do come from different worlds and there are...Wait, what?” Yuliana looked at the assassin in surprise. “You mean, you...feel that way about her?”

“Yes, I do, princess obvious. My hands may not tremble and no butterflies in the stomach, but it’s not about the fireworks, is it? That a problem to you?”

“W-well, for a villain, I admit you can be surprisingly earnest at times...”

“So you’ll dismiss me then? You're confident you'll be chosen instead? Is it because you're a princess and I'm only ‘a lowly killer’? Even though you don't understand the next thing about other people's feelings, never mind your own?”

“No, I didn’t mean...”

“Well, good luck to you. From today on, we're rivals. I wouldn't let my guard down if I were you. A man or a woman, I'm confident I can make anyone fall for my charms. I've had plenty of field experience, after all. Your. Highness.”

“That's...preposterous! I'm not going to—”

——“ATTENTION! HALT!”

At that moment, a loud exclamation from the front part of the cavalcade shook the riders from their drowsiness. The line of horses stopped immediately. Those further back tried to extend their necks to better see what was the cause of the unscheduled break.

Yuliana and Riswelze forgot about their argument as well.

Being closer to the front, they had a better view than most others, though they had trouble making use of the advantage.

Nothing appeared to be out of the ordinary.

The forest remained quiet and still everywhere around, the road also devoid of visible obstacles. The first thought to occur to the princess was that a tree had fallen across the road, but she saw nothing of the sort. Only idyllic woodland basking in the light of the afternoon sun.

Then, straining her eyes and bringing her gaze up, Yuliana spotted it.

There was an obstacle, after all.

As it remained perfectly unmoving, the strange object blended uncannily well with its surroundings, eluding a hasty look. It was only betrayed by the more reflective parts of its outlandish form, which the sun made temporarily glow with eye-catching brilliance.

Everyone who saw it was struck speechless by the vision.

There was an odd beast some two hundred feet before the first riders.

Easily mistaken for a statue, it vaguely resembled a horse in shape but was nearly three times as large. Instead of simple flesh covered in fur, its body appeared to have been carved of wood, of numerous curvy and slim pieces delicately assembled together like the famous horse of Troy from the other world. The outlines of its long head, slim back, and round hips were plated with lengthy scales in the colors of golden autumn leaves.

The most striking detail of all, however, was the massive, curved headpiece, like a fantastic battleaxe embedded into the creature’s skull, right between the ears. The decoration looked exceedingly dangerous, not to mention heavy, but the wood-horse's thick neck proudly supported it high above the ground.

Like a misplaced, spectacular work of art by an unknown genius artesan, the horse statue blocked the way.

Yuliana had never seen such a thing before. Neither had Riswelze.

But the Imperials, with their local guides, were fortunately better informed.

It was not a statue.

“——A UNICOOOOOOOORN!”

Realizing it had been discovered, the massive pseudo-horse kicked the road with its front leg, nudging back and forward in a threatening fashion.

“It's about to charge!” Colonel Miragrave shouted. “To the sides! Clear the way! Quickly!”

The unicorn lowered its head and leaped nimbly into motion, against its heavy appearance. As anyone familiar with horned animals could tell just by looking, its apparent intention was to ram straight through the caravan, which it seemed to identify as an enemy.

No in-depth knowledge of the Newtonian laws was required to understand what would happen to the much lighter, flesh-and-blood horses and riders in such a contest of mechanical forces. The knights hurried out of the way the best they could, left and right, splitting up the caravan in the middle.

Due to its enormous mass and velocity, the beast luckily had no way to make finer adjustments to its course while in motion. Its very horse-like anatomy also prevented it from effectively seeing what was happening directly ahead of it. Thanks to this, evading its assault seemed simple in theory.

In practice, moving over a hundred horses and four heavy wagons out of the way on such short notice was far from a simple matter.

The creature kept gaining in speed as it ran.

The riders close to the front managed to avoid the onslaught easily enough, but those further down the line weren't yet clear on what was happening and were surprised. A few knights were thrown off their startled mounts, evading the monstrosity by a hair. But their troubles were nothing compared to the wagon drivers. The equipment loads weren't pulled by horses but bulls, which weren't the agilest or most manageable of beasts.

It became shortly obvious that the last wagon, the one with Izumi and the under-the-weather knights on board, wasn't going to make it out of the way in time. Seeing this, the soldiers, Brian included, jumped off the ride and bravely tried to push the wagon off the road, with death mere seconds away.

They didn't quite make it. With most of the transport out of the way, the men abandoned the effort and dived to safety. Swinging its massive head, the unicorn brushed the wagon as it passed, shattering a few of its backwheels and side boards, very nearly knocking the whole thing over.

Having passed through the entire cavalcade like this, the unicorn soon realized no more enemies were in sight, stopped, and turned to reassess the situation. The mysterious eyes glowing in the sides of its head, like egg-shaped opals, examined the field, looking for a new target to vent its ire on.

And a target was soon found.

Brian struggled up from the sand and unwittingly made eye contact with the creature.

“Well, shit.”

The unicorn immediately turned at him and jumped energetically forward, brandishing the dangerous extension on its head.

The Langorian knight turned and escaped before the trampling hooves. He spotted one of the black stallions that had shaken off its rider a short distance ahead by the road and made for it as fast as he could.

Reaching the horse, he jumped in the saddle and whipped the reins. The animal was not content with its foreign rider, however, but reared and let out a loud, frightened cry, kicking air with its front legs.

“Come on!” Brian urged it, struggling to stay on.

Then the horse saw the massive monster rushing at it, which was enough to distract it from lesser problems and fled at full speed. The stallion galloped recklessly into the woods, while Brian could only hold onto it as he best could. He looked over his shoulder and noted that his situation barely improving. Thanks to the unicorn’s larger size and stride length, there was no way a regular horse could shake it off on such unstable terrain. It was catching up, fast.

Throwing its head around, the unicorn casually mowed down a tree thicker than a man, sending splinters in every direction. The collapsing tree hit the earth like a gigantic sledgehammer, further scaring Brian's mount and making it abruptly swerve left.

The horse nearly fell over in the panicked effort, tripping on a tuffet. Brian quickly dropped off the saddle on the fly, pushed the horse back to balance and leaped back on, allowing the run to continue uninterrupted. This reckless circus maneuver saved both from being trampled over. Rushing past them, the unicorn momentarily lost sight of its target and stopped to regain its bearings.

“Brian!”

The erratic chase had taken the Langorian towards the front of the line, and on the same side to which Yuliana had retreated. Although Brian had hoped to lead the monster away from the company, he had only achieved the opposite, unable to control his mount.

The princess’s voice now drew the unicorn's attention.

“Yuliana!” Brian shouted, waving at her to get away. “Look out! It's coming!”

The berserk creature charged again, knocking more trees down in its enraged rush.

Those trees, weighing several tons each despite their slim looks, became now the beast's coincidental weapons. Covering a lot of ground as they fell, knocking more down with their mass, they divided the disordered Imperials and startled their mounts. In a moment, the company was in complete disarray. At least one rider had luck bad enough to get hit by collapsing timber, while two more were thrown down by the truck-like unicorn passing by.

Seeing the chaos, Yuliana's courage surfaced.

“Follow me!” she shouted to Brian and turned her horse back towards the road.

Brian's mount might not have obeyed his will, but its attention was now drawn by its kindred under Yuliana and it ended up blindly following her by instinct. At the same time, the unicorn continued to chase the unlucky Sir Mallory, as if it were an enraged bull and he the matador's red cape waved in its face.

This somewhat comical trio sped out of the woods and again returned to the path.

Since the road had been vacated, there was no risk of further casualties—such had been Yuliana’s idea, but she hadn't had the time to plan further ahead. Her drive to save others didn't leave her the luxury to worry about herself.

“Get off your horse!” she shouted to Brian coming shortly behind her. “You have to jump! I'll lead it on from here.”

“Have you lost it!?” he replied. “That's my job!”

“You can't control your horse! You'll die!”

“Which one of us was the princess? Better me than you.”

“That has nothing to do with this!”

“It has everything do with this!”

“I'm not going to let someone else take—”

“—Look out!”

Neither had thought about the weakness of the plan. On the open road, the unicorn could outrun a horse even easier than in the woods.

Being able to accelerate to full gallop, the creature quickly caught up with them. Seeing this, Brian made a split-second decision, stepped up in his saddle and jumped. He pulled Yuliana off of her horse a bare fragment of a second before their mounts got caught by the monster's cruel horn and were flung in the air. Yuliana’s horse was hardly lightweight either, yet it was thrown high up like a mere sandbag, in a horrific show of the mythical being's strength.

Brian managed to somehow shield the princess with his body when they fell and the moss growing thick alongside the path softened their descent. But neither was left in any shape to run on.

Further ahead, the unicorn slowed down and unhurriedly turned, as if fully aware that its prey was helpless. The gaze of the unearthly eye on the side of its head was fixed at the two frail humans lying on the ground. Brashly kicking the dust, it faced them and prepared to resume its relentless assault once more.

Brian wasn't moving. Had he lost consciousness? Held under the heavy man, Yuliana was unable to get away herself. She weakly raised her face and looked back at the imposing creature.

“Our journey only just began...Don't you think this a bit too much...?”

Whether that unearthly being was moved by her distress or not, none of that was apparent in the remorseless lightness with which it stepped forth again. The heavy rumble of its hooves beat the earth like drums signaling the highlight of the performance.

Yuliana could only squeeze her eyes shut and pray for a miracle.

Surely only a miracle could’ve saved their lives now.

But what followed was not a miracle by any means.

Izumi stepped onto the road.

Waiting until the last possible moment directly facing the unicorn, she estimated the timing and then stepped left, out of the murderous horn's way.

“I’m really sorry about this!”

Turning quickly around, gripping her greatsword's handle with both hands, Izumi lowered her posture and swung hard in baseball style, cutting at the galloping monster's front leg.

Whatever material the unicorn's body was made of or what kind of a mysterious power held it together, the ancient sword sank straight through the knee joint without notable resistance.

Its leg completely severed mid-stride, the great beast lost its balance and was toppled.

The monster plunged down headfirst, with the elaborate headpiece digging into the sand on the road. Its lower half was consequently thrown over by momentum, propelling the entire body high into the air.

After a brief flight, the fantastic beast went rolling through the woods like a cannonball, smashing trees, rocks, and anything in its path, before finally stopping an incredible distance away.

A complete, deafening silence returned to the woods.

“Um, are you alright?” Izumi crouched before the princess and asked.

“Ah, yes, just fine…I'm...doing great,” Yuliana exhaled in relief, still feeling faint over the thrilling events.

“I can see that,” the woman observed with a pout. “More like, aren’t you doing just a little too well, maybe...?”

“Huh?”

With the girl lying under the Langorian in his protective embrace, their positioning looked highly suggestive when so removed from the context.

“Ah! Sorry about that!” Brian abruptly recovered and hurried to separate from the princess. "Is it over?"

“Yes, it's over!” the princess quickly stood up and said. “And you have nothing to apologize for. You helped save a great many lives back there, I'm sure even the Imperials will acknowledge your bravery now.”

“Not that I did it for their thanks,” he shrugged.

“Oh, don't be like that,” Yuliana patted his shoulder. “You okay? No broken bones?”

“Yeah. Couldn’t be better."

"No need for the act, no one's looking."

"I mean it!"

“Right. Must be nice, being young...” Izumi mumbled, watching the two, but then turned her attention to the forest.

What became of the unicorn?

4

The expedition had successfully cleared a difficult hurdle on their journey, but the mood was anything but uplifting for it. The unicorn was too heavily wounded to get up again. It was dying.

“What have you done!?” the headman of the Varnamian woodcutters shouted in terror, coming to witness the noble creature's dying struggle. “You have killed a guardian of the fey! An Elemental of the highest rank! How could you!? How could you!? Was this the only solution you could think of!? The wrath of all Felorn will be upon us! None of us is going to live!”

“Um, I'm sorry?” Izumi said.

“Try not to shit your breeches, grown man,” Vizier Attiker scolded the Varnamian. “It was a big, dumb horse. If killing one ever brought divine punishment to anyone, then sausages would've become our undoing.”

“You don't understand, Imperial,” the man only shook his head in disbelief at their carelessness. “Anything...Anything but this. The one taboo I asked you not to break...Barely half a day has passed and you've gone and done it. We should've listened to the elder. You're nothing but savages and fools. Your arrogance knows no bounds!”

“What's done is done,” commander Miragrave said. “Crying over the corpse never breathed life into anybody. What matters is what comes next.”

“Next?” the woodcutter repeated. “There'll be no 'next' anything. We're going back. I'm not taking any part in this farce, not anymore. You've failed your word and lost our trust. If you value your lives, you will return with us. If we hurry, we may still reach back before nightfall. Perhaps in time to escape the rage of the Divines.”

“You...are not going anywhere,” Attiker stepped up to the man and steadily articulated. “We have a contract, gentlemen. A contract you've signed, with your own name. Do you understand what that means? It's no hocus pocus, but plain black on white, decipherable by anyone. You will do as I ask of you and in return, be rightfully compensated. Fail this and it's a breach of contract. Which means, by law, that we are entitled to seek compensation from you, for the expenses incurred as a result. The failure of an Imperial expedition—your houses won't be enough to pay back for it. By all means, go. You'll save your own life, but what about your family?”

“What are you talking about?” the woodcutter recoiled in dismay. “What was this then, if not a breach of contract? I warned you, again and again, and you didn't listen! Am I not entitled to compensation by your laws?”

“There's not a word on our contract written about killing or not killing legendary beasts. So far as I'm concerned, it was only a poor bit of advice, which I've since decided to ignore. Perhaps you should've asked that in print if it was such a big deal? A contract is only ever binding when both parties are aware and consent to the terms. Understand?”

“You—You're a monster, a beast wearing human clothes, damn it…!” the man begrudgingly left with the other locals to grieve by themselves. “Damn you all! I won't be responsible for whatever happens...!”

“Are you threatening me now?” the Vizier called after him. “Good grief.”

Court Wizard Yornwhal examined the unicorn closer and shook his head.

“We may only ease his suffering now. I shall send him off and pray to Lord Matheus for forgiveness.”

“And who will compensate me?” Miragrave asked. “Who will ask for my forgiveness? We've lost five horses. Three men are injured, one with a broken leg. And this on our first day in the woods. It is quite obvious to me that the Divines never had any good intentions for us in the first place. Forgive me for not depending on them either.”

The Colonel left with the Vizier to reorganize their ranks. They also had to make the woodcutters fix the broken wagon before the trip could resume.

Only Izumi, Yuliana, Riswelze, Brian, and the wizard were left by the side of the dying unicorn.

“But why did it attack us?” the wizard said. “Among woodland Elementals, unicorns are of the highest rank. The wisest, the kindest. They embody the forest itself. Has Lord Matheus denied us...?”

No one present could answer him.

Chapter 5: The Lord of Streams Works in Mysterious Ways

1

In about two hours by Izumi's earthly estimation, the broken wagon wheels were replaced. Meanwhile the wizard treated the injured the best he could and gave medicine to those he couldn't. Nothing went to waste. Of the dead horses, their meat and hides were stored, while by Yornwhal's instructions, some better cuts were left as an offering to the Divine Lord of the woods, on a small stone altar they set up by the road. Whether this sacrifice would actually appease the spirit or if he even saw it, was anyone's guess.

Five of the woodcutters left, defying the legal repercussions, including the headman.

Since they had their own horses, no one could or tried to stop them.

The remaining ones were more or less of the secular opinion that spirits were myths, the unicorn just an animal, and it was money for their families that mattered the most. A man named Holms was appointed as their new chief and representative, and the journey was ready to resume.

“Hey, princess, we're leaving,” Riswelze called after Yuliana, who stood a short distance away from the road, gazing quietly into the woods. Yuliana didn't immediately answer but remained still, lost in thought, her head lowered.

“Hm? Was it that sad?” the assassin asked. “The unicorn?”

“...Ah, it was certainly a tragedy, but that's not what bothers me,” the princess shook her head. “I thought I would inquire my Lord if there was any way we could communicate our will to Lord Matheus, but for some reason, she will not answer me.”

“Hmm? That Divine? What's up with her?”

Yuliana touched the front of her chestplate.

“She has been strangely quiet, her presence faint ever since we entered the woods. Normally I can feel her spirit clearly, and her might burns so fiercely that it frightens me at times. But this is...odd. Almost as if she's hiding...”

“Maybe she doesn't get along with this Matheus?”

“The myths I know tell little about their relationship...I wonder, what could it be…?”

“Something up?” Brian approached them. “The Imperials are getting ready to leave.”

“I'll be right there,” Yuliana quickly answered.

The knight turned to return to the road, but the princess soon called after him.

“Brian.”

“Your highness?” He paused and looked over his shoulder.

“Thank you," Yuliana told him. "You saved my life. I won't forget it.”

“Just doing my job,” the man lightly replied.

Riswelze looked after the two as they went and grinned.

“Well, well. Isn't nature wonderful?”

The enterprising mood of the expedition never quite recovered from this ominous incident. The destination still stood far away and the formerly deep cerulean sky was already starting to exhibit hues of yellow and purple towards the west. Although it was spring and the days fairly long, it already became clear that they weren’t going to reach the outpost until late at night, or perhaps early in the morning.

Which brought the leaders another headache.

After a few more hours on the road, the company stopped again and the Colonel summoned the squad leaders to a strategy meeting.

“So, our options are as follows,” Vizier Attiker summarized. “One, we keep marching in the dark with no visibility, risk straying off the road and walking into whatever chasm awaits us, costing us more time and wheels, if not worse. Two, we light torches and ride comfortably, albeit slowly, in their light, simultaneously attracting whatever more monstrosities or brigands that lurk in the woods to us. Or three, we set up a camp along the way, waste hours doing nothing and burn through our supplies. Pick your poison.”

“We cannot effectively defend such a camp,” Miragrave said. “Another unicorn—no, even a pack of wolves could deal great damage to the company, never mind there are worse things out there. I have to overrule this option. Even if by crawling, we will stay on the move. Until the outpost.”

“I agree with the Colonel,” Holms of the woodcutters said. “No reason to stop now. It's safe terrain from hereon, even in the dark. We have to cross the Alams at one point, but there is a large bridge. We can't miss it, so long as we stay on the road. The outpost is little more than seven miles from the river.”

“Whether we keep moving or not, countless unpredictable perils await us,” the old wizard said. “I suppose the main question is, how do we face them? In our own terms or the forest's?”

“Yes,” Miragrave agreed. “When the night falls, we become an excursion of piglets through the slaughterhouse. Shall we attempt to attune our eyes to the darkness, use it for cover, and risk being deceived by it? Or shall we boldly announce our coming with fire and challenge the hazards head on?”

“You paint devils everywhere, Miragrave,” the Vizier snorted. “I always thought my wife was the most depressing woman in the Empire, but here you outdo her by an order of a magnitude. Maybe nothing happens? Maybe we'll make it just fine? One droplet doesn't make a rain, and one monster doesn't mean our graves are dug.”

“It is the duty of a leader to be a pessimist, Attiker,” the Colonel retorted. “Winning wars isn't based on wishful thinking, but telling where your enemy fails before you do.”

“Well then,” the man gestured around and said. “Our enemy now is the forest. Tell me where it fails?”

Everyone's eyes were now fixed at the woman.

Touching her forehead, Miragrave brushed her curls aside, thought for a few seconds and then slowly announced,

“It fails—before the same thing everything does. Have torches lit.”

2

While the Imperials were consulting, Izumi took the chance to stretch her legs and ended up finding her way to Yuliana. The princess was following the leaders' meeting from a distance, unable to hear the contents of the conversation but mostly guessing them anyway.

“Um, everything okay?” Izumi asked her, a bit hesitantly.

Yuliana gave her a quick look, before returning her eyes to the circle of knights on the road.

“There are no problems, thank you,” she answered. “...And you? Is the ride uncomfortable?”

“Not really. When I complained my butt hurt, all the knights gave me their capes, so it's been fine...”

“You show no restraint, do you? Then, was there something you wished to talk about?”

Izumi scratched her neck, looking troubled.

“Um, should I be sorry? Though I didn’t exactly mean it, it seems things took a turn for the worse because of what I did...”

Glancing at the awkward earthling again, Yuliana said,

“This isn’t like you. Actually reflecting on your behavior? Are you sure you’re feeling fine?”

“...”

Izumi’s dejected expression made Yuliana give up on her act.

“You saved our lives.” She sighed. “Though the reckless way you went about it may still prove bad for us in the long run. I heard that according to legend, it was killing a unicorn which made Lord Matheus destroy Emperor Yollam’s crew in retribution. But I'm not unreasonable enough to blame you for that. How could you have known? No, of course, I'm grateful—”

“Then it's fine!” A smile immediately returned to Izumi's face.

“Your remorse faded a tad too quickly!” Yuliana exclaimed. “Aren't you worried at all? Who knows what manner of creatures lie out there, waiting to jump us? The Divine’s wrath? Doesn't it frighten you at all? We could die, you know?”

“I can’t freak out when we're only getting started, can I?” the woman tilted her head and answered. “I wanted to become a monster hunter in the first place, remember? Then isn't this just the thing? This is exactly what I was looking for all along. I think it’s only getting exciting now! Here's my chance to actually protect people like a proper hero, instead of cutting them down. I scored my first monster kill since coming to this world too. I should've taken the head for a trophy, but with the mood the way it was, it didn’t seem too appropriate...And where would I have put it, anyway? I don't have any handy magic inventory system that would let me store stuff without limit. Real life sure is inconvenient in lots of ways...Then again, no one's going to believe me if I don't have any proof to show for my deeds, so I'm kinda regretting it now...How troubling...Here I had such a nice start to my own legend, yet it’s all gone to waste...”

Yuliana rubbed her eyes.

“I almost forgot you were such a person...Well? Did you only come here to brag about your achievement? I'm sorry, but I'm really not in the mood to listen to such right now.”

“Eh, have I made you mad again?” Izumi asked. “If there are any more sacred spirit animals you want spared, then let me know properly in advance, okay? Oh, but that reminds me, I actually had a question for you.”

“A question? What is it?”

“Macchan's element—what is it?”

“Pardon me…?” Yuliana frowned.

“That spirit guy who rules over the forest. He's a Divine Lord too, right? So everyone keeps saying. Doesn't that make him colleagues with Ai-chan? Or are they siblings, even? At any rate, you told me the Lords all have an element they rule over, so I was wondering, what's Macchan's element then? It might be a handy tidbit of information.”

“Lord Matheus? You’re talking about Lord Matheus? Good heavens, you need to do something about that naming sense of yours! Speaking of which, you gave master some strange pet name too! How could you? Don't tell me your name memory really is this bad? You're going to get into real trouble if you keep this up! What if you run into the Divine in person? There's no telling what manner of a Lord he is and he could doom us all if you're rude to him!”

“No way,” Izumi retorted. “Why would such high and mighty beings care about how we little mortals call them? And it's not my fault these fantasy names are too difficult for my tongue to pronounce.”

“Ah, you're hopeless...”

“Never mind that. So, the element? What is it?”

“I don't know,” Yuliana had to admit. “The Divines are only myths in my land, stories my grandfather would tell me. I never delved that deep into the topic. I only know about the elements because...well, my Lord told me herself.”

“Hmm...”

——“Flowing water.”

“Eh?”

A voice nearby suddenly joined the conversation. One of the knights nearby, who had been brushing his horse, turned around and took off his helmet.

It happened to be Sir Leterrié, the same dark-featured man who had helped train Yuliana the day before.

“That is Lord Matheus's authority,” he explained. “Flowing water. Rivers, streams, springs, waterfalls, underground currents, all water that is in motion. Immeasurably powerful, yet at the same time transient, ever-changing, such is his power. That power extends all over the land—but not to the seas. The great sea is too much for even a Divine Lord to possess. It can only ever belong to the Old God Nuenn, who has left us.”

“A warrior and a scholar,” the princess said. “You are full of surprises, Sir Leterrié.”

“No,” the knight shook his head with modesty. “In Tratovia, everyone knows this. The Divine tradition is close to our hearts, taught to us by our fathers already before we go to school. After all, we have no less than three great Lords to protect our proud capital. How could we not acknowledge and revere them?”

“Ah, I have seen the Temple of the Sisters. It is a magnificent thing,” Yuliana politely commented. It was true that the Divine cult was widespread in the Empire, but besides the many beautiful shrines, temples, and works of art built in the spirits' honor, she had seen no indication of their actual presence. Although, she had no intention of voicing her skeptical thoughts in front of the knight, who looked openly convinced of their existence.

And having one such spirit inhabit her own body, Yuliana was naturally compelled to become more accepting about a lot of things.

“Sounds awfully limited, doesn't it?” Izumi pondered. “I mean, we have someone who rules over all light in the world, and then another gets just rivers. It's not really even an 'element' in the classic sense, is it? Don't you think that's pretty unfair?”

“Unfair?” Sir Leterrié smiled with disbelief at her words. “It is a tremendous power. A tremendous responsibility, fit for the servant of Hamaran. Human constitution is the weakest among the sentient races. We are weak, and all our lives depend on clean, running water. Since water that pools and is still is not fit for drinking. To have this authority means to have power over all human life on land. Humans, who were Hamaran's created. Hamaran was a God who loved company. He created many Divines to follow him and divided his powers among them as he left. But of all his lieutenants, Hamaran loved Matheus the most. As he departed, he entrusted his chosen people to Matheus together with this Authority, forever. There could be no greater sign of trust.”

Yuliana was a bit moved by the story and remained silent. As the princess of a kingdom, talks about power and responsibility resonated strongly within her. As did tales of beautiful bonds between fellow men.

“Hmm...” Izumi looked thoughtful. “But if humans are his race, then why's Macchan hiding here in the woods, where nobody lives? Isn't that strange? Hasn't he practically abandoned us?”

“Izumi...” Yuliana gave the woman a deeply reproachful glance.

Fortunately, the knight wasn't that easily offended.

“It's because he is humble. Even though he has the power, Lord Matheus does not wish to exert dominance over people, or dictate how we should live our lives. He has given us that freedom, to choose for ourselves...or, so I would like to believe. But, perhaps he is angry. Perhaps we have lost our worth in his eyes and he no longer cares for us. We indulge in selfish greed and lust in our peaceful lands, while the other races struggle alone to protect the creation. I believe we should fight side by side with the others. Against the daemons. That is why I joined the army, why I follow the commander. To death.”

Having said all he intended, the knight touched his chestplate with his fist, bowed to the princess, put his helmet back on and went back to fasten his saddlebags.

Izumi couldn't claim to be particularly enlightened by the conversation, but there was no time to reflect on it further. The break time was over and the knights were ready to march once more. Bidding a quick farewell to the princess, she returned to the wagon.

3

It eventually came dark. On open land, the coming of the night would not have been as significant an impediment on the journey, perhaps. But deep in the forest, the thickening foliage high over the travelers' heads blocked what little light the atmosphere reflected, making the dark that much more opaque.

Wise or not, torches were lit, and the line of riders coursing through Felorn turned into a parade surrounded by the dance and glow of flames.

Those knights on their black mounts, in their black armors and dark capes, were like mythical wraiths themselves. Any average person witnessing their procession, unaware of its nature or purpose, would've no doubt been struck by heart-breaking terror.

Still, within their intimidating armors, the men were better than aware of their own mortality. It was probably too much asked to expect the primal denizens of Felorn to be frightened by their aesthetics alone.

Whatever sleepiness the day's long journey had accumulated in the men was quickly dispelled by the anxious anticipation that nightfall brought with it. Even though the day had passed without more trouble than described, the loss of visibility gave imagination wings.

The more dangerous beasts were known to hunt at night. Everyone kept restlessly gazing left and right, hoping to detect any possible monstrosities within the light's limited reach, before they would lunge at their throats.

Fully aware that even if they did see such things, responding in time was hopeless.

The woods sweeping past in the dark looked blurry, distant and intangible. It looked like they were riding in a narrow tunnel now, carved through the immeasurable blackness of the night by the frail light they carried. The riders could only dive onward through it in their fleshly mining carts, even if the road were to suddenly disappear from under them.

The hours crawled by, the horses cantered on, and nothing dangerous appeared from the forest. But the constant tension and straining of vision weighed heavily not only on the riders’ bodies but also on their minds.

As speedy as it felt, their progress was considerably slower than during the day.

In the dark, one's grasp of time was soon lost.

Both the night and the road started to seem equally endless. Yuliana was convinced they had traveled a full day already, yet the sun showed no signs of rising again.

In time, everyone found themselves hoping that something would appear, so that they would be released from the terrible suspense and have work for their hands. Sometimes death itself may seem friendlier than the gut-wrenching wait for it.

Had they been cursed by the Divine of the woods?

To ride in a perpetual, magical loop to the end of all time?

Had they, in search of a legend, turned into a legend themselves, a warning example to all who would disturb the ageless peace of the forest?

It was at moments like this that Yuliana would've appreciated a few words from the patron spirit within her, yet Aiwesh remained silent. As a Divine Lord who had lived quietly for over thirty thousand years, she sure excelled in the art of reticence.

——“COMPANY! HALT!”

The knight captain's voice finally brought the cavalcade a moment's relief.

Or, while everyone was relieved by the fact that they had stopped and could gather themselves for a moment, the actual cause for the break had the opposite effect.

They had come to a river.

The river Alams, which flowed through southern Felorn.

It was known to be among the longest rivers on the continent, although no one had been able to fully measure it. Starting from the shores of the northern sea near Cotlann, it drew through western Noertia towards the south, all the way to Luctretz where it joined the sea once more. Considering the vast distance between these two points, one could vaguely guess how long water had to travel to clear the whole route.

At some places, the Alams became narrow and overgrown enough to not allow a single fishing boat through, while at others it was too wide and fierce to even think about swimming across.

Here the river drew a long curve, circling around the Varnamians’ outpost and cutting across the path. The stream was only about thirty feet wide, but the current flowed strong. Not so strong that one couldn't swim against it, but it still delivered away without delay anything inanimate dropped into it. The cause was readily available; A short distance westward, the water took an abrupt dive downhill, before gushing between some dangerous-looking rocks.

Why the locals had built their outpost on the other side, instead of closer to the town—one could only guess the reasons. Either way, a bridge had been built to cross the water, bringing the two sides of the path happily together. It was a strong, wide bridge, which had faithfully endured the locals' heavy carts for numerous decades.

Was, indeed.

Tonight, no bridges could be seen.

Some great force had torn it away, leaving only a few broken planks sticking up on both shores to mark the place. Beneath, the dark waters ran quietly, offering no explanation to what could have caused the disaster.

“This can't be…?” the locals were in dismay over the fate of their creation.

“Lord Matheus's wrath…! We have been denied! We must turn back!”

“Lord have mercy on our souls!”

“Why am I not surprised?” Vizier Attiker sighed, inspecting the scene. “It's a bridge. If you want one to last, then make it out of stone!”

“Now isn't this a pickle,” the wizard peered over the edge, poking at the water with his staff. “It is about six feet deep, with a muddy bed.”

“Even with less water, the banks are too high, we can’t cross here with the wagons,” Yuliana said. “We need to look for another way. Would there be a more shallow spot upstream?”

“No need for that,” the Vizier said. “The Varnamians built the bridge once, they can do it again. All it costs us is more time. Most likely less so than trying to clear a path through that thicket.”

“In the dark?” the princess questioned. “Impossible. We need to at least wait until sunrise.”

“Not an option,” Colonel Miragrave objected. “Whether the Divine did this or a spring flood, we can’t afford to let it stop us. Remain here and we stand trapped between the river and the forest, with no escape. The bridge has to be made. Even if blindfolded, it will be made. Gather the men, Captain. Show my foolish disciple what a hundred of his majesty's elite can do.”

The knights left their horses, exchanged their swords for axes and, following the woodcutters' instructions, started to chop down suitably thick and long trees around the road for the new bridge.

“Yornwhal, give them light,” the commander requested.

“As you wish.” The old wizard held up his staff and chanted, “Iota manere, lutis antea.”

A dazzlingly brilliant, slightly bluish light appeared hovering in the air, about fifteen feet above the wizard, as if he had pulled down a star from the black sky. In its radiance, everyone was able to see the immediate surroundings with the clarity not quite comparable to daylight but close enough.

The work proceeded with renewed vigor.

“How come we didn't use such a handy trick to light our path before?” Riswelze, following the hustle idly behind the wizard, asked. “Or rather, why don't you just spell the bridge back to us, Sir Court Wizard?”

“In regards to bridge architecture, I must confess I am a novice,” Yornwhal replied with a wry smile, before adding in a lower tone, “Spirits and monsters are attracted to magic and we still have ways to go. I know the commander would not have asked me if it weren’t an emergency, but...It would be better if we didn't linger here much longer now.”

The replacement bridge was made quick and rudimentary.

Some of the men threw off their armors and swam to the other side of the river, ropes with them. The other ends of the ropes were tied to the cut-up logs and with brute force, the knights pulled the trunks over the stream, one by one, to align them over the remains of the old bridge.

Impressed, Yuliana witnessed a crude, but nevertheless serviceable path quickly appear over the natural obstacle.

After some fifteen trunks had been felled and pulled over the water, side by side, the bridge started to look wide enough for the wagons to pass. As basic as the construct was, for a time, it seemed men had indeed attained another victory over nature.

“That's fair enough!” The commander told the woodcutters, who would've preferred to add more support structures. “Take rope and tie them together!”

It was far from an ideal solution, but the sturdiest available ropes were retrieved from the supplies and the men got to work.

—“HYAAAAAAAUGHHHH!”

Around this point, a hair-raising scream rang through the darkness.

One of the knights had gone to urinate a distance away from the road. While about his business, his attention was caught by something on the ground reflecting the glow of the spell in a peculiar fashion.

Something round, thin and smooth, coiled amid the short shrubs covering the ground.

A snake? Squinting his eyes, the man saw that what returned the light were indeed the sleek scales of a reptile. An adder, perhaps? The man spat in disgust.

For a moment, in a completely unrelated thought—or perhaps in an epiphanic flash of wisdom—it occurred to the knight that perhaps he shouldn't have removed his chestplate.

Barely a second after, large jaws tightened over his left shoulder with bone-breaking force, four sharp teeth piercing deep into his flesh. Simultaneously, he felt a powerful pull that lifted his feet off the ground. A scream of horror and pain was all the knight managed. He was dead long before his corpse returned to the ground.

“The Hel was that?” the knight's companions a short distance away hurried to investigate.

“AAAARGGGHH!”

Before they reached the body, another scream sounded from the opposite side of the road.

There another knight had returned to his horse to retrieve his water bottle, when something heavy fell on him from high above. Heavy enough to crush his spine before he could feel the fangs digging into his neck. He didn't have the time to make a sound—the one to scream had been another knight who coincidentally witnessed the grisly event.

In no time, more horrified sounds echoed around. It was only after a period of confusion, that one enlightened individual was able to identify the threat in the night.

——“BASILIIIIIIIISKS!”

“My favorites,” hearing the shout, Colonel Miragrave muttered under her breath, before turning to the workers on the riverbank. “Is it safe to cross yet?”

“No!” the men answered. “We've only started to rope the logs, they won't hold weight yet! One careless move and they will all roll down into the stream!”

“Do you know how to tie knots, man! Hurry it up!” she urged them. “Captain! Signal the leaders, set up a defensive formation! The first wagon has the priority! The first wagon before anything else, you hear me? Get it across as soon as the path is ready! You answer for the dimeritium with your head!”

“Ma'am! Yes, ma'am!”

4

Far at the back of the caravan, near the last wagon detached from all the commotion, Izumi heard the shouting and asked a knight standing nearby,

“Basilisks? What are they?”

“What?” the man gasped. “Have you never left your house before, madam!?”

“How rude, I went to the convenience store almost every day! Admitted, it was only across the street, but that still counts as 'leaving my house', technically.”

“Ask your countryman there! Surely he can tell you!”

“I have no idea,” Brian replied.

“Serpents, fools!” The knight lost his patience. “As deadly as they come! Basilisks can grow up to thirteen feet in length and weigh more than one hundred and fifty pounds. They bite and spit, and one drop of their venom will kill a bull in the blink of an eye! They like to slither up the trees and drop down on unsuspecting prey like wolverines. And they never hunt alone. You don't have armor, so get in the carriage and hide unless you want to die!”

“Well, at least it's not giant spiders,” Izumi shrugged. “Oh, did I jinx it?”

“Princess...” Brian gritted his teeth and left running towards the river.

“Hey!” the knight called after him. “Stay here, you madman! I've orders to watch you! Don't make me risk my life together with you!”

The squad leaders did their best to restore order, fend off the basilisks, and prepare everyone to cross the river. The knights who had been working on the bridge had to search for their removed weapons and gear in the commotion. Their comrades running around, blocking the light, the panicked shrieks, and the giant serpents added some difficulty to the search. Some didn't even try but chose to fight the toxic creatures without armor, only their work axes for weapons.

Then again, though having armor offered protection against the bites, it was hardly foolproof. The hideous reptiles could spit their venom accurately up to thirty feet, and having even a tiny bit spill through the helmet visor proved deadly.

The horses that had been left on their own were not fond of the new threat either.

One knight was snatched straight from the saddle and his steed flew at once into a frenzy. The panic quickly spread to the other horses nearby, before reaching critical mass.

There was no holding back the avalanche.

Finding a solution to their distress in the incomplete bridge, the animals all rushed to it at once without waiting for a permission.

“Look out!”

The workers could only scramble out of the way.

In short order, some fifty-odd horses were surging over the logs. Traffic rules weren't obeyed. A number of mounts, knights and workers alike got knocked over the edge and cast into the chilling spring water. If they were fortunate. Those who got left under the stampede on solid land fared worse.

Only the outer logs on the left side had been tied so far and their bindings now took on the full stress. The ropes used weren't intended for bridgemaking, of course, and the several tons' worth of traffic tearing them left and right were truly testing the limits of hemp.

“It's breaking up!” the Colonel observed the state of the bridge and shouted. “Get the wagons across! The wagons first, men can swim!”

As the way started to clear up, the wagon riders urged their steeds onward, through the crowd. The disordered knights tried to clear the way the best they could, but not everyone had the luxury of paying attention. A few got hit by the wheels or shaken off their mounts in the chaos. At least the survivors had mostly found their own armors by now.

Izumi and the other passengers had to get off their ride to lessen the load on the bridge. After the leisurely journey so far, they now found themselves stranded on foot in the middle of a pitch black forest full of deadly creatures.

No one had the time to worry about them.

The first wagon crossed over the river easily enough.

The second had the mobile kitchen on board, including heavy stoves, barrels, crates, supply bags, and food. It sped over a bit too rashly for its size. The rider had to have been exceptionally skilled to get both the frenzied bulls and all the wheels of the wagon on the makeshift bridge in the first place; finer control was probably too much asked.

Nevertheless, as a result, the left side ropes on the southern end snapped.

The haphazard bridge was rapidly coming loose.

The third wagon followed shortly after the second, but the tail part ended up sliding sideways. Some of the back wheels on the left dropped into the created crack between the logs on the edge.

The tall wagon tilted dangerously to the side and for a moment it seemed it would fall sideways into the river. The powerful animals harnessed before it pulled on with all their might anyhow and managed to drag the whole load to the other side.

Regrettably, the way the wheels plowed through the crack cut the remaining ropes and sent the logs rolling sideways, one by one.

Luck didn't favor the remaining wagon.

The bulls made it across, but the wagon itself was carried away by the rolling trunks and eventually slipped through them into the river, rear first. The division of mass was too one-sided and the sinking load pulled the animals back from the land. Making helpless noise, the bulls were thrown into the water, cut from their restraints. One immediately drifted downstream and tumbled down the rocky waterfall, while the other got pinned under a falling log and drowned.

The bridge had been reduced to less than a half of its original width, but either way, the road was open for the remaining knights to get across. They had held their ground bravely in the dark but didn't need a separate command to direct their horses across—those in the minority, who still had retained control over theirs, that is. Most of the company had already lost their mounts and could only keep out of the way, impatiently waiting for their turn while fending off the basilisks.

Despite Yornwhal bravely continuing to show light, the horses kept slipping on the unbound, unstable logs that rolled under their hooves. Every now and then a horrified shriek, followed by a heavy splash, notified the others that the river had claimed more swimmers. Though it was hardly the season.

The riders were followed by the men on foot, who fared little better. Balancing on the round trunks in their heavy armors took a talent for acrobatics and a great deal of patience, which few had, as they fled for their lives. For every three men to get across, one took a dive.

The situation had gone beyond desperate, and on to a tragicomical circus, too pitiful to laugh at.

Finally, the chaos started to subside and most of the company had made it across the stream, somehow. By now the bridge was practically nothing but a miscellaneous assortment of timber arbitrarily spread over the water.

As the scene cleared, Brian was able to locate Yuliana, who remained standing near the bridgehead.

“Princess! Why are you still here! You have to go!”

“Has everyone passed yet?” Yuliana asked. “Where's Izumi!?”

“She wasn't in the wagon?”

“The last one? No, don't tell me...”

“I'm right here, though,” Izumi appeared beside them from the dark.

Since all the passengers had been ordered out, she had been spared from the fall. Following so far behind all the others, she hadn't been troubled by the basilisks either.

“What are you waiting for!?” Yuliana shouted at her. “Hurry up and get over!”

“I thought I'd see you through first—oops!”

Izumi interrupted herself to swing her sword upward, right next to Brian. To Yuliana, it looked like she had cut the knight, but soon realized the woman's aim had been higher up. Following the sound of metal hitting against something tough and heavy, that something fell on the road at the Langorian's feet.

“I might be a little late in asking this,” Izumi said. “But is it okay to kill these things?”

Yuliana looked down and saw a long, thick body covered in green scales on the sand. It had been cut in two but the bottom half still wriggled, dark blue liquid spilling from the wound. In disgust, she stepped back—but had no time to be disgusted much longer, spotting movement in the corner of her eye,

“Behind you!” she yelled at Izumi.

A serpent at least nine feet long stood up like a cobra on the road, towering over the woman. It had two fin-like appendices a foot beneath a large, triangular head. With the length of jaws that it now displayed in full, it could have easily swallowed a small dog whole.

Reacting immediately to the warning, Izumi crouched, turned around, and swung the greatsword again, slicing diagonally through the basilisk. The decapitated head part fell on her, but expecting it, she managed to catch it with her free left hand and hold it up, as heavy as it had to have been.

“My, is it really a snake if it has limbs?” Izumi stood up and pondered, turning the head away right as a shot of venom was reflexively discharged from the glands in its mouth.

“Look out!” Yuliana warned her. “Its blood is venomous too! You get any of it on your skin, you'll be sick for a week! Put it away!”

“Oh, someone's studied,” Izumi said, not letting go of the basilisk head.

“It's common knowledge! Hurry up and get over the river!”

“I will, I will. It's not like I'm here because I want to be. But can I keep this as a troph—”

“No! Go!”

The woman cautiously put the serpent head away and went nimbly running over one of the detached logs. Thanks to her light attire and sense of balance, she made it across easily enough. Yuliana and Brian followed after.

But they soon discovered that it was hardly as simple as the woman had made it look.

“Wah!” Yuliana took a bad step, lost her balance and fell. She managed to grab hold of another trunk, but still dipped half into the water. The stream was freezing cold and bit through her thighs and crotch with vicious intensity, at the same time filling her boots. How had the knights been able to swim over it earlier and endure the pain without a word of complaint? For a moment, Yuliana was vividly reminded how sheltered and painless her life until now had been—but this wasn't the time to be lost in reflection.

“Yulia!” Brian dropped to his knees and reached out to her. “Take my hand!”

From his outstretched hand, the princess's attention was directed to strange movement behind the man.

“Brian! Watch out!” she shrieked, realizing she wasn't seeing things.

One of the smaller basilisks had followed the man, coiling around the log he was on. Her warning came too late. The serpent quickly wrapped around his leg and lifted its head up, baring its fangs. He was trapped. And unarmed.

But Izumi hadn't abandoned the two.

Running back like a ninja, she hopped onto the trunk next to Brian and cut off the basilisk's head. In its dying struggle, however, the creature's body violently twisted around the tree and the knight's leg.

“Gh!” The raw strength of it threw Brian off balance and he fell into the river.

“Brian!” Yuliana tried to grab the man as the current took him past her. But she couldn't keep hold of her own support one-handed with the clumsy gauntlet. Her grip slipped immediately and she ended up getting pulled away with the man, into the river.

Izumi could only helplessly watch the two drift away.

“My, I always fail the escort missions.”

Brian remained fully submerged. By his senseless, helpless spasming, it was clear he didn't know how to swim. It was a regrettably rare skill among the Langorians, as their kingdom stood mainly on vast, lakeless prairie.

In this regard, Yuliana was an exception among her people. The royal summer villa was built on a distant seashore, and a servant had taught her the basics after a near-death experience when she was still little. Even so, with her armor weighing her down, simultaneously swimming against the current and holding the grown man up were too much for her. The river kept pulling them both downstream, towards the treacherous rapids.

To save herself, she had to abandon the knight—but to Yuliana, it was not an option. Even had she done that, it was unlikely that she had the strength to swim back to the shore.

Is this our end...?

Not all was lost, however.

While Yuliana desperately tried to keep her head above the surface, she suddenly heard a voice calling her.

“Hey! Princess! Catch!”

Yuliana looked up and saw Riswelze on the riverbank, throwing her a rope.

The assassin's accuracy was flawless and Yuliana was able to catch the end sent to her without too much difficulty. Several Imperial knights, who had successfully made it on the other side, joined in to help pull the two out of their predicament.

In no time, the princess and the Langorian soldier were coughing and shivering on solid land, drenched and cold, but very much alive.

The basilisks wouldn't pursue them over the stream, it seemed. Ectotherms as their smaller relatives, the water was too cold for the reptiles to challenge and the functionality of bridges was beyond their understanding.

The travelers were safe.

The company had made it through another deadly trap, some dry, some less so. But once again, no one could bring themselves to celebrate the success. For too many souls, the journey had ended prematurely.

The magic light was put out in order to not attract any more dangers, and for a good hour more, everyone had their hands full gathering the panicked horses. By the time they were ready to continue on, they discovered there was no need for torches either.

The impermeable blackness had sneakily become replaced by tones of blue and the forest around was drawn in everyone's eyes with steadily sharpening precision.

The long night was finally over.

But the quest for the forest’s secrets—far from it.

Chapter 6: The Langorian Soldier's Bravery Goes Unrewarded

1

The sky in the far east had brightened up considerably by the time the company reached the woodcutter's outpost, making it some time between four and five in the morning. The trip had taken them considerably longer than expected by the more optimistic calculations, but everyone greeted the sunrise mostly with sincere relief and gratitude. No one had expected a good night's sleep in the first place. There was a lot of work to be done before any rest was possible.

Izumi had expected to see something like a small village, and while her expectations were technically met, the sight awaiting at the destination was also a bit of a letdown.

No one lived at the outpost on a permanent basis, so it was presently vacant.

The locals would stay here sporadically when their quest for income took them too far from Varnam to return home for the night. They would also make something of a pilgrimage to the outpost twice a year, the headman explained; in the spring, to pray Lord Matheus for a plentiful harvest; and again in the fall, to thank him for giving it.

Along a wide green slope stood a group of brown-painted little cabins, twelve of them, in four lines. To the right from the cabins, a short distance away, was a larger storage shed where tools, carriages, blankets, spare food, and such was kept. The back half of the elongated building was crammed full with copious amounts of firewood. On the opposite side, across the slope, was a building of roughly the same size as the shed, with stone-made base. It was a stable with room for around fifty horses and a ready stock of dry hay and grain.

Behind all these buildings, further up the slope, was a more refined, two-story cottage, intended for communal gatherings. In the little yard between the cottage and the cabins was also a round well with a simple pump installed.

The outpost was encircled by a simple, weather-worn roundpole fence. Its purpose was clearly more to hold the domesticated animals in, rather than to keep any dangerous wildlife out. Either the locals relied on the Divine Lord to protect them, or else there really was nothing to fear in this area.

The nearby trees around the slope had been felled, providing everyone with a much-desired open air view and sense of space, following the suffocating forest march. Towering northwest behind the outpost, dominating the view, was a tall, bare, rocky hill. It was perhaps as high as thirty-five feet, with a narrow footpath going up its side.

The Imperial company gathered in form before the houses and dismounted. A quick head count had been carried out after the river episode, but they now did it again in better lighting.

The result didn't turn out any less miserable.

“One hundred and twenty-five set out from Varnam,” Miragrave grimly summarized. “Now we are ninety-four. Four locals and twenty-seven of my knights are missing. Thirty-seven horses. One wagon in its entirety. What was in that wagon, Captain? Don't tell me we've lost the arrows?”

“Ma'am, the tents, mainly,” the knight answered. “Heaters, tables, chests, command materials, documents, maps...that sort of thing.”

“The silver lining in a shitty cloud,” the Colonel sighed. “Take ten volunteers and a cart, and go retrieve what you can.”

“Very well. Shall we look for survivors?”

His reflexive, otherwise perfectly natural question caused a strange reaction. The commander glanced at the crowd of knights, before sternly replying,

“...You know the answer to that, Captain.”

Realizing his mistake, the knight's figure tensed.

“Yes, ma'am!”

“Company.”

The troops straightened at the Colonel's address.

“You see houses before you but there's no time to recall your mother's cooking. No matter how it looks, this is a war zone you tread—treat of it as such. You've already witnessed some of the perils that Felorn has to offer, and paid dearly for it. Don't let down your guard. The squad leaders will schedule the guard shifts and then come inspect the grounds with me. The rest of you, take a break. Have breakfast and gather your strength. It has been a long night and it will be a longer day still. But this is our home now. No one, not the woodland spirit or the goddess of ill fortune, will take it from us. And mark my words: before the day is over, this humble home of ours will be made a castle.”

2

For the adventurers, the morning passed swiftly if uneventfully. Unwitting Izumi was recruited by the supply squad to help heat and hand out food to the lined up hungry soldiers. Yuliana, who had found dry spare clothes to change into, helped as well, as did Riswelze, albeit to a notably lesser degree.

Brian, who had nearly drowned and remained listless, joined the injured at the freshly set up field hospital. He didn't need to feel lonely. In addition to those from the unicorn encounter, there were several more knights who had suffered injuries, concussions, broken bones or other debilitating ailments in the chaos at night. There were also those who had been too long in the water and had mild hypothermia, as well as a few who had been exposed to basilisk venom and felt sick. The old wizard Yornwhal assisted the army medics by mixing medicine and antidote from his supply of herbs, set bones, and cast what few restorative spells he knew. Sadly, healing was an exceedingly rare potential and weak in humans, but he still became a lifesaver to many.

The leaders took residence in the main cottage, while the Varnamians had to content with the smaller cabins. Once the day had brightened up enough and everyone had had a warm meal, the Colonel called the knight officers and the woodcutters together, and the group went on a tour around the slope to design their protections.

“As I thought, the fence is useless. I want a proper palisade,” Miragrave made her request to the locals. “All the way around the camp. At least twelve feet high, sharpened ends. Two exits, no more. The main one there, on the road, and a smaller one over there, uphill.”

“A palisade?” the headman, Holms, repeated. “And that high? For what? I've told you there are no basilisk nests or other dangerous animals in the nearby areas. Are you expecting a bandit raid? No other people ever come here either.”

“If only it were snakes and bandits we need to worry about,” Miragrave replied. “Leave the whys to me, Holms. I'd prefer two layers, but it has to be ready by nightfall, so we'll have to make do with one for now and fortify it after. And guard towers, three of them. One southeast, near the gate, one west, around here, where we stand, and one in the northeast, near the second exit. Then we should have every angle covered. The hill shields us northwest.”

Holms wasn't particularly inspired.

“All that, by nightfall—with all due respect, Colonel, you ask the impossible! Do you have any idea how many trees that will take? Building such a fortress would take a week! Three days in the very least.”

But the commander wasn't hearing it.

“You have a hundred able volunteers to help you. Make it happen. And that is only for the starters. I also want a moat dug outside the palisade. At least six feet wide. As deep as you can make it. Spiked, of course.”

“Colonel…!”

“You don't like my requests? Would you perhaps prefer to have Attiker plan our defenses instead? If so, you'll soon find yourself tasked with building walls that reach the heavens out of ebony and ivory. I think my wants are still relatively grounded.”

“Damn it...” the woodcutters were on the verge of tears. “Why didn't we listen to the elder…!”

“Too late for regrets now,” Miragrave showed them no pity. “It is your own protection you're building here, gentlemen. Do try to make it last. Better than that bridge, at least.”

In the locals' defense, regardless of their personal feelings for the job and its sensibility, they were still dutiful, hard-working men and got to business without delay. Since ancient times, people of the land would put their minds to manual labor to escape the hardships of everyday life, and so they did now as well. They quickly pooled their knowledge together and brainstormed the most efficient way to get the project underway. Then they divided their knight assistants into groups and educated each group on the finer details of their respective tasks. After another hour, the sound of dozens of axes chopping wood could be heard everywhere in the vicinity.

Left idle, Yuliana took the chance to get some rest after the tiresome journey.

A knight she may have been, but with “princess” for another title, being excused from hard work should've been a given. Still, there was no way Yuliana went to bed willingly. It was a rather absurd concept for a prisoner to willingly work for her captors, but neither was it in Yuliana's character to relax while others toiled. Still, as the young woman could barely keep on her feet anymore, everyone insisted that she retired.

The cabin closest to the cottage was dedicated to the princess and her companions.

The inside of the cabin was only a single room with four basic bunk beds. No mattresses, sheets, covers, or pillows, not one blanket, such were all up to the visitor to bring. No drawers, closets, chairs or tables either, only one tiny window.

It was a basic shelter for spending a night in the wild, nothing more.

Still, as far as it was from royal standards, it didn't take Yuliana long to fall deep into slumber. She'd been given a tough travel mattress and a woolen blanket from the Imperials' supplies. Equipped with those and her own rolled-up cloak for a pillow, she was out like a candle within seconds.

Used to pulling all-nighters for online events, Izumi didn't feel particularly tired after just one sleepless night. More like, she was tired all the time and had simply grown to tolerate it. Not that she had done anything particularly strenuous so far either.

However, the earthling soon regretted not claiming otherwise, as the kitchen squad caught her again and she was stuck washing pots and barrels for the better part of the morning, then setting up the mobile kitchen, retrieving firewood for the stoves, and various other menial tasks.

Right as Izumi thought she was done and could slip away, it was already the time to get started with the lunch preparations. The supply wagon had to be unloaded as well and the more delicate foodstuffs stored where they wouldn't be exposed to excess heat and moisture.

“What kind of an 'adventure in another world' is this…!” Izumi bemoaned, hauling another sack of beans to the shed. “I've never had to work this hard in my life!”

Riswelze expressed no signs of weariness either, but neither could she be made to work. The assassin had already made use of her talents and disappeared. Who could tell where?

Therefore, Izumi was left with no one to talk with.

At least she had no time to be bored. Compared to the night spent on the monotonous march, the work-laden day went by uncannily quickly.

By this point, the sun had traveled a good distance on its road across the heavens and already neared the treetops on the opposing side of the slope. The palisade was also appearing around the outpost at a staggering rate, the moat-diggers following shortly behind it. Watching the men tirelessly at work, like a crowd of ants, Izumi could only shudder as she passed by.

“My, they sure are energetic. Did something nice happen?”

She stepped in the shady storage building through the low doorway and looked around.

Sunlight poked in through the countless small cracks and branch holes on the walls, but no other light sources were available, and it took a moment for Izumi's eyes to adapt. The Imperials' supply bags, barrels, and crates already occupied most of the floor space, in tall piles that reached the low ceiling.

“Where am I going to fit this?” Izumi pondered aloud, as was her bad habit, with the heavy sack in her hands. “Heeey! Where do you want your beans? What, no one's here? Don't yell at me then if I put them somewhere you can't find them.”

She marched to the back of the shady room, threw the sack on top of a pile that still had space left and turned to leave.

That was as far as she could get.

Someone suddenly jumped out from the narrow crack behind the crates by the wall, and forcibly pushed Izumi into the corner, out of sight. The woman ended up pinned against the dusty wall, her assailant pressing tightly against her. Getting unexpectedly assaulted by a pervert should've been a distressful situation to anyone, but before disgust or fear, Izumi mainly felt confused about it.

For a knight, her attacker was oddly short and lightweight.

“W-what? Yule?” By the silky hair, she recognized the person holding her. “Weren't you supposed to be sleeping...?”

The girl stood up on her toes, coiled her slender arms around the woman's neck and pulled her closer. Feeling Yuliana's face approach hers—now was the time for Izumi to get distressed.

“Eeh! A-aren't we bold today?” she squirmed in the girl's hold, trying weakly to pull away. “I took you more for the romantic type...Is such a place really fine with you? I probably stink pretty bad too...I may not look like it, but I still have some dignity as a woman, you know...!”

Yuliana said nothing. It was a bit strange how quiet she was.

Then Izumi noticed there was a mysterious, unearthly shine in the princess's eyes, visible even in the dark. Besides the odd glimmer in her gaze, the look on the girl's face was unsettlingly vacant and emotionless.

Yuliana leaned on to bring her mouth closer to the woman's ear and whispered,

“Be quiet and listen to me, Itaka Izumi.”

Though the voice was Yuliana’s, the unsympathetic, commanding tone wasn’t like her at all.

“Eh, Ai-chan?” Izumi realized it was the Divine spirit speaking through her vessel by some magical means. “What are you doing…? You had hobbies like this?”

“Be silent,” Aiwesh said. “Do not speak. Do not move. Do not think. Only listen.”

“Hm?”

“I want you to take my vessel and escape," the spirit said. "Flee this place, without delay. Before their wall is completed and your chances are lost with it, you have to leave, as far as you can make it. Do not let yourself be discovered. Take no one else. Hint to no soul of your intentions. Kill any who might resist. Steal a horse and run. Do you understand?”

“Why…?”

Without answering, Aiwesh let go of Izumi and retreated.

Mouthing only, “before dark”, she turned and left the shed.

“What's up with her? Hay fever?” Left alone once more, Izumi scratched her neck in confusion. “Stealing a horse...That's a lot easier said than done, you know? I don't even know how to ride one.”

3

A short while after Izumi's divine revelation, the salvage squad dispatched to the river returned. Not only had they loaded their cart full of items retrieved from the sunken wagon, they had found three surviving horses wandering near the road. The knights had seen no basilisks and were so able to complete their mission without casualties, earning themselves a five-star rating by any standards.

However, for some reason, the Colonel was anything but pleased.

As soon as she saw the horses, Miragrave's face turned pale. Overcoming the initial surprise, she strode quickly to the Captain and seized him by the surcoat lapel, her brow contorted in anger.

“What did I tell you about survivors, you fool of a man!”

Having never witnessed such an outburst from his leader before, the man wavered,

“Ma'am, I did not think—”

“Clearly, you didn't!” she cut him off. “Take them somewhere no one can see and put them down. Two arrows each. Five men with you, one with a whistle ready. Do it. And for your own sake, pray I'm wrong about this.”

The Colonel shoved the man away and turned to return to the cottage.

“Yes, ma'am...” looking after her, the knight captain was clearly not too pleased with the order.

Anyone in Tratovia adored horses and these were magnificent animals. Not just any average stallion qualified as a mount for the Emperor's chosen elite and the man had been overjoyed to discover them alive. To the knights, their mounts were comrades, friends, family even. On top of that, the death sentence they were given was far from painless.

Regardless, there was no room left for objections. The Captain couldn't risk inspiring mutiny by challenging a direct order. Gritting his teeth, his fists clenched, he left to carry out the grievous task.

It was around this time that Yuliana woke up and discovered to her confusion, that instead of sleeping inside, she stood fully dressed at the doorstep of her cabin.

“What was I doing…?”

It wasn't the first time she woke up in a different place, and by now she could guess the reason as well. She also knew it was—if not sacrilegious—only meaningless to question the Divine's actions or demand and explanation. Since she didn't feel particularly tired anymore, Yuliana decided to go pay the commanders a visit and ask her past friend and mentor about the Imperials' plans.

There was no one guarding the cottage's entrance at this busy time, so Yuliana was able to go straight in without hindrance. But perhaps her timing had been poor.

As soon as she stepped in, voices of argument reached the princess's ears.

After the front door, there was a little entry room with dressers and a staircase to the second floor. Down in the back were two doors, of which the left one was left slightly open. That was where the sounds were coming from. Discreetly moving closer, Yuliana brought her ear closer to the opening and listened.

—“Don't you think you owe me an explanation, Marafel?” the Vizier's voice spoke. “What was that drama about? And earlier at the river? Why did you make such a show of valuing the dimeritium over the men's lives, right in front of their faces? It's like you want them to rebel? I can't believe you'd be that stupid.”

There was no answer and Attiker soon carried on.

“And now you say you're only willing to send out an expedition of twenty men tomorrow? Why only two archers? I can't agree with that. Once the wall is up, twenty is more than enough to defend the outpost itself—provided there's even anything to defend against. You'd have sixty healthy men sit here, idle and irritable? It's a waste. Waste of men and waste of time. They should all be dispatched. If we send out more scouts, we can cover a wider area at once and our chances of locating the spring in a timely manner increase dramatically. And in turn, it will reduce the days we need to spend in these accursed woods. I can only express my thorough dissatisfaction with your methods.”

Again, a pause.

“What are you so afraid of? Why are you so desperate to preserve our fighting strength? It's not because of the woods, is it? Don't tell me you still think the daemon is out there, stalking us? Have you lost it? It's dead. We saw the corpse with our own eyes. It's ashes. Dead.”

This time, the Colonel's voice replied,

“I do not take chances, Attiker. In case we are mistaken, those arrows are the only thing between us and certain death. Therefore, it should only be rational that I would value them before any individual unit.”

“Nonsense. Even if we go by your paranoia, even if we assume the creature lives, give me one good reason why it would pursue us this far? Why would it hunt prey that fights back in such difficult and dangerous terrain, when there's an endless supply of much easier fodder all around? In Varnam, Luctretz...You're not being rational.”

“Daemons do not eat people, Attiker,” Miragrave answered. “They kill for sport. Why do you suppose there are still colonies left on the old continent? Because the goti's magic makes them untouchable? Because the cruleans' strength is overwhelming? Because the cirelo have no match with the sword? No, Attiker. If that were all, Amarno would've been lost eight hundred years ago. Why did the daemons let the elves to flee and why did they allow them to come back? Because they wanted them to. Those monsters are drawn to conflict, like vultures to a reeking corpse. They don't want to simply kill us. No. They want to flaunt their supremacy in our faces as they slowly gut us. And it is precisely because we are willing to fight back that it will pursue us to the ends of the earth, if only it has caught wind of us.”

Silence ensued on the other side of the door.

Attiker's lowered voice broke it after a moment.

“I always took you to be one those who were made wiser by Ledarnia. Seems I was too hasty in my judgment. You glorify animals and jump at shadows, pitiful woman. Tomorrow, you will deploy two squads of twenty-five for the spring. Try to bear with the loneliness.”

Miragrave sighed heavily, but wouldn’t argue back. Orders were orders.

Instead, she raised her voice to address someone else,

“Yes, Yuliana? What is it?”

The princess jumped at the mention of her name.

Hoping the embarrassed redness of her face wasn't too obvious, Yuliana pushed open the door and stepped into the room.

It was a large hall reaching from one side of the cottage to the other, with a long dining table set in the middle. The table was made of the two conjoined halves of a single, massive tree. Instead of individual chairs, there were long benches fashioned in similar style, of smaller raw materials.

Over the table, various hand-drawn maps were spread out, illustrating the forest's topography.

“I'm terribly sorry to bother you,” Yuliana apologized as the Vizier glared at her. “As expected of master. What gave me away?”

“This old house isn't suited for sneaking around,” Miragrave, seated at the table, told her. “Not even Attiker's nagging could cover the boards' creaking. You dared to come in, so you're not a knight of mine. But unlike the locals, you obediently waited for your turn. As you always would when you were still following your father around.”

At those unexpected, nostalgic words, Yuliana bashfully looked down at her feet.

“You really don't miss anything.”

“Oh, I wish. Well? Is there anything you need?”

Yuliana did her best to gather the composure befitting a member of royalty and answered,

“I'm sorry, but if it's not too much trouble, could you share your plans for the coming days. Do you truly think you can find this spring? There's a lot of ground to cover out there.”

“And how exactly will this information help you, your highness?” Attiker asked. “You may be our honorable guest, but this is a highly classified military operation we're talking about.”

“Yes, I’m sure the Langorians will snatch the recipe of immortality from right under our noses,” Miragrave remarked.

“You're being unprofessional, Colonel,” the man scolded her. “She was just caught eavesdropping and instead of having her locked up for spying, you want me to entertain her with an exhibition of confidential information? Am I the only one here with any semblance of common sense?”

“Yuliana is as much a spy as I a chef. And speaking of common sense, perhaps having an outside opinion could help bring some to this wild goose chase of yours.”

The Vizier looked like he wanted to argue, but failed to find the words.

Instead, he ended up gesturing at the papers spread over the table.

“These are maps drawn by the Empire's remote viewers, adepts who claim to be able to perceive faraway events and places, mostly through dreams. Oneiromancers, some also call themselves. His majesty has recently hired several, in order to locate the legendary places of power on the continent. Of course, each viewer has had their abilities thoroughly tested. I've supervised the testing procedures myself and, like his majesty, have some faith in these adepts. Otherwise, we wouldn't be here. The maps have been sufficiently accurate so far and I see no reason to question their reliability at this point. According to our sources, the spring of eternal youth, described in Agelaos's tale, is somewhere approximately thirty miles east from this settlement. The reports are not consistent regarding the exact position, but we've managed to narrow it down here.” He pointed at the map, marked with a large red circle. “There are no man-made roads beyond this outpost and the flora grows verdant, so the search will take time. There is apparently also a swamp region between us and the place. While keeping a base camp here, we will send out scout teams and let them comb the target zone. Once they've confirmed the precise location, we have eight so far empty barrels waiting to be filled with the water from the life-giving well. After completing this simple task, we are home free. Unless commander here comes up with another excuse to needlessly prolong the business. I would have preferred for the first squads to be deployed already today, but setting up these primitive fortifications apparently requires absolutely everyone.”

“Against your previous insinuation, I do value the well-being of my men,” Miragrave answered. “I will not send anyone into the night; the search will be carried out in daylight, so that the teams are back by dusk. I have every intention to ensure they have a place to return to as well. And no matter how they are elite, they are also mortals and need a night's rest before another harsh journey.”

“Yes, yes,” Attiker paced back and forth before the window in the back wall. “Our supplies last us for eight days. Maybe more, if we can catch anything edible in the wild. But the spring has to be found. Trust me, you do not want to return to his majesty empty-handed.”

“Alas, what decides our success is ultimately not you nor I, or even his majesty, but the Darkwood,” the Colonel said. “Will the forest pity us? Or will it not? And...No, I should not even speak it, lest it become real.”

Yuliana recalled the conversation before.

The daemon—was it still out there, spying their rising defenses even now from the cover of the trees? Patiently waiting for the opportune moment to attack and turn their excursion into a bloodbath? Yuliana's old teacher had told her many terrible stories about the ill-fated elven war against the monsters of the lost continent, which had kept her awake at night. She would've never imagined those stories could become reality for her.

As if the forest wasn't enough to deal with.

But the Vizier didn't seem troubled by the idea. He was convinced the deceased Baron of Eisley had been the monster in disguise.

Isn't that just what he wants to believe?

“Rest assured, your highness,” Attiker said. “I have faith in the accuracy of the maps. So long as Marafel's knights know how to read one, the search will be a short one. I have no doubt we'll receive the good news already by sunset tomorrow.”

“Wish I had as much faith in your sleep-gazers,” Miragrave sourly commented. “They haven't told us the most important thing: is that spring really worthy of its name?”

“Impossible woman.” Attiker shook his head. “Once we have it, I will gladly toast of it to your good health—and to my own, of course. Actually, before some muddy rain water, I brought a bottle of most excellent brandy for the purpose. Now, excuse me, Colonel. Your highness. Nature calls.”

The ever-optimistic Vizier left the room.

Instead of leaving as well, Yuliana took a seat at the table, opposite of Miragrave.

“Forgive me,” the older woman said. “I know this is no place for a princess. And I fear things are not going to improve from here on.”

“No, it's fine,” Yuliana replied. “Maybe it's a terrible thing to say, after what happened, but I do think it's a bit exciting, even. Back home, going fox-hunting or patrolling the highways was as adventurous as it would get for me. Even such simple things would seem thrilling and make me proud for facing my fears. Now, I only feel ashamed for my past self, for being so coddled. This is the actual reality we live in. These are the kinds of dangers that soldiers around the world must face every day, to protect our way of life. I’m scared, of course. Sometimes it starts to seem like more than I can bear. But at the same time, I consider myself fortunate for being here to experience it. If I can make it through this, then perhaps I will have grown just a bit stronger as a person.”

At her words, Miragrave closed her eyes and smiled.

It was a bit sad, pained smile.

“What...?” Seeing it, Yuliana sullenly twisted her lips. That world-weary expression appeared to laugh at her naivety.

“I'm sorry,” the Colonel said. “Sometimes I just think you're too good for this world.”

“Eh...” Yuliana blushed, astonished.

“Yes, I've seen that innocence many times before, on the faces of many endeavoring cadets. And I've seen it lost equally many times, encroached by the atrocities their hopeful eyes are made to witness. When we last met, I didn't expect you to follow in the footsteps of all those men and women I've sent to their graves. As proud as it made me, I also thought it was a tragedy. Is this also fate, I wonder?”

“Master...”

“I know this is selfish of me, but please—Try not to lose that hopeful glimmer. No matter how dark the night, don't stop believing in the coming of another day. Do you think you can promise me that? Whatever you do, don't become like me.”

Yuliana was a bit saddened by her past idol's jaded words.

“When did you lose sight of it?” she asked. “However I look at it, it's still too early for you to be saying such things. You're here, you’re alive. You still have a long future ahead of you. If you've lost your light, then let's try and find it together.”

“I appreciate the sentiment,” Miragrave told her. “But it's too late for me. I may have a future, but no faith in it. My hope, my light—I lost it in Ledarnia. Attiker is right. I was not made wiser by what I saw in that land. It made me mad. I may yet draw breath, but at the same time, I am already dead. My days are strictly numbered, spent only waiting for the inevitable. And it's close. I can feel it in my bones.”

Yuliana sat in silence, trying to imagine what kind of things the Colonel had been through.

She knew there was no way she could.

“Have you ever seen one...A daemon?” she finally asked.

The Colonel didn't answer.

“Earlier, I told you we send troops overseas to show them war,” she said instead, after a while. “But that is a lie. It’s not a war they have in Amarno, not the way we understand it. And the cirelo never let the cadets anywhere near the places they know are dangerous. We walk the safe paths, in between their own patrols, like tourists. Never without supervision. Why, it goes without saying. We are too weak. They say no human who has ever seen a daemon has lived. And they are right. Somehow carrying on, knowing you share the world with such beings...is no life.”

A distant look in her eyes, as if seeing the scenery from years past drawn before her, Miragrave continued to speak,

“It was late summer, the year 993. The second month of my deployment had just ended. No enemy sightings, as I wrote in my diary. The cadets were bored and irritable. We all felt deceived. We didn't go through excruciating training to become elites, and then spend a month on the sea, just to stare at the ceiling at the elven barracks. Well, I was not all that upset. I'd met someone. A young cirelo warrior. Young I say—he was only twelve hundred years old. But he didn't look at me like I was a mindless pig in a uniform. He looked at me like I was three years old, yes—but with kindness. What else was I to him but an infant, barely able to walk? He brought me a sylerva flower once, a pure white one from the fields of Osthiln, and I was smitten. Before war and glory in battle, I found myself looking forward to our meetings. I even dreamed of spending the rest of my days there at the colony, as a maid, a slave, if he wouldn't have me for a wife.”

As sardonic as the Colonel's tone was, Yuliana couldn't help but smile at the heart-warming story.

“I was overjoyed on a day when he and I were assigned in the same patrol. Forty long miles to march in the jungle, together with the target of my affections. A dream come true. In my eyes, all dangers had but ceased to exist. I felt I could've easily felled a dragon with my bare hands. It had to be now or never. I decided to confess. And then, we found the body.”

On a tree by the path, deep in the jungle, a cirelo warrior had been impaled on a cut branch and gutted.

The body was still warm, the killer had to have been close by.

It shouldn't have happened. How had the monster gotten past all the barriers and watchers?

The patrol squad had twelve human cadets and fifteen elven warriors.

The humans were ordered to stay and wait, while twelve of the warriors went to search the woods, three left on guard. The actual plan was to use the cadets as a bait, while the scouts encircled the area, waiting for the daemon to strike again. The cirelo were strong, fearless. But that day, luck was not on their side.

Miragrave started to feel sick. Maybe it was the fear and stress, maybe it was something in the jungle, something she had eaten. Either way, there was nothing she could do to hide it.

The warrior she admired was among the guards left to watch over the cadets. A dangerous role, where the slightest distraction could result in death. Miragrave cursed her fragile human nature. She thought dying was better than showing that person her weakness and repulsiveness, by vomiting and soiling herself at his feet.

She felt sick and wasn't thinking straight—so she kept telling herself.

And so she made her choice. Miragrave left the cadets and their guards and ran off into the jungle, far away, heedless of the voices calling after her. They couldn't break up the formation and leave the dozen cadets to look for just one. She was certain to die, but at least spared of the shame. After making it far enough, she stopped at the root of a great tree, emptied her stomach, and cried. Sick of fear, she waited for death to claim her at any moment and was powerless to resist it.

Wolves would never miss a sheep so foolishly separated from the herd.

But daemons weren't wolves.

As nothing happened, Miragrave eventually overcame her fear and guilt. As her strength gradually returned, she made her way back towards the road. She was bound to be severely punished for her foolishness, but there was no avoiding it.

But by the time she found the earlier place again, she saw that there was no one there.

They had given up on her and moved away while she was gone, it seemed.

As she stood in the jungle, tormented by crushing shame and despair, unsure of what to do next, Miragrave suddenly saw two cirelo warriors walking on the path.

The other was him, Thalinn. He had come back for her, after all. The sheer relief made tears stream down the young cadet's face. But right as she was about to call out to them, the young woman saw another cirelo come running down the path from the opposite direction.

Why she hid herself instead of going to them, she couldn't understand.

Because she feared their anger at her cowardice? Perhaps.

Either way, instead of calling out, she took cover behind the nearest tree and watched the warriors meet.

“Thalinn! Menelau!” the recently arrived greeted the other two. “Where are the humans?”

“Stop!” the other two raised their swords. “Why are you by yourself, Heleth?”

“By Inola and Galantea!” the third raised his arms. “I'm not the one! I got separated from Senglen on the way! Couldn't find him anywhere! I think it got him. We need to regroup!”

“Senglen already came back," Menelau said. "He left with the humans. Said you were dead.”

“By the Lords, it's not me! What do you want me to do, strip?”

“What was the first thing your mother said when you were born?” Thalinn asked him.

“Why do you ask me that?” Heleth said.

“So that I will know if you're the one or not. Answer me.”

“You’re a dog! Of all the possible questions, you picked that? Very funny. Is there anyone in the universe my brother hasn't told yet? Stop this. You know full well it is not me.”

“I don’t. Answer the question, Heleth,” Thalinn demanded.

Biting his lip, looking annoyed, Heleth looked around and said,

“'My luck ran out'.”

The other two laughed at the response.

“It was because I was born too early and had a slightly blue complexion, okay? There was and is nothing wrong with me. Idiots.”

“Come on, don't get mad. Admit it's funny.”

Insulted, the one called Heleth walked past his comrades, swearing under his breath.

“I'm going after Senglen, this patrol is over.”

The light-hearted exchange had alleviated Miragrave's fears to the point that she felt it was fine for her to come out. Stepping out from behind the tree, she looked at the three elves on the road and

——thought her heart was going to stop.

There was only one cirelo warrior on the path. Heleth.

The two he had left behind were neither elves nor humans, but something else.

Something not of this world.

Something that didn't belong anywhere in the universe.

Something that absolutely shouldn't have been allowed to live.

Something the very existence of which violated common sense and natural order.

Something that was——dangerous beyond measure.

Miragrave’s senses left her.

She turned around and ran. She ran through the jungle, as fast as her legs could carry her. Without looking back, she ran and ran, thinking only about running, ran like mad, in her sane moments thanking the army sergeants who had made running a second nature for the recruits. She ran until finally having the tall walls in the pass of Ledarnia in view, then collapsing before them.

For a week, Miragrave hovered on the brink of consciousness, suffering from a high fever.

But she lived.

If what she was left with could be called "life".

Of rest of the patrol squad that went out with her that day, of the cadets and their escorts, none survived. Not even their bodies were ever found.

“To this day, one question has stayed with me, one word,” Colonel Miragrave ended her story. “Why? Why did they let me go? The daemons' senses exceed those of humans' or elves'. Those monsters knew I was there, watching, they had to have known. They showed themselves to me, and no human who has seen their true form has lived to tell the tale. Yet, I did. Because they allowed it. Of all the people in my squad, only I. Did they expect the citadel's guardians to dispose me as a mimic? Or was the jungle to be my end, weak as I was, not even worth killing? Perhaps. But at times a thought far worse comes to me. What if I was spared for a purpose? For a purpose so evil and manifold that it eludes my understanding. With dread, I find myself waiting for that time—the time when this purpose is finally revealed and I die, witnessing the ruination of all that I hold dear.”

Only after a moment of silence, Yuliana regained her self-awareness.

The story had ended.

Was it just her imagination or had the temperature in the room dropped abruptly? She couldn't stop shivering and shuddered. The thought that such things could happen and were happening even now somewhere out there in the world left her dizzy, dazed. She had known there was a war being waged somewhere over the seas.

But exactly what kind of a war it was—she'd had no idea.

“My apologies for sharing such an unsavory story,” Miragrave stood and told her.

“Ah, no, thank you for telling me,” Yuliana hurried to say. “I...I’m grateful that you did.”

“Having a little princess look up to me with such respect warmed my heart as a young lieutenant. It still does. But as you can see, I am not a woman worthy of anyone’s admiration. Only a weak, flawed, worthless human, the same as anyone else. If even that.” Though she said such self-deprecating words, there was an ironic smile on the Colonel's lips.

“Not at all!” Yuliana stood and said. “I can't even imagine what I would've done in such a situation. If anything, learning about what you went through—I am in awe. I'm really glad you made it out of there.”

“Flattery won't get you anything,” Miragrave pretended to scold her, before turning to the window on the back wall. “As Attiker said, the odds of that thing pursuing us are virtually non-existent. You could say it is not even worth mentioning. If it were true, we'd know. But I still want to prepare for every possibility, if I can. Such is the duty of a commander. Isn't that right?”

Looking back at the woman, Yuliana nodded.

“Yes!”

4

Considering her thirst for knowledge thoroughly sated and more, Yuliana bid the Colonel good night and left. The evening was still too young to go back to sleep, however, so she decided to go look for Izumi instead, to help with the kitchen work.

The setting sun was already fully veiled by the treetops and the sky exhibited various tones of gold in the far west; deep sea blue in the east. The buildings' shadows were drawn long and black across the slope.

The sound of axes could be heard no more, only the dull banging of hammers in their stead. It seemed the materials needed to complete the wall were gathered. Looking at the brand new palisade going behind the storage shed brought an undeniable boost to the sense of security at Yuliana's heart. As brave as she tried to be on the outside, the truth remained that she was scared of the forest and all the unknown creatures that could lurk therein. A child of the city, there was no way she could be at ease in the heart of the untamed wilderness.

Perhaps the Colonel's story had made her even a bit more paranoid than before.

As Yuliana passed the third cabin on the way down towards the field kitchen, her feet were stopped by a voice that startled her.

“Yulia!” someone called her in a hushed tone.

The princess looked left and saw Brian Mallory crouched behind the corner of the cabin. He quickly beckoned her to come closer.

“Brian?” she was surprised to see him up and about so soon. “What are you doing? Shouldn't you be resting?”

“I'm fine,” he said. “There was never anything wrong with me. I feigned sick so that they'd let their guard down. As soon as the old man left, I took off. We need to get out of here.”

“Out?" Yuliana repeated in confusion. "What are you talking about?”

“Not here. Come.”

Peeking around the corner, to make sure no one was around, the knight led the princess behind the stable, where they were better shielded from prying eyes.

“These people are out of their minds,” Brian said to her. “Daemons? Spring of immortality? None of that is real! This isn't going to end well for anybody. Never mind the spring, I'm not going to let them take you back with them to the Empire. We both know you won't be the guest of honor in that place. We have to escape. Now, while we still can.”

“Escape?” Yuliana repeated, stunned. “But how would you even…?”

“I saw the knights put down two horses a short distance outside,” Brian explained. “Not all of them. The Captain couldn't bring himself to kill the third. He let it run. But a beast that's lived its whole life near people isn't going to go far. If we can find it, we'll be halfway to Varnam by the time they even realize we're missing.”

“But there are soldiers everywhere,” Yuliana said. “We're not going to slip by them so easily.”

“See that cliff?” Brian nodded at the tall hill behind the outpost. “They're building the palisade there last. There's nobody on that side right now, minimum guards. We'll circle around the hill to the meadow. Then find the horse and ride the Hel out of here.”

“What about the river?”

“We'll look for a shallow spot downstream. Easy. Come on. It has to be now. We won’t get another opportunity as good as this.”

“Wait, I can't just...” Yuliana shook her head. “What about my friends? What will happen to them when the Imperials find us gone?”

“The horse can't carry more than two,” Brian said. “They’d slow us down. It’ll be all right. They will say they didn't know anything, which will be true. No harm's going to come to them.”

“I still don't think I can...”

“Yulia!” Brian seized her shoulder and shook the girl. “Remember who you are! You're not one of them. We need you. Your own people need you. You heard the Vizier, these assholes are going to start a war. Against us! We can't let them! The King has to be warned.”

“But I...”

“Come on. They'll spot us if we hang here for too long. Now or never.”

Crouched, the knight left running towards the hill.

I can't go—Yuliana wanted to say.

How could she turn her back on Izumi and Riswelze? Her mission to save the world? Would she betray the trust of Miragrave, her old friend? Were not the Imperials human beings equal to her own, with their own noble dreams and aspirations? Surely they could be reasoned with. She could go to the Emperor and negotiate, perhaps stop the war before it would happen.

Remember who you are.

At the same time, self-doubt spread within the princess.

How many times had her good intentions failed her in the past week alone?

How many times had she been left feeling powerless next to plotting politicians?

How many times had her naivety nearly cost her everything?

Save the world? By herself?

It was obviously impossible!

She would turn the Emperor's head? When she couldn't even convince simple brigands to change their ways? Absurd as a mere idea.

I have to look at reality.

What was she doing now? Was there any meaning in following the Imperials at this point? Wasn't every minute she spent co-operating with them an act of treason against her own kindred, in a way? What’s more, the risks were too great. The danger of them all dying in Felorn was real. Who could measure the Divine Lord's wrath and tell where it ended? After a unicorn and basilisks, what would be next? On top of outside threats, Yuliana hardly felt at home in a camp full of foreign men either. She hadn't forgotten her treatment at Haywell villa.

I don't know…! What is the right thing for me to do...!?

Brian Mallory was her brother-in-arms. They had known for years. Wasn't he her only true ally in this place? They'd escape, make it back home, and Yuliana would apologize to her father. She would warn him about the Empire's plans, of the Emperor's quest for the places of power. She had to warn them about the possibility of a daemon too.

Who else could do this, if not her?

She'd be at home again and all would be well, this journey of endless fear and anxiety but a bad memory.

Thinking rationally, if a side had to be taken, then could there any question of which one?

The day she was born as the princess of Langoria, that choice had been made for her—her own personal wishes had nothing to do with it.

Izumi could take care of herself. Riswelze too. They didn't need her. Wasn’t she only dead weight for the both of them, an obstacle to their respective dreams. She was useless here, wasting her time, while her citizens and family were anxiously waiting for her return.

I'm sorry—I'm so sorry!

Biting her lip, Yuliana made up her mind and chased after Brian.

There was a gap in the shabby, old fence, next to the hill, with two Imperials posted to watch it. Under the heat of the sunny, uneventful day, they had removed their helmets, which they now used as seats while absorbed in a casual conversation.

The nonchalant air was deceitful. Both men remained mindful of their surroundings, giving a discreet glance down the slope every once in a while. If anything emerged from the woods, it wouldn’t go unnoticed.

But they probably weren't expecting an attack from the outpost behind them...

“What are we going to do?” Yuliana asked Brian, lying flat on her stomach in the tall grass next to him.

“Leave it to me,” Brian answered and lifted himself to move out.

“Don't kill them!” the girl stopped him by the arm and requested.

“...I'll see what I can do.”

Brian advanced in the cover of the grass, crawling closer towards the guards. The wind rustled the treetops, creating enough background noise to cover his movements. Once he had made it sufficiently close, he suddenly sprang up and dashed straight at the knights.

“Hey!” The first one to notice him was the knight sitting further back.

The second, alarmed by the astonished expression of his comrade, jumped up to his feet and turned around, grabbing his spear. But Brian was already too close. Picking up the man's helmet off the ground, he whacked the knight on the side of the head, knocking him out.

The second knight had more time, but the Langorian didn't waste the element of surprise. He threw the helmet at the man. The knight reflexively shielded himself, which allowed Brian to slip past him. Without armor himself, he had the advantage in mobility as well. He caught the Imperial in a chokehold, squeezing his windpipe. The knight struggled in vain. His oxygen supply efficiently cut, he blacked out in a matter of seconds.

The way was clear.

Quickly dragging the unconscious knights off the path, hiding them in the grass, Brian waved at Yuliana to follow.

“Let's go.”

“Well, someone's practiced,” the princess said.

“Special forces,” the man shrugged. “I didn't get sent after you just for my good looks, you know.”

The pair made it to the base of the hill undetected. All around the rocks grew smaller trees and thick bushes, providing natural and effective cover from view. There was a path going up the hillside clockwise, but they didn't follow it. Instead, the two started to slowly circle the hill the opposite way. Every now and then, they paused and waited in the undergrowth, listening, in case an outer patrol happened to pass them by.

None did.

In a short while, they had made it around, with the high hill between them and the outpost and could sigh in relief.

With almost anticlimactic ease, they had escaped and were free to head home.

“You all right?” Brian asked the princess.

“Yes, I'm fine,” Yuliana replied, forcing a smile to hide her regrets. “Why, Sir Mallory, I keep getting rescued by you at every turn. How many times is it now? It is a lot of favors to return.”

“I haven't kept count.” He shrugged. “Besides, you saved me from becoming barbecue at Varnam, so I'd say we're even.”

“And you saved me from the unicorn.”

“I think we owe that one mostly to your friend.”

“Ah, yes...” Yuliana's expression clouded.

“Who is she anyway? She looks like a housemaid, yet carries that huge sword around. Made short work of those basilisks.”

“...Just a mercenary,” the girl answered. “From some place afar.”

“Right,” Brian recognized it wasn't a topic worth pursuing, instead patting the princess on the back. “I'm sure she'll be fine. By what I've seen, she knows how to look after herself. Let's keep moving. We have to find the horse before nightfall.”

“Yes, you're right.”

“I saw it gallop this way,” the man said. “It's been a while, it'll probably come back the same way once it gets hungry. Come.”

“Look out!”

There was a little glade behind the hill, between a corner of the outpost and the edge of the forest. Glancing over the field, Yuliana noticed a patrol of three knights coming from the direction of the road. She quickly tackled Brian and both fell amid the bushes, out of sight. The princess ended up laying on top of the soldier, faces awkwardly close, but neither dared to move so that the swaying of the grass wouldn't have exposed them.

“Hey, did you see that?” they heard a voice speak in the distance.

“See what?” another responded.

“...I could swear there was someone standing there just a moment ago, near where that trench goes.”

“Oh, not you too! I've been hearing shit like that all day! It's starting to get on my nerves.”

“Shit like what?”

“People seeing things in one moment that are then gone in the other. As if! That's just your eyes playing tricks on you. Who'd be standing there, in the middle of nowhere? Think. There are no people in these woods.”

“I wasn't dreaming it!”

“You know, the human eye has this funny way of picking out familiar forms in otherwise meaningless patterns and textures. Some rocks and flowers might look like a sitting man in the corner of your vision, and when you look closer, there's actually nothing. See, mind tricks.”

“No, that's horse shit. Did you make that up on your own?”

“Reminds me of what Elrich was saying before. Claimed he saw a 'cute brown girl' walking near the shed earlier in the day. He even called out to her, but the girl supposedly disappeared around the corner. So he goes chasing after her, and as he stepped around the corner—surprise, nothing there. He even climbed up to the roof and all, saw no trace of her. Disappeared right into thin air. He was pretty freaked out about it.”

“Haha, fantasizing about brown girls now, that guy...Always like that.”

“It's way too soon to be seeing visions!”

“Yeah. Remember that boot camp at Festia? Where folks didn't sleep for a week straight. A mate said he spoke with pink oliphants one night. They kept him awake at guard.”

“Hahaha, oh shit, that's bad!”

The voices remained still, engaged in the conversation.

“What are we going to do?” Yuliana asked. “There are three of them and we're unarmed.”

“He said something about a trench,” Brian noted. “I think I saw one a few feet ahead of us. If it's deep enough, it'll hide us and lead us downhill.”

“Let's try it.”

The two crawled slowly on, bit by bit, trying to keep the hay from swaying too much.

Soon enough, Yuliana's arms sank through the soft bank of a little brook, perhaps one foot deep and not much wider. Still deep enough for a crawling person to hide in, with only a bit of water at the bottom. Doing her best to ignore the discomfort for getting wet and dirtied, Yuliana bravely dragged herself along the shallow channel with her elbows, Brian a short distance behind her.

Foot by foot.

The patrol's voices gradually became faint.

We'll make it.

They were really going to get away. Yuliana's heartbeat quickened at the realization. Leaving her friends behind was terrible, but as a princess, she had to look at the bigger picture. The Empire wouldn't be able to use her as a leverage in their campaign against Langoria. The information she had gained was invaluable to their defenses. Perhaps the entire war could be avoided by this minor change of conditions.

It was bitter, there was no denying it. Yuliana was disgusted with herself for having to take such a cowardly path. But she reminded herself of the countless lives that could be saved as a result.

It wasn't only about her. Her own family’s heads were on the line.

So long as the Emperor couldn't get his way—her shame had to be worth it.

But the princess of Langoria wasn't unerring.

“Ha——!”

At that moment, the strangest sensation overcame her.

Yuliana felt a fierce, burning pain flare deep within her chest, as if she had swallowed molten iron. It quickly spread through her entire being, scorching her organs, or so it felt. There was naturally no way she had actually been injured in any way. Her bodily form remained perfectly intact, yet the pain was real. Gasping for air, she became immobilized, tensing all her muscles against the paralyzing, pulsating agony.

“Yulia?” she barely heard Brian's alarmed voice calling behind her.

“It...can't be…!”

In the world of Ortho, oaths had a special meaning.

An oath sworn with a sufficient stake could become a source of great strength and bravery, a type of magic in and of itself. In some cases, when hastily made, oaths could become like curses upon their makers.

But it was after breaking a given word that the true curse followed.

In the category of spiritual contracts, giases were on a level above the rest.

For whatever reason, one could enforce an absolute taboo on themselves, to ensure that where the flesh failed, the spirit would not. One week ago, at Haywell villa, Yuliana's oath of loyalty to the Emperor of Tratovia had been made into a gias by the power of the cirelo sorcerer.

The penalty for breaking such a pact was inescapable and irreversible, extending even to the afterlife.

However, such terrible oaths were not so easily broken in the first place.

The stakes were hideous—not even the Gods would will penalty of such caliber upon anyone by pure chance. To earn oneself a curse in death and beyond, one had to possess the unwavering, adamant resolve to defile their own honor, piety, and love for life itself.

Those who lacked such resolve received a reminder of the fragility of their spirit, whenever testing the limits of their loyalty, intentionally or not.

The boundary for Yuliana was drawn here.

Escaping the Imperials to return to Langoria meant defying the Emperor's direct representatives, his majesty's will, and could have potentially caused debilitating damage to his plans. Yuliana's wavering sense of duty, riddled with doubts and regrets, was nowhere near firm enough to overpower this curse. Not only did it stop her, it outright robbed her of the freedom of movement.

“Yulia! What are you doing?”

Unable to control herself, the princess stiffly crawled up to her feet and turned around, back to the outpost, raising her hands in the air.

“Hey!”

It was too late for Brian to stop her.

No matter how muddied, she still stood out like a flag waved against the dark forest. This time, the knights were certainly not imagining things. Even if her freedom were somehow restored at once, escape had been reduced to a distant dream for the two of them now. And Langoria would receive neither a princess nor one word of warning.

5

Although she was purely unaware of the existence of such features, Yuliana desperately wished for something akin to a fast-forward in her life, to avoid having to experience the aftermath of her little detour. Of course, there was no way such convenient options existed. She could only live through every waking moment, fully conscious, even if each instance of it now felt like a torturous lifetime.

“We caught these two sneaking outside the camp. We also found Wehler and Victor, knocked out cold.”

What was the hardest part about the whole ordeal? Perhaps betraying her faithful companions, only to then have the fact revealed to them in such a disgraceful fashion?

Or perhaps it was having to kneel under the stares of dozens of confused knights, together with said comrades, like a peasant maiden caught sneaking out with a boy from another village?

Not at all.

They were all undeniably painful experiences and made Yuliana curse her terrible luck and the unlucky stars she had to have born under. She would have done anything, given up anything, even her royal privileges, to change reality and undo this whole incident.

But, as said, there were no such easy exits to be found, and neither were the aforementioned parts the worst of it all.

For Yuliana, the worst had to have been this—facing Colonel Miragrave, to whose expression the report gave the likeness of a cloud of storm. Yuliana was unable to face that deeply reproachful look and only hung her head in shame.

“Have you perhaps thought of becoming a cook, Marafel?” Vizier Attiker remarked to the commander, unsurprised by the Langorians' position. Proving that irksome man correct was another unbearable barb in the princess's side.

Not replying to him, the Colonel glared down at Yuliana. The princess would've preferred to have her head cut off on the spot, but the words that she was given instead slashed by far deeper.

“Yuliana. I am disappointed.”

Chapter 7: The Court Wizard Redeems Himself

1

The morning of the third day was misty and damp, with pale, ashen clouds looming thick and low over the treetops. The formerly green slope had been trampled muddy by the men working on the palisade all day yesterday until dark. It would take a summer or two before the grass would grow there again with prior verdancy. Today the dirty ground served as a matching pair to the foreboding skies.

The outpost's defenses were indeed more or less completed within the time frame given, and now an exemplary wall of tough wood surrounded the buildings from all sides, like a long row of sharpened teeth. It no doubt posed a formidable obstacle to any unlikely bandits, basilisks, wolves, perhaps even unicorns. A somewhat shallow but passable trench had also been dug. The Varnamians were now adding the finishing touches by patching up the few remaining holes in the wall and setting up sharpened sticks at the bottom of the trench.

Security had been attained, but not everyone could enjoy it to the fullest.

“There, say aah,” Izumi said, lifting a spoon.

“I can eat by myself!” Yuliana bashfully insisted.

“Now, now. Don't be difficult. It's hard by yourself, isn't it?”

In the little yard left between the cabins and the main entryway, two thick poles had been hammered deep into the earth, a distance away from one another. Large metal hoops had been attached into the poles and in those hoops, two prisoners had their hands bound tightly with chains.

There, starting from the second period on, or roughly six in the morning, they were to suffer their punishment for desertion, until otherwise stated. The princess of Langoria on the right, her brave knight on the left. By their sorry state, anyone entering the outpost could see for themselves the fruits of cowardice vividly illustrated.

Though prisoners escaping their captors couldn't exactly be compared to soldiers fleeing the front line, the two were treated as such nevertheless, perhaps as a sign that the Imperials had already considered them as their own. This observation wrung the princess's conscience only that much more painfully.

Still, as far as punishments went, theirs was a light one.

Because the two guards Brian had knocked out regained consciousness and their mild injuries were quickly treated, the escapees were shown mercy. Had the men been killed, Brian would've equally faced the penalty of death. Yuliana had her royal status to shield her life in any event, but she still felt deeply grateful to her past self for telling the man to show restraint.

Not that it made their present situation any less disgraceful.

“How could I forget about the gias...” Yuliana lamented. “I'm so stupid!”

“There, there,” Izumi said, crouching before the girl, a breakfast bowl in hand. “Your porridge is going cold.”

The chains were so short, that Yuliana had to keep her hands slightly raised while seated. She could've still eaten normally by herself if only she stood up close to the pole. Yet, for some strange reason, Izumi insisted on feeding her instead. Yuliana failed to appreciate the assistance, as she felt it only added to the humiliation.

The Imperials could have easily treated Izumi and Riswelze as the runaway princess's partners in crime and have them share the punishment, but the mobile kitchen staff vouched for the innocence of their assistant. There was no way Izumi could have been plotting with anybody while busy stirring soup. The assassin's presence, on the other hand, was elusive enough to bring into question whether such a person was even present. Thus, neither had their freedom restrained by any orders.

No one particularly cared whether they stayed or left in the first place. Rather, the two of them running away would've reduced the number of mouths to be fed.

“Why do you still bother with me?” Yuliana asked the woman, dejected. “Don't you despise me? I did such a thing, yet...”

“Hm?” Izumi raised her brows. “You did something you shouldn't have?”

“I was about to leave you behind! Doesn't that make you angry? Don't you feel hurt and betrayed? We've been through so much together and I was going to turn my back on all that. I deserve no kindness! I thought I was doing it for the best of my kingdom, but...as I thought, it was too much...”

“Not really,” Izumi blankly answered. “I came here for the spring of youth, remember? I'm not going to leave before they find it or prove it's not real. I never said you have tag along, did I? Rather, I think running away was the right idea. I'd feel better knowing you're someplace safer too. I agree that how you went about it was a bit careless, but accidents can happen to anyone.”

“Izumi...” Yuliana was moved by her friend’s magnanimity.

“Although, in retrospect, the idea of Yule secretly eloping with a hot stud does make me feel mysteriously angry and jealous. Then again, NTR can be exciting too, under the right circumstances! Yes, I'm almost enjoying my anger, ufufufu...”

“...Once again, I have no idea what you're talking about. And I told you, Brian and I are not in that sort of a relationship.”

“Yes, yes, that's what they all say. Now open wide.”

“Sorry, I'm not particularly hungry, so you don't have t—amph! Hn!”

“My, that won't do. Don't you know that breakfast is the most important meal of the day?”

“Wah, it's already gone cold! Disgustin—ahn!”

“Didn't your mom ever tell you not to be a picky eater. Here. Open wiiide!”

“You—you're totally upset with me, aren't you!? Have mercy! I'm sorry! Om—!”

Rather than an act of kindness, the breakfast was probably more accurately labeled as a form of torture.

“It sure got quiet around here,” Izumi noted, pausing to listen.

“Yes...”

At daybreak, by the Vizier's decree, two lightly equipped scout groups with twenty-five knights each had been dispatched in search of the miraculous spring. This meant the outpost's fighting strength was effectively reduced to a third.

Of the remaining twenty-eight, two were stationed at the front gate. Two at the side exit. Two at the command's cottage. And three on the watchtowers raised a few feet above the palisade, one per each. One more pair patrolled the grounds outside. The rest were in the kitchen squad, worked with the woodcutters on improving the palisade, or just rested while waiting for their shift.

There was no question that any enemy trying to approach the stronghold would be easily detected.

The main issue was, were the remaining defenders enough to actually repel this enemy as well?

People needed to come and go all the time, so the front entrance remained open and unbarred. Yuliana couldn't avoid feeling unnervingly vulnerable in her position. Like a sacrificial maiden left for a dragon to come pick up.

“What will you do if they find the spring?” she tried to distract herself and asked Izumi.

“Me? Get a cup, of course.”

“Think they will let you? It's eternal youth we're talking about. Men have gone mad over less than that. And the Emperor is not known for sharing things.”

“Well, I'm not about to ask for their permission.”

“So you'll fight?” Yuliana asked. “Everybody here? The whole company?”

“If it comes to that, I guess?”

“...You really have not a worry in the world, do you?”

“You get wrinkles if you worry too much,” Izumi said. “I can't afford to worry any more, until I get a sip.”

“Is it that important to you, being young? Something to die for?”

“Isn't it to anyone? In my world, people are pretty obsessed with the whole age thing. No one wants to end up looking like a raisin, lonely, weak, helpless and demented, suffering from all kinds of bothersome ailments, before slowly forgetting even their own name. Who'd want to go through that?”

“I always thought it was a thing to aspire for,” Yuliana said. “I mean, growing old, surrounded by your family, your children, your children's children, and even their children. Seeing your legacy carry on in them into the distant future, the way you received it from your parents when it was your time. Wouldn't you call that a form of immortality of its own?”

“That's one medieval way of looking at things,” Izumi retorted. “What is my legacy, really? I have no children and don’t plan on getting any either. The only things my parents left me with were shame and disgust. Yes, all that’s here now is me. Once I die, there’ll be nothing at all. Looking back at my life, thinking, ‘that’s it, that was all I ever did’—it freaks me out. What exactly did I do? No, there's still hope for me. There has to be more for me! I still have a future! My greatest dream came true, I can't give up now! I've made it into another world, I'm sure I can achieve some great things that are worth being remembered. I only need more time! Yes, even just a few decades more.”

“Why do you feel the need to achieve something?” Yuliana asked. “Aren't you fine just the way you are? A person like you existed, you were here—isn’t that a plenty precious thing on its own? Whatever you do or don't won't change that.”

“It's because you're still young that you can say that.”

“I don't think that's...”

“Of course, it is. I was a naturalist too, once. When I was your age. I didn't spare any thought to what a pain growing old would be, until I one day realized I wasn't a kid anymore. It happened too suddenly. One morning, I just realized I couldn't get fired up about anything anymore. The passion in me boiled down to something lukewarm instead. That magical, 'I feel like I could do anything if only I tried'-feeling that young people have—I didn't have it in me anymore. Instead, it turned into, 'it's such a bother to try harder, I'll just do the minimum necessary to get by'. When I was your age, I ran five miles every morning. Now I get out of breath in the stairs before the fourth floor. I gotta wake up for the toilet at three every morning. And it only keeps getting worse. This isn't funny. What about this is precious? Inside of me is still a girl who wants to be a real hero! I can’t be content with being ‘just me’! Who would!”

“You're not that old...At thirty-eight...I think.”

“Time doesn't show mercy. The older you get, the faster the years seem to fly by. Soon I’ll be forty. Then fifty. Then sixty. Seventy. No, there's no way I’m even going to live that long in this world.”

“You don't even look old to me!”

“I do. You can tell the age by the hands. See? You can use cosmetics to make your face look all smooth and nice. But it will always show on the hands. Look how bony, veiny, and wrinkly they are! My fingers are dry, cold, and numb because the circulation is so poor. All bones. They're like the hands of a skeleton, a zombie! Who would want to be touched or held by hands like these? I can't stand it.”

The woman squeezed her fists close with a look of disgust.

“Izumi...”

“You're so beautiful Yule,” she then said with a distant smile. “I adore you. And I envy you. Picturing myself standing next to you makes me feel sick. It's unpleasant, isn't it? Saying we're friends is just silly. We have nothing in common, as we are. It's a bad joke that we ever met.”

“Don't say that…! What's gotten into you!”

Izumi stood up and looked down at the princess, her expression as clouded as the skies above.

“I'm going to become young again. No matter what. I still want to go on many more adventures with you. So I will fix things here. In this world, no matter how absurd a miracle, it can happen. If not...then my story will end here.”

“...What do you mean?”

Without answering, Izumi turned and walked away uphill.

“It bothered you so much…?” Yuliana bitterly said and hid her face behind her knees. “I really thought you were fine just the way you are…!”

2

Izumi went to wash her face at the well. She had said more than intended, but there was no taking back what was done. Splashing her face with the chilly water, she drew a deep breath, slapped her cheeks, and tried to psyche herself up again.

I’m being weirdly emotional. Is it the forest, or is there...

—“Now I've got it!” a cheerful voice suddenly spoke up behind her.

Izumi turned around and saw Riswelze standing a short distance away, in a triumphant pose.

“Rise? What's up?”

“Runes,” the girl said.

“Ehh…? Runes?”

“Yes. I've been thinking about it and since you can't do conventional magic, I'm going to teach you runes!” Riswelze explained while walking closer. “Remember what we talked about spells? Language and potential. Well, the thing is, runes conveniently happen to be both the language and the potential in the same package. So you should be able to use them the same as anybody else, even without any personal ability.”

“Wow, really?” Izumi immediately forgot about her worries.

“Yes. It's really simple. Come here.”

Riswelze had a stick she'd picked up from somewhere and with it in hand, she now crouched, drawing on the muddy ground, while Izumi watched.

“Runes are the ancient language in written form. It's a writing system given to people by the Gods themselves, tens of thousands of years ago. Nowadays, much of the old alphabet has been lost. Even though the language itself is still known, elves, people, cruleans, all have devised their own writing systems, so not many original runes of power are known. And those who do know them tend to keep them to themselves. But I'll teach you what I know. To cast them, all you need to do is draw the rune—it doesn't even have to be visible—speak its name, and...magic happens.”

“Ooh! Sure is handy!” Izumi commented.

“The only tricky part is, the same with spells and incantations, that you still have to learn the name and the meaning of the rune first. But once you memorize those, you're good to go.”

“Well, it shouldn't be a problem. I always got good grades at kanji quizzes!”

“What hisses?”

“Never mind.”

“Anyway. Look here. This is Brandt, the rune of ignition.” Riswelze pointed at the letter she'd drawn in the dirt. “In the old tongue, the word means 'a sparkle of light'. It sets on fire whatever it's written on. See, I crossed over that line there. If I hadn't, the mud would've started burning there when I spoke the word. You always have to be careful with these.”

“Yes, mom,” Izumi nodded. “Brandt...Where have I heard that before? Ah, yes, now that I think about it, Ai-chan's God had a similar name, didn't he…? Is that just a coincidence?”

“Ah, a good point. It's not a coincidence. In the past, Brann was the God of Light. His name itself is synonymous with 'light'. Additionally, there's a common convention of naming the royal children in the old tongue. The ruling family of Langoria, for example, is named 'Brannan', which basically means, 'Brann's own'. You can also read that as, 'children of light'. They consider themselves the light god's chosen people, see?”

“But the Imperials said Brann didn't make people...”

“Yes, well, according to the lore, Brann created goti, not humans, that’s true. But whatever. Every ruler out there insists that this or that deity is on their side, nothing new about that. It’s just a way of saying that you’re more righteous than everybody else, nobody actually cares about what the old books say. Let's get on with the lesson.”

“Then, this rune, it makes fire...Is it the same one that's on those arrows?”

The Imperial daemon-slaying arrows were capable of setting anything they touched in flames...Neither of the women had forgotten the eerie demonstration from two days back.

But Riswelze shook her head.

“No. I took a closer look at them and the rune written on the arrowheads is different. I believe they called it, ‘the rune of immolation’. I don't know that one or how to read it. I also don't know how they work without the name being spoken, but I guess some nifty magic is at play there. I can only teach you what I know, so let's stick to the basics.”

“Okay.”

“Brandt is pretty handy, you can use it to set up a campfire or create a distraction if you're in a bind. I have a piece of paper here, so try it out.”

“Let's see...”

Izumi copied the rune on the ground onto the paper with a piece of coal, sans the additional line. It turned out a bit crooked but still recognizable and the assassin approved it. Holding the paper up, Izumi drew breath and said,

“Do I really have to speak the magic word?”

“...Yes, you do.”

“It’s embarrassing...”

“Get over it!”

“Ahem. Brandt.”

“….”

“Brandt. Brandbrandbrandbrandt.”

“….”

Nothing happened. The paper in her hands remained perfectly intact and cold.

Waving it around, trying to smell smoke, Izumi wrinkled her brow, trying to imagine what she did wrong.

“Why am I not surprised...Again.”

“Let me see that!”

Riswelze tore the paper in two, wrote the rune on her half and repeated Izumi's gesture.

“Brandt.”

The paper immediately caught fire and burned to cinders in a matter of seconds.

“Like that.”

“That's what I did!”

“You did something wrong. Try again!”

“Ummm...”

Izumi wrote the rune anew and tried again. And again. And again.

Soon the paper was full of scribbles but remained untouched by fire.

“Did you really understand the meaning? Sparkle of light. Like, 'light springing into existence out of nothing'. Not just any kind of light, a tiny flame that is hot and burns, a primal fire. That's the meaning. Those were the words my master used.”

“Amen. I get it, but it's still not working. Your rune's busted.”

“No, you're misunderstanding something. Try again.”

——“You waste your time, young lady.”

The magic lesson became unexpectedly interrupted by a voice from behind the two. The women stood up and turned to see the old Imperial Court Wizard, Yornwhal, observing them a few paces away, while leaning on his staff. The man had a complex look on his face, that appeared to express that their magic class was senseless. Or else the student was. Either way. When had he appeared there, not even Riswelze could tell.

“What do you mean...?” Izumi asked. “I don’t have the potential then?”

Not immediately answering, the man stepped closer and spoke,

“A long, long time ago, in Galanthea, men witnessed the peerless sorceries of emiri and goti, and became jealous and embittered. 'We are nothing', they said. 'We are weak, we are sick, mortal, grow old and die, and we know not magic either; what meaning is there to this torturous existence?' Their God, Hamaran, heard this and took pity on them. He called his followers together and gave them the power of magic to lighten up their dark days. Magic became a source joy and pride to us humans. But it also made us greedy, prideful and arrogant, led us astray time after time again, and drove a wedge between us and the other races. In time, Hamaran grew to regret giving us such a power, but he didn't take the gift away either. Young or old, weak or strong, the potential lies dormant in each and every one, to be discovered or let lie. Except in you.” He fixed the gaze of his blue eyes on Izumi. “You were never given that gift, being a woman of another world.”

“Eh?” Izumi was surprised. “How did you know?”

“Goodness, I am not that blind or stupid!” the wizard exclaimed. “You looks are too strange. And watching this charade convinced me. Indeed, there is a man like you in the capital as well. He could never learn magic either. I suspect none of your kind has that ability. Because no matter how you look similar to us, you are not a human created by the same Gods.”

“Really?” The revelation made Izumi's pulse quicken. “There's another summoned person? Is he from the same world? What’s he like?”

“Why don't you come to Bhastifal and see for yourself?” Yornwhal replied. “He remains at the palace, as his majesty's guest. I’ve no doubt you’ll see him, eventually. Provided, of course, that any of us make it out of Felorn alive.”

“You doubt our chances then, old man?” Riswelze asked. “Nothing bad happened last night, did it?”

“That's what worries me,” the wizard lowered his tone. “It is too quiet. Have you ever been to a forest this silent before? There is something strange in the air. Something sinister. The men at the sick tent...they aren't getting any better. Their wounds are treated, they should be young men at the top of their form. Yet they remain at death's door. Tormented by nightmares, they twist and toss restlessly and awake with a high fever. After a little march in the woods? His majesty's elite? How many dangerous missions do you think they have survived before this day? My herbs or spells have no effect. It's not their flesh that drags them down.”

He fell silent and walked on, leaving the two to digest his words for a moment, before stopping to continue,

“There is a strange pressure in the air. It probes our minds, pushes us on the edge, where our sanity slowly leaves us. No spirit I know does this. Sending most of the troops away could have been a sound decision. Whatever causes the mysterious ailment, it affects the idle the worst. The less there are here to endure it, the better.”

“Why tell us?” Riswelze asked. “Shouldn't you inform the big chiefs?”

“I have,” the wizard bitterly replied. “But I'm afraid our dear leaders are too absorbed in their respective obsessions to pay heed to the 'ramblings of an old man'. I worry for them, but what can I do? By my oath, I am also bound to his majesty's will. I will do what is asked of me, that is all I can. But you...when the time comes, stand by your princess. Do not leave her alone.”

Having shared his advice with the two, Yornwhal climbed up the cottage stairs and disappeared inside. Left staring at the wooden door where the yellow paint flaked, Izumi muttered,

“As I thought, growing old sucks.”

3

Compared to the hectic, work-laden day before, time now passed slowly and quietly in anticipation. In the afternoon, it started to drizzle. Everyone left behind at the outpost felt unvoiced gratitude for not being among those journeying outside in such a weather. It didn't make the tedious wait for news any less anxious, however. Would the scouts return with the greatest discovery in human history—or would they return at all?

Which would be worse?

To help the captives, Izumi dragged an iron-made fire pit from the shed. In addition to the rain, the day was far from warm.

“It's a little small...Want me to find you another?” Izumi asked the knight.

“I'm good,” Brian responded. “Set it closer to her highness.”

“If you say so...”

Riswelze, who helped light the fire with her spell, had great difficulty containing her delight over the princess's current state.

“Oh my, your highness,” she sneered. “How's it hanging? Quite the change of roles, isn’t it! I'd help you, really, but my hands are tied...not!”

“Now I know I've hit the rock bottom,” Yuliana grimaced. “Being mocked by the one person in this world, whose rightful place should be here in my stead...”

“That's the circle of life for you. Isn't it iron-ic? No matter who we are or how good the cards dealt to us at birth, like an inescapable shackle, our fate comes to bind us...”

“Perhaps you should have become a bard instead of a manslayer? I see it suits you so much better.”

“Not at all. I only just got started, yet have no idea how to wrap this up. What a bind. Maybe you could lend me a hand? Oh, only if you're free, I'd hate to take up your time...”

“After what happened at the river, I was almost starting to think slightly better of you. How foolish of me. Some people are simply irredeemable, aren't they?”

“Such a predictable reaction. I keep hearing it everywhere I go. You could almost call it...a chain react—”

—“Guess I'll go back to bed now,” Izumi said.

“Ah, me too,” the assassin stood up. “The only place I like being cuffed in is the bedroom.”

“I’m starting to get a little worried. Maybe sleep someplace else? No matter how old I am, I'm still innocent at heart.”

The longer the uneventful day progressed, the more worried Yuliana grew over the fate of the scouting knights. What if the daemon was truly still out there and murdered them all while no one could know about their fate? The monster aside, there were countless more natural hazards that could swallow up such small groups without a trace. Fortunately, the Stohenkartes weren't quite as helpless as her impression of them.

A bit before sunset, a watchman blew his horn. The first of the squads returned. A line of tired and drenched men and horses flowed in through the entryway, not bothering to pay much any attention to the captives.

One look at their dejected faces made the news clear: there weren't any. Despite the maps and the explorers' undisputed ability to read them, they had failed to locate the spring.

Of course, the forest was rather sizable and so was the search area. Expecting to hit the goldmine right on the first attempt was clearly too much asked. Everyone was prepared for an extended search from the beginning.

Still, this didn't make the day's efforts any less wasted and who in their right mind could have felt content for it? The scouts had all made it back alive, but because they were alive, they could feel hunger, cold, fatigue, frustration and disappointment.

Moreover, it was not an epic, thrilling adventure they went through.

The squad had ridden for roughly twenty miles from the outpost, until the terrain got difficult enough that they had to leave their horses. They then marched another fifteen-mile loop on foot. As the maps had predicted, a vast marsh wrapped around the target area, making progress there slow and cumbersome. The knights had circled around the worst bits, enduring numerous mosquito bites, before concluding the search as fruitless and turning back.

Exactly how could one pinpoint the right spring in such watery and difficult land?

The mythical source of power was probably not marked by special signs, a heavenly light, or the ruins of a forgotten civilization. The men had sampled water from a number of clear-looking natural springs along the way, but no one felt any younger for it. Mostly on the contrary.

It seemed logical to assume the Divine Lord wouldn't leave such an important place unguarded, but the knights hadn't encountered any hostiles either. Regular snakes looking for warm spots. Horseflies, blackflies, and regular flies, in addition to the aforementioned gnats. Lice. Some fist-sized arachnids and centipedes. Random lizards. A few wild deer, an elk, a handful of swans. Such were the only signs of life the explorers had witnessed the entire day, and none of them even particularly rare.

Not long after the squad had returned, the sun set and darkness fell on the woods once more.

There was still no sign of the second team.

Bonfires were lit around the outpost, in and outside the walls. Near midnight, the commander ordered the outer patrol to be called in and the front gate barred. The woodcutters had built a cheval de fris, a spiky cavalry obstacle, which was dragged to block the way. The side exit was already covered with wooden boards made of spare planks from the shed.

All the signs pointed to the night becoming no less peaceful than the one before. But even though nothing threatening was visible, a strange tension hung over the outpost, making everyone sleepless.

Short of an hour later, a horn sounded over the outpost again.

At long last, the second scout team came back.

Their belatedness was unfortunately not due to any encouraging discoveries. Not only had they found nothing, they had suffered losses along the way. One horse got bitten by a non-basilisk but barely less poisonous snake, became unable to walk and had to be put down. One knight sank into a seemingly bottomless swamp hole and was never found. One developed a fever out of nowhere and was weakened to the point that he couldn't stay in the saddle. The others had to build stretchers to drag him out.

Everyone knew what they had signed up for, more or less, but the first day's results were still disheartening. Nevertheless, the Emperor's earthly representative obviously didn't even consider forfeiting.

The squad leaders shuffled the teams, replacing the more exhausted knights with fresh troops from the outpost guard. Everyone diligently maintained their gear and horses, and went to sleep after a meal, to prepare for the second round against the silent but merciless woods tomorrow.

Called to assist with the cooking again, Izumi stayed up late at the kitchen near the stable, rationing meat and potato soup, cutting carrots and rbead, and washing utensils, until finally relieved from her duties. She wasn't too pleased with her lot in life in those moments, but neither did she know how to say no. The compulsive, deeply ingrained need to not be a burden on others and do her own part was in her culture.

“What kind of an adventure is this…?” she mumbled, looking at her fingers wrinkled by the dish water, then up at the pitch black sky, where light mizzle still kept coming down. “Why was I born a woman, anyway...? Why am I not the one making big discoveries out there?”

As she walked, Izumi was startled by a sudden cry coming from the direction of the tents on the eastern side. A false alarm. It was only another soldier waking up from a nightmare. The troops at the watch towers remained still, looking at the trees in the distance barely lit by the outpost's fires. Besides the noise made by the outpost's inhabitants, all was quiet.

Much too quiet, as the wizard had said.

“Guess I'll go check up on Yule before bed...”

The prisoners' uncomfortable punishment would only end once the commander so said, and no hint of that was expressed. While they were allowed to take breaks to see to their basic needs and necessities, Yuliana and Brian remain in chains even through the night. The guards watching over them kept the fire pit burning, so they didn't need to suffer from cold or wet clothes. Still, it wouldn't have been a punishment if it were pleasant.

“Isn't it enough already?” Izumi asked one of the guards. “At least let her sleep inside. I'll keep an eye on her. Word of honor.”

“No,” one of the knights replied outright.

“I'm afraid these are our orders, ma'am,” the other knight added.

“Yes, please don't trouble yourself with me,” Yuliana said. “This is what I deserve. No, if we go by what I truly deserve, then it should be something much, much, much worse than this. So I have no complaints and neither do I require anything to ease this discomfort, thank you.”

“Were you that kind of a character…?” Izumi frowned at the princess. “Still, it's not good for a girl's health to spend the night out in the rain. I know, I'll go have a word with Mira-rin and appeal for a reduced sentence.”

“Please! Don't trouble master this late at night! Not for my sake...”

“Yes, yes. You're going to become a real pain if this keeps up, so I'm going.”

Izumi left the captives and walked uphill to the cottage overlooking the slope.

There were two more guards with spears stationed at the doorway and they weren't agreeable to her plans.

“The leaders are resting, we've orders not to let anyone in unless it's an emergency.”

“What is this if not an emergency?” Izumi argued. “The cute princess is going to be stuck wallowing in self-pity all night. Who knows, she might end up becoming a permanent M at this rate? And catch a cold, even as hard as it should be for idiots. Don't you feel sorry for her?”

“...Er, her life is not in immediate danger, is it? These are our orders. We cannot let you in or do anything about that. Please understand.”

“Wouldn't you say there are more important things in life than simply living it by whatever means?” Izumi argued. “As a man, can you forgive yourself for leaving a young lady in the dark and rain? What kind of a knight are you even?”

The knight looked conflicted between her appeal and his duty.

“Madam, I understand your concerns, but—”

At that moment, the door opened behind the guards.

It turned out the Colonel wasn't asleep yet and now appeared in the doorway, eyeing Izumi and the guards in annoyance.

“What is this debating about?”

“Ah, you were still awake?” Izumi cheerfully greeted Miragrave. “What a coincidence, there was something I was hoping to discuss with you, but these fine gentlemen won't take the hint.”

“As if I could sleep, with Attiker's snoring rocking the whole hut,” the woman sighed and stepped out. “What is the matter? Try make it quick.”

“About the princess...”

“Oh? You wish to join her?”

“Eehh, that's not…”

“I'm not letting Yuliana go. End of discussion.”

“Why is that?" Izumi pouted. "You know, there's this thing called basic human rights, empathy, camaraderie and so on. Either way, it's pitiful and I may have to do something about it.”

The Colonel's eyes narrowed as she looked back at Izumi.

“Aren’t you faithful to her, despite being just a ‘mercenary’? Speaking of which, I still haven't heard who you are, exactly, or where you got that sword. Somehow, the conversation keeps eluding this part.”

“Oh? Grandpa didn't tell you yet?”

“...Yornwhal? Tell me what?”

“Um, never mind. It's nothing too important now, I think.”

“Whether it's important or not, you should leave that to my discretion,” the Colonel said and stepped closer. “There's an odd air about you. I have not yet made up my mind whether you are an ally or an enemy. No, I should know better. It's the ones with the looks who are to watch out for. Well? How about it? Which are you, really? And what should we do about you?”

“...Could it be, Mira-rin is the early-riser type who turns cranky when it's late?”

“I don't sleep much at all. Well, you comedian? Will there be an answer?”

“I try not to take sides, really. I'm an impartial ally of justice above anything.”

“I will sooner believe in eternal life than in the existence of an impartial human. And those who refuse to take sides are generally either cowards or cutthroats. Are you really here for the princess? Or perhaps there are...ulterior motives? And where is the other girl in your party? She disappeared as soon as we reached the outpost and hasn't been seen since. Where is she, right now?”

“I—I don't know about that! Rather than me, you should blame bad parenting on that girl's part. As for my plans, I thought it was pretty clear why I'm here?”

“It is? Then enlighten me.”

There was no telling how the conversation was going to evolve from there. No one would find out, as they were suddenly interrupted by the sound of a horn booming in the dark.

The knights at the watchtowers were equipped with such instruments and had used them earlier in the day to signal the return of the scout squads. But there should've been no one left alive outside the walls at this time. Which meant that whatever they had spotted now couldn't be human, but neither was it a fox or any other harmless creature of the forest.

The resonant toot was quickly echoed by the other towers.

“ALARM!” the patrols at the ground level called out and soon enough, the whole settlement was bustling with activity again, regardless of the late timing.

The knights donned their armors with commendable swiftness and were soon ready and awaiting further orders in agreed positions.

The Colonel forgot about Izumi and left to check the situation at the main entrance.

“What is it?”

“Commander, you had better come see for yourself,” the knight who had made the sighting called down to her from the tower. “The wizard too. I don’t have the words to describe this!”

They traded places in the cramped southernmost tower and gazed out into the night encircling the outpost, in the fires' limited light. At first, it was difficult to see anything but dark haze, but as their eyes slowly adjusted, they discerned the strangest of sights.

In the treeline bordering the slope, some hundred yard from the wall, stood people.

If not an army, it could have well been defined as a crowd. Dozens—if not hundreds—of tall, dark, humanoid figures, side by side, all facing the outpost. They didn't seem like armed warriors. They lacked swords, spears, pitchforks, and torches. With no more shields than plate armors or banners, they simply stood there in silence, a ghastly, empty-handed mob of no lord.

“Yornwhal,” Miragrave said, “tell me you're seeing this and I've not lost my mind.”

“I don't fault you for thinking so,” the wizard answered. “No mortal has seen such a sight since the days of Emperor Yollem. Yes, there can be no mistake. Dryads. Woodland elementals, the faerie army. It seems we have become something beyond a nuisance to our host.”

“Ma'am, we're surrounded on all sides,” the Captain informed the Colonel. “And outnumbered, at least ten to one.”

“Can they be reasoned with?” the commander asked the old man. “Negotiate. Tell them it's not our wish to fight.”

“The effort will likely be wasted. We're here for the fountain, they must know it...And I'm not sure they have ears.”

“Try it. Speak to them, see if they'll respond.”

The mage obediently held onto the guard railing and addressed the stoic spirits in the distance, in the words of the Old Tongue.

“Hael, ellen lumibok! Oic sadra vi setelle domeno, nuest sacara ta divesta.”

He waited for a moment in silence, listening, but heard no response. The audience ahead stood without moving, without speaking, just staring. Not even the faintest of whispers could be picked up.

“Hoelle! Tue se? Náme rosta!” he tried again.

Nature wasn't talkative today. Yet, it was unlikely they had come only to innocently watch the outpost. The silent animosity filling the air was palpable. Miragrave glanced back and called out to the knights waiting below.

“Archers, ready. Fifty yards.”

There were only thirty archers in the company. By no means enough to stop an assault from all sides, but the foes behind the palisade couldn't know that. Perhaps a rain of arrows would still make the enemy change their minds about the offensive. No one could tell how effective the tactic was going to be, but neither did they dare to think what would happen if it weren't. They could only hope and pray the situation would be resolved without an all-out battle.

But this hope became shattered as soon as it had been imagined.

Without a warning, the floodgate was broken.

As if a soundless war horn had been blown, the dryads attacked.

They didn't run like bloodthirsty barbarians or bewildered beasts, but calmly stepped on, walked steadily, like so many woodcutters returning home after a day's hard work. Nevertheless, the siege around the outpost was slowly, but steadily closing in.

“Hold!” Watching their approach, Miragrave waited and waited, until the distance was exactly right, before giving the order.

“Now! Fire!”

The thirty archers released their arrows. As veterans of their trade, they didn't need to confirm the distance with their own eyes; the angle of the arrow and the direction of the wind sufficed to tell them where the shafts would land. The only ones hindered by the palisade between them were the invaders.

Despite the blind volley, a commendable number of the projectiles found a target too, thanks to the enemy's unified advance.

However, the psychological effect fell short of the desired.

The deadly greeting invoked no cries of terror or agony among the enemy ranks. To everyone's confusion, the eerie silence was preserved uninterrupted. Worse yet, the assault wasn't stalled in the least. Even with arrows jutting out of their bodies, the unsettling men of the forest continued to step forward, up the slope.

The reason was simple and soon apparent to anyone, as the attackers came closer to the light. Unlike how they had seemed from a distance, the dryads were in no way similar to humans in appearance. Their bodies weren't made of flesh and bones, but of naked wood and bark and nothing but. They didn't speak, seeing as they had no mouths. Neither did they have eyes to see, and no discernible ears either, as the wizard knew. Looking at one's face, one had as much luck seeing a familiar expression stare back, as he would when looking at a random log. The dryads' long, wavy limbs were like branches, with wriggly, worm-like roots for toes and fingers. The arrows had become stuck in their thick torsos like they would've at regular target boards, and not any deadlier.

“Damn it, how do you fight them?” Miragrave asked the wizard.

“They're spirits using wood as their medium. As such, they have no easily exploited weakness. The whole vessel has to be destroyed to expel the spirit within. Though severing their limbs is probably enough to temporarily disable them.”

“So we’re limited to fighting in close quarters? We need something more substantial than that with these numbers. Tell me you know fire spells.”

“I know a few spells of that nature, yes, but...Do keep in mind that our defenses, houses, and everything around us is also made of wood. I would prefer to keep flames to moderation within the outpost if there's any way to avoid it, or we might perish together with our foes.”

The first of the dryads reached the trench outside the palisade.

Ignoring the sharpened sticks set at the bottom, they crawled up to the wall and started to climb up along the poles. Even without any footholds, their wooden fingers clung to the logs and dragged their unfeeling bodies up, slowly but surely.

“Do what you can,” Miragrave told the wizard.

The commander herself jumped down from the watchtower and instructed the troops.

“Grab spears! Poles! Anything with reach, and spread out! Don't let them climb over! Push them back!”

The knights hurried to form a defensive line along the palisade and changed their bows for long arms. As the dryads eventually reached the top of the palisade, the men quickly knocked them back out with their spears.

For a time, the battle proceeded with almost comical ease.

But dismissing the dryads as brainless fodder for their appearance and sluggish behavior was a dangerous mistake to make. The woodmen suddenly tightened their grips on the wall and human strength was no longer enough to easily throw them off. And the more time was spent peeling one invader off the wall, the more time its allies had to slip past and drop inside.

A number of defenders now had to draw their swords and enter close combat, to protect the ones defending the wall.

Fortunately, the dryad's bodies weren't quite as tough as regular trees. Of course, unless their limbs were suitably soft and flexible, moving them would've been impossible. So long as enough force was applied, even a regular sword could hack through them. The thick torso and neck were more resistant against attacks, but aiming for them was meaningless to begin with, seeing as they had no heart or otherwise essential organs to protect. So long as the assailants were properly dismembered, the threat was eliminated.

But again, the theoretical simplicity of the task failed to translate as the ease of execution.

One knight struck his opponent carelessly and as a result, his weapon became stuck in the side of the wooden body. As he struggled to pull it off, the dryad, not feeling any mortal pain, reached out and caught the unfortunate warrior's head in its grip. For a brief moment, he thought he was safe in his armor—Only to discover to his horror that softness and flexibility didn’t mean weakness and fragility.

“AAARGGHHH!”

Everyone nearby watched in dismay as the hold of the wooden arms continued to tighten with increasing, seemingly limitless strength, like a vice, slowly crushing the steel helmet and the man inside. Even as his comrades desperately cut at the dryad's body, it stubbornly held on, until it was too late.

Similar losses were soon occurring everywhere in the besieged camp.

The wooden fingers weren't quick or agile but sank into naked flesh like a fork in a pudding, wherever they could find it. An arm or a leg caught in a dryad's hold was easily crushed, regardless of armoring.

Ignoring the hacked down dryad bodies that had started to pile up on the ground could also prove deadly. So long as they retained even one partly functional limb, they would continue to drag themselves on and grab hold of anything within reach, until decisively cut into pieces. A lot of knights had thrown off their helmets to see better in the limited lighting. This increased their reactions and mobility, but also risked an easy death.

Rather than a conventional battle, it became an exercise of deforestation, where the trees happened to be fighting back. Due to the attacking side’s simple-minded nature, there were no grand strategies or elaborate maneuvers involved. They could only be cut down head-on, reducing things to a straightforward contest of raw materials, speed, and stamina.

It took no exceptional skill for the Imperials to dispatch one dryad after another, but even as the invaders' losses were far greater in numbers, the inhuman assault showed no signs of relenting.

As the night dragged on, more and more dryads kept coming and the defenders were slowly but inevitably pushed back.

“Yorem! Mavya! Mavya!”

The Court Wizard cast orbs of fire at the enemies outside, setting a great many of them ablaze. But the spell's casting speed was slow and the reach too short to hold back the massive crowd. The enemies were spread too far and wide for a solitary cannon to force them back. Worse yet, even as they were on fire, the woodmen kept coming. So long as there remained just a faint hint of vitality in their charred limbs, they pressed on. Having the burning enemies hug the wooden palisade and spread the flames to the corpses soon became a danger of its own. If the fire spread, if a hole was made in the wall, the outpost would be quickly overrun. Yornwhal eventually had to abandon his post at the watchtower and retreat, as the defenders couldn't hold the ground behind him anymore.

As the front line pulled back and not all of the palisade could be effectively defended, the knights focused on the entrance instead, where the dryads struggled to get past the thorny roadblock. The Langorian princess and her knight before the gate remained mostly safe but still in chains. As the walls in the southeast and the southwest were lost, their position turned more precarious by the minute.

No one had the time to pay attention to them. None of the knights, that is.

“Don't move.”

Izumi took no part in the action but watched over her friends. Now, seeing that the situation wasn't improving in any way, she resorted to more forceful methods. Taking aim, she swung the greatsword, severing the steel chains, and Yuliana was freed. Only a bit reluctantly did the woman free Sir Mallory as well.

“What should we do?” Izumi asked Yuliana. “I don't like micro-management games very much, so can I leave the thinking to you? Maybe we should run now?”

“We're besieged, there's no way out,” the princess thought while rubbing her wrists. “We have no choice but to do our part in the defense, to whatever end. Is it all right, if I leave the gate to you for a while? I need to go consult with master.”

“Try to make it quick, okay? It's kind of boring to fight enemies that don't bleed or scream...And that really didn’t come out right.”

“...I'll just pretend I didn’t hear it.”

4

The field command had moved to the central yard between the well and the cottage, where the wounded and civilians had also been evacuated, as the dryads were starting to overrun the tents and cabins. Some of the Varnamians had joined the fray of their own volition. In fact, armed with their work axes, they managed the familiar job of chopping up wood somewhat better than the elite knights. But despite their courageous input, the situation didn’t appear to be notably improving.

The onerous conflict had dragged on for hours already and the casual but uninterrupted flood of invaders showed no signs of subsiding. Several hundreds of dryads had been cut down against the palisade, but more climbed over and the knights were getting exhausted.

The night was filled with the sounds of metal hitting wood, occasionally broken up by the pained cries of the injured and calls of help by their companions. A moment's oversight could mean being gripped by the inhuman hands in the dark and pulled apart.

With so limited numbers, even a few casualties hurt.

“Captain, update on the losses?” Colonel Miragrave asked her assistant.

“Ma'am. Eighteen confirmed dead. Twenty-four incapacitated. At least eight are missing.”

“Damn it, we won’t last another hour at this rate. Each man we lose quickens the enemy’s advance. For how long can we keep the front gate?”

“The defenders are nearly surrounded. It is lost at any moment now.”

“Any openings emerged in the siege?”

“No foes are attacking from the hillside, by the looks of it.”

“The locals told there is a shrine for Lord Matheus at the summit,” Yornwhal mentioned. “It is possible that the dryads will avoid the holy ground, as it is of spiritual significance.”

“So we'll make a hole in the palisade and withdraw uphill,” the Colonel concluded. “That will be our last card. The problem is the supplies, the horses, and the wounded. There is no time to take them all and we need to detach manpower to move them. No, if we light a fire on the palisade and the cabins, we might be able to stall the dryads. Perhaps long enough to evacuate the wounded, at least.”

“That would mean abandoning the outpost,” Vizier Attiker intervened. “We would burn down our only foothold in this accursed forest?”

“Our options are either that or being wiped out to the last man. Which do you prefer?”

"Tell them to fight harder?"

—“Master!” At that moment, Yuliana came running up the hill, accompanied by Brian.

“Yuliana?” Miragrave raised her gaze at the girl in surprise. “I told the sergeant to release you if the gate was lost. Does that mean...”

“Not yet,” the princess answered. “But at this rate, it won't be long. What are you going to do?”

“There’s no winning this. We have to minimize our losses, evacuate the outpost, and then make our last stand on the hill.”

“No,” Yuliana shook her head. “We should attack and force them back.”

“Attack?” the Colonel repeated. “Absurd. How do you presume to do that? With so few of us.”

“We may have enough. It’s not just men out there. You're a cavalry, take the horses! We'll gather as many as we can and ride out through the back gate. The dryads don't realize it's an opening, do they? We can catch them by surprise and clear them up in one move. On open ground, they can't choke us like this. We’ll have the advantage!”

“An irrational gamble,” Miragrave shook her head. “Lose the fort behind you meanwhile and you're left trapped between the enemy and your own walls.”

“Only a squad of twenty will do. Even fifteen! It's about mobility, not the numbers. The rest can still hold the outpost and keep evacuating when the pressure of the offensive shifts.”

“And how exactly do you mean to force them back? The dryads don't fear our swords.”

—“Watch out! They're coming!”

A knight keeping watch suddenly called out. Three dryads had managed to get past the defenders and were now approaching the well across the muddy field. The guards quickly stepped forward to shield the leaders.

But before they could get to work, something unexpected occurred.

One of the dryads abruptly burst into fire. It burned with intense heat, engulfed in bright, pale green flames and collapsed mid-step.

The one responsible for the surprise wasn't the Court Wizard. Instead, a young woman had appeared behind the dryads like a shadow and stabbed the woodman with a weapon hidden in her hand. She repeated the feat with the other two, dancing around them while they vainly searched for their enemy. The two remaining dryads likewise perished in an unnatural, explosive fire, hot enough to make the onlookers avert their faces.

“How about using these?” The girl, Riswelze, stepped before their astonished eyes, twirling something that looked like an arrow between her fingers. “Hot stuff, isn't it! Whatever the arrowheads hit burns happily away in no time at all.”

“That would be because of Sodiath, the rune of immolation,” Yornwhal said. “Anything marked by the rune or the weapon inscribed with it is consumed by divine flame, as an offering to the Gods. Try not to prick yourself with it, child. That fire do not discriminate between the wielder and the foe.”

Colonel Miragrave glared at Riswelze.

“I see princesses these days include thieves in their merry company. Were we in Tratovia now, you'd be relieved of the hand that can't tell other people's belongings apart from her own.”

“Oh trust me,” the assassin replied, “I'm only too well-versed in the laws of your uptight empire. But is this really the time for that? With these babies, we can make short work of those blockheads.”

“The problem is, we only have three hundred of them,” Attiker said. “Well, less than that are left now. Once they're used, the arrows tend to burn together with the target. There’s hardly enough to turn the tables on such a horde.”

“Can't we have the wizard make more of them?” Brian suggested.

“If only I could!” The Court Wizard answered. “These particular arrows were produced by a master of magic head and shoulders above myself. They represent ingenuity I cannot hope to reproduce with my humble talents.”

“It's fine. They can still give us the edge we need to clear the siege,” Yuliana said. “What do you say, master? I am prepared to lead the charge myself! Please let us try! I'm certain it is better than sitting here with the noose tightening around our necks.”

“You cannot predict the future,” Miragrave told her. “What if you fail? All you will succeed in is depleting our forces. And there may yet be a way to break the siege without using the arrows.”

“But how much longer will it take? How many more sacrifices will it mean? Lives are lost each moment we stand here deliberating! Which is more important to you—people or letters carved in metal?”

“How dare you—!” Fury lit up in the commander's eyes. “Do you think this is a game for me!”

“Commander!” The Vizier took Yuliana's side in the debate. “What are you saving them for? Open your eyes! We are not going to live through this! The daemon is dead! Stop chasing the ghosts of the past and look at what's in front of you! Give the girl a chance!”

For a moment, everyone stood still and wordless, only the hacking of wood, cries of rage, and occasional pained shrieks for a background track. The Colonel, biting her lip, looked down, torn by doubt—and the others anxiously awaited for her to make up her mind.

Then, Miragrave finally spoke.

“If it is indeed dead, then why does it seem to me like our every action is playing into its hand?” Nevertheless, she looked at Yuliana and waved her hand. “Fine! You have my permission. Take the arrows. As many as you need. Ride out with my captain. And come back alive, you hear me.”

The knight princess of Langoria nodded with resolution in her eyes.

“I will.”

5

The front grate had not fallen yet. A group of ten knights or so—it was difficult to count in the dark—kept hitting anything that moved in the cramped passage, trying to keep the threat outside. They expected the enemy to cross over the wall and force them to retreat much sooner, but strangely, the rear remained quiet and nearly free of hostiles. This was mostly due to the woman with the greatsword discreetly swatting away the dryads coming too close and keeping the path clear.

“I'm getting kind of tired and sweaty here,” Izumi said. “It’s unpleasant, so I'm going to leave here, okay? I'm really going to leave, hear me? I'm really, really, really leaving now. I mean it. Is that okay? Are you going to be fine with that? You’re probably going to get pinned down and die, you know? Is that okay with you?”

No one paid any attention to her. But as exhausted as she felt, Izumi couldn't bring herself to take off and abandon the knights. She swept off the legs from under another approaching dryad, and then hammered down the falling opponent. Even legless, its mid-body smashed, the creature blindly groped at the hems of her surcoat.

“Gross! That's gross! Diediediediedie!” she kicked the dryad back and smacked it further away in a wild golf swing. “How many more are there left? What’s my quota? I wouldn’t mind a progress bar or something. Or am I on the clock? Give me the countdown timer then! Where are you, Yule…? Come baaaack!”

Despite her complaints, Izumi noted that the offensive wasn't particularly intense on this part of the slope anymore.

The dryads didn’t attempt to clear a path for those coming after or assist those that were in trouble. It was as if the ancient spirits simply saw no difference between a wall and a road, but took the straightest path wherever, and didn’t feel much in terms of companionship either. Neither did they pay attention to the shed with the supplies or the animal shelter. They were no different from ants. Their way of war was in every respect fundamentally different from that between people and the other races, lacking in strategy and secondary steps on the way to their primary objective.

What was that objective, exactly?

A goal they did seem to have, even if difficult to identify.

As unintelligent as their maneuvering seemed on the ground level, looking at the big picture showed a clear shift in the focus of the conflict. It seemed almost as if they could tell where the leaders were. The wooden beings mostly ignored the defending knights where they could and instead strode up the slope, towards the main building.

It seemed their wish was not simply to massacre every last one of the humans intruding in their kingdom, destroying their houses or supplies, but to eliminate those in charge? How could they have such an enlightened, Chess-like purpose when their maneuvering on the field spoke of no intelligence?

No, perhaps this theory was also mistaken.

“Did we misunderstand them all along...?” Izumi pondered.

Then what was the truth? What were the dryads really trying to do?

“AAAGGGHHHH—!” One of the knights at the entryway had his arm caught by the dryads trying to force their way in. With their inhuman strength, they forcibly pulled him straight through the spiked obstacle, breaking it in the process. His companions tried in vain to get the man back from the relentless treemen, he didn't make it through in one piece.

In the dark, cramped gateway, where corpses from both sides had piled up, it was hard to tell what was a living dryad and what only a dead, disembodied branch, or a broken piece of the barrier. In the tired men's eyes, it all blurred into one abstract, thorny mess.

“Fuck, it's lost! Fall back!”

It was the last straw. The others deemed the situation hopeless and turned to retreat.

The knights picked up torches and threw them into the heap of wood, dryads, and dead knights.

Soon, the whole entrance was in blazes. A number of dryads burned in the intense furnace, but the success was fleeting. It also meant that once the fire faded, the path would be left wide open for the others coming behind.

Not that they were going to wait so long. While the flames still remained lively, blazing effigies already waded through them, not all that unlike the robotic villains of a famous science fiction film.

For the dryads, their bodies were only shells, vessels temporarily inhabited for the necessities of the physical world and easily discarded. Elementals lacked the advanced minds of their divinely created relative spirits, strangers to the concepts of ego and will. They moved by instinct, according to the needs of the collective and nothing beyond that mattered.

The early pioneers burned to crisp and fell before making it to the other side, but each following ghastly warrior reached a step further than its predecessors. The knights waiting could only anxiously ready their weapons again after the brief breather, and return to the fight for their lives.

But before any sword could find a target again, or a swordsman his fate—a loud sound echoed over the slope, carrying far, far between the trees in every direction.

It was the pompous boom of a genuine war horn, signaling the start of an offensive.

Surprisingly enough, this bold, encouraging sound was enough to stop even the advancing elementals. They paused, turning their faceless heads in its direction. No one could guess what went on in their primitive minds, but perhaps at that moment, they could feel something akin to nostalgia. Perhaps their spirits, spawned from the creators' lingering will that coursed through all existence, still retained a faint remembrance of the days long gone; the Golden Age, when bravery and purpose were strongly felt in everything.

Shortly after, more strange sounds could be heard beyond the palisade.

The thunderous galloping of horses, as well as strange hisses and whooms.

Izumi took the chance to run up to the watchtower left from the entryway and climbed up for a better view. What she saw was certainly a spectacle one wouldn't want to miss for any money.

A squad of fifteen riders charged down the slope, through the attacking dryads' mixed ranks, bows in hand and firing without rest. Everywhere their arrows hit, wooden figures were lit up in explosions of bright, greenish flames, as if they had all been dowsed in petrol.

The spirits hadn't cared about being burned before—but this fire was special.

The brief distress of those touched by the flames was apparent in their gestures. In a panic, the burning woodmen flailed from side to side, spreading the hungry flames to others nearby before expiring.

This was a fire that burned body and spirit alike.

Being hit by it meant one’s soul was no longer one’s own, but only fuel to burn in the glory of the departed Gods.

To humans, death was an ever-present companion. They were used to it, some more so, others less. But to the immortal spirits whose expansive lives knew no limit, being given a definite end was a new and abominable event. Witnessing their comrades one by one depart from existence with their otherworldly senses, leaving the collective forever, the dryads forgot about their obscure goals and turned to flee.

The cavalry rode on, firing a magical arrow after another, the black stallions surrounded by bright, vividly blooming flowers of fire all around, as if it was only a joyous new year's parade. They rode around the entire outpost along the wide field, then turned and rode back again, and again, for as long as their ammunition lasted, sowing death among the deathless. Meanwhile the onlookers raised their voices into a roaring cheer.

“YEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!”

Accompanied by this noise, the surviving spirits fled back to the woods, where they came.

But those woods offered them no safety either.

Up on the roof of the cottage overlooking the slope, the Imperial Court Wizard was ready and surveyed the battlefield. After the last of the arrows was fired, the knight captain leading the charge blew his horn again, as a sign that they were done and retreating.

Hearing it, Yornwhal raised his wooden staff high in the air and spoke again the arcane words of the ancient tongue.

“Capi tulene, loco tenesalewa catate. Ne muri deos te delefa lasate. Ioios co lea ma sadatem.”

Like the earthly pope reading out his sermon on a day of Easter, the wizard spoke to the primal forces of the world, summoning strength far beyond his mortal frame. Speaking those words, taught to humans by the God that had created them, he was for that moment made a peer and a brother to the Lord of these woods.

And nature listened to Yornwhal.

A fire much greater than any of those burning up on the ground appeared in the sky. As if the sun itself had returned early to banish the night, that intensely hot, pulsating orb hovered over the outpost, as the wizard named it and set it free.

“Cataste rhea.”

Firestorm.

The blazing sphere split. It was divided into dozens of smaller, but no less intense meteors, which rained all around the slope, among the trees, exploding upon contact. In a blink of an eye, the nearby woods were turned into a literal sea of flames. Fire rained over the fleeing dryads, devoured them and released the spirits from their shells, lost in the ashes. For three times the fire sphere spewed havoc before fading away. Even after it was gone and the light faded, the forest continued to burn on, in vivid reminiscence of the medieval depiction of Hell.

The wizard lowered his staff and leaned heavily on it, exhaling deep.

“Okay, now tell me,” the young woman crouching on the edge of the roof asked him. “Why didn't we use that one before?”

The wizard gave Riswelze a bitter, helpless glance.

“Look, child,” he said, gesturing towards the fire. “Look around you. Even seeing this, do you still feel such a thing was worth using? There is no holding back those flames now. For how many days will Felorn burn? How many trees, how many plants, noble spirits, proud beasts, and innocent, unrelated animals will have to perish tonight, only so that we humans may survive? There is no forgiving us, no excuses left to make. By doing this, we have committed the final betrayal against the Lord who loved us and gave us so many chances to turn back. And for what purpose? For our vanity and greed?”

“You would've rather died then?”

“No,” the old man shook his head. “It’s because I want to live that I did it. But does this mean we are saved now? It’s much too soon to tell. No. I fear this is only where our true trial begins.”

Chapter 8: The Source of Everlasting Life is Bought With Blood

1

The dryad assault died down at long last, but it brought no repose to the survivors of the bout. Yes, it was unfitting to speak of winners. The living had to be counted, the injured treated and the dead buried. The dryads' remains everywhere around the outpost also had to be gathered to avoid further casualties. They were piled up and burned in large pyres downhill, outside the wall. The night was full of smoke and ash, stinging the eyes, parching the throat and making everyone cough. At least no one could complain about it being cold, if such a macabre search for pros in the situation could be forgiven.

Wherever one looked, only dirty, exhausted, blackened faces stared back. No light of hope burned in the knights’ dark eyes. The men moved like sleepwalkers, barely aware of what their hands and feet were doing.

In the main building, a number of slightly cleaner but no less glum faces were gathered around the long table in a late night—or more like, early morning—meeting.

“What now?” Colonel Miragrave confessed her lack of answers. “We've barely thirty left that can still fight. Eight Varnamians. Twenty-odd are wounded, to the point of being unable to walk or ride. Some never will, for the rest of their lives. Who isn't counted is either dead or dying. The living are at their limit. We don't know the dryads' numbers or how many survived the Firestorm, but I wouldn’t count on Felorn running out of spirits or wood any day soon. Should they come again tomorrow in equivalent numbers or greater, we are doomed.”

“We have to go back,” Yuliana said.

“Is running away even an option at this point?” Vizier Attiker retorted. “If we face such a horde on the road, clearly we're done for. Not to mention the bridge remains unmended. However you look at it, we are trapped in here, with no way out.”

A dejected silence filled the room.

Yuliana was too tired to think. She sat hunched on the bench and stared at the table, finding herself nodding off.

“The shrine of Lord Matheus,” Yornwhal finally spoke, standing up from his seat. “Up the hill. I shall go there, by myself. I will call the Divine and beg for mercy. I will ask him to let us leave here in peace. Whatever he demands in recompense, we must pay it. I see nothing else we can do.”

“Think he will listen?” Miragrave asked.

Stepping towards the door, the wizard replied,

“For one day and one night, I will negotiate with him. Do not look for me. By first light tomorrow, I will return—or else never will. You have the answer then.”

“Are you going there to die?” the Colonel stopped him again. “I will not permit it.”

“Forgive me,” the old man said with a faint smile, “I may be a Court Wizard, but my allegiance lies with my conscience first and his majesty a distant second. Always has and always will. When you see your father again, tell him I took the bottle that night. He will know. Fare well.”

Whether they believed in his chances or not, no one tried to stop the old man again. Not like anyone could offer better solutions. In silence, they saw him off.

“Well then,” the Colonel got up from her chair as well. “Yuliana. You and your friends fought bravely tonight. We owe our survival to your plan. Try and get some rest now.”

Unable to muster any words to respond with, Yuliana simply followed the suggestion. Even if the world should end meanwhile, she had to rest for a bit. Only for a bit, she thought. However, pushing the front door open, a bout of dizziness made her miss a step and she nearly fell down the stairs. But Izumi, who had been waiting at the doorstep for news, was there to catch her.

“Thanks for your efforts,” the woman said, holding the girl up.

There was no answer. Yuliana had already fallen deep asleep in her arms.

“I worked hard too, didn’t I?” Izumi muttered as she lifted the girl up as gently as she could and carried her off to bed.

2

The ascent to the top of the hill wasn't long, but Yornwhal took his time. As he climbed the beaten path, he spent the time coming to terms with his life up to this point.

When he was still a young man, born in a small coastal village on the shores of the northern sea, he never could've imagined he would be a court wizard one day. He was fifty-two when the rank had been bestowed upon him, a man who had seen the world.

It was probably appropriate to call him an adventurer.

Not many shared his appetite for knowledge and visions of foreign lands. And even as his days at the Imperial Palace were full of comforts and luxury, he never forgot his roots as an earnest man of the land—nor ceased to miss the thrill of traveling. Even as his old bones grew tired, his limbs reluctant to obey him, he enjoyed any available opportunity to work them.

The pain of effort reminded Yornwhal of his past resolution, which had so nearly slipped off his mind over the peaceful years. He had never intended to die in his bed of old age; even if his end was to be a violent one, he preferred to meet it while still able to stand and be of use to others, serving a purpose above himself.

There was the reason the wizard had defended the Emperor's quest for the mythical spring, regardless of how high he evaluated the odds of finding any. Not for the opportunity to gain fame and recognition or earthly rewards, not even to fulfill his sworn duty, but simply to go out and explore the unknown for one last time.

The expedition had given him what he had missed the most, which the Imperial capital couldn't provide. He'd been glad to go. And he also knew he wouldn't return home.

Because of this, the wizard felt no fear now while leaving the outpost behind his back. It was with a stoic calm that he walked the hillside, higher and higher, his lingering attachments severed one by one with each successive step.

The hill wasn't terribly high, but the buildings still looked tiny and fragile from the bare, rocky summit.

Yornwhal paused and gazed around, the still spreading flames of the forest fire and the smoke on the horizon marking the extent of the damage he had caused. A Court Wizard? Wasn't he only a misbehaving boy now, going to apologize to his neighbors for deliberately stoning their windows?

Even now, his actions continued to bring collateral damage. Who would forgive such a thing?

But he had done it to save the lives.

It had to count for something.

Was the Divine not a son of the same father as mankind? Could he really detest his brethren with such unrelenting animosity? No, whatever had incurred the Divine's wrath, he had to still have a modicum of pity left in his heart and the will to forgive.

Yornwhal put his hopes on that sentiment.

At the highest point of the hilltop stood a stone-made altar, a rectangular, crudely shaped monolith between two taller rocks. There were old jars, plates, and withered flowers left there, remains of past offerings.

Setting down his staff, Yornwhal knelt before the altar and stabilized his pulse and breathing, which had become agitated by the climb. He sat in silence for a long while, eyes closed, emptying his mind of all unnecessary thoughts.

It was still too soon for words.

The day slowly brightened, gray and clouded.

Down below, graves were dug for the fallen knights. Occasionally, heart-wrenching cries reached the wizard's ears, made either by the wounded in their torment, or those grieving their lost brothers-in-arms. He shut them away and emptied his mind once more.

Strong wind eventually blew away the smoke. Sometime in the afternoon, it started to rain, putting out most of the remaining fires. There was no scouting done today. The company rested in their cabins and tents, sleeping away the fatigue, anticipating in fear what would happen next.

The forest appeared to be doing the same.

Nothing moved in the ashen land. No presences of anything living could be sensed. Everything was calm, quiet and still. Though the rain felt cold and Yornwhal's cloak had a hood, he wouldn't cover his head before the sacred altar but sat and endured the mild discomfort, eyes closed in meditation.

Cold, hunger, thirst, all that he endured without a word.

He had to prove his resolve to the Divine, or else no one would listen to his plea.

Eventually, the gloomy skies began to darken again.

The whole day had passed and it was then, at dusk, that the wizard opened his eyes and spoke,

“My Lord, Matheus, Master of Streams, Ruler of Felorn. Wilt thou hear me? In the name of Hamaran, our maker, wilt thou hear me? Wilt thou grant me an audience with thee, holy and wise? Wilt thou hear my confession and repentance? I know words alone are not enough to apologize for the injury we have wrought upon thy kingdom. Yet, words are all we weak humans have. Please. I know not what has aroused thy ire and made us foes, while we ought to be friends, but it does not have to be so. We mean no harm to thee or thy own. We fought to protect ourselves, but this we did with a heavy heart. Please, spare the men and women sleeping below. Let them go from here in peace. That is my sole request to thee. Thou alone hast the power to end this needless shedding of blood. We are in thy hands, body and soul. Will thou not pity us? I am the one who committed the greatest crime against thee. It was my might that scorched thy lands. Take my life. I give it willingly, without resistance. I know all my blood is not nearly enough to pay back for what we have taken from thee, but it is all I have to give. Strike me down where I sit and I will not speak a word of accusation against thee, in this life or the next. Only, spare my comrades. Spare my fellow warriors. Spare our companions from another land. Do so, and they shall leave, never to come back. Let the suffering and destruction end with me.”

The magician continued to pray like this.

For hours he spoke, until the last light had disappeared.

At times, Yornwhal fell silent, waiting quietly for a response, only to then resume his pleading. If sincerity wasn't enough, he would convert the Divine to his side with persistence. No matter how time passed without results, he wouldn't give up. He couldn't afford to, with everyone's lives resting upon his success. Again and again, he spoke to the wind, even when his throat burned, his tongue became dry and voice coarse. He had waited for a day, now he would fight for the whole night, if need be.

Then, in the darkest hours, a miracle happened.

As he again waited quietly, Yornwhal thought he heard a voice speak in the distance. At first, he assumed it to be someone crying out in the camp below. But listening on, he realized it was not.

A faint but valiant voice carried into his ears along the wind, from somewhere far away in the north.

—Yornwhal...Yornwhal…

The voice undeniably called his name.

The wizard leaned forward, strained his ears to hear it just a little better.

“My lord, I hear thee! Tell me, what is thy will?”

—Beware...Beware...son of man…!

Hearing it, the wizard shook his head, biting his lip.

“Still thou hate us, my Lord? Still thou wilt not forgive us…?”

However, the words that came next astonished him.

—Behind...Behind…! Turn...turn...!

The wizard looked over his shoulder in confusion.

In the corner of his vision, he saw that someone stood behind him on the path, only a step or two away. How? How had they made it this close without him realizing? He hadn't sensed anyone. He'd heard no footsteps either.

Startled, the old man struggled up to his feet with great effort, numbed and stiffened by the long hours of staying seated.

Who had come at this crucial moment? Hadn't he told them not to disturb him!

However, when he turned around and faced his unexpected visitor, all his doubts, thoughts, and accusations became dispersed, like a flock of pigeons before a speeding cart.

“You...W...What are you doing?” Yornwhal gasped and frowned, staring at the face of that person, the one he had expected to see the least.

There were probably better, more appropriate things he could've said in such a situation. Smarter words, better suited for being preserved for posterity. But those were the words that spontaneously came to him in his bewildered state and they escaped his lips without further consideration or self-censorship.

Shame, the Court Wizard of Tratovia never had the chance to speak again.

3

It was hard to tell when the next day arrived. The skies remained clouded by the lingering smoke and vapor, light limited. The slope around the settlement was dyed pale gray by ash. Every now and then, a charred tree fell somewhere with a loud crack and a bang, making the earth shudder. When the sun finally did rise, it remained like an angry red eye, glaring through the melancholic curtain veiling all Felorn.

Yesterday, a few more survivors were found trampled in the mud, but the fact failed to lift the mood. To compensate, a greater number of injured had succumbed to their wounds overnight and more graves had to be dug.

Still, nothing had happened during the day or the following night and the soldiers had been able to get some rest, slightly improving the overall morale. Had the wizard succeeded? Did the Divine Lord show mercy? Were they spared from any further tragedies? These bold speculations were somewhat premature.

Things soon took a turn for the worse still.

“Commander, you had better see this.”

Her adjutant came to wake up Colonel Miragrave shortly after sunrise. She never slept much, always lightly, but this was one time when being stirred mid-rest felt particularly vexing.

If it's the dryads again, I will kill them myself.

“I'll be there,” Miragrave contained her immature thoughts and responded.

She stood without delay, put on the coat she had used for a blanket and followed the officer out. He walked fast across the yard, past the well and down the slope. She had to exert some effort to keep up, with no chance to ask what it was about. She didn't feel like raising her voice either. Her throat was dry, she was thirsty. Still, without detours, she followed the knight through the settlement, to the front gate.

The knight continued still through the blackened rubble that was left of the entryway, outside to the field. Miragrave thought it was strange, but followed him anyhow.

There were more knights standing outside the palisade, gathered around something. Seeing the Colonel, the men quickly made way, revealing the cause of the commotion.

“...”

Some fifty yards from the gate, a tall stick had been stuck into the ground, right in the middle of the road. Having seen it so many times before, Miragrave easily identified that straight oak stick as the Court Wizard's staff.

Instead of the characteristic twist at the top, the head of the staff had been broken off, replaced with a new one.

Quite literally. A head.

A bloodied, decapitated human head. It was stuck at the end of the stick, which stood like a hasty replacement for his missing natural body.

The Colonel had seen similar road decorations over the course of her career, so the prop itself wasn't especially shocking to her. Nevertheless, not even someone as hardened as Miragrave Marafel could hide her reaction as she quickly identified the deceased.

There was poor Yornwhal, their savior, a perpetual expression of agony and terror frozen over his now gray, bluish, lifeless face, drained of blood. Butchered and impaled by the remains of his own staff, as if in mockery of his paltry power.

Gritting her teeth, the Colonel forced her eyes away from the head and looked around.

The damage was already done. Though it was early, the news had spread fast and most of the remaining company had already seen the head. Their strongest asset was slain and disgraced. No matter how they were trained elite, the knights were still humans. Obviously, having a famous wizard in their company had given them a massive boost of confidence. What remained of their fighting spirit after the struggle with the dryads received yet another hideous blow.

Who could endure it?

“I suppose the spirits weren't favorable.”

Vizier Attiker had woken up as well and now arrived at the scene.

“Take it down,” Miragrave ordered the knights. “Search the hill, look for the rest.”

The hill with the altar and it surroundings were investigated, but no sign of the rest of the wizard's corpse or his murderer were discovered. No tracks could be picked up on the rocky path either. They had no choice but to begrudgingly give up on extracting revenge and bury the remains.

4

The rain that had started yesterday continued. Thanks to all the smoke, ash, and miscellaneous particles carried up in the atmosphere, the unscheduled rainy season was likely to linger for a while longer. The line of grave markers on the little glade west of the outpost had become depressingly long to look at. All the grass, flowers, shrubs and small trees had burned away, spoiling the earlier, untouched beauty of the place.

On that sad, bare scene, the thirty remaining knights and their leaders had now gathered for the second day of funerals.

“I can't believe it...” Yuliana said, watching the wizard's covered remains be lowered into the grave. “Was it really him? Did you see?”

“Yeah, what was left of him,” Izumi standing next to the princess replied.

“We knew it could happen, but...not like this. Is there no mercy in the world? What could've done this? Surely not the Divine himself?”

“I wonder about that,” Izumi replied. “Are there any giants or big monkeys living in these woods? Or other monsters with large hands?”

“What...?” the princess frowned at her words. “Large hands? Monkeys? What are you talking about?”

“There's no such thing!” A knight in the line behind the women snapped at them. “Show some respect and be silent!”

“Hmm...” Izumi looked like she had more to say, but chose to remain silent.

As his majesty's representative, the Vizier promised all the fallen a posthumous promotion, a medal of honor, and offered a few lukewarm words of gratitude.

“The Empire will not forget its patriots.”

And with that, it was the time to return to the usual routine.

Following the melancholic ceremonies, the knights continued the work to tidy up the outpost and repair the defenses, while the leaders once again gathered in the main building to decide how they should proceed. Their situation had gone from one with little hope to one where no good options whatsoever were left.

Or so it seemed.

“Clearly enough, the spirits are not with us,” Miragrave started, not showing a trace of her personal feelings on her steely countenance. “Our fighting strength stands dramatically reduced. We've nearly as many wounded as we have combatants left. There is no other choice but to attempt an evacuation. We will deploy the remaining woodcutters and a small advance guard to repair the bridge at the crossing, while the rest of us pack up the camp. Once ready, we will retreat to Varnam posthaste and from there back to Tratovia.”

The Colonel glanced at the audience. No one opposed the plan.

None of the knights, that is.

“I disagree,” Attiker surprisingly announced and stood up. “Is the glass half full or is it half empty? We've suffered debilitating casualties, yes. But this was not to be a combat mission in the first place. There is no reason to preserve the company's numbers or this outpost. We’ve had losses—but isn’t that all the more reason, why we can't run with the tail between our legs now? Make those losses count for something! We were hit, but we hit the enemy back harder. They don't know our situation, only that we're a force to be reckoned. We taught them a lesson and they're going to think twice before challenging us again. A day and two nights have passed since the dryads' attack and the forest remains quiet. Patrols have sighted nothing of value. They’re ashed. We have men left and supplies. We've rested. What is the problem? Make use of the peace we have now and continue the search! Until we can say with certainty that we've done absolutely everything possible, we cannot give up. His majesty will not forgive it.”

“Are you out of your mind?” Brian, who had followed Yuliana to the conference asked him. “The spring never existed! Is saving face more important to you than your own life?”

“Your highness,” Attiker answered to the princess instead, “if you cannot contain your escorts, then they need to leave.”

“I apologize for my friend,” Yuliana said. “But I have no more authority than the will to silence him. No, in this situation, I share his opinion. Continuing to search for this well of wonders in our current condition can only be called madness.”

“The spring of life exists,” the Vizier looked at them and stressed. “This is a fact. We know this. Eternal youth—do you understand? Does any of you understand this? One barrel of this water will more than make up for any losses that may occur along the way. And so long as a single man and a horse remain to haul that barrel out of these woods, to the Emperor, then it will have been worth it. It is invaluable. We need it. Mankind needs it. Look at the big picture! Why are you scared? You're going to die? Surprise; everyone dies! One day, sooner or later. Me, you, all of you, your parents, your children, their children, his majesty, and so forth. Death is our fate. Because we are humans. But it doesn't have to be. Without the spring, no matter how we progress, we will forever remain that pesky, unwanted step-son in the shadow of the other species. To Hel with that. We deserve better. Or do you disagree? Would I die for this? So that no one else will ever have to? YES!”

The Vizier slammed his palm on the table and returned to his seat.

His words left the audience without response.

It would've taken quite an enlightened mind to not be tempted by the promise of everlasting life. It was easy to say no to such a grandiose prize when it was only a distant dream, improbable, and unattainable.

But what about now, when it dangled supposedly within arm's reach?

Everyone had suffered and lost so much, was the reward not hard-earned?

Not even Yuliana could profess full immunity to Rubeus Attiker's argument.

How many times in her life had she felt bitter and helpless due to the fragility of her feminine form? Her quest to conquer the Trophaeum would also become a great deal easier if she were freed from the ailments of mortality. Even if she felt that she didn't deserve it as a person, didn’t the greater goal justify it? So many times she had swallowed her own pride and dignity for the good of the many, why not now as well?

Everyone on the Imperial side knew how desperate their situation was.

The work to unite all the races and defeat the daemons was bound to be long and full of setbacks. How to sustain the effort, when those who began the journey grew demented and died before ever seeing it come to fruition? Humans could try to pass on their purpose to their children, but those children were not simply an extension of their parents. They could choose to refuse their inheritance or outright act against it. One foolish generation could take apart all that their forefathers had sacrificed everything for.

Not if they had immortality.

The wisdom of the past would not only be preserved in full—it would ever keep on increasing. The might of men would grow without limit until nothing could stop it.

It had to have been the underlying fear that humans would one day surpass the Gods themselves, which had left them cursed with predestined Death at creation. Here in Felorn was a way to overturn this unfair limit, and all of nature worked to keep them from it.

And yet, in this match, where the human side should have had no chance, hadn't they chased away the enemy? Their arrows had taught death to the immortal spirits. The wizard had burned down the Divine’s kingdom in a bold testament of human potential. So frightened was the great spirit by petty little humans, that he had to take down an old man in the dark of the night with a cheap shot.

Looking at the road they had traveled, it started to seem like nothing but a crime and cowardice to abandon the cause.

Well, for a brief instance anyway.

Besides the Vizier, most people in the room had too much common sense—and above all, they treasured the well-being of themselves and the others too much—to bet their everything on such a miracle.

A mutiny or not, it was better to give up and head back...But before anyone could voice these plans, there suddenly came a timid knock from the door.

“What?” Miragrave irritably raised her voice.

Briefings were not to be disturbed unless it was an emergency, this was a basic code of the army. And judging by the feeble manner of the interruption, it was not pressing. Discipline had grown too lax in the past few days, it was becoming unsightly.

Aware of his poor conduct, a knight hesitantly peeked in.

“Ma'am, Holms of the Varnamians wants to have a word.”

“This doesn’t concern him. It can't wait?”

“He insists it's important.”

Sighing, the Colonel waved her hand.

“Let the man in.”

Shortly, the headman of the woodcutters stood in the room, before many questioning eyes. Before a princess, a Colonel, an Imperial advisor, and a number of knight officers, the humble man of the country was nervous, pale, and failed to hide the trembling of his hands. Although he had escaped the dryad onslaught physically unscathed, his nerves were a wreck. But as frightened as he was, his business was apparently important enough to overcome it.

Giving a glance to everyone around him, unsure of who to address his words to, the man finally spoke.

“I...I heard parts of the conversation from outside...Am I to understand that you intend to continue the search? For the spring?”

“And what of it?” Attiker asked sharply.

“There is...no way I could...change your minds, is there? Perhaps we could...come to an agreement of sorts?”

“What exactly are you trying to say?” the Vizier urged him. “Speak your mind, man! Do not waste our time!”

The man called Holms swallowed.

“If I…!” he started. “If I tell you where to find it, will you let us go?”

“What?”

“If I show you the place, will you free us from our contract? Right now?”

“...You know where the spring is?” the Colonel asked him, while the others were twisting their brows in confusion.

“Ma'am...” Holms turned to the Colonel and spoke, “the word 'varnam', do you know what it means? Have you heard?” As the commander shook her head, he continued, “It comes from the words 'varea anaam', in the old tongue. So the town elder taught me.”

“'The gate of truth'?”

“Yes. Yes, you know it. But, Varnam was not always Varnam. I mean, where it stands. The town was once here, I'm told, deep in the woods. We didn't build the altar here because we wanted to, but because it's always been here. Already way before the outpost was built, before the town itself existed. Because us coming here was the desire of our Lord.”

“What are you talking about?” the Vizier impatiently asked. “Make sense!”

“Since the ancient times, our people have had a pact with Lord Matheus. We keep the gate to Felorn, his kingdom, and in exchange, he grants us his blessing and prosperity. But after meeting Agelaos all those centuries ago, our people started to long for the company of other humans. So the Varnam in the woods was abandoned and a new one built closer to civilization, where it is now. Not many know this. Only a select few initiates, picked by the elder, are told the truth. It is our sacred duty to preserve our people's bond with our Lord and offer him sacrifice, whatever he wants. Mostly harmless things, our Lord is most benevolent...”

“The spring, man, the spring!” Attiker hurried him. “What does any of this have to do with it?”

“I—I'm getting to it,” Holms answered. “Please listen. The spring is where the old Varnam was. It was our proof of loyalty, since the ancient times. The initiates are shown where it is, but we are prohibited to drink of it. This way, we show we are faithful and worthy. Of course, were are not allowed to tell anyone about it, but...I don't want to die! I feel it. I feel the presence of Death. If we stay here but one more day, it will take us all. I’m certain of it. We have already lost our Lord's favor. So what more harm can it do? Just free us from our contract. Let us return back to our homes immediately, and I will tell you where to find it. I have a wife, I have a son, they...they won't make it without me, I know this. If I die, they will...The thought of never seeing them again—I can't bear it any longer...Please...”

The man fell silent, wringing his hands.

Yuliana thought it was low of him to betray the Divine for his own good, but she had no heart to judge him. His fear was apparent on his face, and contagious. After a moment of thought, Attiker leaned forward and pointed at the table.

“Here is how we shall do. The Varnamians are freed from their contract. The Empire will demand no compensation from them in any event. You have my word. But you, Holms, will stay. You are going to take us to the spring in person. After that, if it indeed exists, you may go. Understood?”

“Please, have mercy, sir!” Holms cried. “It's not far from here! You don’t need me!”

“Not far? What do you mean?”

“I...I saw your maps. They’re wrong! Lord Matheus's power has led your seers astray. You've been looking at the wrong place. The spring is barely eight miles from here. There is a path behind the hill, up north. A horse will run it in half an hour. I will mark the real location on your maps, just please, let me go. It is true, I swear on my life! If I’ve lied, you will catch me before I’m at my house! I’m telling the truth! I just want to go home! Please!”

“...Mark the location and go,” the Vizier said. “Fix the bridge at Alams on your way home and I call us even.”

“Thank you! Thank you so much...!”

“Enough. Get on with it.”

As soon as Holms had marked the maps and left, Vizier Attiker stood and smacked the table with a look of triumph.

“Ha! Call your men together, Marafel! We have it!”

5

The eight empty oak barrels that had so far gone without use were now dragged out of the shed and loaded on a cart with two horses harnessed before it. Climbing up next to the driver, Vizier Attiker gave his orders.

“Twenty riders with me, the Captain takes command. Colonel, you will stay here with the rest, clean up the camp and get ready for the ride home. Our departure will undoubtedly be a speedy one.”

—“Wait! Take me with you!”

His instructions were interrupted by a light voice calling out.

Everyone turned their attention to the woman approaching them across the yard.

Most around knew her only as that odd civilian they'd picked up at Varnam, who had been helping the cooks and apparently had some kind of a connection to the Langorian princess. A few had witnessed her sword skill during the dryad assault, and a rarer few knew she had slain the unicorn, but who exactly was she—no one could tell. Izumi had remained on the sidelines for the most part of the journey, but now she forced her way through the crowd and approached the Imperial Vizier.

“Izumi...” Yuliana looked at her companion with unease. She'd never seen such an anxious look on the woman’s face before.

“What?” Attiker was thrown for a loop.

“You've found the spring, right?” Izumi, who had been absent from the meeting, said. “You're going there now? Then take me with you!”

“Why ever would I do that?” he asked.

“Of course, because I want my share.”

“Bah!” Attiker broke into laughter at her request. “I can't tell whether to call you courageous or mad. The answer is no. Every last drop of that spring belongs to His Imperial Majesty now. Not one soul will sample it without his explicit permission.” Ignoring Izumi, the man turned back to Miragrave. “Colonel, should anyone attempt to follow us, friend or foe, man or beast, even if it be the princess herself, your orders are to kill. Do you understand? Now if ever is the time to prove you are worthy of your rank. To be honest with you, I am not impressed by what I have seen so far. Are we ready? Good! Go!”

The driver whipped the horses who darted out through the narrow back gate, the cart and the twenty riders with them.

The earthling was left in the dust to see them off.

Not that Izumi was going to give up that easily. Making up her mind, she stepped to follow after them. She couldn't make it far, however. A group of knights quickly moved to block the way, drawing their bows.

“You cannot go,” Miragrave told her.

“Just try me!” Izumi replied, reaching for the handle of the sword on her back.

“Stop!” the commander's sharp voice stopped her. “I know you are no ordinary mercenary. I've had my eye on you since Varnam. But do you presume to be swifter than an arrow? Six dimeritium heads were salvaged from the battlefield and were divided among the archers. You cannot tell who has one. Each is deadly, as you should know. Whether you're a daemon or a plain lunatic, there is no saving you if you are so much as scraped by one. Give it up.”

“Mira-rin...” Izumi's expression darkened. “And here I was starting to think I might get along with you.”

“You fight for yourself,” Miragrave shook her head. “For your selfish ego, for your greed. There is no way we could ever see eye to eye.”

“I'm such a devil?” the woman looked down. “No. You're probably right. It's true I have no noble goal to die for. I have no country, no family, no people, no past, nothing at all. I only just came to this world and don't understand half of it. I can only fight for reasons of my own. Yes, I have to fight because I’m scared. I’m scared to death. Scared of the day when Yule will leave me behind.”

“What…?”

“Now, flashbang!”

No one else present could understand that odd word, save for Yuliana.

“Ah, eh...Yes!” Quickly recovering from her confusion, the princess held out her palm and chanted, “Iota.”

A faint little spark of light appeared hovering above Yuliana's hand, gently floating upward like an ember. Then, as everyone's unguarded gazes were drawn to that little light, it brightened up without a warning, easily surpassing daylight in intensity. Whether it was Aiwesh adding her own touches to the spell or the result of the girl's internal turmoil, that flash by far exceeded the earlier version in effect.

On top of the light, there was a deafening, low WHOOMP, which plugged everyone's ears. Blinded, a high-pitch noise filling their heads, the knights recoiled and shook their heads.

But Izumi and Yuliana, who had already anticipated the effects, were the first to recover and dashed past the stunned guard formation. Brian was left behind, as Yuliana had no opportunity to warn him or the heart to drag him into their dangerous gamble.

It paid off, nevertheless. By the time the knights regained their senses, the two women had already disappeared outside the palisade and ran into the scorched jungle.

“Shall we pursue?” a sergeant asked the commander.

Looking at the empty gateway for a moment, Miragrave answered,

“You have your orders. If we did, we'd have to fall on our own swords. Start clearing the tents.”

6

Izumi followed the tracks into the woods, Yuliana shortly behind her, when they suddenly heard the footsteps of a horse coming from behind. Thinking they were pursued, they turned around but saw that there was only one horse, with a more familiar rider. Predicting the earthling's train of thought, Riswelze had taken her mount out from the stable and left by the front gate while the others were occupied. Quickly reaching the pair, she now extended her hand to Izumi.

Izumi gave a glance to the princess, who nodded.

“Go, I'll catch up.”

Nodding also, Izumi jumped onto the horse behind the assassin and the two rode off, following the narrow path. The hill had sheltered this part of the forest from the fire, but all the trees and bushes had gained a grayish coating from the ashen rain. The grass grew tall and dense, but the troops had trampled a clear trail along the ancient footpath. The pursuers were able to follow those tracks with ease.

As the cart with the barrels advanced at a slower pace, they overcame the knights’ short lead soon enough.

“Sir, we're being followed!”

The Vizier glanced over his shoulder and saw the brown gelding gallop towards them with her less knightly riders.

“How did someone so incompetent become a Colonel?” Attiker griped. “His majesty will hear of this.”

“What shall we do?”

“You're still asking? I’ve given you your orders. Death to the enemies of the Empire and so forth.”

“Very well, sir.” The knight didn't sound particularly enthusiastic about the task, but orders were orders.

Forgetting him, turning to the cart driver, the Vizier commanded, “Put some speed into those animals!”

The knight beside him whipped the reins and the cart surged through the woods with added velocity. Meanwhile, a pair of riders from the rear slowed down, detached themselves from the rest of the squad, and turned around to receive the pursuers. They drew their swords.

“Halt!”

“In the name of his majesty, halt or die!”

But Riswelze's horse had already caught up with them and slipped through before they could fully block the way. Swearing, the knights could only turn around again and chase after the pair.

The men’s expertise on horseback was nothing to laugh at.

The Imperial stallions were quickly catching up with the women.

“What shall we do?” Riswelze asked. “They'll flank us.”

“Don't stop,” Izumi told her. “Keep 'er steady. Like that.”

Taking support of the girl's shoulder, Izumi carefully stood up on the back of the horse, turned and drew the Amygla. The knights neared. Counting the steps in her mind, estimating the right timing, Izumi held her breath. And then jumped.

In a reckless leap, she landed onto the horse of the foremost rider to her left. Simultaneously, she lifted the sword and stabbed down, aiming near the helmet. With the added weight from the flight, the sword sank half a foot into the knight, eliciting a terrible shriek. Not wasting a second, Izumi used the embedded weapon to restore her balance and turned around.

Facing forward, she pulled off the blade and jumped again.

Using the rear of Riswelze's horse as a stepping stone, she repeated the feat on the right with the second rider, knocking him off the saddle with a sideways swing, before returning to her original position, behind the assassin.

The black horses continued to ride on, deprived of their masters.

One more knight coming to meet them, unable to believe what he had just seen, failed to act and was decapitated as they passed him by.

“I saw nothing,” Riswelze said, shaking her head.

“What?” Izumi chirped. “Horses are so slow, it's easy enough for anyone to do. Haven’t you seen Cirque de Solais? But try the same with trucks and motorbikes, like in Unchar***! That’s a lot harder.”

“Nowhere near as hard as trying to understand the words that come out of your mouth!”

The Vizier didn't have much praise for Izumi's acrobatics either, as he saw the pursuers near the cart again.

“I'll be damned before I give that madwoman life eternal. Take her down,” he ordered the officer riding close by. “You have my permission to use the arrow.”

“Sir! Yes, sir!” the Captain answered.

The knight gestured to his team with quick arm movements. At once, ten riders abandoned the cart and dispersed, half left, half right. Instead of meeting the followers directly, they rode off into the woods, vanishing quietly into the bushes.

“Hey, hey,” Riswelze muttered. “This is bad!”

“We have to go faster,” Izumi said. “Try to reach the old guy. If I can get on that cart—”

They couldn’t get any further.

An arrow came whistling from somewhere between the trees and pierced the neck of their horse with astounding accuracy. The projectile was ordinary wood and steel, but the fatally wounded animal tripped and fell anyhow, casting off its riders.

The two jumped and broke their fall by rolling, but remained crouched in the cover of the undergrowth.

“What now?” Izumi asked. “They'll snipe us if we move from here.”

“And surround us if we keep still. I know.”

“Will you take the five on the right and I'll take the five on the left?”

“I have a better idea,” the girl said. “Lay low and be a bait for me. Cloata Telema!”

As she cast her spell, Riswelze's form turned oddly semi-transparent and she slipped away into the thicket by the path. Izumi discovered herself left alone, death lurking everywhere around.

“Um, have a safe trip?”

Chapter 9: The Lord Of Light Shows Her True Colors

1

In a blink of an eye, Riswelze was an assassin again. Her personal feelings, hopes, and fears disappeared altogether and like clockwork, her mind was unemotionally assessing the troublesome situation. Perhaps not the most troublesome she had ever been in, but definitely in the top five.

The arrow had come from the west. The knights would expect the enemy to flee in the opposite direction, away from them. Meanwhile, the east side team would advance to cut their escape. They wouldn't risk shooting their own, so there would be no more fire from the west to be expected for a while. Not until they would realize that their prey wasn’t moving. Then both teams would start closing in, completing the pincer move.

Therefore, the more urgent threat posed by the knights on the east side had to be eliminated first.

Riswelze found a suitable cover and laid down, her ear pressed against the soil. She waited. As unbearable as it was, she waited, controlling her breathing, even her pulse. Though the fear that she had made a mistake and they would kill Izumi while she wasted time gripped her intestines, she waited patiently like a snake, while spiders and beetles crawled over her.

And she heard them.

They were knights, not assassins.

The bolts, buckles, and leather straps squeaked as they moved. The corners of the plates scraped against one another. Their heavy footsteps could be felt from afar, the rustling of leaves, the groaning of bowstrings.

Confirming the distance and direction, Riswelze quickly pushed herself up and ran. Her light shoes made virtually no sound at all and she stepped like a cat, absorbing the impact. Reaching close enough, she climbed up a tree and looked down. There were five knights, as expected, advancing in an angled line, where each one could fire forward. All of them were equipped with bows, clearly determined to avoid close combat.

They were coming her way, right under the tree.

Waiting until they were almost past her spot, Riswelze dropped down behind the last man. She remained low, carefully unsheathed her dagger and made her move. She hadn't wasted the past days sleeping. She had studied the Imperials' gear, their armors, weapons, and supplies. She knew exactly how the plates overlapped, the position of every bolt. As intimidating as the armor looked on the outside, it had the common vulnerabilities, the sides, under the arms, the groin, and the joints.

Not feeling anything in particular, as if plucking a weed, Riswelze grabbed onto the closest knight and shoved the dagger in his left side through the open plate seam, a bit upward.

“Hng!” Only a faint sound could be heard, muffled by the helmet, and the knight was dead, pierced through the heart. As his body fell forward, Riswelze quickly circled in front of him, received the corpse on her back and laid him down, quickly but quietly, before moving onto the next.

Things went better than expected.

There was no such a thing as a battle without miscalculations, but she only messed up with the fourth one. The man had his bow ready and drawn tighter than expected. As he died, he released the shaft, which made a whistling sound and an audible thud as it sank into the ground.

There was no way the last knight didn't hear it. Astonished, he turned around, saw the girl and quickly took aim.

Giving up the dagger still stuck in the previous target, Riswelze dropped down to one knee. She reached for her belt, drew a smaller throwing dagger, and cast it through the crack in the helmet visor.

At the same time, the knight took the shot.

The arrow painfully scraped the girl’s right ear, enough to draw blood.

For a split-second, her heart skipped a beat. For no reason. The arrowhead was steel, the wound negligible. Her throwing hand was more accurate and the distance short. The little blade missed the eye behind the visor but struck his brow.

“Aagh!” The knight arced his head backward in pain. Without wasting the opening, the assassin closed the distance and stuck her dagger through the opening under the helmet's throat guard. The stream of blood that gushed out as she extracted the blade left no doubt regarding his fate.

Exhaling, the girl eased the tension on her shoulders, wiped the mishap off her mind, retrieved the second dagger and ran on.

Next, the west side.

Less than a hundred yards on the other side of the path, the land suddenly vanished and dropped down by thirty feet or so. It appeared the path to the spring carried along a small ridge. There was no going down. The face of the cliff was steep, without a good footing.

With the limited space available, Riswelze was able to her targets quickly enough.

In fact, she nearly stumbled upon them. There were four knights, squatting restlessly near the edge of the cliff, awaiting signal from the other team. Ready to shoot if any heads appeared in the woods.

On the bare rock, with the cliff behind their backs, was no way to sneak up on the group without being immediately detected. Then again, with no reinforcements left, there was no need to be discreet.

Relying on her camouflage, Riswelze attacked.

She ran to the nearest knight, and bashed him overhead with her left palm. As soon as he was pushed off balance, she then stabbed her dagger into his neck from behind. One down.

Wasting no time to extract the weapon, Riswelze drew another from the holster under her arm, and faced the next. The knight quickly turned and drew his bow, but she got too close. Reaching out, she cut the bowstring, slipped in front of him and sliced under the rim of the helmet, like opening an oyster. Second was dead.

The third one had more time and managed to shoot, but Riswelze saw him. Ducking and stepping right, the assassin avoided the line of fire. She leaped forward, slid on her knees, and stabbed him in the groin. Without waiting for him to fall over, she leaned backward, pulled him along, and propelled the knight over the edge of the cliff with her foot.

Sitting back up again, she cast the dagger through the visor of the last man. Making corrections to her aim after the previous attempt, she didn’t miss the eye this time.

All four were dead.

Standing up, Riswelze exhaled, collected her weapons, and headed back to Izumi.

Overconfidence had always been her weak point.

It made her careless and she knew it, but there was simply no helping it. Each time she narrowly escaped death, her arrogance only grew worse. And it backfired on her yet again.

—“Got you now!”

One more Imperial was left. He had intended to go scout ahead while the others waited and had by chance spotted Riswelze as she approached. Hiding in the bushes, he now managed to catch her from behind as she passed by.

“You will pay for what you did!” The steel-coated arm tightened around her bare neck with crushing force. Riswelze had already put her weapons away. Even if she could draw a dagger, killing the armored man without seeing where to aim was difficult. She didn't have that time. Feeling her throat be crushed, panic overwhelmed her reasoning and Riswelze knew she was going to die.

“Grk—!”

But the chokehold was abruptly loosened.

Wrestling herself away from the knight, Riswelze gasped for air and turned around.

She saw the knight, his helmet forced backwards in his head, and Izumi standing behind him. There was no need to guess what had happened to the man's head inside. He limply sank to the ground and wouldn't move.

“Sorry, I got tired of waiting,” Izumi said. “Did I come at a bad time?”

“Damn it, that bastard,” the girl coughed and rubbed her hurting throat. “And here I thought I'd finally get to pay you back...”

“Pay me back?” The woman looked puzzled and tilted her head. “For what?”

“Don’t tell me you forgot? I owe my life to you, twice over, remember? At the bath, at the villa. Well, that's three times now, I guess.”

“Oh. You're still going on about that? Does it really matter?”

“It does. To me,” Riswelze said. “I can't consider us as equals until I've paid back my debt in full.”

“Ehh?” Izumi frowned. “Do people ever tell you you're kinda weird, Rise...”

“You're absolutely the last person in all of Ortho I want to hear that from.”

“Well, I don't think I could've managed all those knights by myself,” the woman shrugged. “I don't have the patience for sneaking around. So I think the third time's more than made up for. Rather, don't I owe you instead? Any one of the archers could've shot me, so that's nine times you've saved me.”

“No. You may have a point, but if we're going to count like that, then I'd owe you for every soldier at Haywell. No, it's one crisis, one save. So I still owe you two times more.”

“This is too complicated for me. Why is it so important for us to be equals anyway, by your logic? I mean, in my own world, everybody's supposed to be equal from the get-go. Saving those who are in trouble is kinda expected of you and not something people owe you for.”

“What an ungrateful world!” Riswelze said. “Where I come from, it’s different. See, in my circles, by our rules—well, I'm not saying it's something everybody in the world should follow, but I think it's a beautiful thought anyhow. Like, somebody who's indebted to another can't...well, you know...?”

“Know what?”

“Well...” the girl twisted her face, struggling for words. “I mean, become spouses...with that person. Because...see, only equals can marry, and so on…Oh, Hel! What are you making me say, woman! Hearing it like this makes it seem so—it sounded better in my head! I just...I don't want to owe to you, Izumi. Not by any means. Not if I can help it.”

“Rise...”

Izumi looked at the girl in front of her, in her deep green eyes, more vibrant than Felorn itself. She saw herself reflected in those eyes and was at a loss of words. At the same time, she felt oddly warm at heart. It had been a long, long time since she had last experienced such a ticklish warmth. So long, that she had forgotten entirely how it felt like.

It was undoubtedly the warmth of the flame of youth.

The very flame she had been chasing all this way, that she had desperately longed to feel again. It had been there all along, in those eyes, so close by. The spring, the forest, her plans and intentions—all evaporated like tiny droplets of water on a heated stove.

What was I thinking? She asked herself.

Suddenly nothing she did made any sense.

Weren’t those eyes and their owner by far more precious than anything in these woods? Izumi had come all this way to find a piece of copper, risking something more precious than gold in the process. She really had to have been mad.

Everything that really mattered, in this world or any other, was contained in those loving eyes—she was sure of it.

Perhaps it was okay not to become an adventurer?

Adventure itself was pointless next to the happiness of sharing a home with someone.

Perhaps it was okay not to become a hero?

Surely protecting just one life could be more fulfilling than saving a million.

Perhaps it was okay to grow old?

So long as it happened with the right person.

Then, the spell was broken.

Looking up, Riswelze’s expression changed. She quickly stepped past the woman and shoved her to the side. At first, Izumi couldn't understand the meaning of that action. She was too dazed to think about anything.

Then, she saw the black arrow protruding through the girl's leather vest.

“Well, that's once,” Riswelze exhaled, relieved.

The letter carved on the arrowhead glowed faintly and a blink of an eye later, the young girl's figure was veiled in an intense, explosive fire of vibrant green hue. Disregarding the danger, Izumi reached out her hand—to no avail. With her last strength, Riswelze stepped sideways and cast herself over the edge of the cliff, far down beyond reach.

2

Izumi ran. Her feet felt weirdly, unnaturally light, as she followed the secluded path deeper and deeper into the woods, the same path that ancient people's feet had kicked for centuries before her. She didn't feel much anything at all. Her body seemed like a hollow, dried up eggshell dangling in the wind and just as brittle. It all felt like a dream. She had to have been dreaming, seeing a nightmare, there was surely no way real life could be as terrible?

No, it could. It could be worse.

But what about it?

All her dreams were nightmares, and so was all of her life. There was not one good, uplifting vision mixed in anywhere. There existed no distinct, tangible differentiation between her dreams and reality whatsoever in this regard.

It was a dream.

It was reality.

It didn't matter.

None of it mattered.

Nothing she did mattered.

Nothing anyone did mattered.

So I might as well——

Izumi reached a clearing between the misshapen trees.

There was a small basin, at the bottom of which stood odd little houses. Weather-beaten, rundown huts, collapsed and abandoned ages ago. Ancient fireplaces in circles of blackened stones. Rotted tanning racks, moss-covered whetstones. A dried up, collapsed well, remains of crude carts and carriages, old pots of rusted-through iron, and plates of hand-shaped clay.

Times changed.

Civilizations evolved, science and technology spread together with the written word, replacing cults and religion. But this place, forgotten by time, remained as a proof of the once intimate relationship between men and the Divine.

To the people who had lived here, religion wasn't a matter of faith.

Not a matter of dreams.

The only true thing in the world.

The gate of truth—Varnam.

But to the lone woman from Earth, it didn't matter.

None of it mattered.

Izumi ran into an ambush.

Of the twenty knights who had set out with the Vizier, thirteen had been slain. Seven were left. Six stood there, blocking the path through the abandoned village. It seemed they'd been forewarned and were waiting for her. Armed with bows, kneeling, they quickly took aim as soon as they saw her.

There was no time to even think about taking cover.

Izumi lowered her stance, turned sideways to minimize the target area, and flipped her wide sword in front of her as a shield. It didn't cover her completely, but so long as her vitals were guarded, it didn’t matter.

Six arrows were fired simultaneously.

Four, aimed at her chest, were deflected by the sword and rebounded around harmlessly. One scraped the back of her left thigh. One her right arm a bit below the elbow. There was no fire. Only surface wounds. Neither arrow bore the deadly rune.

The deflected projectiles had yet to fall to the ground, when Izumi made her move.

She held up the Amygla's handle with both hands, high above her head, and flung the greatsword across the air with all her might.

“AAAGH!”

The heavy projectile impaled the knight in the middle of the line through the lower abdomen, while he was reaching for another arrow. His companions were staggered for a heartbeat—and no more.

The ability to control and contain one's emotions on the battlefield, to recall the patterns ingrained through rigorous training and years of field experience, to act undisturbed under all conditions—these were the qualities expected of an “elite”. Unbending mental and physical fortitude, acquired by forcing both the body and the mind to the limit of human potential, and beyond.

As if their minds had become one, those five remaining knights reached for a replacement arrow, to shoot again. No one was left behind, all motions were flawless and swift.

But it didn't matter.

Izumi dashed forward.

She wasn't a soldier. Not a knight. Not a mercenary. A nobody.

The experience guiding her actions was largely virtual, imaginary.

Outside the training halls of modern combat sports, where everyone was friends and never fought to kill, she had only faced warriors that were digital, in worlds that weren't real.

But to her right now, whether it was reality or a game—it didn't matter.

It's a nightmare. A nightmare. A nightmare, a nightmare, a nightmare.

Izumi saw everything through a hazy, unfeeling mist, as if in slow motion.

She was only in another arena shooter, nothing more, and examined the situation with the disinterest of a tired gamer.

Trying to hide behind the huts was pointless. The knights would pin her down and picked her out as soon as she'd show her head again. Dodging five arrows on open terrain was clearly impossible as well.

But if she had to mind only one, things would get simpler.

Therefore, she ran. She picked the knight furthermost on the right and sprinted straight at him.

Even though his movements were slowed down by the heavy plate armor, it took the knight only a few seconds to draw a fresh arrow, set it, and draw the string. Even as the enemy approached, he controlled his nerves and didn't waver, didn't blink. There was no chance of missing from so close. He relaxed his fingers and let go.

But Izumi was even faster.

Reaching out, she grabbed both the bow and the arrow in her fist in the middle. Exactly how terrible was her grip strength, to halt the weight of sixty pounds trying to propel the projectile into her heart? Tackling the knight, she turned the bow to point left and released her hold.

A series of sharp whistles rang out in the span of a quarter of a second.

Not even steel plate could withstand a shot from a military grade compound bow from this range. The knight closest to the left was pierced through the side. He staggered back, involuntarily lowering his aim and loosened his own arrow. It pierced the leg of the knight in Izumi's embrace, a finger's width from her thigh. The soldier behind the second followed the woman's movement too far before shooting. As a result, he hit his own, staggering comrade in the arm, an inch below the shoulder. The bloodied shaft slipped straight through the flesh, brushing past Izumi's temple.

The remaining two recognized they were too late and held their arrows, instead stepping out the line to recollect the target.

Quickly looking up to check which way they were moving, Izumi rolled the other way, keeping the third knight between them. She drew the sword from the belt of the knight she had knocked down, slipped past the fatally wounded man in the middle, and stabbed the blade through the visor of the third archer.

Instead of moving on right away, Izumi kept the knight standing by holding the sword up, using him for a shield. One of the remaining archers expected her to emerge from sooner and wasted his arrow. Letting go of her involuntary bodyguard and the sword stuck into his head, Izumi rolled out and picked up the Amygla from the corpse of the fourth Imperial.

She didn't waste energy trying to parry the remaining arrow, but simply took a backstep mid-motion. He had aimed slightly ahead, trying to read her moves, which made his arrow miss its mark by a considerable margin.

“Wait...” Realizing he wouldn't have the time to shoot again, the knight dropped his bow and retreated. But he misjudged the ancient greatsword's reach. Izumi's following horizontal swing hit him on the side of the helmet, breaking his neck.

The last man had the time to take out another arrow, but his nerves and the thick gloves finally failed him at the intense moment. The feathers slipped from his grasp.

“Damn it…!” He could only helplessly lament his pitiful failure, as the greatsword's blade cleaved his shoulder in two.

The one surviving knight tried to limp away, the arrow sticking from his leg. Izumi unhurriedly followed after him, putting him down with a swing at the back of the neck.

“That liar,” she muttered, looking at the arrows scattered on the ground. “Only one had the rune.”

—“Hey!”

A voice suddenly called out to her from further down the path, near the other end of the small village.

Yes. There was one more enemy left.

A knight emerged from behind the huts. He had a bow and a vine of arrows as well, but he now removed them and threw them away.

“Right,” Izumi glanced at him with little interest. “Twenty men headed out with the Vizier. Only nineteen are dead. The Hawkeye was you then?”

“I did not wish for this,” the knight said. “Why could you not stay with the others? Your friend's blood stains your hands as much as it does mine.”

“Not at all,” the woman replied. “Soon all the blood in your hands will be your own.”

The knight pulled off his helmet.

Izumi had seen a lot of knights in these past few days, even spoken with some, while serving the meals and walking around.

This one she could recognize by name.

She should've recognized him by name.

But not really. The name was too difficult for Izumi to accurately memorize and recall so easily. At the very least, she recognized he was “someone with a name”, which by Izumi's standards was a lot said.

That name was Leterrié.

Captain Sehegilia Den Duneb Alais Leterrié.

Not that Izumi could know it at the time, but the man who had so graciously agreed to assist with Yuliana's sword practice was none other than Miragrave's second-in-command.

Removing his surcoat, chestplate, and utility belt, Leterrié drew his sword.

“Will you not turn away? Will you not consider the lives of my men as sufficient repayment for your friend? So far as I am considered, I have lost more on this quest.”

“Repayment?” Izumi repeated.

“Enough people have died. don’t you think? I would prefer not to add to them.”

“Hey, tell me. Since you seem to know the value of human lives so well, why don't you tell me this—Exactly how do you begin to pay back for something that has no price?”

“Lady Izumi, please...”

“Rise said she owed me for saving her life. That by saving me enough times, we'd be equals again. Isn't that silly? She had it all wrong. I couldn't even begin to understand how much I owed her, until I realized I couldn't ever make up for it. Don’t you feel sorry for her? There was no hope of us ever becoming equals by any means. She could've saved my worthless hide a thousand times over and it would’ve only added to my debt. Your blood, the blood of your knights, the blood of that Vizier, the blood of your whole Empire—would only be pocket change next to what I got from her. I don't get it. What should I do now? I really have no idea. Killing you won't even make up for the interest. But well...I suppose it's a start.”

Gripping his sword tighter, Leterrié looked sternly back at Izumi and raised his weapon,

“I see there is no other way then. Come, my friend. You will find that I am not selling my life so cheaply.”

“I don't know if you noticed but it's not a branch I'm holding today.”

Had this ancient land ever witnessed a more bizarre and sadder scene in its unrecorded history?

Facing off in the middle of the abandoned village, surrounded by corpses and broken houses, were a valiant knight of the Empire and a woman from another world.

Itaka Izumi, in her two-handed stance, facing forward, the Amygla's tip at the level of her line of sight.

Captain Leterrié, his sword raised above his head, in the stance he knew as the Swan, ready to strike.

Like that night on the field outside Varnam, they now stared through one another.

This time, there would be no lessons.

No advice.

No rematches.

No illusions.

Only one would leave this place alive.

Izumi's weapon was far heavier. Leterrié knew blocking it was too dangerous. He had to bet on superior mobility and land the first strike, which was why he had removed his armor. Izumi wore no armor in the first place, but the sizable weapon would slow her enough. She needed to build up sufficient momentum to wield the large weapon effectively, and time and space were required to do so.

If only he could seize the initiative right away, she wouldn't be able to keep up.

That was why he had picked a high stance over her mid-stance. All he had to do was keep that massive weapon from ever being raised, and it would be his victory.

Leterrié was good-intending, not stupid.

The knight had discreetly gathered all the tactical advantages to his side before the battle even began. He had learned from their brief confrontation earlier and knew not to underestimate this woman.

Meanwhile, what thought Itaka Izumi? How did she prepare her heart for this confrontation.

Nothing. Nothing at all went through her mind.

They had faced off once before—she never doubted she would win.

The knight slowly advanced. Bit by bit, he inched forward, while Izumi remained still, expressionless, as if asleep.

The tip of the Amygla wavered a little.

Judging he was close enough, the knight made his move.

Leterrié quickly threw his whole body forward and swung down his arms, to strike away the sword blocking his way. The second move following right after, a stab through the shieldless chest, would end the fight.

But he was too slow.

——“TSUKI!”

The woman let out a loud shout in a foreign language.

The force of her voice hit him like a blast of air, making his spirit waver for one fleeting fragment of a second. An instance too long. By the time he recovered, the Langorian holy sword had stabbed his throat all the way through.

This in one step.

In the second step, Izumi was past the knight captain and turned around, extracted the blade and swung down overhead, executing the wounded man.

“By the way, stabs to the throat are prohibited in low-grade kendo,” she remarked over his corpse and continued on. “Don't try this at home, okay?”

There was a lesson, after all.

Izumi continued to run, through the ancient village, deeper and deeper into the woods.

3

The horses refused to go on. Vizier Attiker knew it had been a mistake to let the knight driving the cart off, but he had wanted to be alone when he would find the spring. He was no horseman, though he knew how to ride one well enough. But the pair before the cart now was wholly opposed to going on and his orders had no effect on them whatsoever. They neighed anxiously and pulled the cart to the side, where the wheels dug deep into the trench, causing it to tilt dangerously.

It was as if the animals were frightened by something ahead. Or just plain stubborn.

“Fine,” the man told them after climbing off the cart. “I will tell his majesty. You're sausage. Wurst.”

Despite his threats, there were no choices left. He had to continue on foot. If the spring was close by, the barrels could be carried there and back by hand. A strenuous job, but if twenty able-bodied knights couldn't do it, then who could? After one last scowl of disapproval to the disobedient horses, the Vizier left to follow the barely visible path in the knee-length grass.

After a short distance, he discovered that there would've been no way to drive the cart through there in the first place. The path grew narrow and bumpy. It was difficult even to walk, still muddy and slippery from all the rain.

Attiker nearly tripped over the treacherous roots and vines several times. The slim strings of spider webs hanging everywhere clung to his face, making him spit and shudder. He was hot in his thick overcoat and wiped sweat off his forehead.

The air seemed mysteriously warm here, misty and humid.

Had the forest fire reached this far?

This is Hel. The nest of misery where the dishonorable dead are cast and forgotten for eternity. No doubt about it.

The trail continued downward, at a continuously steepening angle.

It couldn't even be called a path anymore, just a muddy, filthy gulch carved into hillside by rainwater. Did the Varnamians really come this way? This was their holy ritual? Each time a new initiate was let in on the big secret, they would trek down this hideous footpath, risking injury?

No way. It started to seem more and more likely that Holms had lied to save his neck. The abandoned town had proved to be true, but that didn't mean there was a spring as well. Exactly what awaited at the end of this grotesque way? Surely not the dungheap of ancient settlers?

I knew I shouldn't have let him go. I've gone soft. 'I have a family', boo-hoo! Who doesn't, you dumb little bastard. The laws and contracts my ass, I'll have the man whipped silly once we get back.

The Vizier slipped.

The soil gave out under his heel and Attiker fell on his back, sliding down the muddy slope without control, certain he would break his leg at the bottom. However, the trail delivered him to the destination with almost disappointing softness and ease, finally expelling him on level ground.

“What I wouldn't suffer...for the good of my country,” the man sighed, wrestling himself back up to his feet and wiped his lap, his coat dyed red-brown with mud all over.

However, what he saw next disgusted him far more than the state of his clothes.

Attiker thought he had slid down the side of a ridge, with the forest continuing as usual ahead. He was mistaken. What he had fallen down in was a large pit, a cylindrical depression at the bottom of the forest. He stood on a narrow rock ledge, and a foot or two beneath it was water.

Not simple water.

It was a nauseating pool of filth, deep crimson in color, too turbid to see through. It was as if someone had managed to wound the very earth itself, and this pool was where the drained blood gathered and rotted. There was a weirdly sweet, revolting stench hovering above the water. Attiker hadn't imagined it. The pit was clearly warmer than the air, giving off light steam. There was no telling how deep the water was, or what kind of unpleasant life forms dwelt in it.

“Don't tell me...This?” he looked around in disbelief. “This is the fabled spring? The grand secret those peasants were keeping for all this time? The source of eternal youth? This...this cesspool!? This isn't fit for consumption! I can't take even one vial of this shit to his majesty! He'd have my head on a platter!”

—“Oh, you mean he too?”

“What...?”

The Vizier turned around.

Behind him, sliding down the trail, was a woman—Itaka Izumi.

“You—what are you doing here?” he asked. “What happened to the knights?”

“Nothing worth writing songs about,” Izumi answered.

Attiker didn't understand. She had to have slipped past the soldiers somehow. The flora grew dense here, it wasn't impossible. The alternative, that this woman had somehow carved her way through twenty knights...It was absurd. Impossible.

No, perhaps they had pitied her and let her through on purpose? The troops had decided to rebel and do away with him, leaving the dirty work to this mercenary? Whatever the truth, the fact was that he now stood trapped between the pool of filth and the murderous woman.

Izumi took off the magnetite vest and the greatsword, dropped them on the ground, and walked on. Was she planning to finish things with her bare hands, the Vizier wondered. Then, she unbuttoned her surcoat too. In a rush, she tore off her shirt next and kicked off her shoes.

“W-what are you doing, you mad woman!” The Vizier yelled at her when she started pulling off her pants and underwear. Without answering, now fully naked, Izumi picked up the pace and walked steadily towards the man—and past him.

“Last one in is a rotten egg!” she said and leaped off the ledge, into the red pool.

In horror and dismay, the Imperial advisor watched the woman sink into the foul water with a massive splash. She soon surfaced again and wiped her face. The viscous liquid clung to her skin and hair, coloring her completely red, not all that unlike blood.

Scooping the water in her palms, Izumi lifted it to her lips and drank it.

“What are you doing!?” Attiker yelled at her, thinking he was going to faint.

“You’re loud,” Izumi frowned at him. “See? My feet reach the bottom here. It's perfectly safe. Just like a hot spring.”

“Who cares about that!? This—whatever it is—it can't be healthy! Isn't that obvious just by looking at it? Why did you drink it, you idiot!?”

“It's not that bad, really. Doesn't taste like much anything. A bit sweet, maybe? It's not blood, if that's what you're thinking.”

“I didn't ask for your appraisal of it!”

“Well, my options were: drink it and get poisoned; don't drink it and die of old age; drink it and nothing happens; or maybe drink it and get young again. I can take those odds.”

“Whatever! Well? Is it working? Do you feel any different?”

Izumi looked at her hands and observed her body's reactions for a moment.

“It's pretty warm and nice to soak in, but I don't feel anything special...”

“Oh, bollocks! It was a lie. There was no spring of life! Oneiromancers, gatekeepers, divines, ancient cults, all of it lies, from beginning to end! Metaphors, smoke and mirrors. We came here for nothing, simple as that.”

“Nothing?”

“That's right, nothing. It was a failure. And I'm leaving.”

“Hey, hey...”

The woman's expression turned serious and she waded back towards the shore.

“I almost changed my mind back there,” she said. “For a moment, I thought there might not be anything bad about growing old. I thought I might get by without youth. But you left me with no choice. If I didn't come here and drink this shit now, that girl would've died for nothing! She believed in me. To the end, she believed in me. In me, who is nothing, who achieved nothing in life, who wasted her days wishing for the impossible. Had I chosen otherwise somewhere along the way, maybe I could've met her sooner? Had I tried a bit harder, maybe I could've kept it from happening? I can't stop thinking about that and it hurts!”

Izumi climbed up and approached the man.

Before the nightmarish sight, Attiker backed up, but she quickly reached him and grabbed him by the lapels of his coat. The strength in her arms forced the man on his toes.

“And for what reason did I lose her? Nothing, he says! So many died getting you here, to this place, and now you say you don't want it? What are you, a baby!? You don't get to give up!”

“I—I have no idea what you're talking about, you mad witch! Release me!” he shouted at her.

Izumi turned and dropped him on the rock floor with a hip throw. Then, seizing him by the collar behind his neck, she started to drag him towards the water. He tried his best to resist, like a cat being forced into a bath, but his hands and feet failed to gain traction on the slippery surface.

“A miracle or not, it's what you came for,” Izumi said. “So take it. Fight for it to the end! Yes. Take it to his majesty or drink it yourself, I don't care. But don’t say it’s nothing!”

“What are you doing, sto—hnnnngggmmh—!”

After reaching chest-deep, Izumi pulled the Vizier up close, forced him underwater and held him in place. He kicked and struggled, blindly groping at her with his hands, but Izumi held him firmly face down and there was nothing he could do.

“Oommhhh——!!”

Large bubbles surfaced in an incessant stream, the remaining air in the man's lungs rapidly depleted. But Izumi wouldn't let go.

“Well? How is it? Drink up! Unite mankind, unite the world, rule over all the races, make everybody live forever! I don't care what you do with it! Take it all, every last drop! I'll even cough up what I took, if you want it. Just take it, take it, take it, take it, take it, take it, and give me my Rise back, you bastard—!”

The struggling arms slowly lost tension.

The kicks grew sparse and feeble. The bubbles stopped coming. But Izumi wouldn't let go. As if she were a sailor thrown overboard and the Vizier’s body a lifebuoy, she gripped him with all her might.

——“Hey...He's dead.”

Izumi was brought back to her senses by a hand gently touching her arm. She slowly released her hold of the Imperial, who floated without tension in the murky water.

The woman turned slowly to her right and saw Yuliana standing by her side. The look in the princess's crystal-clear eyes was full of pain and compassion, making it heart-breaking to look at. Seeing it, Izumi's anger dissipated and she regained her situational awareness.

“Let's go back,” Yuliana said, her lip trembling.

“...Okay”

Feeling numb, Izumi followed the girl to the shore.

However, they had barely crawled up from the pit, when they suddenly heard a loud voice coming from somewhere above.

“Humans!”

That deep voice filled the entire pit. It didn't sound like a voice produced by human vocal cords. Turning around, alarmed, the two women looked for its source. And what they saw next made them doubt their eyes.

A large elk walked towards them, straight across the air, as though on invisible stairs. It was a majestic creature, with pale, silvery fur, crowned as the king of the forest with a pair of enormous antlers.

While she didn't know enough to say for sure, Izumi was fairly certain that regular elks in this world couldn't speak human languages any better than those in her own, nor fly. This left few options to explain the nature of this fantastic beast.

The Divine of Felorn, the messenger of Hamaran——Matheus, Lord of Streams.

“Um, hello?” Izumi said. Yuliana was too astonished to speak.

“Hamaran would weep, were he here to witness this day,” the elk spoke, ignoring her greeting. Not that it moved its mouth, the sound had to have been telepathic in nature. “Humans raiding our holy grounds, burning, betraying, slaying, trampling the ancient vows, desecrating all that is pure and good. Answer us now, blasphemers! Why do you insist on delivering this evil to us? What has made Felorn the target of your boundless corruption? Have you ran out of lands to pillage outside? Are there no more beautiful things left anywhere in the world for you to plunder? Speak! For we do not understand.”

“Well, I don't know about the others,” Izumi answered, “but I just came here for a drink.”

“You sate your thirst with expensive mead!” the Divine howled. “There is much we can forgive, but not this. Do you not see it? Our creator made your days numbered as an act of mercy! The emiria and goti are forced to carry the ever-growing burden of their years upon them, never to know rest. They go on until the expansive eons crush their spirits and they become torn apart by the horror of existence. From this, humans are spared! You are able to meet death in peace and comfort, surrounded by love and your kin! You may leave life before it becomes a curse upon you, singing its praises until the hour you expire! Yet you would discard this priceless gift of your own will? Envy and ignorance are your religion, fools! Do you have any last words left, before I take you to the netherworlds whence there is no return?”

“Forgive us, Lord,” Yuliana bravely looked up and said, as frightened as she was. “But did you not begin this yourself? Did you not unjustly have your servants attack us, again and again? We were only defending ourselves! Had you left us in peace, none of this would've happened. We had no intention to harm anything in these woods! Please believe it!”

“Lies!” the elk's voice grew louder. “You shelter evil in your midst, deliver Death to our kind! You act innocent and speak gentle words, while coddling abominations! Did you think we would not see it? Foolish child! In our kingdom, nothing may evade our gaze! You came to deceive and destroy once more, but like before, shall find only death!”

“Please, Lord!” the princess insisted. “I don't understand! What evil do you speak of? Tell me!”

“Enough of your slanderous deception! Repent in the beyond, should you possess an honest heart!”

“Don't be so angry. It's bad for your heart,” Izumi said.

As nonchalant as she acted, Izumi was far from confident. She had fought various kinds of opponents since coming to this world, and for that, she could tell more or less that the entity before her now was in a league of its own.

The animal hovering in the air, outside anyone’s reach, radiated indomitable might, free of mortal weaknesses.

It was neither a man or a monster—an avatar of a godly power, veiled in an ancient, timeless presence.

How was it even going to attack? There was no way to guess it just by looking.

Izumi glanced briefly over her shoulder, at the sword lying on the ground, a few feet away. Would she reach it before she would be killed? If she were alone, she would’ve tried nevertheless. But Yuliana was with her. If she made a mistake, losing the girl as a consequence—the thought alone made her unable to move.

Was there no other way…?

Then, Yuliana—knelt.

Lowering her head, the princess closed her eyes and spoke,

“Hear me, o' radiant sprite, I beseech thee, the Noon of the White Sun. Become my blade, coat me in thy wings, guard me with thy blessings, bring upon thy foes the purifying blaze. Lord of Light, the keeper of my soul, thy vessel calls thee by thy hallowed name—Aesa Aiwesh.”

“What—?”

Even the heavenly elk was taken aback by the sudden ritual.

But even more surprised it was to see the princess's form disappear in an eruption of pure white light. From that light extended two pairs of large wings, and the radiance soon condensed around a different figure, clad in an immaculate white garb.

That sublime vision now stepped lightly up in the air and confronted the elk at equal level.

“That visage…?” Matheus spoke. “It cannot be—Aiwesh? You yet live?”

“The songs of my death are greatly embellished,” the Lord of Light greeted her sibling with a wide smile. “How do you do, brother? It has been a while.”

“Where have you been? The goti have been awaiting your return for six thousand years. Why did you abandon the people of your god and maker?”

“The old beards were too dull, so I left them,” Aiwesh lightly answered. “Lately, I’ve started find your people more appealing. In fact, I would prefer to have them all for myself. Since you appear to care as much for them as I for my own.”

“What jest is this?” Matheus's confusion only deepened. “Moreover, you have taken a human for a vessel? You have violated the Covenant! Our kind is not to possess intelligent races—Do you mean to make yourself a king among men?”

“Well, it was more an unwritten agreement, rather than a law. If it was so important, they should have had it carved upon stone.”

“This chaos, is it your doing then? Have you instigated this crusade against my brethern to seduce the humans? Is it to extend the days of your deceived followers? O', how low have you fallen, child of the sun!”

“Why so paranoid? It makes you seem weak, brother,” Aiwesh dismissed his words. “Perhaps you should get out of these dusty woods more?”

“What…?”

“You were always so hasty in the past. Jumping into conclusions before others have finished what they have to say. In that sense, you are indeed much alike your humans. I have brought no one here and I personally could not care less about your little bath tub. But, I did wish to meet you one day, for an unrelated reason. Being given that opportunity so soon, I thank the stars.”

“What reason...? What are you talking about…?”

Aiwesh floated closer, reached our her hands and gently touched the head of her brother—or his vessel—caressing the great antlers.

And then said with the sweetest smile on her lips,

“I would like you to——die for me, brother.”

Suddenly gripping the antlers, the Lord of Light proceeded to break them off the beast's head in a brutal display of force. With its skull shattered, blood gushed out of the animal's head in massive horizontal torrents, spilling over the pool underneath. Discarding the horns, Aiwesh lifted her slim arm and without hesitation stuck it through the opening, into the elk's brain.

“My people, your people, your power—I will take all of it. King among men? Do not be ridiculous. Perhaps you are content playing sovereign over an anthill, but that is not enough for me. Nowhere close. Until the day everything on Ortho lives and dies by my will, I can only count myself among the lowest of beggars.”

The mauled form of the divine beast slowly disintegrated into tiny particles and scattered away, the spirit in it drained and devoured by the other. Finished with the deed, the bloodied figure of Aiwesh descended back to ground level and faced Izumi.

“You ate your own brother,” Izumi noted.

“I did,” Aiwesh answered without remorse. “Now tell me, how do you feel?”

“Well, I think it's pretty sick, to be honest.”

“Not that, my foolish pet. The water you have ingested.”

“Eh…?”

“I wondered what the fabled spring was like,” the Divine said with an amused look. “My brother could not have created such a thing, and it did not sound like Hamaran's business either. In all honesty, I did not think it existed. But now I see. It is Cithandria-tree, its sap. There must be one growing nearby. It is spring, after all, so the sap flows thick and gushes forth through any opening. It has mixed into the water in this hot spring, generating a most curious mixture.”

“Sap…?”

Coming closer, Aiwesh's fiery gaze stared through Izumi's naked form.

“I observe changes in your cellular structure. It seems there was some truth to the myth, after all.”

“For real?” Izumi looked at herself, obviously not seeing anything unusual.

“Human cells have a certain mechanism which causes them to self-destruct when they have fulfilled their purpose and can be replaced. The molecules in the sap bond with the cells and disable that timer, allowing them to exist indefinitely. Ah yes. Much like the disease called cancer in your world! You have become cancer itself, Itaka Izumi.”

“I'm not sure if I appreciate the comparison...” the woman grimaced. “Doesn't that mean I'm going to die?”

“I think not,” Aiwesh said, looking at her closer. “In addition to extending the lifespan of your cells, they are also kept from multiplying, so the occurrence of harmful mutations should be minimal. It will not restore your childhood, but in a sense, you have attained longevity. I suppose we can only wait and see what other effects it will have.”

“So, does that mean I'll live forever now?”

“Not quite. The toxins and metals already accumulated in your body in your previous world will cause your organs to fail in another two hundred years, or perhaps three. Oh, and as your cells are not multiplying at the usual rate anymore, it means your body cannot regrow any lost tissue. Whatever wounds you sustain must be restored with magic. Or you will die.”

“In the end, I can't really tell if this was a good deal or a bad one...” Izumi mumbled.

“'Nothing in life is free'—is that not how your people say?” Aiwesh replied. “Ah, I have one more thing to share with you, now that I have the chance. So that you would not despair too soon.”

Leaning forward, the Divine spirit reached out her blood-soaked hands and held Izumi's face. It felt like quite a dangerous position to be in, but just how dangerous, Izumi had no idea. She had a hunch, but it seemed like such an outrageous thing to suggest, that she soon rejected it from her consciousness. Because of that, she only stood still with a blank look on her face, as the Lord of Light leaned forward and—kissed her.

It was a kiss straight on the lips.

A soft but intense kiss.

A gentle but irresistible kiss.

The Divine relaxed her hold a bit, making Izumi think it was over, but then pulled her back, reaching for the woman's tongue with her own, toying, tormenting, comforting, mixing. When she finally let go, Izumi collapsed on the ground, gasping for air, her knees weak.

The kiss had tasted like blood—but the fact made it seem mysteriously, absurdly arousing. Unforgettable.

Aiwesh looked down at Izumi with a playful smile and licked her lips.

“Perhaps my vessel will one day overcome her modesty and fulfill her promise to you. But until that day, you may consider this an advance payment.”

“My first kiss...” Izumi muttered. “I had my first kiss taken by a goddess...No one's going to believe it...”

“How many times must I tell you? I am not a God,” Aiwesh commented. Then, growing more serious, the spirit added, “In Grelden, I taught you to read the language of humans. Now, I have taught you to read the language of the Gods. With their true, hidden meaning, the power of our little letters should resonate with your foreign spirit. Make good use of this rarer than rare talent. You will need it.”

“Um, thanks?”

“Oh, I have given you much tonight, but there is one last bit of advice I feel compelled to share with you, for your own good, Izumi dearest.” Her usual ethereal smile returned to the angelic being's lips as she said, “Go find some plain water and wash up. You look and smell most foul.”

4

Of all the people who had set out in search of the miraculous spring, only two returned to the outpost. A pair of exhausted women. One was a princess, one was not from this world. Yuliana had freed the horses made to pull the barrel cart, and rode one back, Izumi seated behind her. But even if Izumi felt there couldn’t have been a better timing to roll the ending credits, the day and the journey were both far from over.

They dismounted outside the palisade and walked in through the side gate, where an assembly of knights was ready to receive them. A considerably smaller assembly, but still. A scout had naturally detected their approach from a distance away.

They couldn’t guess what the reception would be like, but they had nowhere to hide.

The Imperial elite company's numbers had greatly dwindled over the past few days. Not even ten were left standing. The wounded had been carried aboard the wagons, where they struggled with their injuries and fever. But the survivors burned with an intense will to live and return to their homes.

Before the line of spears and bows receiving them, Izumi and Yuliana stopped.

Neither had the strength nor the will left to fight.

Whatever their fate was going to be, they could only accept it.

Colonel Miragrave walked past the line and approached the pair. Looking at their exhausted faces and muddied, bloodied clothes, she asked,

“What became of Attiker?”

“He had a bit too much to drink,” Izumi answered. “He’s probably going to miss work tomorrow.”

“I see,” the woman closed her eyes. “It turns out the water of eternal youth was not fit for drinking, after all. I shall pass the news to his majesty.”

“Master...” Yuliana looked at the commander with an apologetic face.

Miragrave turned away and looked to north, towards the treeline.

“I presume captain and his men have had their share of the revelries? No, don't say it. The answer is written on your faces. Have you said your goodbyes to Felorn yet? Then, if you don't mind, let us be off without delay. While the day lasts us.”

“...Yes,” the princess nodded.

The knights lowered their weapons and left.

What had happened in the woods? Even if there were interested minds among them troubled by that question, no one voiced it. What they had seen of Felorn so far had depleted their curiosity for a lifetime.

The mission was at an end. What was the point of this crusade? What were they left with at the end of it? All anyone cared about was the fact that they were finally free to go home.

There was no energy left to waste on secondary matters.

After all, the way home was long.

Chapter 10: The Nightmare Catches Up With the Travelers

1

Felorn stood quiet and still, like any other vista of nature that Izumi knew from her past world. Even more so. Depressingly so. The birds, if there even were any, hadn't regained their songs. No squirrels or hares could be seen running between the stoic wooden pillars. The ant nests here and there along the path laid dormant. The weather was cloudy, but it wouldn't rain. Nothing disturbed the melancholic silence of the woods. No dryads, basilisks, or unicorns troubled the travelers on the solemn march back to Varnam.

The magic was gone.

The lord of the forest was dead and all nature mourned his passing.

The company rode on in matching silence. Although it could be called a company no more, in terms of military units. They were less than a squad now. They had left their fallen comrades in the basin of old Varnam without looking to confirm their fate or bury the remains. There was no time; they had to reach back before nightfall, or else hazard the vengeance of the Darkwood, unleashed from the restraints of its once benevolent ruler.

So the men convinced themselves.

In truth, the innate measure of hardships that the human spirit could endure had been filled to the brim for each of them, long ago. They could push themselves no further, even if they wanted to. In the scales with the respect for the deceased in one cup and the wholehearted desire to leave the accursed woods in the other, the latter weighed by far heavier. The knowledge that there was no spring of youth, no reward for their excruciating efforts, was the last straw. Not many had believed in the fairy tale to begin with and were driven exclusively by their adamant sense of duty to the fatherland. But while no one could dispute the strength of these knights' conviction, it could only carry them so far.

Even if no praise awaited them at home.

Due to their dramatically reduced numbers, the return trip fortunately proceeded with exceptional swiftness. The horses that hadn't seen much action for the past few days saved no stamina in carrying their apathetic masters towards home.

It was well before dusk, that the overgrown, untamed woodland scenery gave way to the familiar, clean scarcity it had exhibited in the early part of the way. Yuliana could barely hold back her tears when she saw no more bumpy hammocks or shapeless moss through the gaps between the trees, but only level, immaculate grassland, with the picturesque silhouette of Varnam in the distance.

She wasn't the only one. Sighs of relief, sobs of joy, and triumphant exclamations alike could be heard all among the weary riders and the injured aboard the surviving wagon.

They had made it out of Felorn.

At that moment, on the gate of the forest, Yuliana saw that they were no longer foreigners, strangers from other lands, future enemies, prisoners and captors, or anything of the sort. No one looked back into the past and the wrongdoings left there. They were undoubtedly all brethren now, baptized by the shared, excruciating trial, made family through the all-sided shedding of blood.

“Company, halt!”

As they exited the woods and reached the fresh, emerald pastures spreading from the root of the treeline, the commander's order stopped the horses. “Sergeant, is the chest from the command materials still safe? The red one?”

“Ma'am, in the wagon, as ordered,” the knight responded.

“Good.”

“Hm? Another secret weapon?” Izumi asked.

“What? No. Silver.”

“Silver?”

“Yes,” Miragrave replied. “Fuck camping, we are staying at a real inn tonight. His majesty pays. And no one gets in the bath before me, that's an order.”

Even after all they had been through, the travelers could still bring themselves to laugh now. That laughter felt liberating and sweeter than gold, or so Yuliana thought.

They left the horses at an empty enclosure a short distance away from the town.

Freed from the saddles, bridles, and armorings, the jet black stallions wasted no time enjoying their freedom, cantering around the meadow. In the end, more horses had been brought back than there were riders. Domesticated and disciplined as they were, there should have been no chance of them leaving the proximity of their masters or wander off on their own, fences or none. Nevertheless, the swiftness with which they now separated from their owners looked like nothing short of an act of rebellion, a unanimous protest against all the poor treatment. Only after making it a good distance away to the other side of the enclosure did they regroup and pause to munch grass, huffing and eyeing the knights with a restless air.

“What, don't you love me anymore, Matilda?” One knight called after his mount in a theatrical tone, making his comrades erupt in laughter.

“We made it out! Relax, Isolde! It's over now!”

“Looks like we've earned ourselves a lifelong grudge,” another remarked.

“Well, can you blame them? Seeing how things turned out, the horses were smarter than we were.”

“Only too true, brother.”

As the knights one by one departed for the town, to look for a place to take and tend wounded, Izumi listened in on their conversation with growing unease.

“As I thought...There's no other way, is there…?”

—“Itaka.”

To the earthling's surprise, the Colonel called out to her, walking a few paces behind with Yuliana. She had used her given name, no less, which Izumi hadn't heard in weeks. Not since she had left her home world.

“Hm?” Izumi turned around, surprised.

“I take it you know how to make coffee?” Miragrave asked her.

“Why, I do,” Izumi answered.

“I still have the bag, can you believe it? My adjutant is not here anymore, so would you mind doing the honors?”

“Is that alright?” the summoned woman asked. “I mean, it was me, who...”

“I know,” the commander waved off her concerns. “We are soldiers. It was his fate. Who lives by the sword, shall die by the sword. You had your convictions, as did he. As an Imperial Colonel, I am obligated to condemn your actions. But as a person, I can only view what unfolded back there as a tragedy to everyone involved. So how about it? Would you care to join me? For one moment, set aside our differences and try to see eye to eye again? In memory of the fallen.”

“Sure,” Izumi nodded, a bit timidly. She was supposed to be the older one, yet she felt hopelessly immature before the Colonel's speech.

“Then, it is settled,” Miragrave faintly smiled. “You'll join us, Yuliana?”

“Eh? Coffee?” The princess blinked. “The thing Izumi has been talking about for all this time? It actually exists? What is it?”

“If you really want to know, then you must try it for yourself,” the commander mischievously answered.

“Hmph,” Yuliana pouted. “That reminds me, master always used to tease me like that when I was young. I know I'm asking too many questions at times, but it's frustrating to be left outside...”

“I did such things?”

“Oh, but if it's alright with you, may I invite Brian as well? I still owe him, for a great many things. And if I am to make our nations give up on war, then I shouldn't exclude my own from the effort.”

“Ah, that is fine by me.” Miragrave nodded.

Pleased, Yuliana immediately hurried her steps and left to catch up with the Langorian knight walking wearily a short distance ahead of them——But she was quickly stopped.

Izumi seized the princess by the arm and forcibly held her back.

Confused, Yuliana stopped and looked back at the woman.

“What is it...?”

Izumi looked oddly uncomfortable as she told her,

“I think it would be better if you kept your distance with that.”

“That...? You mean, Brian?” The girl scowled in disbelief. “I get that you don't like him very much, but don't you think you're going too far now?”

“T-that's not what I mean,” before Yuliana's offended look, Izumi had trouble finding the right words. “It's not like I have anything personal against him. It's just...”

“Yes?”

“...Well, I don't think he's entirely human.”

“What?” The princess contorted her brows in perplexion.

Ahead on the road, Brian also stopped. He shouldn't have heard them from this distance, but it was as if he had. The other nearby knights paused as well, to see what the odd drama was about.

Feeling only deeply embarrassed and insulted for her countryman and faithful friend, Yuliana tried to ignore their gazes and questioned the woman,

“And what would he be if not a human, the same as you and I? Give it a rest!”

"Eh? Ah...That's..." Taken aback by the girl's anger, Izumi had difficulty expressing herself. Looking around, she then made up her mind, looked apologetically back at the princess and said,

“Well, he's the daemon. Probably.”

As if a switch had been flipped, the formerly relaxed and cheerful atmosphere took a terrible, chilling turn. At once, Miragrave directed a furious glare at Izumi.

“...What did you just say?”

Yuliana's expression was no less horrified. Eyes wide, she stared at Izumi's face, expecting—praying—for her to reveal it only as a hideous, tasteless prank.

No, even as a joke, it was already unforgivable. One simply couldn't utter such terrible words and laugh it off. Even insults had their limit, surely.

“W-what are you saying...?” she asked, desperately clutching at the woman's coat front. “Don't tell me you still suspect him? After everything we've been through…? After everything...! Why? Why would you say such a thing?”

“Eeh, still...?” Izumi's looked disturbed by everyone's reaction. “I should be asking you this instead—Why exactly did you stop suspecting him? Because he can talk? Because his act is passable for a human? Don't tell me you actually believed what the geezer said, about them being just mindless animals? Why would you give any credit to somebody, who has never even seen the real deal?”

“Huh…?”

“Mira-rin told us that daemons can imitate people's appearance, right? Then you should obviously suspect anyone and everyone, and never stop. And when you think about everything that's happened along the way and how it got over the sea, then isn't it clear that daemons are actually more intelligent than humans?”

“We examined him!” Miragrave said. “You saw it yourself! He had all his body parts fully intact. The daemon impersonation can never be flawless! Mimicking someone's superficial looks is one thing and perfectly reproducing a structure as complex as the human body, down to the smallest detail, is another. It's too much for a mere lucky shot!”

“He had all the toes, fingers, and such, yes,” Izumi answered. “But what about the stuff inside? We can't exactly check to see if he has all his organs without cutting the guy open, right? The wizard said his clothes were real. That means, at some point, he stripped the real Brian and copied his naked form, before putting on his clothes. I don't know how these creatures normally act, but clearly, he put some effort into the role this time. So the whole examination method was unreliable, to begin with.”

“That can't be…”

“But—he saved my life!” Yuliana insisted, her hands shaking, powerless. Was the man she knew truly already dead?

“What about it?” Izumi asked in return. “A good guy doing one bad deed will make him a criminal, but would doing one good deed make a criminal a hero? Not, right? Can you be sure he saved you because he cared about you? Or just because he wanted you to trust him?”

“Why...would he want me to trust him?”

“Because no matter how you look at it, you were the one easiest to win over in this group of ours. Don't take this the wrong way, but sometimes you really are too naive for your own good. Everyone could hear you trying to defend him back on the road. That was probably the reason. Naturally, everyone else is more liable to trust a cute princess than a brooding foreigner. So long as you'd keep defending him, he'd have an easier time getting along with the rest of us. And looks like it was a success too. I mean, did no one else seriously think it might be him?”

“Y-you...” the princess stuttered. She wanted to deny it, but at the same time, she found that she couldn't. “You can't be serious. This isn't...funny...”

“Hey...” The accused, Brian, took a step forward.

He didn't manage more than a step.

At once, he was surrounded by knights on all sides. Two on both sides, their blades held up against his throat, and one in the back ready to pierce his heart. The rest remained at a distance, ready to provide backup. An archer further to the side stood ready to send an arrow through the man's head at the slightest odd movement.

“It's a grim case you make,” Miragrave told Izumi in a low tone, her face dark. “Is conjecture all you have against him?”

“Well, unless you're willing to cut him to check if he bleeds, then I suppose it's mostly my word against his,” Izumi replied. “I didn't think too deeply on it at first, but it was after he saved Yule from the unicorn that I really started to suspect it might be him.”

“Why would that incriminate him?”

“He took quite the tumble from horseback at full speed with another person in his arms and no armor on, yet he brushed it off like nothing,” Izumi explained. “That sort of a stunt might pass in a B-grade action movie, but this world is supposed to have life-like physics. By personal experience, humans here aren't any tougher than in my own world, so there should have been no way for him to not be injured at all. Yet he bounced right up without a scratch.”

“Your world...?”

“The moss grew thick and soft there,” Yuliana tried to argue. “The sand wasn't that coarse either. This proves nothing! I wasn't hurt myself, we just got lucky!”

“You have your armor and he shielded you. But you're right. At this point, I was still only a bit suspicious. Until the next clue at the river."

"The river...?"

"When I killed a basilisk in front of him, a few drops of the blood spilled on his face and—”

“You almost killed him...?”

“—It was kind of difficult to avoid! Either way, you said the basilisk blood was supposed to be highly toxic and he did act under the weather for a while, so I assumed I'd made a mistake. But then, less than a day after that, he tried to sneak out with you and showed no signs of poisoning whatsoever.”

“He…He did say he only feigned sick,” Yuliana had to admit. “But I never saw any stains on his face. Are you sure you saw right? It was dark, you could've made a mistake!”

“Well, that's what I thought too,” Izumi admitted. “Maybe the water washed it away before he could be affected. So I let it slide for the time being.”

“The river!” Miragrave yelled at them. “You two fell in the river! Daemons cannot cross flowing water! So how did he make it?”

“He...He couldn't swim!” Yuliana recalled in horror, finding herself having trouble breathing. “We dragged him to the other side by force. With the rope. B-but, not many Langorians can swim. It doesn't mean...”

“Yeah, there was never any solid proof,” Izumi shrugged. “But the more you think about it, him being the monster is the only way to make any sense of this whole trip. Why the forest was against us from the start. The horses were oddly scared of his touch. The unicorn only ever targeted him. The dryads always rushed to wherever he was on the battlefield...Or so it looked like.”

“Why did you keep quiet about this!?” the Colonel shouted at her.

“Eh, it's just speculation, isn't it? What if he was innocent and you lynched him because of my doubts? Yule would've never forgiven me. Besides, other than hearsay, I don't know the next thing about daemons. I kinda wanted to see what he was up to and why he pretended to be one of us. Well, after he killed the wizard, I kinda figured he was up to no good. But then—well, a lot of things happened and I forgot about it.”

“Yornwhal was killed by the daemon? By him?” Miragrave asked. “Not the Divine of the woods? How could you tell?”

“By the head,” Izumi raised her finger and explained. “I played the Witc**r and wanted to know more about the monster that killed the poor gramps, so I went to check the remains a bit closer. And by the looks of it, the head was torn off with brute force. There were faint, long bruises but no claw or fang marks. Had the head been cut off with steel, the edges of the wound would've been cleaner, more even. So whoever did it had to have had more or less humanoid hands that could grip and twist things, but who was also way stronger than a regular man. The only suspects I could think about then were some kind of a giant, an ogre, a big ape, Macchan—or the daemon. But I was told there are no trolls, monkeys, or such giant in the woods. Also, we met Macchan at the spring and his vessel was an elk. So no hands. If you play Sherlock Holmes for a bit and eliminate all the impossible options, then the one that remains has to be the truth, right? On the night of the wizard's murder, Brian was not in chains anymore. He could've easily sneaked out of the camp, killed the grandpa, propped up the head, and then gone back to bed. After all, the guards were only paying attention to the gates and the forest, and they had to have been pretty sleepy by that point. If something climbed or jumped over the wall in the dark, then they probably wouldn't have noticed.”

“The explanation is a little difficult to follow...” the Colonel noted.

“Ai-chan gave me the last clue,” Izumi continued. “She appeared to me on the first day and told me to take Yule and run away. I thought it was weird how she refused to explain anything at the time, even though she generally loves her own voice a bit too much. At first, I thought she was scared of Macchan, but that theory was ruined by what happened at the spring. That was when it hit me. Ai-chan must've already known the daemon was among us. She didn't tell me anything in case I'd try to warn everybody or fight the thing myself. I guess she didn't believe in our chances. 'Brian' always had an eye on Yule, and for Ai-chan, the survival of her vessel is all that ever matters. So she didn't want to take the risk.”

Following Izumi's explanation, a heavy silence fell. No one could bring themselves to utter another word. For a moment, they briefly recalled the days the Langorian soldier had lived in their midsts. They thought about poor Baron Eisley and the grotesque deception they had fallen for.

Slowly, everyone's eyes turned to the Langorian knight.

How would he answer?

How would he argue his defense, to save his life?

He wouldn't.

At the face of these horrifying allegations, Sir Brian Mallory——only stood still with a stolid look, staring directly at Yuliana. As if the swords held at his throat didn't even exist. No blood needed to be drawn. The abysmal truth became confirmed by the nauseating silence.

The princess shuddered and turned away, feeling dizzy.

Everyone knew what daemons were and what they could do.

Because they'd been told about them.

Because they'd heard the old tales.

But among everyone present, only Miragrave Marafel could understand the full gravity of the situation. Unable to contain her trembling, she now turned her eyes from the captive to the solitary archer left from her company. All her hopes were pinned on the five remaining dimeritium arrows that he carried. That knight, aiming at the monster, naively made eye contact with the commander, looking for approval.

What are you waiting for!? Do you need me to spell it for you? For the love of all that is holy, put that arrow into his head right now, or else we're all going to...

Scared that her voice would betray her at this crucial moment, the Colonel only bit her lip and nodded.

The archer, while ignorant of the true extent of the threat, still recognized the distress in his commander's eyes and tightened his grip on the bow.

Even elites could make mistakes, it seemed.

Had he taken the shot immediately, without thinking, with perfect serenity of mind, his spirit tranquil as the surface of a solitary forest pond, perhaps he could've succeeded. Perhaps.

But it was ten years too early for this man to reach the level of mastery required by the feat.

The gathering tension in his body and the intent to kill lighting up in his mind weren't ignored by the enemy.

Brian abruptly bowed deep forward.

No human would have made such a suicidal move with the razor-sharp swords held on his exposed throat, but he nevertheless leaned against them with his full weight, forcing them to give in.

As a consequence, the released arrow of death narrowly missed the Langorian's head and scraped the cheek of one of the men on his right. The knight didn't have his helmet on, convinced the ordeal was already over. Even with such light contact, the rune of power activated all the same and the guard's head caught fire.

“AIIEIEEEEEEEEE!” he reeled backwards, holding his burning face.

While everyone was momentarily stunned by this, the Langorian kicked backward, at the knight about to pierce his heart from behind.

The kick of superhuman strength smashed in the chestplate, crushed the knight's ribs, and sent him flying through the air in a tall arc, blood bursting through the helmet visor. Another knight on the left, resorting to muscle memory in this chaotic situation, cut upward with his blade as if trying to execute a human opponent.

There showed not a scratch on Sir Mallory's pale neck, however.

No matter how it looked on the outside, his skin was not made up of the soft tissue of a human being and a simple steel sword had no way of tearing it. The Langorian turned and smacked the Imperial on the side the head with a haymaker of deceptive lightness. The helmet caved in and the soldier's head tipped eerily behind his back, making it evident his neck was irreparably broken.

The two remaining knights struck down with all their might, but their swords hissed through the air, harmless. The daemon had disappeared in a burst of black, smoke-like substance. In the next instant, his arm picked up the closer of the knights like he was only a toy, and, after a brief lift, smacked him down into the meadow with unreal force. Sinking into the soft soil, his back shattered, the knight was out.

The fifth one bravely stepped on to attack again, but with his limbs encased in metal, there was no chance he could match the speed of this enemy. Before his cut fell, his helmet, the head along with it, were brushed off his wide shoulders.

Meanwhile, the archer had drawn another arrow from his vine and aimed again.

Recovering from his tragic failure and preparing another shot had taken him barely four seconds. In those four seconds, the combatants were summarily annihilated, unable to buy him even one more.

The Colonel hadn't requested a full company with her because the more the merrier.

Any less informed military leader would've been firmly of the opinion that dedicating even a dozen knights to the hunt for a single, man-sized mark was only a gross waste of the nation's budget. They did believe so and had expressed their views. But even knowing the reception her request would receive in the central command, Miragrave hadn't compromised.

A hundred men.

Always more, but never less than that.

Not for the beauty of the round number. Only because she had judged, by experience, by education, that a hundred elite fighters were the absolute minimum required to reliably take down a single daemon.

Of those hundred, only thirty truly mattered—the archers.

Only a full squad of archers together could cover a sufficient firing sector to pin down and kill a monstrosity of this caliber. And only if each of them was equipped with the enchanted arrows capable of terminating the target in one hit.

The seventy remaining knights with their swords, spears, and shields, were needed exclusively to protect those archers, with their bodies.

Losses were expected.

If by sacrificing sixty percent of the company, they could bring down the mark, then, in Miragrave's opinion, the mission could've been called a resounding success.

More realistic was the estimate that ninety percent would perish.

However——ninety-two percent of the fighting power had already been lost in the woods of Felorn.

The chances of victory now, there were none.

The archer released his second arrow, aiming at the chest of the Langorian. In his agitated state of mind, he'd shot slightly too soon, but there is no meaning in faulting his hastiness. Whether he was agitated or calm, skilled or inexperienced, early or late, it no longer had any importance.

He had wasted the first shot. Now it was only him and the enemy. And the rest of the arrows would go untouched.

The monster vanished, the arrow sinking uninterrupted through another eruption of mysterious dust.

A heartbeat later, Brian stood next to the archer, gripping his face. Before the poor man's heart could beat again, his head was already buried in the ground under his boots, his corpse bent in a revolting, broken curve.

For Colonel Miragrave Ester Marafel, this was the repetition of the nightmare that had haunted her dreams for the past six years. The death she had once escaped had caught up with her.

She had always wondered what she would do when the time should come.

What she feared even more than death itself was that her cowardice would conquer her again. That it would force her to abandon those who depended on her and perish in disgrace and humiliation.

But now that it was the time, she did win over her fear.

Knowing it was hopeless, knowing she would die, freed of the expectations of success, she moved as an Imperial soldier, by the book, and seized the slim opening his men had died to produce. Attacking from the enemy's blind spot, she raised her elegant sword to pierce the beast's exposed, deceptively soft-looking neck.

But her enemy was neither slow enough to be caught nor foolish enough to rely on eyesight alone. For a daemon, there existed no blind spots. After all, the actual beast within the guise of a man had no eyes in the first place.

Unnaturally swiftly, the Lagorian soldier straightened himself and turned around.

The woman's sword arm stopped.

Instead of Sir Brian Mallory of Langoria, Miragrave found herself staring at a dark, handsome man with black hair and friendly hazel eyes, dressed in a tasteful, light brown hunting outfit. There was a calm, compassionate smile on his comely face. His slightly curly hair failed to hide his long, pointed ears.

“Aluen, Mira,” the stranger said. “Tuete callan.”

Frozen, the woman stared at the young cirelo, her trembling lips parted, eyes rounded in shock, and quietly mouthed,

“No way.”

Her attention stolen like this, Miragrave failed to pay attention to the enemy's hand, aiming at her heart with the intent to tear it out from under the rib cage.

She didn't feel it either—as the deathblow never reached her.

To the daemon, taking the Colonel's life now would have meant giving up its own head. Instead, it chose to interrupt the attack and dived sideways to evade the blade of the Amygla, about to dig into its neck.

“My, you're pretty fast, I'll give you that,” Itaka Izumi said to the beast.

The creature slowly stood, tried his neck and looked at the fingers stained in pitch black blood. Exuding the bizarre smoke once again, the cirelo warrior's form was briefly shrouded. And in the next moment, Izumi realized she was looking at Sir Brian Mallory's face again. Together with the change in appearance, the wound on his neck had disappeared.

“What is that weapon?” he asked in a hollow tone.

“You want it?” Izumi brandished the sword, stepping away from Miragrave, who took the chance to regroup with the remaining knights and Yuliana. “Too bad, I'm not giving it away. A day one bonus, you should've pre-ordered like everybody else. Please give up on it.”

“...”

The monster wordlessly circled her.

“Hm?” Izumi remained still and tilted her head. “Not going to show anything fun to me? Ah, yes, you can only take the form of somebody you've actually met, right? That's a shame. I don't suppose you've met anyone with boobs bigger than mine?”

Without answering, the daemon dashed at Izumi.

After a few steps, Brian was obfuscated by the explosive smoke screen and vanished.

Having witnessed the trick already, Izumi knew what to expect. Without waiting for the enemy to reappear, she immediately turned around and cut down. As she had predicted, the enemy had reappeared behind her. The pre-emptive strike connected, but the daemon quickly dropped to its back on the ground and escaped the full force of the blow. Remaining grounded, it swept up with a deadly kick. Not following through with her attack, Izumi stepped away and evaded it.

The daemon got back up and the combatants returned to facing one another.

“Is it teleportation?" Izumi pondered without much urgency. "No, there's a little delay, so you're probably turning non-corporeal, maybe? Either way, of all the possible fantasy abilities I can think of, that's probably the most bothersome. But like the trope goes, you have to become solid again before you can land a hit. Which means, it's a pretty useless skill if only I can keep the initiative.”

“...”

“How can I keep it then—you were wondering about that, right? Oh, I'll tell! You're what they would call, a 'perfect killer'. In other words, a predator that has optimized to the max against its prey of choice. But being flawless makes you predictable, you know? For example, I know you'll only ever aim for my head or my heart; Because you can tell by instinct that with me as your opponent, anything other than an instant kill will result in a double K.O. That's right, I'm determined to take you down even if it kills me. But you wouldn't like that, would you? Us both dying here would mean we're completely equal and that's not fun at all, is it? But if you're limited to only two small targets, then I can anticipate your moves easily enough. Oh, don't get me wrong; I'm definitely praising you here. If you were just a second-rate beast, you'd be dead by now. No, it's honestly scary that you're still standing. I'm getting goosebumps, for sure.”

The daemon vanished again.

Instead of attempting another back attack, it reappeared right in front of Izumi, less than an arm's reach away.

A deadly straight punch shot through the air at the woman's face. As swift as it was, it was not faster than the eye, however. As all boxers would know, one should look at the opponent's shoulders instead of their fists to see the attacks appropriately telegraphed, and Izumi didn't ignore this principle. She lowered her posture and tilted her neck to avoid the hit by a hair.

The distance was too short to counter with the sword, but instead of wasting time trying to retreat, Izumi pulled the blade into her hands and held it upright as a shield.

A whole chain of furious punches continued to follow. It seemed the monster thought to overwhelm her with raw strength alone.

Holding the sword slightly at an angle, like a plow, Izumi deflected the offensive one punch after another. Like a church bell being hammered, heavy sounds reverberated from the abused sword under the daemon's dreadful force. Simple steel might not have endured it, but the ancient blade did. And so did Izumi behind it. The murderous knuckles occasionally brushed her clothes and sides, but she escaped with bruises.

The creature's effort to overcome her with a direct frontal assault soon proved wasted. It put more force into the last blow, but at the expense of speed. Izumi had been waiting for it. She stepped left and let the daemon's fist hit straight against the metal. Absorbing the tremendous impact, she let the Amygla spin freely around in her grip like a windmill sail and used it to bash the enemy.

Air resistance made the counter slightly inaccurate.

The massive sword brushed Brian's shoulder and bounced aside. The force of it would've been enough to pulverize the flesh and bones of a regular man, but the durability of the daemon's body was unreal. Only knocked slightly off balance, it rolled to the side and charged again without a second's rest.

But Izumi didn't waste the slight break. She turned to face the menace again and lifted the sword for an overhead strike, an execution.

Then, she suddenly realied that the one charging at her wasn't the Langorian man.

In his place stepped the tanned, beautiful form of a young girl with dark hair. With a playful smile, the girl held out her arms and whispered the woman's name.

Without mercy, Izumi cut down.

It couldn't be said that the tactic had no effect on her. It made her angry and she struck with perhaps too much zeal. Perceiving no softening on her countenance, the daemon abandoned the attack and escaped in a black cloud.

“Why do they always do that?” Izumi sourly muttered, turning around.

The combatants were back to their original positions again.

Anyone witnessing the hair-raising battle could recognize the astonishing fact that the two, human and monster, were close to equal.

In human form, the daemon's power became somewhat limited by the copied anatomy.

Meanwhile, the rejuvenating properties of the spring of Felorn had upgraded Izumi to her peak.

The daemon's strength and endurance remained unmatched, there was no denying that. But with experience and reasoning, Izumi was able to make up for her disadvantage.

What could break this stalemate and in which side's favor?

“What next?” the woman rested the greatsword on her shoulder and waited. “You're going to go after Yule or Mira-rin again? Just try me.”

The remaining few knights had moved to guard the Colonel and the princess. Not even the monster could reach either without first going through that wall of muscle, steel, and courage. And turning its back on Izumi to do so was clearly unwise.

“I thought you were the boogeyman everyone's scared of?” Izumi ridiculed the beast. “Don't tell me this is all you can do?”

“...” Not responding to the provocation, the assassin girl's gaze quietly, unemotionally, observed the woman.

They were mirrored in every regard, even in their attempts to rattle the other.

But Izumi was starting to feel her human weaknesses.

Her words elicited no reaction in the enemy, but the longer she stared at the figure of Riswelze, the more unbearable the pain in her chest became. To hide her vulnerability, she quickly continued to speak with forceful lightness,

“Hey, what I don't get is, if you can change shape into whatever you've seen in the past, then why do you still insist on fighting like a human being? Don't you think that for another person, humanoid enemies are always the easiest to predict? Are you giving me a handicap? Or could it be, you actually can't take any other form? This is your limit?”

A faint smile now appearing on her lips, false Riswelze took a step forward. By the second step, her figure had vanished, veiled in an expanding cloud of black smoke.

The creature that stepped out of the unnatural mist was a great deal taller.

As if answering Izumi's expectations, the monster had assumed a form that wasn't human.

It was a giant nearly thirteen feet tall.

A being strikingly similar to the provocative oni of the Japanese mythology, a fat, red-skinned, long-armed, stubby-legged giant with thick horns on both sides of its head, and cruel tusks poking out from the wide mouth. The giant's eyes burned vividly with the fire of hatred—or, one of them did. The other was missing from its socket.

Even though Izumi had expected it, she couldn't avoid being surprised.

Against its massive appearance, the ogre moved quite nimbly compared to the CGI creations Izumi had seen in her original world. Before she could think of a proper way to deal with the startling foe, the giant leaped forward and reached out its large hand. Like casually picking up a pebble from the side of the road, it swept the woman off the ground.

Izumi couldn't avoid it.

The giant's vast hand easily reached around her whole body, as if she were only a toy figurine. Pushing against the wide palm, Izumi got away from the fingers right as they began to close, and barely escaped being completely crushed.

But her left arm was still caught.

Not letting go, the giant briskly lifted her up in the air. Izumi felt her shoulder dislocate by the abrupt pull. The pain flashing through her arm and entire upper body, mixed with the stomach-turning sense of weightlessness, nearly made her faint for a second.

Lifting its victim above its head, the daemon apparently planned to smack her back into the ground like a rat. Izumi felt the bones of her forearm bend in the crushing grip—but her sword arm remained free.

Resisting the pain, she stabbed the blade through the giant's wrist. Black blood poured from the wound, yet the monster didn't even flinch.

Not waiting for a reaction, using the pinned weapon for support, Izumi kicked her legs up. Vaulting over the monster's arm, she continued to pull the sword's handle along, slicing through the thick flesh. The twisting motion and the severing of sinews forced the ogre's fingers loose, and Izumi could free her mauled arm.

Continuing to fall, Izumi carved the flesh all the way around the tree-like limb and dropped down onto the field. She didn't stop there. As soon as her feet reached the ground, she bent her legs, spun quickly around over her knees, and cut again at the back of monster's thigh, a bit above the bulky knee.

Before the Amygla's peerless sharpness and hardness, the monster had no shield. With its leg destroyed, the giant lost its balance and was unable to turn to follow her.

As it wavered, Izumi stepped up, loosened her grip on the sword, and drew a pattern on the red skin with a finger. Nothing more she could do, as the giant tumbled forward and changed shape back into the guise of Brian Mallory, landing far outside her reach.

Once more, the contest had failed to produce a victor.

Izumi whacked her shoulder with the flat side of the blade, forcing the arm back in place. But the mental damage wasn't as easily restored. She had been able to go all out thanks to her restored vitality, but the water of the spring didn't allow her to exceed her humanity. She should have continued to apply pressure and finish off the enemy without delay—but it was impossible. Her legs refused to move, her arms were numb and hurting, and blood hummed in her ears.

Unable to hide her fatigue, Izumi leaned on the sword and tried to catch her breath.

Meanwhile, on the face of the masquerading enemy—no signs of exhaustion or pain were visible. As it changed form, all the wounds previously inflicted had vanished without a trace.

As Brian's confident, gray-blue eyes stared back at her once more, Izumi recalled Miragrave's words from earlier.

Anyone could kill.

There were a great many monsters in the world of Ortho that were lethal to humans. Then what made daemons stand out?

Nothing in particular.

Trying to fight them, one soon discovered that nothing could be done.

Nothing could sway them, nothing scared them, nothing hurt them.

In the end, the one foolish enough to challenge those beings would be killed—like it was nothing.

What's up with this—No one told me you're darned invincible! At least say something! Give me a corny speech about how I'm persistent and annoying, too much of a hassle to even kill. How you'll let me go because it was entertaining. How you'll look forward to the next battle, how you can't wait to see how much I'll grow from here. Show some emotion. Be human!

Of course, no answer was given to her unvoiced thoughts.

Like a cat circling its tired prey, Brian stepped lazily over the grass.

“Hey,” swallowing, Izumi forced herself to break the silence. “Don't you think I've whittled down your HP enough for you to reveal your true form, at least? Don't tell me you have fourteen phases I gotta go through before I get to see the real deal? Which one was the earlier? Just to make sure, there was a checkpoint before this bit, right?”

Without a word, the daemon faced her and charged again.

As much as she wanted to throw away her sword and give up, Izumi recomposed herself and raised her blade. If it really were a game, she would've indeed thrown her controller into the wall by now. But this was reality and she couldn't let go, not while the others stood behind her, their lives depending on her.

Gripping the Amygla in a two-handed kendo stance, Izumi gritted her teeth and waited.

What would it do now?

How would it surprise her?

She had run out of references.

Anything. It could be anything.

She could only wait and see.

And the daemon did surprise her—by granting her wish.

Black smoke veiled the Langorian knight's features again.

In the next instant, an entirely different kind of a being was running at the woman.

Seeing that form, Itaka Izumi—lost her focus.

Could anyone blame her for faltering upon that crucial moment?

No matter how she seemed, she was only a human with a human heart, after all. And what she faced was something that didn't exist in her world.

An existence the Earth had been spared of.

A veritable monster.

A nightmare—an abomination.

An abyss that didn't look back.

As the black, elongated fingers reached for her neck, Izumi forgot her age. Feeling like a helpless child, she reflexively raised her arms to cover her face, squeezed her eyes tightly shut, and shrieked,

——“Brandt!”

A hideous, inhuman roar tore the air, shaking the hearts of anyone who heard it.

Even though the appearance changed, the rune of power Izumi had drawn on the creature's skin activated at being named. It was a desperate gamble, a shot in the dark, but it had worked.

For a moment, Izumi saw nothing. Flames, pitch black smoke, and cinders breezed past her, heat blowing against her face.

And then, there was silence.

There was no pain—an alarming observation on its own.

Izumi slowly lowered her arms and noted that her head seemed weirdly, unnaturally light.

Not even daring to swallow, she slowly took off her right hand from the greatsword's handle and touched her neck. It felt wet, hot. She looked at her shaking fingers.

They were only sweaty.

“...That's twice now, Rise.”

Gathering her courage, Izumi exhaled, relaxed her shoulders, and turned to look back.

A short distance away stood the young cirelo male, a faint smile on his lips, like a playful fairy of the forest. By redoing its form once again, the daemon had managed to quench the flames of the rune of ignition, but its body was still steaming all over in the cool evening, as if terribly hot.

Was that expression any indication of the creature's own emotions? Did it even have any? Had it acknowledged Izumi as a worthy rival? Or was it only an empty, meaningless, superficial gesture, mimicking the once observed behavior of the deceased?

No one would ever know.

In the daemon's grip was a thick tuft of hair; Izumi's hair, severed at shoulder level. Had the rune not worked, her head would've been in that grip together with the hair. Discarding the stolen locks, the daemon looked at the woman in the eyes, turned and—walked away.

Unable to move, not making a sound, the survivors watched the monster's distancing back until it had vanished completely into the light mist that sunset had condensed over the fields.

Everyone knew it was wrong.

Letting the beast go now meant certain death to some oblivious soul out there in the world. There was no question of that. The question was only, "to just how many"? How many would in time come to pay the price for the cowardice of these men and women? And yet, could any mortal in their position have done otherwise? The Code of Chivalry alone didn't provide anyone with such strength.

Only madness would have.

The undeniable fact was that their lives had been spared by a hair. And by this point, they were all better than aware that another miracle would not follow. Given a second chance at life, who could willingly cast it away for the sake of dying a failed hero?

You may hear songs and legends of the things that transpired time after this fateful encounter. But you will hear none ever describe what happened on the field outside the town of Varnam that night. Not one poem. Even long after, when the knights would awake in their own beds, sweating and shouting, and their wives would ask them, “what is wrong?”, the men would only quietly whisper back: “Nothing. Nothing,” before returning to restless sleep. Determined to take their shame to the grave.

Epilogue: Of Vengeance

1

“Goodness me, was that close!”

Early in the following morning, the summoned hero from planet Earth woke up again to the familiar presence of an intruder in her room.

The sleeping hall downstairs was too crowded, so Izumi and the princess had been given a room of their own. The Imperial Colonel stayed with them, but being a light sleeper on top of an early riser, she was already gone by the time the Divine Lord chose to make an appearance. Izumi had expected to be able to finally sleep her fill but was given no mercy.

The other beds in the room were vacant.

Instead, the angelic form of the Lord of Light had jumped onto Izumi's, as was her dangerous habit. Perhaps it was only Izumi's imagination, but the shine surrounding that celestial being appeared even brighter than before. Just looking at her, Izumi's eyes ached.

“That makes yet another trial overcome, my champion,” Aiwesh announced with unusual glee. “To be frank, you have exceeded my expectations by far. On top of that, I think your new looks quite suit you.”

“And where were you hiding?” the woman grumpily asked while the spirit played with her dramatically shortened curls. “It never occurred to you to lend a hand?”

“Why, I gave you the Amygla and the power of runes,” Aiwesh lightly replied. “What more do you demand of me? Am I not already pampering you rotten! I understand my mighty presence consoles you but try not to grow too complacent in my radiance. Why do you think I asked you to flee? Because you had no hope of overcoming this foe, whether I stood by your side or not. Those unpleasant beings are resistant to magic and in my present state, I cannot amass enough power to destroy even one. Not without reducing my beloved vessel to ashes in the effort. Do you not see that you were merely being toyed with? The only reason you retain your fair head is that the daemon remained ignorant of my presence. Had I shown myself, it would not have stopped before devouring me and slaying all. Still, it was much too close for comfort! It could sense me, that foul pest. Ever it lurked near me, without rest.”

“So it didn't follow Yule around only because it was part of the roleplay?” Izumi asked. “But because it was drawn to you?”

“Why else? Why do you suppose it chose that young man as its disguise to begin with? In a group where the majority were Imperials, would not replacing one of their lot have been a better idea? But no. The identity of Brian Mallory was convenient to it. Beasts are drawn to sources of magic and I am a Lord. No matter how I try, the luster of my splendor cannot be fully concealed. So many times it came close to deceiving and destroying my foolish chalice, I had all but given up hope. Yet in the end, it failed.”

“So, what will it do now?”

“I am not all-knowing, Izumi dear. I do not presume to understand what goes on in their twisted minds. Nor do I care. It is not here now and that is all that matters. Yes, you shooed it away most splendidly! As expected of my champion, should I say? Though, I was certain you were going to die.”

“Well, the thought crossed my mind too,” Izumi mumbled.

“I am glad you understand,” the Divine said, bringing her face uncomfortably close to the woman's. “You would do well to keep this experience in mind. I shall let it slide this once since you worked hard and all's well that ends well, but try to remember your place in this world. When I next make a request to you, no matter how innocuous it may seem, you should see to it with utmost swiftness and finesse. If that proves too difficult for you, I may have to look for a replacement champion soon.”

“Don't say that. I thought you were starting to warm up to me already. In fact, you're warming up a bit too much, maybe...”

“Oh, I have and still do! I would not forgive so easily, were it anyone but you. But with all the more reason. Remember that your God is a jealous and angry God. What I love, I will not let slip from my grasp. And what betrays me, I will...punish.”

“Didn't you say you weren't a God yet?” Izumi pointed out.

“I am not.” Aiwesh's smile widened. “But it is fine to make a mistake there every once in a while.”

Her form quickly hidden by a brilliant glow, the Divine Lord disappeared in a flurry of illusory feathers in her trademark fashion, leaving only the naked form of the sleeping princess behind. Gently brushing the girl's silky hair, Izumi covered her with a blanket and left her to sleep.

2

Not feeling especially tired anymore, Izumi got dressed and headed downstairs. There weren't many others awake yet, seeing the timing. A couple of knights who were equally sleepless had gone to tend to the horses and clean their gear, in the lack of better things to do. One was going through the inventory outside on the street, to see if any supplies had to be restocked before the long ride back home. The town clinic's sickbeds were all taken. A few less injured had recovered to the point that they would be able to join on the trip back to Tratovia. The rest had to stay behind in Varnam until their wounds healed.

In the tavern's spacious dining hall sat the Imperial Colonel by herself.

“Morning,” Izumi greeted Miragrave. “You're up early.”

“As are you,” the woman replied.

“I have an alarm clock that's simply too good.”

“And what is that?”

"Never mind.”

Izumi took a seat at the table opposite of the Colonel. She didn't feel hungry. She did feel like talking, but had no idea what she should say. What could she say? Was there any topic that she, an outsider, could choose that would've made sense to anyone else?

In the end, the Imperial was the one to interrupt the silence.

“You saved my life,” Miragrave noted.

“I hope you're not the type who keeps count?” Izumi returned her a cautious look.

“What if I'm not?” the woman asked. “Had you waited just a little more, all your troubles would've disappeared. No, I am not like Yornwhal. I put my country above myself and my conscience, always. And because of that, I will have you and Yuliana come with me to Tratovia, where you will find no reward or gratitude. No one to praise your heroics. No one to call a friend. So long as there is life in me, I will carry out my duty, one way or another, for I have nothing else left. What say you to that?”

“Well, I don't mind,” Izumi said. “I was going to come along, even if you didn't ask me. Having someone who knows the way will save me a lot of trouble. And besides...”

“Besides?”

“I just can't forgive anyone who bullies beautiful girls, so I moved without thinking. Since I was only defending my personal values back there, you don't owe me any thanks or favors, okay?”

For a moment, the weight of her rank disappeared from Miragrave's countenance and she blinked at Izumi in surprise, the tops of her cheeks turning faint red. Then, her expression quickly broke into a spontaneous laughter, faint but whole-hearted.

“...Last night, a lot happened, so I forgot,” the Colonel said after recovering. “What do you say we have that cup of coffee now?”

“I can agree with that,” Izumi said. “It tastes the best in the morning, after all.”

“Is that how they have it in your world?”

“Of course, can't get the day started without some.”

"I'm still not certain if it's a good habit to get into. Then again, is any?”

"That's the right idea.”

Izumi borrowed a pot from the kitchen. The chef had yet to get to work, so she had to light a fire in the stove and wait for it to warm up first. Once again, she was reminded of the modern electric conveniences of her old world. Strange how she had only remembered now.

Not that there was anything wrong with waiting.

She was in no hurry to go anywhere.

“What do you mean to do?” Miragrave asked. “Will you truly come as far as Bhastifal with me? As things stand, if you don't want to give Yuliana to us, then there is little we can do about it.”

“Well, the big boss wants to see Yule, Yule wants the same, and there's that annoying magic gimmick going on, so no two ways about it, I suppose.”

“And what is it that you want?”

“Me?”

Listening to the crackling of fire under the iron lid, Izumi eventually answered.

“A knight of yours killed someone important to me.”

“They had their orders. I doubt it was personal.”

“That's right,” Izumi nodded. “That's what they always say. 'I was only following orders'. Well, unlike a lot of people, I do think it's a valid excuse. If it's kill or be killed, then you'll obviously rather take your own side than the side of a complete stranger, right? When someone tells you to put an arrow into another person, you do it, so that nobody would put an arrow into you. I can't say it's wrong with a good conscience when what I'm doing is essentially the same. I can understand why he did it. But, in the end, I'm still angry. There's a voice inside me saying, 'this isn't enough, I can't leave it at that'. What am I to do?”

“Regardless of who was at fault, you've slain your friend's killer. And everyone else along with him. Wouldn't you say you've avenged her many times over by now? If that isn't enough, then what is? Or is anything?”

“You're right. That's what I thought on the way back. But then I realized, it's not only about simple revenge. I'm not the eye-for-eye kind of a person, anyway. It's nothing that straightforward. There are ordinary people who only follow orders, and those giving orders have their own justifications too, don't they? It's not any single person in particular that I blame. Instead, the real fault lies with the whole system that makes it possible for such people to be running things and be rewarded for doing so. This isn't the first time I've killed some obnoxious jerk who insisted he was doing it for the good of his Empire. No matter how many spies, viziers, knights, or colonels I were to kill, I doubt anything would change just by keeping at it. There'd always come more and more, wouldn't there?”

“Probably so.”

“Then there's only one thing I can do. What I really need is to flip that whole stupid pyramid upside down in one go. Which is why I'm going to skip the middle-management and take my issues straight to the top.”

“Meaning?”

Watching the water in the pot, little bubbles rising to the surface one by one, not all that unlike the steady fury boiling within her, Itaka Izumi answered with a resolution,

“That Emperor of yours is going to have to die.”

END

Table of Contents

Title Page

Prologue: Of Liberation

Chapter 1: The Summoned Hero Has a Headache

Chapter 2: The Imperial Century Chases After Death

Chapter 3: The Terror From the Lost Continent Takes Many Shapes

Chapter 4: The Knight Princess Struggles To Keep Promises

Chapter 5: The Lord of Streams Works in Mysterious Ways

Chapter 6: The Langorian Soldier's Bravery Goes Unrewarded

Chapter 7: The Court Wizard Redeems Himself

Chapter 8: The Source of Everlasting Life is Bought With Blood

Chapter 9: The Lord Of Light Shows Her True Colors

Chapter 10: The Nightmare Catches Up With the Travelers

Epilogue: Of Vengeance