15
“Prisca Benedict—that is my name.”
So she’d said arrogantly back when they had first met at that garden party. Prisca had been five years old at the time; it had been her first garden party. Vincent, whom Lamia had been searching for so intently, had introduced them, and Lamia had been so shocked that she hardly heard anything her brother had said after that.
Lamia Godwin had understood instinctively—this girl was destined to be her lifelong archenemy.
“Oh? I’m Lamia Godwin, your oh-so-sweet elder sister.” She’d forced herself to smile, but Prisca had the same instinct. She sensed Lamia’s true feelings at a glance. From their very first meeting, the sisters had considered each other enemies.
“ ”
The only reason Lamia hadn’t strangled Prisca to death then and there was because Vincent was watching like a hawk. He was an intelligent young man; the tension between the two hadn’t escaped him.
Lamia had sent assassins after Prisca on a fairly regular basis after that, but she’d always known it would be little more than a nuisance to her sister. She’d also recognized that as long as Prisca existed, it would be impossible to bring Vincent into her fold. That meant the two of them were nothing more than obstacles on Lamia’s path.
The freedom to maneuver she’d thought she’d had was gone. Best get to work, then.
“Say, Bartroi, my dear brother… Why can’t all us siblings just celebrate our father’s birthday together in peace?”
“Oh, Lamia… The same question pains me, too. But it’s simply not possible for us.”
“Not possible for us to get along? That’s… That’s so sad…”
“ ” Bartroi said nothing.
Lamia, her mind made up, had already begun to play the game.
She planted seeds, watered them as they began to grow, and cultivated possibilities. As the profusion of flowers began to bloom, she tested them to see which were poisonous.
“Yes… You’re right. It’s just like you say, Lamia. If only we siblings could go without hurting one another…”
She played the part of the innocent little sister to the hilt, and Bartroi swallowed it hook, line and sinker. He appeared to be deeply moved. In this way, Lamia packed the earth beneath her feet, forming the path she would walk in the future.
And eventually…
“To think I spent seven long years trying to carefully position you, trying to make you a poisoned blossom to destroy our brother Vincent.” There was no emotion in Lamia’s voice as she came to a sharp stop at the end of her flight.
Prisca stood in front of her without a single soldier at her side. The same was true of Lamia, who had assigned her body double to go with her guards, telling her to flee as conspicuously as possible.
Here, Lamia and Prisca were alone.
Lamia was by no means so stupid as to imagine this meant Prisca took her lightly.
“Truly, you are the most unlovable little sister…” Lamia straightened her hair with one hand as she watched Prisca, who stood with arms folded. Prisca’s crimson eyes were far from cold; indeed, they burned intensely, the same way they had that day at the garden party. Prisca looked at Lamia, and Lamia looked at Prisca, a perfect mirror image of that day when they had each realized the other would be their mortal foe.
“How did that little puppy of yours save you from my cannonade? If it hadn’t been for her, I could’ve wiped out you and Vincent with a single stroke.”
“I know how good your hearing is. I’m sure you know Arakiya is what they call a spirit eater. Her power depends on the spirits she consumes—and that should make your answer obvious.”
“—You’re suggesting she ate a spirit strong enough to repel that assault? I doubt such a thing—” She was about to conclude exists, but then she stopped. She looked at the ground and nodded as if it made sense now. “I’ve been assuming that Vincent, knowing he would find himself surrounded, picked this place because the castle was sturdy enough to repel attackers. My entire premise was wrong, wasn’t it?”
“Abandoning the castle was part of our brother’s plan from the beginning. He chose this place not for its fortifications, but for the land itself.”
“I assume you mean, more precisely, the spirit sleeping in the land, yes?”
Prisca didn’t deny it. Observing her little sister’s reactions, Lamia grasped the reason she’d been led here and why her cannon barrage had failed.
“The Boulder. Muspel.”
Prisca nodded. “We are currently standing in a corner of what is reputed to be its sacred territory.”
Muspel, the Boulder—this was the name of one of the four most renowned spirits in the world. The so-called Four Great Spirits were said to wander Volakia at will. If one was able to consume one of these powerful beings, it might indeed be possible to protect one’s master from Lamia’s artillery assault.
“And your little puppy dog survived taking the power of one of the Four Great Spirits within her?”
“She consumed only a small portion—and even that would have annihilated a lesser vessel. But victory doesn’t simply fall into one’s lap. There are always sacrifices.”
“—I suppose you did this knowing what would happen if the great spirit went berserk after it was eaten,” Lamia said.
Prisca had determined that her strategy required risking the life of one of her closest confidants. Lamia understood now that the plan had involved leveraging the power of one of the great spirits. But the Boulder was a transcendent being, impossible to communicate with, let alone control or command. Perhaps Arakiya had consumed only a portion of it, but it was always possible that her own being would be consumed in turn and she would go on a rampage.
“I have another question,” Lamia cooed. “How ever did Vincent manage to trap the Boulder in this location? It seems humans aren’t the only ones our dear brother can manipulate with his plans.”
“There’s no doubt that plans and manipulation are our brother’s specialty. But the means are immaterial. All that matters is that I have my results.”
“Yes… Yes, you’re right.”
Prisca, who had decided she wasn’t interested in a lengthy chat, held out the Bright Sword. In response, Lamia drew her own sword out of the air and took up a fighting stance. Neither tried to stop the other from drawing, but it was not a sign of trust. To abide by what you knew to be a fact could not be called trust. The sisters simply knew it was what they would do. As they knew that the matter would shortly be settled by their own hands…
“I’ve always hated you, Prisca, since the day we met.”
“Don’t worry. Of all those whose names I’ve bothered to remember, I despise you the most.”
Elder sister faced younger, their hostility and animus on full display. They would have done nothing differently, said nothing differently, even if this had been the last time they were to see each other in their lives.
“ ”
They each stepped forward, their swords crossing, the world enveloped in a flash of white and red and heat. Lamia saw nothing around her; she was in a world in which only she and Prisca existed, and she laughed, more certain than ever before that she should have murdered this girl when they first met at that party.
The sisters hated each other to the end, reviled each other until the very conclusion of their relationship.
No Comments Yet
Post a new comment
Register or Login