Risou no Himo Seikatsu - Volume 15 - Chapter 2

Chapter 2 — Schemes and Maneuvering

While Yngvi was meeting with his king in Uppasala, Zenjirou had teleported back to Capua and was doing much the same with Aura.

They were sitting opposite each other in the living room of the inner palace. This was always how they arrayed themselves when there was a serious conversation to be had. Zenjirou had finished explaining what had happened in Utgard, and Aura’s serious look remained on her face as she spoke heavily.

“I see. A flying sleigh, a temple for giants, and magic writing that makes all of that possible. Our cultures are just too different, so I can barely imagine what you are describing, to be completely honest.” She then fell into silence as she considered things. “The problem is that you made this agreement with Utgard entirely of your own accord. I would have you explain exactly why.”

Her gaze was not that of his wife, but entirely that of his queen. Zenjirou winced but still met her gaze head-on. After all, he’d expected this response. He adjusted how he was sitting and straightened his back. Other than his phrasing, he acted just as he would with any other nation’s king.

“Right. There was just one reason for it. I didn’t want to let Utgard and the Twin Kingdoms interact directly.”

The reason he kept his phrasing the same as usual was that he’d decided that if he acted entirely like he would in the royal palace, it would interfere with a frank conversation between the two of them.

“The Twin Kingdoms... Explain in detail,” she pressed him, her expression still severe.

Zenjirou nodded and continued his explanation. “Firstly, Utgard has glass. I’ve seen it with my own eyes, so I’m sure of it. They used it in the temple they guided us to. On top of that, as I explained, they use this magicite and carve magic writing into it to maintain their culture. It might well be due to that, but the engravings that I saw were all far more precise than both the Northern or Southern Continent’s. The panes of glass were much less warped and clouded than what I saw in the commonwealth as well. This next bit is just a hypothesis, but they can probably make marbles that will stand up to actual use. It would be by hand, so our production would still probably beat them, but depending on how many craftsmen they have, we could lose in the initial rush.”

Once she’d heard his excuse—or rather, explanation—the queen’s face grew even more severe. However, the concerns behind that expression had shifted from Zenjirou to the international situation itself. From her perspective, Zenjirou’s decision had been the correct one...assuming, of course, that his assumptions held true.

Currently, Capua and the Twin Kingdoms were in an alliance, prepared for opposition from the Northern Continent that would eventually arrive. In that respect, limiting their access to marbles, which would increase their strength—both national and military—could be considered in bad faith. However, that didn’t mean they could allow the Twin Kingdoms and Utgard to negotiate either. The current expectation for magic combat tools was to be carried out with the Twin Kingdoms enchanting them and Capua providing the medium: the marbles.

With the personnel being from the Twin Kingdoms and the material coming from Capua, it was an equal relationship. If the material became available from a third party, it would be hard to maintain that equality. Capua would much rather avoid an alliance where they were forced into an inferior position, although it would be the height of foolishness if both nations were swept aside by the Northern Continent. If that was the alternative, even being in an inferior position to the Twin Kingdoms would be preferable. If insisting on the best possible position ended up putting them in the worst one, they would have to compromise, and they would need exact information to make that decision.

Zenjirou was the person to have seen the most of the Northern Continent and the one who viewed them as the most threatening. Surely it was a serious concern if even he was saying they needed to stop direct trade between Utgard and the Twin Kingdoms.

The optimistic perspective flashed through Aura’s mind, but she soon internally refuted it. Aura had a great deal of faith in Zenjirou’s personality, but not as much in his abilities and insight. That said, he’d already made the agreement, and overturning it would not be simple. The details and the official agreement were yet to be confirmed, but it would be hard to deny that it was Zenjirou’s plan and agreement given how clearly the path had been laid.

She gathered her thoughts. Then, to ensure the information was shared, she put her thoughts into words. “You said that you saw glass itself on the Northern Continent, but that its existence was not a problem, correct?”

“Right. If they could import it from the continent as a whole, we wouldn’t have been a problem at all.”

No matter how powerful the Twin Kingdoms were, they were unlikely to be the kind of monster able to continue importing strategic resources from the Northern Continent. As Zenjirou said, if they were, they wouldn’t be at risk of invasion to begin with. There were still concerns, though.

“I have that letter of introduction from the Priest Yan. We talked about enticing some of those craftsmen before, right? If the Twin Kingdoms was doing that, it’d maybe be a problem,” he suggested.

If they could gain the personnel rather than the materials, they would still likely start a project to mass-produce magic tools domestically. Zenjirou’s concern was that Capua’s plans to do as much themselves were going better than expected. He could not teleport over yet, so the conversation was currently being held through merchants, but there were craftsmen interested in moving.

Still, after a little thought, Aura refuted his concerns. “That would indeed be a risk, but it is unlikely to be one we need to be overly concerned with. First, unlike you, the Twin Kingdoms has no introduction. Secondly, though this is also the case for our nation, there are no advantages to the craftsmen in moving all the way to the Twin Kingdoms. Leaving one’s birth country for another is a huge commitment.”

Aura paused here for a second before continuing.

“It feels rather shameless for me to tell you that, though. Thirdly, unlike us, they have no one capable of teleportation. Additionally, they have no ports even if they did manage to get an intercontinental trading vessel. With the situation as it is, it is more of a hindrance than a help to concern ourselves with them luring craftsmen to their country.”

A kingdom’s resources were limited, but the things it had to contend with were practically unlimited. There had to be a priority listing, and low-probability issues along with low-risk issues had to be practically ignored. Aura’s judgment was that Zenjirou’s concerns about the Twin Kingdoms gaining the foreign craftsmen was one such matter.

Incidentally, the reason Capua’s recruitment was going so well was that there were too many craftsmen for the work available. The Northern Continent was advancing quickly in all sorts of spheres. A new technique didn’t necessarily mean that every craftsman was capable of it. New skills would be born, old techniques would become commonplace and eventually see a lack of demand. When that cycle was at its fastest, there would be an excess in the workforce—craftsmen who only had the old skills, which had either no demand or an insufficient demand to live off.

It was the worst luck the individuals themselves could have, but the timing for Capua was a stroke of good fortune. Either way, Zenjirou accepted her explanation and replied.

“Then I guess we won’t consider it a problem for now, which means our issue is Utgard, right? Uh...I guess the difficulty in trade is the same there too?” he asked, lacking confidence.

The queen looked conflicted for a moment as her husband began to doubt his actions throughout the conversation. “No, from what you have said so far, your decision was correct in itself. From the Twin Kingdoms’s perspective, there are no political impediments with Utgard, so transport would be the only issue. Limiting their access to marbles to go through us was the correct choice. My concern is that you made the decision there and made an—albeit provisional—agreement between our nations.”

“Did I exceed my authority?” he asked hesitantly, considering the power he’d been given. It made sense. He was the prince consort and practically the only person capable of moving around with teleportation, so the authority he had was vast. His usual claims about the decision not being one he could make and having to discuss it with Aura were essentially a lie. What he lacked was ability and courage, not power.

Therefore, Aura shook her head with a sour look. “From that perspective, there is no concern at all. This lack of concern is my greatest worry, though.”

“What do you mean?”

Aura’s bearing finally returned to that of his wife rather than his monarch. “The people who know about this negotiation are limited to Representative Rök of Utgard and Prince Yngvi of Uppasala, but others will talk. The biggest thing is that the results of these negotiations will need to be publicized eventually, and insightful people will be able to look at the time line and see that it was something you negotiated directly. That is my greatest fear. If word spreads that you made the decision there and then, there will be much greater diplomatic pressure on you than before.”

If nations found out that Prince Consort Zenjirou could make a decision in the moment, they would aim to encourage it. With the choice between a distant and formidable opponent in Aura and a much more easily dealt-with Zenjirou—who could instantly come and go with teleportation—it was inevitable that many would aim for the latter.

“Ah, that makes sense,” he answered, understanding her concern and realizing his lack of forethought. At the same time, it underscored the depth of his wife’s feelings and affection, so he couldn’t help the smile making its way onto his lips. Somehow managing to retain a dignified expression, he continued. “Got it. I don’t know exactly how I’ll deal with it, but I’ll make sure I’m ready.”

“Good. Diplomacy is a conversation, so if you are aware and ready in advance, things are entirely different.”

That marked the end of their discussion about Zenjirou jumping the gun with his negotiations.

Zenjirou shifted his thinking and then started talking about the specifics of the agreement he’d made.

“So, their terms are a route to Utgarða.”

Aura hummed in agreement and then said, “Frankly, I have found no magic promising in the slightest.”

With that easy admission, Zenjirou—still sitting on the sofa—slumped slightly. “You too? Guess that’s the end of it, then. We’ll have to pin our hopes on our descendants. You can use the summoning and sending spells, right?”

Aura agreed easily as he pointed out that she’d both brought him to Capua and temporarily sent him back. “Learning and casting a preexisting spell requires different abilities than unraveling the magic language to create something new. I have some skill in the former, but none at all in the latter. It was mostly my uncle, Carlos, who adapted the transport spell into summoning. All I did was adjust the details.”

Those adjustments primarily consisted of changing the amount of mana offered and testing several words in the magic language that all had the same meaning in her native tongue. In other words, something that didn’t take a vast amount of knowledge and could be accomplished in great part through trial and error.

“So have you still got his writings on the spell? I can compile them all, right? If so, I want to get them onto my computer.”

Zenjirou had added the characters used in the region’s native tongue to his word processor, so he could type in the local language as well as in Japanese. Fortunately, his steady efforts meant that he was as skilled at reading the language as a Japanese high school graduate would be with English. Of course, there would be a deluge of words he didn’t know when it came to something as specialized as magic research, but he didn’t need to understand what the words meant to type them out.

Aura put a hand to her chin as she considered it. “It would be useful to consolidate all of that disparate information. There are two problems, though. One is that it is impossible to correctly render the pronunciation with our writing. The other is that to access the consolidated data, one would need to be proficient with the use of the computer.”

Despite there being problems, neither was significant. The first point was true for the written records as well, while the latter was lessened by space-time magic research being limited to the royal family. They could simply teach their descendants how to use the computer at the same time.

“Once it’s digitized, it’s a lot easier to look through everything than with paper copies. The problem would be saving it all. It’s a bit late to be worrying about it, but I should have bought a big external drive. Well, that’s years down the line anyway,” Zenjirou mused, the pointless complaints drifting from his lips.

The secret time reversal spell of the Capuan royal family would make it possible to keep the weapons of the royal family—the generator, computer, and so on—functioning semipermanently, but the contents of the computer could be an issue. Time reversal was exactly what its name suggested—not repair magic. If they did nothing and then turned back the clock by a year for the computer, it would work just as it had back then, but the data stored within it would also be reverted.

To avoid that, they would need to separately store data they wanted to keep. Zenjirou technically had several SD cards and memory sticks, but the total storage space wasn’t all that great. Individual documents and spreadsheets didn’t take up much space on their own, but every bit counted. If things went as planned and the research took a century or more, all while being recorded in the computer, they would eventually run out of room. The storage space on the computer itself probably wasn’t a major concern, but the external storage limits had to be kept in mind.

“If it is a future concern, you could go and buy another, no? When the stars align again in thirty years, I can send you to and fetch you from that world. I doubt you used all of your currency there, did you?”

Joy flashed across Zenjirou’s face for a moment, but then he thought things over and shook his head. “It’s an option, but we probably shouldn’t rely too heavily on it. Technology, particularly this kind of thing, advances extremely quickly there. In thirty years, there’s no guarantee I’d be able to find any compatible parts.”

If ten years seemed like ancient history, then thirty years was practically prehistoric. It was entirely possible that whatever he could find at that point would be wholly incompatible with his current laptop. In fact, Zenjirou himself didn’t really think of cloud storage as a data backup method. The world of technology had changed so much in less than a decade.

Aura, however, wouldn’t be able to understand such rapid change. Even so, she offered a solution. “Then why not buy a new computer as well?”

“I don’t know whether I could manage that with the money I’ve got left. The way I see it, I should easily be able to, but prices will have changed as well. Besides, in thirty years, they’ll probably have changed the style of currency, so trying to use old cash to buy a computer could set off all kinds of alarm bells. I don’t know what they’d do with an account that’s been inactive for thirty years, and buying a computer with cash might not be the easiest thing.”

What position would he be in when he went back? They’d probably have declared him either dead or missing. There was always the chance he’d end up drawing the attention of the law, and that would probably make things even more difficult.

“Hm. I admit to not understanding the details, but the number of possible issues mean we should not rely on it.”

“Yeah. Still, you’re right. Text documents should fit on my SD cards and memory sticks for a while.”

“Very well. In that case, Zenjirou, I formally entrust the investigation of a route between Utgard and Utgarða to you.”

The official decree from the queen made Zenjirou straighten and respond formally, “Understood, Your Majesty.”

“You understand the implications, no? I will be unable to assist you. I lack the time to dedicate myself to it. Additionally, you will be responsible for ensuring it is continued by the next generation.”

“Of course.”

The current generation of the Capuan royal family consisted solely of Zenjirou and Aura. Therefore, saying that Zenjirou had this responsibility was also saying that he would be the only one involved. The issue was that he would also have to take charge of passing down the work to the next generation. He would have to get things to a position where they could be passed down by the time his successor—one of his and Aura’s children—was old enough to take over.

If each generation had to start from scratch, unless one successor was a veritable genius in magic research, it would never get close to completion. Zenjirou had to build the foundation for all of that, so it was a rather hefty role.

“Guess I’ll have to get back to studying properly again. I’m pretty sure I’ll end up running into a roadblock I can’t get past on my own. Who do I ask for advice then? You? Lady Octavia? Espiridion?”

His somewhat rambling concerns prompted Aura to relax slightly before answering. “I will, of course, answer your questions, though it would be limited to the inner palace here. I have little in the way of applicable knowledge or free time, though.”

Still, she had much more knowledge than Zenjirou did at the moment. If you limited the topic to space-time magic rather than magic in general, Aura was the leading expert among the living, though the fact that “second place” was also “last” in that leaderboard was a concern.

“Lady Octavia is out of the question. There is too much at risk to let it leak, both in terms of our lineal magic and the agreement with Utgard.”

Octavia’s personality made her one of the most trusted people in the country, but her loyalty was not solely to the crown. She was the wife of one of the most independent nobles, Count Márquez. Given her position, there was little they could let leak to her.

“Finally, the ol—Espiridion—is someone I will grant limited permission to discuss the matter with. Such conversations will take place within a room of the royal palace, and no one else will be present. The only exception I will allow is Ines. All discussions must be verbal. Anything written could potentially go missing.”

“What about audio recordings?”

Aura was already aware of the recorder Zenjirou had brought from Japan and its capabilities. She thought it over for a few moments before nodding. “Again, in a limited fashion. If you are taking it with you, you must report it to me that morning, as well as its safe return.”

The possibility that Zenjirou would forget it somewhere, resulting in someone unsavory getting hold of it and managing to figure out how to use it through trial and error was rather low. Moreover, the audio itself would be exempt from the effect of the soul of language. As long as the hypothetical thief wasn’t exceptionally skilled in the language of magic, they wouldn’t be able to understand what was being said. For such a small risk, it was worth it.

“Got it. It might be limited, but with his help, maybe it’ll go quicker than we expect.”

“I would like to think so,” Aura said, agreeing with his optimism.

Although they potentially had centuries, they were all but trying to catch a cloud. Significant progress within their own lifetimes would be a godsend.

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆

A month later, the twins from Uppasala were meeting for the first time in a while.

“Welcome, Prince Yngvi,” Freya said to him. “Allow me to offer you a reception as a representative of Capua.”

“My thanks for your courteous greeting, Lady Freya.”

The room of the inner palace they were in was completely built of stone and let no light in from outside at all. While their words and actions were every inch the formality expected of a meeting between foreign dignitaries, the emotions in their matching blue eyes betrayed them—they had the light of children delightedly playing up their roles.

Indeed, the soldiers of Capua guarding the room, as well as the knight from Uppasala sent ahead of the prince, had slight smiles on their faces at the twins’ antics. Only one person—Skaji, standing behind Freya—let out a sigh of exasperation, likely due to her own diligent nature.

“If I may guide you, then?”

“Please do.”

The silver-haired twins left the room, their attendants behind them. An annex of the palace had been readied for Yngvi’s use, and once he reached his room, the prince immediately lounged on the sofa.

He wasn’t just acting as if he was relaxing, he was really doing so. You wouldn’t think it was his first time on the continent, let alone in the country or room. His daring in that respect was just like Freya.

The only other people in the room were their own trusted confidants, so with the only people present being close to them, they reverted to their more familiar attitudes.

“Whew. It’s hot here. I thought it was just the fire in the room at first, but it wasn’t even any cooler outside.”

As he spoke, Yngvi waved a hand to fan his face.

“It’s much better now,” Freya told him with a degree of pride. “The blazing season—what we would call summer—literally kills people.”

She had spent much longer in the crucible than he had. She was enjoying finally having someone she could look superior to after spending most of her time unable to adapt to the continent and worrying those around her.

Yngvi looked up to the ceiling with exaggerated despair.

“Ahh, that’s rough. He told me over and over that it was completely different from home.”

As the caster of the teleportation spell, Zenjirou went back and forth between the two countries more than anyone. He had repeatedly warned the Uppasalans—or more accurately, Gustav and Yngvi—about how different the two countries were. It mostly boiled down to saying that Capua had done all they could to help the diplomats from Uppasala with the heat and requesting that Uppasala do the same for the diplomats from Capua regarding the cold. He had even shown the drake parchment recording the purchase of the mist-generating magic tools, and there was a letter of appreciation for Capua’s consideration from the diplomats. Uppasala had installed fireplaces in all of the rooms of the Capuan embassy and allowed diplomats to use firewood and charcoal as much as they wanted.

Hearing her brother talk about her husband, Freya asked after him. “Is he doing well?”

The very fact that Yngvi had arrived via teleportation meant that Zenjirou had been there to send him. “He is. Contributing a lot as well. He won’t be coming back for a while.”

There was a pause as Freya’s face shifted into a serious look. “Did something happen?”

The original plan was for Zenjirou to return that day. He’d only gone to Uppasala to send Yngvi back in the first place. Now, she was suddenly hearing that he wouldn’t be returning soon.

Yngvi had said Zenjirou was well, and he was clearly well enough to send the prince over. Yngvi didn’t seem to be implying he’d been hurt either, so something else must have happened.

Yngvi’s smile didn’t waver, but the look in his eyes sharpened as he answered. “This morning, we received a report from an undercover agent. The church has captured Priest Yan. When we decided to react as quickly as possible, Zenjirou offered to teleport people from the palace to Logfort.”

The capital of the country was on the northern coast of the huge Lake Mater. Logfort was on its eastern coast, which was originally linked to the sea by a multitude of rivers, although several kings had led excavations to make a large canal that was—only just—navigable by vessels like the Glasir’s Leaf.

Therefore, for people to come from abroad to the capital and then return home, they would have to switch boats at Logfort. That was the quickest, shortest route for most. But in spite of the need to switch vessels, the majority of the travel being over water made it relatively quick, since water was practically the fastest travel method by this world’s standards. Still, it went without saying that teleportation was far superior to that.

Freya understood the severity of the situation, so her face was deadly serious as she questioned her brother further. “To Logfort? He couldn’t send them directly abroad? He visited Złota Wolność before.”

Although Freya was part of Capua now, she still wasn’t deeply knowledgeable about their lineal magic. However, she at least knew that it allowed one to visit anywhere one had been before.

“He said not,” Yngvi answered.

The three things necessary for magic were correct pronunciation, the correct amount of mana, and the correct visualization. Zenjirou’s magic was still at the level where the slightest distraction could cause the spell to fail. Therefore, knowing that he wasn’t officially allowed to teleport somewhere and that it was an illegal act would almost always distract and cause him to fail.

“I see. Still, even just sending them to Logfort will make things go much faster.”

“Father asked him to go and summon the commander to speak with him personally.”

“Surely that’s imposing on him too much? I understand the desire, though.” Freya sighed. She had personally experienced just how convenient teleportation was. It was amazingly effective for emergencies like this. Unlike written or relayed orders, being able to directly speak to those concerned meant that orders could be given both as quickly as possible and as precisely as possible.

“Actually, considering the situation, should you even be here? Eric isn’t there either.”

Now that Yngvi was officially the crown prince, Freya wasn’t sure he should have come to the Southern Continent given the situation back in the north. But her brother merely shrugged.

“It’s just a matter of priority. Priest Yan’s capture is a sign of big change and needs attention, but there will be time before we have to respond. I’d much rather be prioritizing my wedding.” His ambition was clear as he spoke.

“The need to rush means there’s going to be a lot of backlash,” Freya commented.

“I suppose. I hope it shows our seriousness that we are still trying to achieve it, even if we need to rush things.”

Yan’s capture was an indication that storms of chaos would soon be ravaging the Northern Continent. Fortunately, the separation of Uppasala—both politically and geographically—from the church’s influence meant there was a significant possibility it wouldn’t trouble them. And yet there was still a chance it could. It was easy to see how taking a woman from Capua as his second wife—eventually second queen—in the middle of that would stir things up.

Of course, there was the option of saying that the time wasn’t right and calling it off, so Yngvi wanted to have the wedding be a fait accompli before word of the priest’s arrest spread. As he had said, it would show both his and his father’s seriousness regarding the marriage.

Freya decided to put off the discussion of the Northern Continent for now. “You should talk to Her Majesty about that, not me. She needs to hear the report about Sir Zenjirou’s change of plans as well. Why not ask about the marriage at the same time? Wait, what’s with that look?” Freya noticed that Yngvi had gotten a sour expression as she spoke.

“Well, about that. He said that I should talk to Queen Aura about what we’d be offering in compensation for his assistance.”

“My condolences,” she said with a chuckle. “Her Majesty is a strong opponent, unlike him.”

“Gimme a break. Uppasala’s a poor country,” he despaired theatrically, staring up at the ceiling. The look on his face along with the sound of his voice showed that those words were well and truly how he felt.

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆

Several days later, Zenjirou returned to Capua, albeit later than originally planned. Soon after his arrival, he found himself speaking with Aura in their living room. The upheaval in their plans had made it unclear when he would get back, so his safe return had led Aura to cancel all of her official duties for the day and head back to the inner palace herself.

While part of that was concern for her beloved spouse, it was also the correct thing to do as the country’s queen. Although the events might be unfolding on the distant Northern Continent, she needed specifics as quickly as possible.

As soon as Aura had sat down opposite him, Zenjirou launched into an explanation. “Honestly, the information I can give you isn’t much different from what Yngvi already relayed. There wasn’t anything new over the following days.”

It was an obvious fact, but outside of a few exceptions, information traveled extremely slowly in this world. Zenjirou had teleported himself to Logfort to fulfill the king’s request, but there was no new information there. It made sense; the information was coming from the middle of the continent, so it would struggle to get all the way to the northernmost reaches in just a few days.

“Yet it still seems you have news to report?” Aura prompted him, her eyes sharp.

Zenjirou’s face remained stiff as he answered. “I do. It might be too little time for information to come from overseas, but it was plenty of time for conversations to happen within the country. The local leaders have compiled a list of predictions for what will happen next. Priest Yan and the church—in this case, the Church of the Claw, which arrested him—will both refuse to concede, and he will be executed according to their traditions.”

His voice shook as he spoke. It had been several years since he had come to this world, but his views on life and death were still the norm for modern Japan. He didn’t have the nerve to remain calm when he heard that someone he knew had been arrested and would likely be executed. It was only Aura and him there, so he didn’t have to feign strength or endure alone. It would be worse than pointless to do it, it would be detrimental. Aura wouldn’t misunderstand the kind of man he was.

“Hm, that is far from pleasant. I understand why the church would not concede, but it makes less sense to me why Priest Yan would not when execution is the consequence. Does that mean the church is forcing the execution by making unreasonable demands?”

The dialogue could have been meant to create a veneer of acceptability, but the demands being something the priest could not meet would make execution the only option. Such events were by no means a rarity in the political world that Aura had spent her life in.

Despite the queen’s feeling that this could be one of those instances, Zenjirou shook his head after a moment. “No. Assuming that Uppasala is correct, at least, the church would accept either outcome. If anything, they might prefer to persuade him.”

He then began to explain the circumstances. Yan had publicly called the church’s methods wrong, challenging the very basis of their faith. The church had previously condemned him and ordered him to follow the will of the church as a whole, but he had used his positions both within the institution and the university to circumvent that, as criticism of the status quo was allowed through academic research.

His arrest was due to the church finally having had enough and forcing the matter. It was likely a difficult decision even for them. Yan was both a priest and the dean of the dracology department, so many people respected him. Executing him would certainly cause pushback. Therefore, having him publicly admit that he was wrong was their ideal outcome rather than his execution.

Of course, even then, there would still be pushback based on the church forcing him to change his position. But threat or no, compromising would hugely weaken his stance and reduce public anger.

Zenjirou’s explanation of all of that seemed to satisfy Aura.

“I see, then this priest is stubborn enough to choose death when the choices are execution or compromising his views.”

“That’s how the leaders of Uppasala see it.”

“What are your thoughts, Zenjirou?” she asked him.

Zenjirou recalled his meetings with the priest and eventually shook his head. “I’m not sure. I saw him as a logical, peaceful person. I couldn’t tell you whether he was so firm in his beliefs that he’d pick death over betraying those values, though. I just don’t know. I didn’t interact with him enough to be sure. Marquis Pomorskie of Złota Wolność said, ‘For better or worse, he is simultaneously like a mountain and a storm.’”

He had immediately been able to see why the lord called Yan a mountain. Large, calm, and unmoving described his personality well. The latter part hadn’t been something Zenjirou had seen personally, but the lord and priest clearly had some history, and Yan’s stubborn defiance of the church so far, coupled with Uppasala’s view that he would choose execution over compromising his beliefs, made the moniker much more likely to fit.

“I see. Still, we are too distant, so all we can do is gather information or perhaps make our move first.”

The second half of her statement was mostly Aura talking to herself, and it prompted her to fall into thought. People, goods, and information: all of those things were limited in speed, so it was extremely difficult to act decisively against a distant nation. In that respect, the teleportation that Capua possessed could be considered unfair, although there were limits on the number of times it could be used, the number of people it could act upon, and the destinations it could reach, so it was not an absolute trump card.

That meant that, as Aura had just said, interfering with chaos and conflict in distant countries meant they had to assume their predictions were correct to some degree and strike preemptively. After all, Zenjirou or Aura could go to and from a place and collect information within a few days, but for anyone else, teleportation would be a one-way trip.

Zenjirou knew that she was talking to herself and quietly waited to hear what she had to say. Eventually, she had thought everything over and spoke.

“Now that I think about it, you mentioned a mercenary by the same name. You spoke rather highly of him as a commander and said that he was concerned for the priest. How would he react, do you think?”

It made sense to be more concerned with the free and strong fighter than the already arrested priest. Uppasala had spent more time focusing on the mercenary’s actions than the priest’s.

“The church kept details like that in mind as well. They carried out the arrest when Commander Yan had finished his contract with Princess Anna of the commonwealth and was on his way to see the priest.”

“I see. So they kept damage to a minimum.”

The mercenary had been hired by Princess Anna of Złota Wolność and had practically been their commander in chief for the battle of Tannenwald. The battle itself had ended in the commonwealth’s victory, and once Yan had dealt with the aftermath, his contract had ended and the church had picked that moment to strike.

As Zenjirou said, that showed just how seriously the church was taking him. If they had waited until after the mercenary had reunited with the priest, they would not have captured the priest so easily. Conversely, if they had attempted it while Yan was still in the princess’s employ, he would have taken his forces and potentially rescued the priest.

Of course, he was fundamentally just a hired commander, so being able to use those forces for his own ends wasn’t likely. Still, as things stood, it would have been enough of a possibility to be considered a risk.

While he might have only been a contracted officer, the combination of a victory and having won their trust meant a fair few squads might have followed his orders if he’d declared a change of plan and another site to attack. Of course, he would have to have been willing to throw away all of his credibility and achievements as a mercenary to do so, yet that seemed eminently possible as far as the priest was concerned.

“I wonder how he will act,” Aura commented. “From what I’ve heard, he seems unlikely to give up on carrying out a rescue just because he doesn’t have enough men.”

“They said that in Uppasala as well. He’s apparently covering his tracks, so he’s definitely planning something. They know where the majority of his most trusted soldiers are, though, so he’s either going it alone or with a bare minimum of aid. They are fairly sure he is still at least somewhat rational.”

Yan led his own mercenary group, but the majority of his troop had received rewards for their victory in the recent battle and were currently relaxing and spending that money.

“If he is concealing himself then he is certainly planning something. With his most trusted people being left behind, though, it seems he still has the wherewithal not to attempt a direct fight.”

Zenjirou nodded at the queen’s analysis. “Yeah, he might be strong with a weapon and one of the best commanders on the continent, but he isn’t some superhuman who can take on hundreds or thousands of opponents with minimal allies. We think he might infiltrate the place Priest Yan is being held and try to free him.”

“But despite taking that into account, Uppasala believes the execution will occur? Is that because they see Commander Yan’s chances as low or nonexistent?”

“That’s half of it. The other half is that even if he does get inside, Priest Yan would probably refuse the assistance.”

“He is that stubborn?” Aura asked, an eyebrow rising in surprise.

Zenjirou sighed before answering.

“It certainly seems so. Or at least Uppasala thinks so.”

Gustav and the other leaders of the country hadn’t personally been acquainted with the priest, so their assumptions about him were based on hearsay and what they knew about his public actions. It was dangerous to assume anything, but what they knew made them believe that Yan would not pursue the illegal route and would instead continue appealing his own legitimacy from within prison up until the moment of his execution.

“I am glad that the man is not on the Southern Continent,” Aura muttered.

He must have been insufferable from a statesman’s perspective. He had the charisma to rally people and the will to lead those people to try to change the world, while also being so righteous that he would not allow threats or backroom deals to make him stray from his course. There was no type of person a ruler would want in their country less.

“Still, it is a shame,” she continued. “If he survived, he could buy us quite a lot of time.”

There was a long pause.

“Zenjirou?” she prompted, her face growing even more serious.

“Yeah?” he replied, straightening reflexively.

“This Priest Yan has absolutely no mana, correct?”

“That’s right. He said so himself, and I certainly couldn’t sense any from him. He said that he had some other way of making the soul of language work for him. Aura, what’s going on?”

Her question about that oddity gave Zenjirou a fair idea of what she wanted to say. He gulped and gingerly put his assumption into words.

“Are you planning on testing time reversal on Priest Yan? On...his corpse?”

Time reversal was a spell passed down in utter secrecy through the Capuan royal family. It was, as the name implied, a spell that rewound time on the target. However, the suitable targets were limited to targets with no mana. Therefore, it was almost unused apart from repairing treasured swords broken from use, pieces of art burnt to a cinder, or expensive nonmagic tools. It had been tested on creatures with no mana of their own as well—insects, small fish, and similar animals—and had been found to rejuvenate them too.

Priest Yan was in the extremely rare—or unique, as far as anyone knew—position of being a human with no mana.

“Yes, that would be worth testing,” Aura answered.

Zenjirou then responded harshly and seriously to her answer. It was a conscious decision to do so, of course. After all, he was the only one present other than Aura, and she had come up with the idea. There was no one but him who could point out holes in the plan or any dangers. “And worth the risk it carries? He will have been executed by that point. Even getting his corpse will be rather difficult.”

In terms of planning and scheming, Aura was by far his superior. That did not mean that there was no point in questioning her, though. Even veteran craftsmen could make an error that a newly minted one would not. A pro could potentially miss something even an amateur could point out.

That was why it was necessary for strategies and plans to be looked over by someone other than the person who came up with them. Ideally, many people, in fact. However, more people checking over such things also reduced the secrecy of it. Striking the right balance between the spread of information and how the matter was approached was difficult.

Regardless, Zenjirou was the only person capable of speaking about the plan. He didn’t have the option of assuming ignorance and letting things go unquestioned. He had to ask the obvious questions, the seemingly pointless ones, as well as the seemingly absurd ones. All of those together might expose a blind spot in Aura’s thinking.

The queen’s own understanding of that fact meant that she answered the obvious criticism with no reproach and in detail. “You are quite right; it is not worth exposing us to danger. So we shall not. Instead, we would contact someone trustworthy in the vicinity. If the mercenary could retrieve the priest’s corpse, then I would restore it. If Commander Yan incited his mercenaries to action and is listed as wanted by the church before we contact him, we would scrap the plan.”

The risks would be placed on the mercenary as much as possible. Considering his apparent devotion to the priest, it seemed rather likely that he would accept any risks that a potential restoration incurred.

“So if we can minimize the risks, we’ll do it, and if not, we’ll completely drop it? That sounds good to me, yeah. Still, it seems like letting Commander Yan know about our circumstances will still be a risk in and of itself,” Zenjirou mused.

The commander was a veteran mercenary and intelligent individual. Letting someone like him know about the secret spell’s existence, and indeed the plan to restore the priest, was quite risky. There was a definite truth to Zenjirou’s words.

Of course, Aura had also thought of that. “On that front, I would like to decide after gathering more information on the man. The final step would be meeting him personally, and if I am concerned, I would scrap the plan then too. I would also only inform him of any certainties regarding the spell, to avoid giving him premature hope. If he is unwilling to accept our terms, that will be the end of it.”

“What are we certain of?”

Aura lowered her voice before answering his question. “That the reversal only works for targets lacking mana, as I explained before. In other words, the spell functions on corpses, as corpses themselves contain no mana.”

“Ah, right, the issue is the resurrection, but the spell itself works on corpses. Is that the same for magic tools too?”

The queen nodded. “Indeed, it restores their form, but only that. Their abilities as magic tools remain gone. We have gotten off topic, though. Either way, what I shall tell the commander is that if he recovers the priest’s body, I can restore its form.”

Many people would see it as worthwhile to neaten a corpse and properly bury it. Recovering the body would be difficult, but Zenjirou agreed that the very possibility of restoration made it likely that the mercenary would cooperate.

“Right, that makes sense. If Priest Yan is executed as a heretic, he’ll probably be burned at the stake. Commander Yan would almost certainly be willing to risk his life to restore the priest. He’s a follower of the dragon faith, after all.”

“Hm? What do you mean?”

The queen’s question prompted Zenjirou to explain what he’d only just found out himself. “Right, well, people in the church—or I guess those who follow the dragon faith specifically—see a proper burial as the correct way to treat a dead person. Burning someone at the stake is considered a judgment on their soul. It apparently stems from the tradition of true dragons’ breath burning a criminal and their soul away to nothing.”

The church’s traditions for a proper burial were cleaning and purifying the corpse before dressing it in clothes that were treated the same way and placing it in a coffin before burying it in the earth. A damaged or missing body could not be treated like that or the dead person would be lost and suffer. Burning to death was considered one of the most damaging acts to the soul. Naturally, cremation was not a concept they had.

A small smile made its way onto Aura’s lips. “Oh, they balk at cremation? That is a rather significant difference. Still, it is good news for us. It certainly does make it much more likely that Commander Yan will accept.”

In animistic countries like Capua, cremation was the norm. The four main spirits were of the earth, water, fire, and wind. Therefore cremation, and burials—whether in the earth, at sea, or in the sky—were all seen as the dead returning to be one with the spirits, so there was no real aversion to any of them. Sky burials had sanitary concerns and could also attract carnivorous drakes, so they were allowed in very few countries.

Ignoring the emotional side of things and just considering the physical phenomenon, a corpse that had been burned to death would be smaller and lighter than a buried one. It would be much easier to sneak out with such remains than a whole body in a coffin.

“Yeah, winning him over shouldn’t be too difficult. It’ll probably be pretty difficult to remove even the charred remains from the church, though. We can’t ignore the potential that he might get captured and reveal that we’re acting behind the scenes.” Zenjirou’s inability to ignore risks was a good thing, but the way he almost only looked at the risks was also a shortcoming.

“Hm, there is not a way to avoid that. We could potentially entrust communication to a representative with instructions not to reveal us. However, doing so would mean we would be unable to gain his trust. Therefore I see the risk as acceptable. Of course, taking the risk of his capture into account, we must also take measures to render that less likely.”

“Like what?”

“Simple. We persuade Commander Yan to wait until things have calmed down. The people of the church are not monsters with infinite amounts of concentration. However dangerous they believe the priest to be, execution renders him a corpse, a thing. Immediately after the execution would be one thing, but a month, several, or even a year later, I highly doubt they will be as guarded.”

The suggestion was extremely simple. That in itself made it much more effective. In every profession, there were limited personnel available. It was a given that they would be removed from positions that were seen as unnecessary. Containing the priest while he was alive was one thing, but continuing to guard his corpse even after the execution seemed extremely unlikely.

Still, Zenjirou had a concern with that plan. “The spell uses a lot more mana when you have to reverse more time, right? Will that be an issue?”

He wasn’t the most informed about magic, but he did of course remember the top secret information on time reversal. Aura was the one who had given him that information, so she had certainly considered the question herself.

“No. I will use the future compensation magic tool. I do not have as many opportunities for spellcasting as you, so I have stored quite an amount of mana. I should be able to reverse time by over a year for something the size of a human body.”

The magic tool she was referring to was something that Francesco had made in collaboration with her. The spell it was based on was one of the Capuan royal family’s lineal magics and allowed them to pay for a spell with their future mana.

There were several strong spells within space-time magic, but the amount of mana they required was high. Although royals had far more mana than the norm, there were still limitations. Future compensation was one of the methods to surpass that restriction.

If they paid three days’ worth of mana, they could cast something that cost four times the amount of mana they ordinarily had when it was combined with their present mana. In exchange, for the next three days, they would not regain any mana at all.

The spell was powerful but inconvenient, so Aura had commissioned a magic tool from Francesco that greatly improved matters. It particularly excelled in its ability to add to the mana stored within it to a spell. Aura was, for better or worse, bound to the throne, so there were days when she would not use any magic whatsoever. Storing some of her mana on those days within the magic tool meant that she now had a significant stock.

“If I remember right, you can store mana bit by bit, but you have to use it all at once. In which case, it’s the same either way, so we can postpone it by a year, right? I guess that works.”

Of course, Zenjirou agreed with the logic that the church wouldn’t keep a firm watch on a buried or abandoned corpse. Even so, he couldn’t agree with the plan.

“Still, it’s a real worry if Commander Yan fails. He couldn’t negotiate with them, could he? For Priest Yan’s corpse at least.”

“I thought of that as well. The issue is how likely it is to work and what effects it would have on future events. It would be natural for the commander to wish to retrieve his employer’s corpse. Therefore, there would be no issue with attempting negotiations. If they went well, that would be perfect. However, if they failed, the corpse would inevitably be much more heavily guarded for a while. That would make forcing the matter far more difficult,” she answered smoothly.

Succeeding would be the best result, but failure would make the alternative much more difficult. In turn, it made more sense to show no sign of it and simply take it by force after waiting. Zenjirou could understand that.

“Right, that’d be the best result, but it’s not all that likely, and it’d make managing to steal it harder too.”

“Indeed. Besides, even if Commander Yan failed and was captured, it would be unlikely to cause us harm. After all, he is already known as a follower of the priest, no? That means they would be unlikely to assume someone had prompted it.”

Commander Yan had both the means and motive to rescue the priest—or at least retrieve his body. So Aura’s statement that they would assume it was of his own accord was rather persuasive.

“That makes sense. Not negotiating and just taking it would be quicker and less risky overall, then.”

Despite his agreement, the look on Zenjirou’s face was still conflicted. Aura saw that and questioned him.

“What is it? Is something still bothering you?”

He looked away awkwardly for a moment, but eventually decided to speak his mind honestly. “Yeah. Doing it will clearly put Capua against the church. We can’t do anything about that risk.”

The look on her face in response to that was utter shock.

“Aura?” Zenjirou asked.

She didn’t manage to reply immediately. That was how unthinkable what Zenjirou had just said was to her. He was from another world, so his fundamental viewpoint was different. He had only managed to disguise those differences with earnest effort in learning along with logically minding his comments and actions. It had been a while since she had felt the difference so keenly.

She let out a deep sigh, forcibly calming herself before speaking dispassionately to him. “Zenjirou, they were already our enemy from long ago.”

“Yeah, I know they were potential enemies, at least.”

The queen continued her explanation for her understanding yet utterly oblivious husband.

“That is not what I mean. They are far more clear enemies than you think. We have gathered information on the church from those who have visited the Northern Continent, including you. Analyzing it, we have looked at their beliefs, the way they go about their business, and how they are likely to act. They will almost certainly clash with the Southern Continent, and with Capua specifically. The reason they do not currently see us as enemies is that we are out of sight. The Northern Continent is currently in the midst of a revolution in shipbuilding and seafaring capabilities, so it is only a matter of time before we are no longer out of sight. It is not a short time either. That is why avoiding angering the church or making enemies of them is completely pointless—at least, if we let it stop us from acting.”

This time it was Zenjirou’s turn to be lost for words, and he paled. He had thought he understood, thought he was ready. Now he had to understand, though. He had inadvertently been ignoring an enemy.

He and Aura both saw the church, and the countries of the Northern Continent that formed their sphere of influence, as potential enemies. There were definitive differences from there, though. Zenjirou had been focusing on not making “potential” enemies into enemies in truth. Doing that would at least buy time before those nations did turn into enemies, and it could potentially be prevented entirely.

Meanwhile, as far as Aura was concerned, a potential enemy was already an enemy and the important thing was to get into as superior a position as possible before they acted upon it, so appeasement in general was off the table. To begin with, it was not uncommon for countries to break even written treaties and agreements with each other, so just trying to appease an opponent would do more harm than good in her view.

Neither way of thinking was wholly right or wrong, but Aura’s view was the more common one among the leaders of this world. In turn, that meant that it was almost an unshakable truth that Zenjirou’s way of thinking would pass to that majority. He was not dense enough to misunderstand that.

“Okay,” he said eventually. “I’ll change how I think about it. Though in that case, is reviving Priest Yan more important than I thought? It’d limit what our enemies in the church can do, right?”

“You are not wrong but also not correct. I do indeed want to delay the Northern Continent arriving in force by any amount of time that I can. Resurrecting the priest would be one of those actions. However, there should be at least a decade before things become an issue, so our priority is not interfering with the church, but in strengthening ourselves.”

Aura’s current priority was developing intercontinental travel in their own right. If they didn’t, they wouldn’t be able to stand on equal footing with the Northern Continent. If they could not get into a position where they could strike back against an attack, they could not carry out even a political war. Strengthening their nation was important for that. Delaying the church was nothing more than buying time to do so.

“I see, so we need to think of cost-effective strategies,” Zenjirou replied, his face softening in understanding.

Between interfering on the Northern Continent and delaying things for years or stagnating due to their focus elsewhere while the other nations grew in strength by leaps and bounds, the latter would be the better situation for Capua.

“Indeed. As far as we are concerned, we stand to gain if it succeeds, and that is all. It will take few resources and risk us little as well.”

With the explanation over, the conversation returned to the conclusion they had started with.

“So, what exactly do you mean?”

“We will watch and wait until Priest Yan’s execution. If Commander Yan acts before then, we will not interfere. After the execution, we will attempt to get into contact with the commander. If he acts before we manage to do so, we will not interfere. In that case, his actions are unlikely to be those we want—the retrieval of the corpse, that is.”

It would be more likely he would be attempting to take revenge at that point. Contacting the mercenary after he had done something so serious would be too great a risk. In other words, their only opportunity to contact him was after the execution, but before he actually responded to it.

“Can we manage that?” Zenjirou asked skeptically after a long pause. “We’d have to send someone to do it, and the commander is in hiding.”

They would need to find a skilled mercenary’s hideout in an unfamiliar setting, and on a short time limit. Zenjirou was well aware that would be no mean feat.

“It will likely be difficult, yes,” Aura agreed readily. “This plan is essentially making the attempt because it costs us little. It will still take a fair amount of effort, though, considering how the world will go.”

It would be a windfall if it went well and a fairly small effect if it did not. The chances were greater that the plan would never see the light of day. The scope of it sent a chill down Zenjirou’s back as he looked at the smiling queen.

“That’s, just... Wow. You’re always making plans like that. You’re a real tactician.”

Failure would change nothing, while success would be a stroke of fortune. That alone could influence people’s lives, and potentially their deaths. It was the correct attitude for a royal or state leader, but it wasn’t something Zenjirou felt he could emulate.

Aura shook her head with a rueful smile at the mix of awe and dread on his face. “This is far from enough to call myself a tactician. A true tactician is terrifying. Someone caught up in their plans would be incapable of realizing they were part of any such plan, or even that the tactician existed in the first place.”

“There are actually people like that?” Zenjirou couldn’t help but ask.

The queen’s answer was firm. “There are. Every large country has one or two of them. In other words, so do we, so you need not overly fear it,” she responded with a gentle smile to reassure him.

◇◆◇◆◇◆◇◆

The next day, a letter was waiting for Aura in her office in the royal palace. The sender was listed as Johan. The crest on the wax seal was an uncountable amount of coral with eyes growing from it. It was the crest of the Kingdom of Tucale, one of the countries in the western region of the Southern Continent.

“It just had to be Johan. If it had at least been Johan XVII...” Aura griped with a strained expression, dropping somewhat roughly into her seat.

Johan was an extremely common name on the continent, but combined with the crest of Tucale, it took on a special meaning. The kingdom had a strange custom: male members of the royal family were all named Johan, while female members were named Julia. Therefore, only those who took the throne were called Johan with a generational suffix. All other royals had other aliases and generally used them even when introducing themselves.

The name “Johan” alone on a missive from the royal family, however, signified that its contents were a consensus between every male royal. This bore far more weight than “Johan XVII,” which would have been sent on a single person’s whim. Since this one was signed with only Johan and Julia, it meant that it had been sent with the approval of the entire royal family.

“I have a bad feeling about this,” Fabio, her middle-aged secretary, commented, his expression completely unmoved despite his words.

“Considering historical events, you can hardly say you have a ‘feeling’ about a certainty,” Aura retorted as she unsealed the letter and cast her eyes over it. Then, she looked wordlessly up at the ceiling.

“What does it say?” Fabio asked.

Aura remained silent, passing it to him. For once, the man’s expression shifted, hardening.

“A person’s location? ‘Commander Yan’s current and likely future movements and hideout’? I must say this is rather detailed. I assume this information is particularly valuable to you?”

“Like little else could be,” she practically spat.

The information was extremely useful to Aura. The letter contained exact information on the commander’s whereabouts. Unfortunately, she was not familiar with many place names on the Northern Continent, so it was little help on its own. However, asking someone who was would quickly solve that.

“The Tucale family’s divination magic?”

“Yes. They are just as irritating as always,” Aura agreed, her annoyance plain on her face.

The lineal magic that granted the Tucale family the right to rule was divination. It effectively provided correct answers when the right questions were asked. There were many restrictions, and the requirement to cast a new spell for every question increased the burden, so it was far from omnipotence, but there was no doubt about its utility. Obtaining information you would ordinarily have no way of knowing was a powerful weapon. Facing them meant you had to assume there was some possibility that any secret you might have had was already known to them. The kingdom also knew how to leverage that weapon well, just as they were doing now.

“So, how does this information benefit you, Your Majesty?”

“It elevates an originally idle thought to a plan with a high chance of success.”

Aura’s iron self-control meant she’d already regained her composure. The information on Yan’s location was listed as being from three days prior, but the letter also included likely future destinations as well. With that much information, it would be far from difficult to send someone to make contact.

The problem was that the darker skin that was characteristic of the Capuans would inevitably stand out, so there was no one appropriate for them to send on hand.

“One of Freya’s soldiers could be an option,” Aura mused, speaking aloud to clarify her thoughts. “No, if we are doing that, hiring someone who is already there may be better. We can ask Uppasala to be our go-between. In fact, they owe us for Zenjirou’s help with gathering information. We are in a strong position there. The question is, how much of the particulars do we reveal?”

As she spoke, she tapped her right index finger on the table. Whatever else, she was sure of one thing—she would not be revealing Tucale’s involvement in providing the information.

Although Uppasala would be making contact and Commander Yan would be carrying out the scheme, and Priest Yan would be revived if it came to fruition, Aura saw no reason to go out of her way to inform them where her information had come from. Thus, if the plan did succeed, neither Commander Yan nor the church would know that Tucale had been involved, even if their hidden participation was absolutely vital.

“Someone caught up in their plans would be incapable of realizing they were part of any such affair, or even that the tactician existed in the first place,” Aura murmured to herself, remembering the words she’d shared with Zenjirou the previous night.