Shinwa Densetsu no Eiyuu no Isekaitan - Volume 6 - Chapter 1

Chapter 1: The Calm Before the Storm

The fourth day of the first month of Imperial Year 1024

A winter wind blew, bitter enough to cut like a blade. Anyone bold enough to venture outside could not keep themselves from shivering. A man could catch his death in such cold. Yet oddly, despite the unforgiving weather, a cloud of warmth hung over the imperial capital of Cladius.

The central boulevard was thronged so tightly with people that there was hardly any space left for more pairs of feet. The crowd trudged toward the main gate, laden with heavy packs and luggage. Their faces were tinged with desperation, as though they were being pursued by something. They made for the gate with a single-mindedness that could only be born of fear.

“Hurry it up!” shouted a merchant as he tried to barge through the column. “Six Kingdoms is coming to kill us all!”

In ordinary times, the man’s conduct would have earned him disapproving glares, but nobody chided him now. He was far from the only one forcing his way through the press. Many others were doing the same, pushing and shoving to be the first through the gates.

Countless pairs of hate-filled eyes glared at the crowd as it shuffled past. The watchers said nothing, but there was no doubt that they were nursing contempt for the departing throng’s mercenary allegiances. They were the city’s long-term residents. An army might be encroaching on the capital, but the crisis neither made them willing to abandon the homes they had inherited nor furnished them with the savings to emigrate to other lands. Besides, even with enough coin to start afresh and enough luck to make their escape, they could not expect to continue their current standard of living if the empire fell. Staying or leaving made little difference. Unlike the merchants currently filing out through the gates, their fate was tied to the capital itself.

“Coldhearted bastards, the lot of ’em. Have they forgotten we’re the Grantzian Empire? What could Six Kingdoms do to us?”

“You say that, but those rebels got right into the palace. I hear they dealt His Majesty a nasty wound.”

“Aye, and word is, Six Kingdoms has a hundred and fifty thousand men. The empire’s big, all spread out like, and the enemy’s all bunched up. It’ll take time to get our forces all in one place. Time we don’t have.”

The Grantzian Empire encompassed a vast amount of land, partitioned into five territories, with several neighboring hostile nations. The vast majority of its military strength was deployed along the border, dealing with the various minor conflicts that flared up on a daily basis. If it suddenly recalled all those men, the balance they maintained would quickly deteriorate. In such situations, it was the role of the five great houses to maintain order in their territories, but that was only possible if they were in a fit state to rule.

“House Krone’s rebellion stopped all the goods coming in. Now everyone who cares for their own hide is giving the capital a wide berth. And if that weren’t enough, we’ve got those Six Kingdoms savages knocking on our western border.”

“You reckon we can stop ’em?”

“I wouldn’t hold your breath. It’s lookin’ like House Maruk will take House Krone’s place, but seeing as half the central nobles turned rebel, they won’t have much of an army to call on. Our best bet is the western nobles, but the Divines only know how long they can hold out.”

“Word is the other nations are massing for war, and not just Steissen. If they all attack at once, the empire really will be done for.”

“And just after we made it another year too... What’s to become of us?”

The townsfolk turned uncertain gazes toward the imperial palace. The edifice gleamed as brightly as ever beneath a cloudless blue sky, high and proud and indifferent to the worries of the people below. At that very moment, the highest echelons of the empire were meeting within its walls. Stovell’s attack had rendered the throne room unusable, so a temporary center of command had been set up in the antechamber. There, Hiro and the rest of the royal family—along with a collection of powerful nobles—had gathered to coordinate their plans.

“What’s to be done now?” one of the nobles moaned. “His Majesty is dead, and most of the palace officials with him.”

The rebellion of several days prior had been explained to the people as the work of the former high general von Loeing. The details of First Prince Stovell’s slaughter of the emperor and his retainers had been suppressed so as to prevent panic. All that the people knew was that rebels had attacked the palace, leaving the emperor wounded and some number of officials dead.

“Indeed,” another agreed. “We face a nigh-unprecedented crisis...aside from the events of three hundred years ago, of course.”

“Even that hardly compares. Three hundred years ago, the empire did not have a hundred and fifty thousand men knocking at its door.”

Every nation had experienced similar events during the dark age of three hundred years prior, but even then, only the emperor had perished. The history books made no mention of his officials following him to the grave.

“The people might believe our lie for now, but we cannot conceal His Majesty’s passing forever.”

The truth would have to come out sometime, but it would have to wait until the next emperor was decided. Resisting the incursion from Six Kingdoms would require unity; the last thing the empire needed was for the imperial heirs to start squabbling over the throne. There was nothing to be done but shelve the matter for the time being. Even if a prospective emperor were declared, dissenting nobles would continue to back other heirs, potentially installing a coregency—a state of affairs that could split the empire apart.

The war against Six Kingdoms has to come first. We can decide on the next emperor after that...provided nobody else joins the invasion, that is.

Bordered by Six Kingdoms to the west, the Republic of Steissen to the south, and various smaller nations all around, the Grantzian Empire was built on an extremely fragile balance. If its enemies chose to join hands, they could carve up its territory in short order, and it would quickly be wiped from the map.

And if we want to avoid that...we have to get rid of the nobles who only care about fattening their own purses.

Treachery birthed treachery, and nobles who coveted power and status would be loath to relinquish what they had. Such people didn’t have a single patriotic bone in their bodies. At least some of them would be swayed by honeyed words. If promised that their own lands would be spared, it would be an easy matter to turn their coats.

But going about it too crudely will only move them to action. We’ll need to do this methodically. That said, with Six Kingdoms at our door, time is a luxury we don’t have...which means getting a little heavy-handed.

Hiro expelled a sigh as he looked over the assembly. Almost every face was heavy with worry for the fate of the nation. Only one man stood out, surveying the room with unruffled composure: Second Prince Lupus Scharm Selene von Grantz. Beloved by the people of the northern territories, who knew him as “the King of the North” or “Twinfangs,” his androgynous features drew the eye of all alike. Even more remarkable than his looks were his heterochromatic eyes—a quality known as the Baldick, said to be characteristic of heroes of myth. In Selene’s case, his left eye was blue and the right was gold, lending him a curious mystique. His sky-blue hair was soft as silk, and his limbs were lithe. Silver armor glinted from beneath his cape of brown furs.

The prince did not seem to have hostile intentions for the moment, but his true goals were, as ever, a mystery. He didn’t seem to have any interest in the throne, but he was fiercely protective of the northern territories he called home and appeared prepared to defend them by any means necessary. It would be far more prudent to remove him now than face his opposition later.

But it would be a shame to dispose of him when he could still be useful. First, I’ll take advantage of him as much as I can. Or until Liz’s position is secure, at least.

Hiro shot a glance at Liz. A deep shadow lay over her porcelain features. Her loss to Stovell seemed to be weighing on her mind, and the fact that Scáthach was yet to wake from her battle wounds could not be helping.

She didn’t manage to beat him, but the battle accelerated Lævateinn’s awakening, so it wasn’t a total loss. Still, there’s cause for concern as well. She’s not yet mentally mature enough to become an empress.

As she was now, she wouldn’t be able to command the nobles’ hearts. The sun showered its light equally upon all of its people. It did not reserve its attention for a special few. If she mourned one, she would mourn all. She cared for her people, valued her soldiers, loved her nation.

That’s something that a lot of rulers forget.

Liz was well capable of shedding tears for those she did not know. He himself was no stranger to her compassionate nature.

But that’s not what she needs right now. She can’t afford to let her emotions cloud her judgment.

One month ago, when the emperor was still alive, she could have taken the throne even with that naivete. Now, however, with the emperor dead and a foreign nation invading, it would be far, far more difficult.

The first quality people will look for in the next emperor is levelheaded decision-making. They’ll need to be able to analyze situations without being influenced by their hearts. Liz has made remarkable progress, but she still hasn’t learned how to suppress her emotions.

Bound by no one, ruled by no one, beholden to no one. Those were the qualities of an emperor, and the ideals for which those who desired the throne should strive. Liz was certainly strong enough, but strength alone did not beget a lion’s dignity.

And that’s not the only problem.

Hiro loosened his collar and heaved a sigh, casting a sidelong glance at Rosa. Her alluring features wore a grave expression, and not just because of the emperor’s death. Her plans to seat Liz on the throne would now require significant rewriting.

I’ve become an obstacle. I should have had her declare her support for Liz earlier.

Recent events had upended the order of succession dramatically. Stovell had led a rebellion on the capital, and even aside from that, he had already relinquished his claim to the throne. After him came Third Prince Brutahl, but the western nobles’ power was rapidly waning. Second Prince Selene had rarely visited the central territories—citing illness, but more likely due to a lack of interest in ruling—and as such was ranked low on the ladder. So who in this room was currently highest? Everybody present would point to Liz.

That was where the problem Hiro was mulling over came into play. Liz had no faction of her own. Nobody supported her claim to the throne. Without noble patrons, her position in the order of succession was only a number, and that made him, the next in line, an obstacle to her ascension. He had the backing of the eastern nobles, and the people loved him for being Mars’s descendant. What was more, in the short time since being inducted into the royal family by Artheus’s will, he had amassed an impressive string of military accomplishments.

If I declared myself the next emperor right now, nobody could stop me.

And yet...

That would split the empire in half. They wouldn’t just roll over and let me take the throne.

Hiro turned his gaze on House Maruk and the other nobles. The rest of the central nobles had already begun looking to House Maruk for instruction in place of the fallen House Krone. Evidently, they were not the loyal sorts. Even now, they were whispering among themselves anxiously, and it was not difficult to guess who they might be talking about.

“What hole did he crawl out of to show up now?”

“Well said. The man never left the emperor’s side...so where was he on that night?”

All of their eyes were on the sallow, thin-faced figure of Byzan Graeci von Scharm—the former head of House Scharm, the emperor’s right hand, and the uncle of Second Prince Selene. He had vanished during Stovell’s attack on the palace, only to reappear several days later as though nothing was amiss. He, too, was taking part in the council.

As Hiro watched, one of the nobles grew tired of whispering and approached the man directly. “Chancellor Graeci,” he said. “It’s a marvel that you survived the horrors of that night.” The barbs in his words were unmistakable, hinting at collusion between Graeci and Stovell.

Graeci’s expression did not move an inch. “It almost sounds as though you suspect me of something.”

“Who wouldn’t? Stovell butchered half of the people in the palace. The only survivors were women, children, and those who hid before the killing began...and yet somehow, His Majesty’s own right hand miraculously survived. Surely you can see why a man might have his doubts.”

Graeci shrugged dismissively. “At the time of the attack, I was absent from the throne room on His Majesty’s orders.”

“Oh? And what orders were those?”

“To increase the throne room’s guard. I was on my way to the entrance hall to fetch a detachment of imperial guards when Stovell arrived—and I did not escape unscathed, as you can see. The man struck quickly and mercilessly.” He seemed to shudder at the memory. “Fools that we were, we suspected nothing. We were even relieved to have a Spiritblade wielder in our midst. Quickly did we learn our folly. I suspect most died before they even realized that they were under attack. I myself lost an arm before I knew what was happening.”

Graeci clasped a hand around his left sleeve, showing that there was nothing within.

“I tried to swallow my pride and flee to warn His Majesty, but I had lost a great deal of blood, and I fear I passed out. Fortunately, a servant girl intervened to save my life, which is why I stand before you now—alive and ashamed.”

“Do you expect us to swallow that hogwash?!” Another noble slammed his hands on the table and rose to his feet. “Stovell wielded a Spiritblade! No man who stood in his way that night lived to tell the tale—none but you! How do you explain that?!”

Other nobles raised their voices in agreement.

“Mortal men are as babes before the Spiritblade Sovereigns. Would you have us accept that you only lost an arm? It defies belief.”

“I say he and the first prince were in it together. One arm isn’t too high a price to deflect scrutiny, now is it? And then everything would fall into place.”

Hiro broadly agreed with their suspicions. The chancellor was second only to the emperor in authority. If Stovell’s goal had been to plunge the empire into chaos, he would never have let the man escape alive.

Stovell was strong enough to kill Graeci with one hand tied behind his back...but without any evidence, we have no choice but to let this lie for now.

Besides, a wily old fox like Graeci would not be easily caught.

“This is absurd,” the chancellor snapped at his detractors. “Are you not ashamed to make such baseless accusations?”

The show of anger was a rare sight from a man ordinarily so unflappable. The whispers fell silent as his remaining hand struck the table.

“This is no time to squabble among ourselves. As we speak, these western barbarians trample upon the holy soil of the Grantzian Empire—bestowed upon us by the Spirit King himself!”

There was truth in what he said. Bandying accusations without proof was a waste of time, especially with more important matters at hand. The question of his guilt could wait. Recognizing this, the nobles fell silent.

“Now is the time for unity. His Majesty would weep to see this sorry display. If you still wish to accuse me of these preposterous charges, at least have the good grace to wait until we have ousted these interlopers from our lands!”

Hiro internally scowled at Graeci’s audacity, but truth be told, that the chancellor had survived was something of a silver lining. In the emperor’s absence, he was unambiguously the next authority in line, which would make it much easier to decide on a plan of action.

“May we now discuss the matter of Six Kingdoms?” The noble presiding over the assembly sounded unimpressed by the squabbling. Satisfied that nobody objected, he motioned to the civil tribune by his side for a sheaf of paper. “As you are all surely aware, Six Kingdoms’ forces number one hundred and fifty thousand, but our agents report that reinforcements are still arriving from their homeland. Their numbers may swell to two hundred thousand once all is said and done.”

The nobles listened quietly as he read, but cries of surprise filled the room as he reached the final figure.

“Two hundred thousand? If a force that size entered the central territories, how could we stop them?”

“Can we rely on reinforcements from the other territories?”

“It would take a month or two just to assemble them in the capital. Factor in readying them for battle, and we would need three months at the least.”

“That’s a long time... Could the western nobles hold out that long?”

The final question went unanswered. An air of unease fell over the antechamber.

Seeing the rest fall silent, the presiding noble cleared his throat. “It appears that Six Kingdoms has divided its forces in its attempts to subjugate the western territories. The report claims that they are running amok through the west, taking forts and towns one after another.”

“What of our forces who were maintaining order in Faerzen?” one man asked. “How could they allow the enemy purchase on our soil? Where is Third Prince Brutahl in all of this?”

“And what about High General Vakish?” another piped up. “Is the western border not his charge?”

The presiding noble’s lips tightened bitterly. “Third Prince Brutahl is trapped in Faerzen, along with the men he leads—representing the bulk of the western nobles’ forces. As for High General Vakish...he fought valiantly in defense of the border, but was struck down on the field.”

The empire’s five high generals symbolized its military might. Each had been personally charged with the defense of one of the five territories by the emperor himself. They were the nation’s last and most formidable line of defense against its neighbors. It was not difficult to imagine the fate of Vakish’s corpse. It would have been put to good use persuading the western nobles to lay down their arms.

So he’s dead, then...

Hiro had not known Vakish von Hass particularly well, but the Shield of the West had proved a useful ally during the recent attack on Draal. If not for him, Hiro’s plan would not have succeeded, and Liz would still be in the hands of the Faerzen Resistance.

“The border guard numbered fewer than ten thousand,” the presiding noble continued. “They would have faced almost impossible odds, and the Knights of the Royal Black were with Third Prince Brutahl. Even a high general could not have seized victory.”

“How did they sneak such a large force up to the border?” cried a voice. “Do you mean to tell us that we somehow overlooked a hundred and fifty thousand men? If they can move numbers like that without our knowing, who’s to say they aren’t already in the central territories? We must start planning our defense!” The man was trying to put on a brave face, but he was clearly nervous.

“They infiltrated the Faerzen Resistance, would be my guess.” Sensing that the discussion would stall without his input, Hiro gestured to the map on the table. “They split their forces up into small groups and had them join the guerrillas. Then, when the time was right, they withdrew them, reassembled them in some central location, and launched an attack on the border.”

Faerzen’s repeated conflicts had left the land pockmarked with ruined towns, villages, forts, and castles. There was ample space to hide an army if one wanted.

Still, the nobles weren’t satisfied with Hiro’s explanation.

“With respect, Your Highness,” said one, “a hundred and fifty thousand men is an extraordinary number to conceal in such a manner. It would have taken a dizzying amount of time, and they would have had to remain vigilant all the while so as not to be discovered. Forgive me, but your suggestion does not seem possible.”

“Then our enemy must have been determined enough to attempt the impossible.” Selene answered in an amused tone before Hiro could respond, resting one elbow on the table. “They have been planning this for years, if not longer. They spent decades, perhaps, laying the foundations brick by brick, taking care to elude our notice. Is that not so?” He smiled at Hiro in search of agreement.

“Exactly. Although it can’t have helped that the empire was distracted.”

A grand and intricate scheme had been at work to topple the empire, but it had been too swollen with pride to care about anything but invading other nations. Now the time had come to pay the price of its shortsightedness.

“What have we done to earn such hatred?” one of the younger nobles lamented.

“The empire is large, and its history is long. We have earned resentment from many quarters.” Another noble answered—an older man, more experienced at court, who knew why Six Kingdoms was invading. He sighed, not in exasperation at the ignorance of the young, but in sorrow for the empire’s sins. “Six Kingdoms’ grievances are particularly just. To borrow His Highness’s turn of phrase, one might say they have been laying these foundations for a thousand years.”

A chapter of history erased. A desperate flight westward from persecution. These were the stones upon which the ongoing invasion was laid. Six Kingdom was a nation built by those who had once served the Grantzian Empire with all their being: the descendants and followers of Hiro’s very own Black Hand.

As its name implied, Six Kingdoms was a multipartite state formed from a coalition of six kingdoms unified beneath a single high king. Three of those kingdoms could trace their lineage back to members of the Black Hand. The nation was diverse, with beastfolk, álfar, dwarves, and humans existing side by side, although its citizens were said to have a distinctive character, and it went without saying that none of the kingdoms had forgotten their ancestors’ grudges. Although the Black Hand’s disgrace had eventually been forgiven, the empire still refused to acknowledge their descendants, and their erasure from history had given rise to resentment beyond measure. In a sense, the current invasion had been a long time in coming.

As a hush fell over the antechamber, a figure who until then had been content to watch the discussion broke their silence at last.

“Shouldn’t we be talking about what to do next?”

All eyes turned to Sixth Princess Celia Estrella Elizabeth von Grantz. The silken strands of her crimson hair shimmered like living flame, and a fierce will blazed in her ruby eyes. Her dignified features still retained some youthfulness, but she carried herself with a compelling serenity, like a sculpture chiseled by a master craftsman.

“I thought we were discussing what to do about Six Kingdoms’ invasion.” She sounded unimpressed by the deviation from the matter at hand.

“Of course, Your Highness. I shall proceed.” The presiding noble cleared his throat and unfurled a scroll of parchment on the surface of the table. “Virtually all of the thirty thousand rebel soldiers have laid down their arms, but considering their unstable mental state, it would be challenging to incorporate them into our defense. Factoring in the punishments facing the nobles who took part in the rebellion, the central territories’ fighting strength has been severely depleted. We estimate that fifty thousand men could be ready for battle immediately.”

However, that was not the whole story. With despairing rebel deserters causing chaos across the central territories and bandits seeking to take advantage of the turmoil, civil order was rapidly unraveling. The figure of fifty thousand did not account for the men who would be needed to keep the peace.

“Accordingly, at present, the number of men we could realistically field stands at twenty thousand.”

“Twenty thousand cannot hold off one hundred and fifty,” another noble sighed. “We must wait for reinforcements from the other territories.”

“Agreed,” said a third. “There’s nothing for it but to summon aid from the north, the east, and the south. The west will simply have to hold out in the meantime.”

“That may be easier said than done,” Graeci said with a sour expression.

“How so?”

Hiro stood, holding a sheet of paper in his hand. “I have received a letter from House Muzuk.”

The name set the chamber astir. House Muzuk was the great house that ruled the south.

Hiro gave the letter a theatrical smack with the back of his hand, signaling for silence. “The Republic of Steissen is massing its forces on the border. Their numbers are unknown at present, but House Muzuk claims we are looking at much more than just ten or twenty thousand.”

“Impossible,” a noble retorted. “The Republic is preoccupied with a succession conflict. It is in no position to interfere in the wars of other nations.”

“I thought so too, but there is no denying reality. House Muzuk requests that we send the Fourth Legion with all haste.”

The commander of the Fourth Legion was none other than Sixth Princess Celia Estrella. The eyes of the room converged on Liz.

She pursed her lips and expelled a sigh. “I’m happy to send them. They can be ready at short notice. But that will mean we won’t be able to expect any reinforcements from the south.”

Perhaps peace could be brokered with Steissen, perhaps they would need to be driven back by the sword, but either way, resolving the matter would require time. Moreover, the Fourth Legion could not take orders from anybody but their commander, which was Liz—meaning that she would have to travel south and deal with Steissen in person.

“Lady Celia Estrella wields the empire’s only Spiritblade,” a noble opined. “It would be ill advised to send her away. Six Kingdoms is a far greater threat than those Republic bumpkins. I say that we leave House Muzuk to hold out on their own.”

Heads began to nod in agreement around the table, but Hiro begged to differ.

“No, she has to go. This isn’t the time to offend House Muzuk. If they turned against us, the empire really would be finished.”

The west was already crumbling. If the south collapsed as well, the rest of the nation would follow.

“But then... With respect, Lord Hiro, what is to be done about the west?”

“I’ll go. With those twenty thousand men.”

“Not so fast,” Liz interrupted, surprised. “What do you think you can do with a force that small?”

Hiro scratched his nose and smiled wryly. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to try anything reckless. I’m just going to slow them down so they don’t flood the central territories.”

“Slow them down?”

Hiro nodded. “A hundred and fifty thousand is an enormous number. It’ll take all the empire’s nobles to turn the tables. We need to gather all our forces in the capital, then launch a decisive strike.”

“So we’ll fight them in the central territories?”

“That’s right. As bad as I feel for the people of the west, they’ll just have to hold out. We need to focus on gathering our strength.”

Still, the more time passed, the worse the casualties in the west would grow. More and more nobles would lose faith in the empire, and some might even start working with the enemy. In order to avoid that, Hiro would head west himself with twenty thousand men.

“The people might be disappointed once they learn the size of our force.” Hiro turned away from Liz and looked over the council attendees. “But some of their concern will disappear once they hear that Mars’s scion is leading them.”

Hiro was one of the most important figures in the empire. His presence would send a clear message that Cladius had not abandoned the west, to nobles and commonfolk alike.

“Meanwhile, Third Prince Brutahl should stay in Faerzen and conserve his strength for the decisive battle. When the time comes, we’ll catch Six Kingdoms between two fronts and destroy them.”

That was only armchair theorizing, and more than a little optimistic, but right now it was more important to be confident than correct. He needed to drive any thoughts of betrayal from the nobles’ heads.

“The acting head of House Kelheit should return to the east and gather as many soldiers as she can muster. Meanwhile, Second Prince Selene should stay in the capital to help plan our offensive against Six Kingdoms.” He glanced at Rosa and Selene, who both nodded. “And we’ll have to appease the merchants somehow, or we’ll face public unrest and economic disruption. With the western trade routes now unreliable, I propose that we look for alternatives.”

“A fine idea,” Chancellor Graeci broke in, “but do you have something concrete in mind?”

Hiro nodded. Of course. “We can work with the Grand Duchy of Draal to avoid economic stagnation. We could also strengthen our trade links with the Kingdom of Lebering in the north. They have plenty of ore. Let’s buy it up at twice the usual price, on the condition that they favor our custom. Obviously that’s not a permanent measure, but it should stimulate the markets until the war is over.”

Graeci fell silent, stroking his chin. After a short while, he finally nodded. “I see. You mean to send the message that our allegiance is profitable.”

The first priority now was to prevent any other nations from joining the attack on the empire. If the empire could project a show of confidence to its neighbors, Six Kingdoms would find itself starved for allies, putting it under pressure.

The nobles began to nod in agreement, but Liz looked unsatisfied.

“Stimulating the markets I get. You’re expecting this war to drag on, so you want to ease its long-term effects. Fine. But I don’t see how that’s enough to turn the tables by itself. The west is under attack as we speak. Six Kingdoms could easily stabilize its position there and attack the central territories while we’re still putting together our defense.”

Her voice was clear and confident. She spoke without hesitation and stated her opinions without reserve.

“How can you even guarantee that the west will hold out until I’ve dealt with Steissen? You say you’re going to slow them down with twenty thousand men, but they have a hundred and fifty. If they split off a smaller force to keep you occupied, you’ll be the ones who end up stuck.” She looked him dead in the eyes. “What then?”

Hiro’s mouth fell open. For a moment, he forgot where he was. He had never expected Liz to be the one to call him out. He had kept the details of his plan vague in order to distract the nobles from its holes, but apparently there was no getting past her.

Maybe I shouldn’t be surprised. She’s been making incredible progress.

She had been learning politics from Rosa and strategy from Aura, or so he was told. Nobody had put her up to this. She had simply thought his plans through, found problems, and voiced them of her own accord. He almost smiled and had to hold it back. She really had grown.

Then it’s only fair to meet you where you’re at.

He recovered his composure and prepared to ease her concerns—and perhaps her doubts.

“That’s a fair question, but Six Kingdoms will have to stay in the west for a while, no matter what. Let me explain.” He moved a finger slowly across the map. “Firstly, they haven’t secured their supply lines yet. However many years they spent planning this, they can’t possibly have enough food to feed a hundred and fifty thousand men. But they can’t just plunder it from imperial settlements.”

“Why not?” Liz cocked her head. “If they hate the empire that much, I don’t see what would stop them.”

“It’s winter. If they start stealing food, people will starve. The commonfolk will resist them and might even revolt. If they want to keep control of the west and use it to stage an invasion of the central territories, they can’t be that shortsighted.”

Unless the commander was inept, they would never let their soldiers start looting. That might change if they suffered heavy losses, but Six Kingdoms was currently in a dominant position. They would want to avoid taking unnecessary risks.

“I see... I see.” Liz nodded as she mulled Hiro’s words over.

Hiro continued gently. “And there’s one more thing. In order to reach their homeland, they’ll have to stretch their supply lines across Faerzen. They have collaborators there, but we have Third Prince Brutahl. With him tracking down and destroying their supply routes, we can stall them until we’re ready to fight.”

Wars couldn’t be waged without food, food couldn’t be grown without people, and people couldn’t be born without land. If Six Kingdoms had set their sights beyond short-term conquest, they could not ignore those three principles.

“With all these variables at play, it’s highly unlikely that Six Kingdoms will launch an immediate attack on the central territories. They’ll wait until they’re ready and then come in full force, just like us.”

After gathering one hundred and fifty thousand men, defeat was out of the question.

“So there’s nothing to worry about. We’ll have enough time to gather our forces.”

In Hiro’s heart of hearts, however, he knew the truth was quite the opposite. Six Kingdoms would attack as soon as they were able.

Everything we’re thinking will have occurred to them too. They’re sure to have thought of solutions. With an army that size, in winter, they’ll want to close out the fighting as quickly as possible.

He glanced at Liz. She was making thoughtful noises as she pondered to herself. She still didn’t seem quite convinced.

I shouldn’t have any trouble sending her to see House Muzuk.

He smoothed himself down, looked over the other attendees, and asked if anybody had anything more to offer. Nobody spoke. Satisfied that there were no dissenting opinions, he sat back down.

“Well, if we are all in agreement, let us discuss who shall take what role.” Chancellor Graeci stood up and proceeded matter-of-factly with the agenda.

That should do for now.

Hiro looked down at his hands, and the letter from House Muzuk that they held.

＊＊＊＊＊

Once the assembly had concluded, Hiro left the antechamber behind and set out down the hallway in silence. Various nobles hurried past him as he walked, although not all moved with the same impatience. The central nobles with lands near the west seemed close to panic, while those from the far-flung lands of the north walked far more deliberately, as though they saw present events as none of their concern.

Some people care a lot more about this war than others.

Until now, the empire’s battles had been fought in limited arenas. Never before had it been embroiled in a war on a truly national scale. To most, the conflict probably still seemed like a distant affair. By nature, human beings did not register danger until it threatened them personally; the nobles wouldn’t truly panic until their own lands came under attack, and that was creating a disparity in urgency. The empire’s long years without war had left its noble class without any sense of self-preservation.

Peace has gone to their heads.

Now they were too desensitized to recognize a national crisis. Their minds had lost their edge. He spotted a group of them talking merrily, as though nothing was wrong, and his mood soured further. His steps sped up as he decided to make a swift exit.

“Stop right there, Hiro.”

He turned toward the voice. There stood Liz with her hands on her hips, cheeks puffed out but eyes kind. The sight of her face eased the anger bubbling in his chest.

“What’s wrong?”

“What do you mean, what’s wrong? What do you think you can do with twenty thousand men?”

“As I said, I’m just going to buy time to gather our forces.”

“Are you really?” Liz stepped closer. All of a sudden, her beautiful face was only inches away.

Hiro took an involuntary step back. “Of course. Do you think I’m going to try and fight a hundred and fifty thousand men head-on? That would be crazy.”

Liz raised an admonishing finger. “Just don’t do anything reckless. I’ll be back the minute I’ve sent Steissen packing, so you just sit tight and wait for me. Got that?”

“All right. I’ll wait.”

He gave her a bright smile, but she only stared back skeptically through half-lidded eyes. She had started questioning him a lot more recently—not that she had stopped trusting him, but she no longer accepted his words uncritically. Now she thought them through for herself and pushed back with her own opinions rather than swallowing them in their entirety. That augured well for the future, but in the present situation, it was becoming a problem.

“Oh, I meant to ask. Could you take Garda and the rest with you on your way south?”

“You mean Huginn and Muninn too?”

“If you could.”

Liz’s brows pulled together suspiciously.

Hiro smiled sheepishly. “The Crow Legion is in Berg Fortress, tending to their wounded. I want you to bring them with you on your way back to the central territories.”

“I can do that myself. Those three would be better off staying with you.”

“The Crow Legion used to be a sellsword, and we still haven’t sanded off all their rough edges. They might not listen to you if push came to shove. That’s why you need Garda.” He didn’t truly believe that, but this wasn’t the time for the truth. “And I also want you to introduce the Fourth Legion and the Crow Legion’s officers to one another. Both sides will be more comfortable relying on people they know, and they’ll fight together better as a result.”

“Okay. I’ll try.”

“Thank you. I’ll buy time for you to get back.”

“All right.” Liz nodded, but her expression remained conflicted. She looked at him through upturned eyes, as though she wanted to ask something.

He gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “There’s nothing to worry about. You’re perfectly capable of beating Steissen by yourself. You don’t need me anymore.”

In spite of the praise, Liz pouted. “Do you really think so?”

So he had been correct earlier. Her loss to Stovell was still preying on her mind, preventing her from having full confidence in herself. That would take a heavy-handed intervention to redress.

But don’t worry. I have a plan. I know this won’t stop you.

He stowed his thoughts away deep within his chest and settled for an evasive answer. “I do. Just keep walking straight ahead and you’ll be fine.”

He would pave the road beneath her feet. He would give her the confidence to overcome her doubts. Without that, she would never be able to ascend to the heavens and become the new sun.

Liz still didn’t look fully reassured, but more words wouldn’t be any help. If battle had robbed her of her confidence, it was only in battle that she could regain it.

“Oh, right. How is Scáthach doing?”

“She’s still unconscious, but the doctors say she should wake up soon. Her wounds are healing well.”

“I want you to take her with you too, once she’s awake. She might want to stay behind, but don’t let her. She needs to focus on recovering.”

Scáthach had been wounded grievously fighting Stovell and his Fallen. Her Spiritblade’s blessing had saved her from death, but even so, her injuries could have left an ordinary person bedridden for the rest of their days. Considering the oath she had sworn with Hiro, she would undoubtedly agree to join Liz.

“With how stubborn she can be, she might take some persuading, but she won’t be able to say no to you.”

“I do want her to get better, but...”

“Good.” With a small smile and a pat on Liz’s shoulder, Hiro brought the conversation to an end. “Now, there’s no time to waste. The people of the west are suffering as we speak. We both need to get to work.”

“All right. I...suppose I’ll tell you when we’re ready to leave?”

As Liz blinked in confusion, Hiro strode past her and away down the corridor. Not once did he look back.

“Hiro?”

Her voice rang out plaintively, but it never reached his ears, vanishing in vain into silence.

＊＊＊＊＊

Several places in the empire were barred to all but a select few. One of them was the ruins of the inner palace, a stretch of bare land behind the main keep of Venezyne. The building that once stood there had been torn down following the tragedy of fifteen years prior. Nothing had ever been built to replace it, leaving a gaping hole in the palace complex.

Another such place was the graveyard where the remains of past emperors were interred. Rumor held that it lay somewhere beneath Venezyne.

And only the emperor and his heir are permitted to enter...

It was dusk. Hiro’s footsteps echoed in the silence—the palace residents still avoided the corridor where so much blood had been spilled. He arrived at his destination, a guest chamber, to find two men standing outside. They turned to him and bowed. One was Chancellor Graeci. The other was the chief gravewarden.

“Your Highness. Thank you for coming.”

He had been summoned by Chancellor Graeci.

“I hear there have been intruders on the imperial burial grounds?”

Chancellor Graeci raised his head. “Indeed, Your Highness. It appears that a number of ruffians broke in during the chaos.”

The chief gravewarden fell to his knees. “I can only apologize, Your Highness. I will gladly accept any punishment you name.”

“Could you show me the place first? You can tell me more on the way.”

“O-Of course, Your Highness. This way, if you would.” The chief gravewarden rose and turned, indicating for Hiro to follow.

Graeci turned to Hiro. “Then I must part ways with you here. Only those with royal blood may enter the burial grounds.”

“I see. Thank you, chancellor.”

Graeci inclined his head. “By your leave.” With that, he turned to depart.

Hiro watched him go, eyes fixed on the man’s missing shoulder.

What a farce. I should cut his head off right here.

Anger welled up from the deepest recesses of his heart, filling his mind with a murderous impulse. He laid a hand on his chest and breathed deep. Gradually, the hot rage receded and his breathing steadied.

If I kill him now, the rest will get away. He’s only the tip of the iceberg.

Stovell, Graeci, and many others were a rot infesting the empire, but even they, the most powerful figures in the greatest nation in Soleil, were only the tail of a larger beast. The body and the head beyond lay hidden in darkness, and Hiro would have dearly liked to know what both were up to.

I’ll drag you out into the light, just you wait and see.

His mouth drew into an ominous smile as he stared at the shadows lingering in the corridor.

“If you would come with me, Your Highness?” the chief gravewarden said.

Hiro snapped back to reality and followed.

The underground catacombs where past emperors slumbered lay in a part of the palace known as the Passage of Emptiness. Riddled with secret doors and trap-laden rooms to snare intruders, it was no place to enter lightly—not that one could enter at all without imperial permission. Nobody was watching now, however; not now that the emperor was dead and his gale had ceased.

“Please take care not to touch the walls, Your Highness,” warned the chief gravewarden as Hiro peered around. “I am being quite serious when I say that it is a matter of life and death.”

Hiro had been about to do just that. He withdrew his hand and smiled sheepishly. “They’re trapped, then.”

He didn’t know how potent the traps might be, but it would be best not to test them. The Black Camellia would likely protect him from harm, but he shuddered to imagine what might happen to the man beside him.

“Here, Your Highness.”

At last, the chief gravewarden came to a stop before a blank wall and laid his hand on the stone. There was a heavy grating noise. Cool air pricked at Hiro’s skin. In short order, a staircase appeared, leading down. Torches lined the walls, illuminating the dingy passage just enough to make out one’s footing.

The chief gravewarden went down the stairs first. His hunched figure led the way to a long corridor. The far end was shrouded in darkness, but the man forged ahead into the gloom without hesitation. On the way, they passed a corpse lying on the ground, bearing the wounds of a vicious battle.

“One of my subordinates,” the chief gravewarden supplied, seeing that Hiro had noticed the body. “The intruders cut him down without mercy.”

That body was only the first. As they proceeded down the corridor, the number grew to two, five, eight.

Something odd struck Hiro. “Didn’t any of the intruders fall?”

“To my great regret, they did not.” There was a definite note of bitterness in the man’s voice. Hiro hadn’t known the gravewardens, but they couldn’t have been slouches if they had been charged with protecting the resting place of the rulers of the empire. Yet they had failed to slay a single one of the intruders. It was not hard to imagine the shame their leader must feel.

The corpses’ wounds recalled a memory to Hiro’s mind: a secretive order of assassins.

Orcus—the assassins who slew an emperor.

Viscount von Wirst, the ruler of the satellite city of Sieg, had been killed in much the same way. Both eyes gouged out and the brain destroyed—a sickeningly ruthless method. A small clay figurine lay beside each of the bodies, headless and eerie.

Made in the image of the figure they call their Father...

He didn’t know what that meant, but he could feel the emotions it stirred. Powerful passions: obsession, hatred, rage. But he couldn’t find any answers in their midst. It was like groping around in a dark thicket for something he had dropped.

Answers continued to elude him as they reached the end of the corridor and emerged into a wide space. If there was a ceiling above, it was obscured by darkness. The only light in the place was what the torches supplied; beyond lay a deep abyss that seemed ready to swallow them whole.

The chief gravewarden began to speak as Hiro looked around. “One thousand years ago, one of the Five Lords of Heaven ruled this place, or so the legends say. The most solitary and most terrible of them all: the Black-Winged Lord. A name to strike the world with fear, Your Highness. All trembled at his coming, and his dreadful might threatened all five peoples with extinction.”

He began to walk, still talking.

“But at last, a hero rose to strike down that most terrible of monarchs. This place fell into human hands and the capital was built atop it. When His Majesty the First Emperor knew his time was nigh, he decreed that he be interred here, and so it became the imperial burial grounds. It is the most holy site in the city.”

It was noticeably warmer down here than the wintry climes aboveground. Perhaps some vestige of this Lord’s power still lingered here, or perhaps the curious mounds that lined the earth had some kind of heating effect.

“By the way...” Hiro kept his voice flat as he changed the subject. “May I ask why you’ve called me here?”

“As Mars’s scion, you have a right to know what has transpired.” The chief gravewarden shook his head. “Or rather, I should say, I could entrust this matter to none other than His Majesty the Second Emperor’s blood.”

Hiro cocked his head. “The right to know what?”

The chief gravewarden stopped and raised an arm. “Do you see the mounds that surround us, Your Highness?”

Hiro scanned his surroundings again. Sure enough, here and there the earth rose up into small hills.

“They are called the Thousand Barrows, if the legends are to be believed—so named in the hope that the empire’s prosperity will endure for one thousand generations. A past emperor slumbers beneath each one. And the one behind me at this moment...” The chief gravewarden turned and bowed his head. “Is the tomb of His Majesty the Second Emperor.”

A grass-covered barrow rose before him. The blades were neatly trimmed, evidently maintained on a regular basis. A high fence encircled the mound, studded with glittering jewels. A great hole formed the entrance. Something about it seemed wrong, however. While everywhere else appeared to have been kept dutifully clean, the entrance was littered with rubble. It was clear at a glance: the grave had been desecrated by someone or something.

“There ought to be a door there,” the chief gravewarden continued, “and a casket within. Yet now, it is as you see.”

If the barrow had been intentionally destroyed, there was no mystery as to what Hiro would find if he stepped inside.

“So somebody took advantage of the chaos in the palace to rob the second emperor’s grave?”

The chief gravewarden cocked his head dubiously. “So I believed at first, but oddly, nothing was stolen. Well, only one thing, I should say.” He fished something out of his pocket and held it out. “The intruders left the jewels where they lay. They took only the body within...and left this in the casket in its place.”

In the man’s wrinkled palm lay a headless clay figure.

Hiro took the object and regarded it for a moment with lifeless eyes. “What about the other barrows? Were they broken into?”

“No, Your Highness. Only His Majesty the Second Emperor’s barrow was desecrated. The others were left untouched.”

The thieves had ignored the jewels and other valuables and gone straight for the second emperor’s corpse. Clearly, this had been no normal grave robbery. In the first place, the body they had been there to steal was alive and well.

That casket should have been empty.

Well, there might have been a body inside, but that would have been a double, not the real thing. Even more confusing than that, however, was why they had targeted the second emperor’s barrow at all.

“They seek the revival of their Father,” indeed...

Hiro looked back at the clay figurine in his hand.

All of a sudden, a chill ran up his spine. He spun around, scanning his surroundings with a piercing gaze. The air began to groan beneath the aura of power he projected. However, while he had intended it to warn away any potential attackers, it was the chief gravewarden who suffered; the man clutched at his chest and dropped to one knee.

“Ah... Sorry about that.”

Once Hiro was satisfied that there was nobody lurking in the shadows, he turned his menace down a notch. Even so, he remained alert. Gently, softly, he breathed in and out. His gaze, sweeping back and forth, came to rest on a particular location.

“Is something amiss, Your Highness?” The chief gravewarden peered at the same spot, but there was only empty air. Sweat trickled down his face.

“No, it’s nothing.”

Even so, Hiro’s black eyes did not move a millimeter. They stayed fixed on exactly the same location. Darkness roiled, black and forbidding, as though refusing all who would approach. He lowered his bloodlust by another shade.

“I-Is there something there, Your Highness?” the chief gravewarden interjected, seeing that Hiro was still on edge.

Hiro shot the man a sidelong glance. “Where is the first emperor’s grave?”

His wrinkled face creased in hesitation. Hiro peered suspiciously into the darkness one last time and looked away.

“Let’s try that again. Where is the first emperor’s grave?” The edge of threat in his voice made clear that he would not entertain any evasive answers.

The chief gravewarden bowed low. “I fear I cannot say, Your Highness,” he replied, his voice wavering. “His Majesty the First Emperor’s barrow is said only to appear before those who are chosen to succeed the throne.”

The man was not lying. Hiro sensed no falsehood from his trembling figure. He was telling the truth, as best he understood it, and if he truly did not know, there was no point in questioning him further. There was nothing else to do but track down the odd presence from before.

“I’m going to check whether the intruders left any other traces behind. I assume that won’t be a problem?”

“Of course not, Your Highness.” The chief gravewarden stood and caught his breath before continuing hesitantly, sensing that Hiro wanted to be left alone. “If you would excuse me, I ought to take my leave. Someone must attend to the corpses of my foolish apprentices, and the new security measures we must implement will not install themselves.”

“All right. Feel free to head back aboveground ahead of me. I can remember the way back.”

“If you require anything else, you need only call. I will hasten to your side at once.”

The man bobbed his head several times and departed at a rapid pace. Once his crooked back was out of sight, Hiro set off on his own, intent on tracking down whatever it was that had been watching him. He plunged into the darkness without hesitation, walking toward the presence that he had sensed earlier.

After some time, an enormous rock came into view. It was three times his height and many times broader, to the point that he could not see the far edges.

“That’s strange. How did I miss something this big?”

He looked back over his shoulder but found only darkness looming before him. It was the same all around. He hadn’t walked quite that far from the light; some kind of power must have been at work.

“It wouldn’t exactly be out of character for Artheus to have installed something weird in here...” With a wry grin, Hiro extended a hand toward the rock. His fingers touched the stone.

A change came over the wall. A faint light flared across the rock face before flowing down to the ground, where it dispersed. Again and again, the glow appeared and dissipated, as insubstantial as a smattering of raindrops, yet somehow sublime. The world flickered between light and dark, a spectacle that struck the heart with unaccountable grief.

Gradually, the glow began to change color; black to white, white to red, red to gold. A dazzling light filled Hiro’s field of vision, painting the darkness with golden hues.

“Subtlety never was your strong suit, was it?” A fond smile spread across Hiro’s face as he closed his eyes against the glare.

In time, he felt the light recede. Darkness fell over the world once more.

He opened his eyes to see a cavern lying before him. The gloom was so heavy that he could not see through it even if he squinted. Even so, it was not fear that stirred in his chest, but a sense of reassurance. Something about this place set his mind at ease.

“Now, let’s see who was watching me.”

He strode confidently into the hollow. At once, the landscape around him changed—no, not merely changed, but became something else entirely. He might have strayed into a different world altogether, so strange and wondrous was the sight that unfolded before him.

“Well, now. How did you ever make something like this?”

It was a field of flowers. Vivid petals bloomed proudly as far as the eye could see. The sun shone down above his head, bathing the landscape in brilliant light. Yet something else drew his attention far more strongly. Something that lay in the center of the field, half-buried in blossoms, dominating the scene.

A golden casket.

He chuckled. “Now that’s just ugly. Although it’s certainly your style.”

A gentle wind brushed his skin, dancing around him before reluctantly departing. He turned, sensing someone behind him.

“And here you are.”

There stood a young man, calm and regal: Leon Welt Artheus von Grantz, the first emperor of the Grantzian Empire and Hiro’s brother by oath. Despite the similarity in appearance, however, the faintly glowing apparition was clearly not the man himself. When Hiro looked with Uranos, he could see that it was nothing more than an amalgamation of spirits.

“You have done well to find this place. It does not reveal itself to the weak of resolve.” Artheus spoke in a mechanical tone. “Many memories linger here. Strong emotions do not fade with the passing of the years, but endure forevermore. The spirits take them into themselves, preserving the desires and dreams of past emperors for future generations.”

The contrast between his affected speech and blank expression was vaguely comical. Even knowing that he was only a collection of spirits, the result was uncanny to someone like Hiro, who had known the man in the flesh.

Artheus, indifferent to Hiro’s unease, spread his arms theatrically. “You have been chosen to take on a great trial. You have been deemed worthy to inherit the desires of your predecessors, taking on the sins of the Grantzian Empire and the inescapable fate of its emperors.”

He raised an arm and pointed. Hiro turned to see a figure standing before the golden casket, head bowed. There was something of Artheus in the man’s features, a familiarity that made Hiro cock his head, but the sight of the tears trickling down his cheeks stopped any further thoughts in their tracks.

“Forgive me, Father... Forgive me, Lord Schwartz... I... I cannot...”

A short distance away was a red-haired man carrying four weapons that looked very much like the Spiritblade Sovereigns. He stood straight-backed, arms folded, his handsome visage trained on the casket.

“This turbulent age is a mire of lies and schemes. Whispers in the shadows plot to bring me low. But if you say this must be done, I will cleave them all asunder and lead the empire to greater heights.”

A third man appeared beside the second. This one, Hiro recognized. Indeed, he could not have forgotten his face if he had tried. It was Liz’s father, the murdered emperor Greiheit.

“Oh...” Greiheit sobbed. “How can this be? By what cruel fate...”

With his shoulders hunched and tears streaming from his eyes, he looked almost too fragile to be an emperor. A red-haired baby slept cradled in his arms.

“Liz... Oh, Liz... I could not protect your mother... Please, forgive your foolish father...”

The corners of his eyes creased with sorrow as he brushed the child’s cheek tenderly. There was more love in that gesture than he had ever seemed capable of in life.

“Lord Artheus, I beg you, choose anyone but her. Let her live a life of peace. Let her never know the fires of war.” His anguish spilled straight from his soul, raw emotion dredged up from the depths of his heart. “If a price must be paid, I offer myself in her stead. I ask only that you keep her safe from harm.”

Some repented their sins, others proclaimed their strength, yet others knelt and prayed. All manner of lingering sentiments began to gather before the casket. Hiro fell to his knees as pain lanced through his skull. Rage, sorrow, joy, hatred—all manner of feelings mingled, melded, merged. The first emperor’s resting place stored a vast amount of data. Emotions flowed into his chest in volumes that even Uranos could not process.

“If you have found this place, you have the right to know the truth.”

Hiro looked up at the false Artheus, one hand clapped over his aching eye.

“Glean from it as much or as little as you will...but the Time of Turning is coming, and you must make ready.”

The aggregation of spirits might not be the real Artheus, but it had certainly nailed the original’s habit of saying his piece and vanishing. Perhaps spirits naturally moved at their own pace, or perhaps it was simply reading from a predetermined script. Either way, its explanation was lacking.

“You must carry on my will. That is all I desire.”

With that, the spirits dispersed. A sudden gust blew through the cavern, rushing skyward. Hiro watched it go before loosening his collar and expelling a sigh.

“It looks like I’d better start looking for the rest.”

He needed answers, even if he had no choice but to grope for them in the dark. This was less fate and more an inevitability. His return to this world a thousand years after bidding it farewell—his very presence here—had warped its fabric, and he had a responsibility to deal with the consequences.

The ache in his eye had subsided now. He rose to his feet and approached the golden casket. Its ostentatious design was clearly intended to inspire awe, but otherwise, there was nothing special about it.

“Am I supposed to open it? I’m not exactly eager to see Artheus’s shrunken corpse.”

As he wondered what to do, a strange object in the corner of his eye caught his attention.

“What do we have here?”

It was an old book. He picked it up. As he glanced through the contents, he felt the power of the spirits flow into him. It had been imbued within the tome itself, likely to ensure its pages never rotted.

“Now that I think about it, he did say something about learning his letters to leave something behind for future generations...”

Smiling wryly, Hiro traced the flowing script with a finger. It was written in Artheus’s hand. It seemed he might be holding the first emperor’s memoirs.

The beginning of the book was familiar, but as he read on, he found himself becoming more and more suspicious of the timeline of events. Eventually, the discrepancies put him in mind of a certain book. He reached into the Black Camellia and pulled out the White Chronicle.

“Two, yet one. I suppose now they’re whole again. If I’d known this was going to happen, I would have brought the Black Chronicle as well.”

He laid the two books side by side on top of the golden casket and began to read, glancing between them as he gently turned the pages.

＊＊＊＊＊

Fort Mitte, in Old Duret in the southwest of Faerzen

As Hiro scratched his head far beneath the palace, an overcast sky loomed over Fort Mitte. The clouds were gray and low and filled with unease.

A few months prior, Old Duret had been the site of a vicious battle between Scáthach, princess of Faerzen, and Aura, the famed Warmaiden of the Grantzian Empire. The fiercest of the fighting had occurred at Fort Mitte. Erected to protect the province’s inhabitants from the monsters that prowled the foothills of the Travant Mountains, the fort had lost its original purpose with the fall of Faerzen, but it had still weathered numerous battles and remained a bastion standing guard over the west.

Six Kingdoms’ assault had robbed it of even that. Now it was little better than a pile of rubble. Its walls had fallen, its buildings were burning, and its surroundings were littered with charred corpses. The stench of scorched rust filled the air. Piles of bodies grew ever larger as new additions were heaped on. Great pools of blood grew stagnant on the ground, the earth beneath having already drunk its fill.

The battle was not yet done. Pockets of resistance still held out. The girl knew that their efforts would be as brief as they were futile, but even so, she could not help but voice her frustration.

“Such foolishness. What can their defiance possibly win but greater suffering?”

Her lip curled with distaste as she peered through her complement of burly soldiers at the dust clouds rising from the battlefield. She flicked open her fan to fend off the death-stink floating on the breeze.

“’Tis a heinous waste of time and nothing more.”

“They are desperate, Your Majesty. They are unwilling to give up control of Fort Mitte so soon after winning it from the Faerzen Resistance...not that much remains for them to guard.” The handsome young commander at her side smiled, although in light of the sordid scene before him, the expression was more cruel than reassuring.

“I had such high expectations of this third prince’s mettle, yet I find them all sadly dashed. What a bore he has been.”

The girl made no attempt to conceal her disdain. She glared down at the man seated before her, gaze laden with scorn.

“Why, he was nothing to speak of at all. A mediocrity to the bone, no Spiritblade to his name. I had hoped that he might possess in strategy what he lacked in strength, yet what did I find but a brutish oaf? How utterly disappointing. ’Tis a farce that I should have to entertain him at all.” She ran her fingers along the edge of her fan. “Is that not so, Third Prince Brutahl?”

Brutahl—a bald-pated man dressed in gaudy finery—scowled in shame. How stunned the nobles of the capital would have been to see him bound; they would have fainted clean away, either out of loyal outrage or just plain shock. Regardless, he glared fiercely back up at his captors, refusing to surrender his dignity even in captivity. As he did, he caught sight of the serpent banner by the girl’s side.

“I know that flag. You’re from the Kingdom of Anguis.”

“Oh? You know of us. Then tell me, who presently rules Anguis?”

“Why should I care who rules some insignificant border province a thousand sel to the west?”

“Insignificant, are we? How very droll.” The girl laughed, but her eyes were not smiling. All at once, her arm was a blur.

“Gah!”

Brutahl went flying. He bounced across the ground, blood spraying from his mouth. At last he came to rest in a cloud of dust.

The girl rose from her chair and stepped toward him. “Then learn it now. Perhaps the pain will prove a sufficient reminder.” With a thrust of her chin, she motioned for a soldier to haul Brutahl to his feet. “I am Lucia Levia du Anguis, the queen of Anguis of Six Kingdoms—that which you call an insignificant border province.”

She spread her fan and raised it over her mouth. Her dainty eyebrows rose with mirth. A queen, she called herself, and she looked the part, radiating regal dignity.

Brutahl chuckled. “Oh, you rule the place? I do apologize. I thought a prostitute had strayed onto the battlefield.”

“Watch your tongue, imbecile.”

“Agh!”

Again, her arm moved with blinding speed. Brutahl’s jaw snapped upward. A gout of blood flew from his mouth, coloring the sky with a crimson spray and the white of several teeth.

“Ngah!”

He tried to clench his jaw against the pain, but blood poured through the gaps where his teeth had been. The strength left his legs and he surrendered to gravity, collapsing onto his behind. “Curse you...” he snarled, staring back up at Lucia. His features twisted in agony.

She gave a bark of laughter. “Now that’s more like it. Much more to my liking.”

“I must advise restraint, Your Majesty,” the young commander cautioned. “He has value as a hostage.”

Lucia tapped her fan against the space between her eyebrows. “What a bore, to have to keep such a tedious man alive...”

Brutahl sneered back at his captors. “My life is worth less than you might think. My father has never had any need of me.”

Lucia doubled over with laughter, clutching at her belly. If not for the mud, she might have rolled around on the ground. “You cannot mean... Oh, how can you not know? How blissfully ignorant!” She wiped the tears from her eyes, but her voice still trembled, as though she might break out into hysterics again at any second. “Are you truly unaware that your emperor is dead?”

“What?”

Brutahl stared back dumbly. He did not seem to comprehend. He was not at fault—he had received word of House Krone’s rebellion, but the highest echelons of the court had suppressed news of the emperor’s passing. Not that it would have made much difference in any case; he had been too preoccupied with the battle against Six Kingdoms to receive messengers.

“Shall I tell you how he passed? ’Tis no precious secret—”

“Shut your lying mouth! My father, dead? Nonsense! He would not, could not! He is the leader of the Grantzian Empire, the greatest nation in the world! None could ever get the better of him!”

Brutahl’s earnest love for his father was admirable, but as unwavering as his trust might be, it was tragically misplaced. Greiheit may have been an emperor, but he was still human, the frailest of the five peoples. Their life spans were short, their best years brief, and they were apt to die from the slightest of injuries.

“He wields a Spiritblade! He is one of the Spirit King’s chosen few!”

His faith in the spirits could only be described as blind zealotry. The Spirit King might have been one of the Five Lords of Heaven, but he was not almighty. Spirits were humanity’s companions, their neighbors, and the safeguards of their hopes and dreams.

“The Spiritblades grant power in accordance with their wielder’s desires, ’tis true...but as the wielder’s body fails, such a treasure becomes as a pearl before swine.”

In his youth, Greiheit had been a mighty warrior indeed. Lucia had heard tales of his exploits. Yet while his latter years had been marked by a fixation on conquest, no champion could defeat the ravages of age.

“I hear ’twas First Prince Stovell who cut off his head.”

Brutahl paled. “My brother? Surely not...”

“Is Stovell not also... How did you put it? ‘One of the Spirit King’s chosen few’?”

The prince looked down at the ground, visibly shaken. He seemed deaf to Lucia’s words.

“Cat got your tongue? A pity. I thought you might scream a little more.”

Lucia had received word of the emperor’s death at Stovell’s hands, but she was more interested in the appearance of Mars’s scion. That was a development she had not expected. The hero’s bloodline, rediscovered at last after a thousand long years. Distantly, she felt the gears of the ages grind into motion. If the reports of that vexing creature Nameless could be trusted, he was the genuine article, although that seemed difficult to believe.

“I had believed our alliance long buried, and yet...”

She looked down at her arm, and the veins pulsing beneath her skin. Blood could be a troublesome thing. A bond once sworn could not be undone, no matter how many centuries passed in the interim.

“What to do? There is little so troublesome to handle as a hero’s heir...”

Would he prove a tempest who would cleave open a new era, or a savior who would restore an age long past?

The fluttering of the serpent flag brought Lucia back to reality.

“Do excuse me. My musings got the better of me, I fear. But such things can wait. Now, I shall decide your fate.” With an abashed smile, she spread her fan to cover her mouth, regarding Prince Brutahl with icy eyes.

“Have you decided what to do with him, Your Majesty?” The young commander’s smile never faltered.

Lucia nodded. “We make for the western territories, do we not? He is certain to come in useful there. In the meantime, let us see what information we can squeeze from him.”

“Understood, Your Highness.” The man glanced at the guards, who picked up Brutahl beneath the arms and hoisted him to his feet.

“You’d best be prepared.” Brutahl forced out the words through lips twisted in pain. “The Grantzian Empire is the rightful ruler of all Soleil. If you expect it to roll over and die, you had better think twice.”

His show of determination was admirable, but the baseless confidence of it grated on Lucia’s nerves. “May you prove at least a little entertaining,” she said, resettling herself in her chair as the guards took him away.

“It will be useful, having him on hand,” the young commander commented. “Some of the empire’s western nobles continue to resist us fiercely. Have you considered clapping a collar on him and walking him by your side as we march? That ought to show them the futility of their efforts.”

Lucia peered at him dubiously. “You do have the most twisted mind, Seleucus. Has anybody ever told you that?”

Seleucus shrugged blithely. “A suggestion, nothing more. Many in the empire view the royal family as gods. If they see that we hold one of their princes as a slave, they may be more willing to serve us.”

“I shall consider it. So? How fares the battle?”

“Our conquest of Fort Mitte is almost complete. We have taken around thirty thousand prisoners. What would you see done with them, Your Majesty? Shall we take them with us?”

“Why should we do that? ’Twill only slow us down.” Lucia pressed her fan to her chin and pretended to think, indulging the jest. “Take those who serve the Grantzian royal family and behead them. If we have Third Prince Brutahl, we have no need of his followers.”

“Very good, Your Majesty. What of the rest?”

“Send messengers to our homeland. They will ransom those they can and sell those they cannot as slaves. Anybody else is yours to execute as you wish. Some must serve as a warning, after all.” Resolve glittered in Lucia’s eyes. She flicked open her fan and raised it toward the distant Grantzian Empire. “And now we march, proclaiming Faerzen’s liberation and rallying its people to our cause.”

“And we must regroup with the Vulpes siblings too.”

Lucia nodded. “One fears what they may do if left to their own devices.”

“I only hope they haven’t burned all of the western territories to ash. The sister at least has a level head on her shoulders, but the brother takes a little too much joy in slaughter.”

“Their strength is beyond reproach, no doubt about that. I would not have brought them with me otherwise. And they will not tug too hard at the leash. They understand well the position they are in.”

“Ousted from their throne.” Seleucus’s voice was a whisper, barely audible above the clamor of battle.

“Indeed. The Vulpes siblings are prodigies, ’tis true, but only as mundane men are prodigies. She, on the other hand, is a genius in the truest sense.” One figure loomed large in Lucia’s mind, peerless in battle and unmatched in wisdom—the closest in all of Six Kingdoms to the position of High King. “So much so that she puts all other claims of genius to shame. A mind so transcendent as to render the exceptional mundane—why, her very existence is an affront to good sense.”

Seleucus smiled ruefully and sighed. Evidently, he had been thinking of the same person. She had already secured the support of four royal houses. If nothing was done, she would be the next High Queen.

“The entire nation believed that I was next in line to the throne, but she showed me the error of my ways. My own fault, perhaps, for sitting on my hands, but that I should be reduced to glory-seeking... ’Tis poor comedy, don’t you think?”

Lucia rose to her feet and gazed at the eastern sky.

“Shall we depart at once, Your Majesty?” Seleucus asked.

She snapped her fan shut. “We shall. Leave the Vulpes siblings for too long, and they shall begin to poach glories that are rightfully mine.”

Seleucus grinned wryly. “I see you aren’t so different after all.”

Lucia brought her fan to her shoulder with a sharp clack. “Our work here is done, Seleucus. Let us pay a visit to this Lord of Eld.”