Shinwa Densetsu no Eiyuu no Isekaitan - Volume 8 - Chapter 1.1

Chapter 1: The King in Baum

“Good morning, my lord,” said a smooth voice.

Hiro leaped out of bed before he had even opened his eyes. Not a moment later, his eardrums shook with a thunderous crash. An impact shuddered through him, violent enough to shake him to the core.

“Curses,” the voice growled.

Hiro did not hear. The blast had sent him tumbling across the floor.

“Ngh!”

He grunted as his head smacked into the wall. At last, he came to rest. Only then, lying sprawled on the floor, did he open his eyes. His irises—one gold, the other black—registered a dead-eyed woman standing a short distance away, an enormous warhammer in her hands.

“You again...” He pulled himself up into a sitting position, rubbing his head, and regarded her incredulously through the rising dust.

She showed not an ounce of remorse, standing over him with folded arms. “I see your reflexes have not dulled.” Behind her, the bed lay in splinters.

Hiro heaved a sigh and got to his feet. “It’s been two years. I’d have thought you’d have given up by now.”

“‘You may attempt to take my life at any time.’ That, I believe, was the condition you offered me.” Every syllable oozed hostility. She was guarded as a cat and just as keen for him to know that she would never be his friend.

“I suppose I did say that.” Hiro had come to terms with their fractious relationship. After everything the woman had been through, it was understandable. Still, he reserved the right to complain about his lost sleep. “I wish you wouldn’t keep trying every morning, though. I need to rest sometime.”

He reached out for his splintered bed stand, groping for his mask, but she kicked him away.

“What was that for?”

“I thought I would show you the way to your mask.” She didn’t even blink.

“Funny way of doing it.” With a strained smile, he picked the mask up from where it had come to rest beneath the windowsill. “It’s a nice day today. Shame my morning isn’t as relaxing as it could have been.”

The sky beyond the window was a deep sea blue. A flock of birds swam gracefully across its canvas, heading east, then west, bound eventually across the sea. They flew free of cares or obstacles, as if mocking the people confined to the ground below, flying as their whims took them, no doubt headed for lands unknown.

It was the twentieth day of the fifth month of Imperial Year 1026.

After parting ways with the Grantzian Empire two years prior, Hiro had taken refuge in Baum, a small nation to the east of Soleil. Now he lived in its only city, a medium-sized city called Natua. He had taken up residence in the temple known as Frieden, the Spirit King’s Sanctum, in the room he had once shared with Liz.

“Return Igel and I will be gone,” the woman said.

Her name was Luka Mammon du Vulpes, and she was the former commander of the armies of Vulpes, one of the nations that made up the state of Six Kingdoms on the continent’s western edge. Two years ago, her younger brother had been killed in battle during their invasion of the empire, and she had laid waste to its western territories in a vengeful rage until finally meeting her match in Liz. Now her hatred simmered in her belly, deprived of any outlet. Hiro had made use of that to recruit her to his cause, but as the one who had killed her brother in the first place, he was not exempt from her wrath. She had made an attempt on his life every day, without fail, for two years straight.

“I suppose I did say you’re welcome to kill me and steal him back.” Still, he had not expected that one invitation to lead to constant murder attempts. With a rueful grin, he brushed the dust from his white mantle and strode up to Luka. “Don’t worry. I’ll give you back his arm when the time is right. I did promise that I’d give you hope.”

He leaned close enough for their noses to touch and flashed her a smile, but her expression didn’t budge an inch. If anything, her glare bored into him more fiercely.

“But until then, I’ll need you to follow orders. That was part of our agreement. Do I have your understanding?”

Luka’s eyes flashed. “I have no need of a reminder. Have I not followed your orders to the letter all this time?”

“And I’m grateful for it. Long may our partnership continue.”

He clapped her on the shoulder and fixed the mask to his face with a practiced motion. Luka dismissed her giant warhammer—Vajra of the Five Dharmic Blades, forged by the Faerie King.

“Now, then,” Hiro said. “I assume you’re here for more than just another attempt on my life?”

He regarded her afresh. She was beautiful as only royalty could be. However, her entire left side was swathed in hideous burns, and she had lost her left arm in battle with Hiro two years prior. In that sense, it was hardly surprising that she tried to take vengeance on him every chance she got. Unfortunately for her, she was yet to deal him so much as a scratch.

“Very little else. But yes, I carry a message from the knight-priestesses. Ambassadors continue to arrive, bearing ever more goodwill. They request your presence in the king’s chamber.”

Barbed as her tone was, she relayed her message as she had been bidden. She was a dutiful woman, despite appearances. In the two years she had been in Hiro’s service, she had followed his orders faithfully.

“More ambassadors? Let Garda deal with them. Where is he, anyway?”

Shortly after his return to the world of Aletia, Hiro had encountered a zlosta named Garda Meteor. They had met as foes in the Duchy of Lichtein to the empire’s south. After a fierce battle, Hiro had prevailed, but he had seen value in leaving his foe alive. Garda, too, stood to benefit from joining forces, and they had become allies.

After Hiro abandoned the title of Fourth Prince and reassumed the name of Surtr, Garda had continued to serve him and now resided with him in Baum. With the Kingdom of Lebering so close, the zlosta had judged that there was no need to hide his heritage. Now he displayed his people’s distinctive purple skin proudly as he dealt with other nations in his capacity as the king’s counsel.

“He is scouting the nearby villages. The local monsters have been restless of late, and the commonfolk have petitioned us repeatedly to cull their numbers.”

“No Garda? Then there’s nothing for it; I’ll deal with them myself.”

In principle, Hiro could have delegated the task to Luka, but as she was from Vulpes and technically a deserter, leaving her to handle diplomacy would risk causing an incident. The other options were Huginn and Muninn, but the siblings were hardly trained in formal etiquette and their presence would likely cause offense. No, if he wanted to avoid needless friction, he would have to do it himself.

I could leave it to the archpriestess, I suppose, but I shouldn’t bother her with something so petty.

With a sigh of resignation, he set off for the door, Luka falling in after him. After a few paces, he began to sense a distinctly lethal intent emanating from behind him. She was clearly hoping that he would show her an opening.

“Would you mind going first? If we start fighting in the corridor, I’m going to be late.” He opened the door, indicating with a thrust of his chin for her to step ahead.

Luka heaved a deep sigh. “Does the great Lord Surtr wish to gaze at my behind as I walk? If the people heard of this, they would despair.” Her shoes clacked as she stalked ahead, resigning herself to leading the way. “Stay close. The corridors of Frieden are a labyrinth.”

“I’m aware. It has been two years, you know.” With a shrug, Hiro set out after her. Knight-priestesses bowed their heads as he passed.

Besides, I’ve lived here before. Short as my stay was back then.

The floor was paved with flagstones, and their footsteps echoed easily in the silence of the bleached-white corridors. Hiro narrowed his eyes against the sunlight streaming between the pillars. His mind began to wander as he gazed at the well-tended flower beds.

I never thought I’d end up becoming king of this land a second time.

Baum had only ever had one king—when Hiro founded it a thousand years ago. Its young monarch had only sat the throne for a short time. Following Hiro’s abdication, the throne had stood empty, and the duties of ruling were taken over by his patron, the second archpriestess.

Baum should never have survived. It’s only thanks to the archpriestesses that it still exists today.

Whether they had prophesied that he would need it again, there was no way to know, but regardless of their intentions in keeping the nation alive, the people they shepherded had complicated feelings about Hiro’s return. Some had greeted his ascension with discontent and dissatisfaction, others with celebration and cheering, but even the peaceful people of Baum harbored some worries for their future.

I’ve shown them that there’s some advantage in having the Crow Legion around to take care of monsters, but if the sparks start to blow their way, they won’t be able to turn a blind eye. I suppose we’ll see how much we’ve ingratiated ourselves when the time comes.

He continued on, musing as he walked. At last, they left the white corridors behind and came to an open garden. The wide space boasted a semicircular fountain and colorful flower beds in full bloom, and the trees were a verdant green. It showed signs of being maintained, but it had been many years since this place had served its original purpose; it had last been used one thousand years ago, when Hiro had resolved to leave Aletia behind. Although created to entertain dignitaries visiting from other nations, it presently served no political purpose, instead being used by the knight-priestesses, trainees, and archpriestess herself as a place of respite.

He proceeded along a path lined with flowers of all kinds until he came to another passage not unlike the one he had left. Before him loomed an aged wooden door, noticeably larger than any of the other rooms. A Knight of the Spirits stood on either side, their faces concealed by helmets. They lowered their heads silently as he approached.

Luka turned to face him. “You must continue on your own. I will be waiting in one of the nearby chambers.”

“That’s strange. Usually, you follow me everywhere. You can join me if you like. I’ll handle the business myself.”

Entertaining ambassadors sounded lofty, but all it actually entailed was exchanging greetings and offering some banal pleasantries. Nothing important was going to be discussed, so there would be no issue with Luka’s presence. Still, she shook her head, a sour expression on her face.

“Will you truly be so lost in my absence? Like a babe in the cradle...or so I would jest if the people beyond that door did not hail from the Vanir Triumvirate. The danger that they would know me is too great. I am considered a deserter, for all the choice you gave me in the matter. You would risk provoking a diplomatic incident.”

“All right, you’ve made your point. Still, the Vanir Triumvirate, hm? That’s a rare pleasure.”

The Vanir Triumvirate was a trio of nations located to the west, south of Six Kingdoms: the Vanaheim Theocracy, the Knightdom of Nala, and the Monastic Order of Kwasir. The Vanaheim Theocracy was a society ruled by álfar, who venerated the Faerie King, and as the Knightdom of Nala and the Monastic Order of Kwasir had been founded by exalted subjects of its Holy Emperor, the three nations shared a firm alliance. Faerie worship was particularly strong there, in part because of its proximity to the álfen holy land that was the western continent. Six Kingdoms lay firmly in the scope of its cultural influence, and conversions and pogroms were rapidly proliferating within its borders. It was suspected that the invasion of two years prior had been prompted by the Vanir Triumvirate, although the truth was yet uncertain.

“I wonder what they’re doing coming all the way to another religion’s spiritual center. Do you suppose they’re trying to convert us? Or are faerie worshippers just that reckless?”

Coming here would have been no easy road. They would have had to cross the entire Grantzian Empire, and if they had been spotted by any of the imperial soldiers who were particularly zealous spirit worshippers, they might easily have been detained. The two faiths might have once joined hands to defeat their common enemy, the zlosta, but the rift that had formed between them one thousand years ago had only widened since.

Luka snorted. “As if you did not know. They come to scoff. They see that the von Grantz dynasty is crumbling, they hear that spirit worship is foundering, and amid all these premonitions of destruction, a small nation installs a new king. They have come to pay their respects, twisted as they are.”

Hiro privately marveled that she could fit so much scorn into one answer, but he knew that if he drew attention to it, she would only spit more venom. Best to ignore it or he would risk starting an argument.

“It sounds like a thousand years hasn’t done much to ease their grudge.”

“A thousand years ago may be the distant past for humans, but it is a trifling amount of time for the álfar. My own grandparents were there for the rift, and they told me more stories of that time than I care to count.”

The split between álfar and humans had come one thousand years ago in the midst of the war with the zlosta. A human nobleman had become besotted with an álfen woman of royal blood and stolen her away. Naturally, the álfar had been outraged. When Artheus heard what had transpired, he had recovered the woman, but that had not been enough to sate her people’s anger. The álfar had invaded the nobleman’s lands, razed his villages, and executed those responsible. That had earned the humans’ ire, and what had begun as a spark soon threatened to explode into all-out war. While Artheus organized diplomatic talks between the two peoples and eventually issued a formal apology, their friendship had been permanently marred, and although conflict between them was successfully averted, the álfar had withdrawn their troops from the war effort and returned to their lands. Hiro had been on the front lines at the time, but he had heard about what had transpired through reports.

And the discrimination they’ve experienced over the past thousand years hasn’t done much for their opinion of humans.

Such deeply rooted hatred was not easily excised. To come here, to the heart of the Spirit King’s faith, must have been beyond loathsome for the proud álfar; they would probably have preferred to slash their own throats.

“I can’t imagine it’s just my face they’re interested in.” Hiro pressed his mask back into place and sighed.

“The sooner you meet with them, the sooner you may clear them from your mind,” Luka said coldly. With that, she turned and left, likely intending to conceal herself somewhere nearby.

She was right; worrying would solve nothing. Hiro steeled himself, took a deep breath, and approached the doors.

“Let me pass.”

The Knights of the Spirits bowed their heads and opened the door.

＊＊＊＊＊

The interior of Frieden was ostensibly divided into four quarters, although the sanctuary—forbidden to all but the archpriestess—made five. The central quarter was the Baptismal Font, where newborn babes and first-time visitors to Frieden were invited. To the east was the training ground, forbidden to men and outsiders, where the priestesses-in-training learned their skills. To the west was the residential quarter for the knight-priestesses and their squires, where Hiro’s chambers were located. The southern quarter was a leisure area open to the general public, mostly occupied by inns and dining halls serving travelers and pilgrims, as well as reception rooms for diplomats and other dignitaries.

The last was the northern quarter. Located neither inside nor outside the sanctum but somewhere in between, it was accessible only through one door. On the other side sprawled another world. Lush, green trees grew in abundance, forest creatures chirped and squeaked, and the babbling of a brook fell easily on the ears. From above showered the rays of the dazzling midday sun. This was the Baptismal Sanctuary, a sacred place that only a select few were permitted to enter.

A white table stood near the entrance, with a set of teaware and a small mound of confectionery laid on top. Two women sat facing each other over what looked for all the world like an afternoon tea party.

“Clear air, a gentle breeze, warm sunshine, and a fragrant cup of tea... One might think I’ve wandered into another world entirely. Who knew that Frieden boasted such a place?”

An amethyst-haired woman savored the aroma of her tea with a dainty smile. She moved with the kind of seductive grace that would make even another woman’s heart race. In her case, however, it was born not of a beauty that attracted, but an allure that bewitched.

“My! Does that mean my tea is to your liking?”

A gentle breeze, like the first touch of spring, set sultry lights glistening in her compassionate eyes and caressed the length of her shapely nose before finally swirling across her pale pink lips. Her delicate features were both ethereal and compelling, but most fascinating of all was her snow-white skin. She was an auf, a changeling child born as a zlosta but forced to live as an álf. There was only one such creature in Soleil: Queen Claudia van Lebering.

“Very much so. Its refreshing aroma hides a remarkable depth of flavor. I find it quite delectable.”

Answering Claudia’s question—after just the slightest pause—was a woman with a dignified air. Her body was no less voluptuous than Claudia’s, with smooth, lustrous skin that all but sparkled in the sunlight. Within her uncommon beauty lurked an intoxicating fragrance that only heightened her allure, and her soothing aura worked in concert with her fairness to draw the gaze of all she met. Through her windblown hair protruded the distinctive pointed ears of an álf. She was the fourth archpriestess, the protector of Frieden and the only individual permitted to commune with the Spirit King.

Claudia giggled. “But of course the archpriestess of Frieden has an eye for quality. Did I mention that these leaves are an export from Lebering? If you wish, I would welcome you as a trading partner. No doubt the women of the sanctum would be delighted to have them in greater supply.”

“You raise a good point. I shall look into the matter.”

“Then I shall await your answer with great anticipation. While we’re on the subject, Lebering also does a roaring trade in silver and bronze—both things that Baum needs, if I am not mistaken.”

As nonchalantly as she broached the subject, it was clear that Claudia had ulterior motives. Protocol dictated that such diplomatic negotiations would usually take place in a formal setting, but she seemed to be trying to discern in private whether the archpriestess would be amenable.

The álf’s brow creased imperceptibly, but she soon reassumed her impassive expression, taking a sip of tea and waiting for a moment before breaking into a smile. “I regret to say I have no authority to make such decisions. Frieden rules Baum no longer; we merely reside upon its land.”

When Hiro had assumed rulership of Baum, he had cut Frieden free from the national fabric. The Spirit King’s Sanctum retained its elite troops, the Knights of the Spirits, but they numbered fewer than a thousand. The Crow Legion alone numbered around five thousand; if the former were surrounded, the battle would be short.

Across the ocean to the east of Baum was a chain of islands ruled by the Twelve Tribes, the forefathers of the beastfolk. To the north was the Kingdom of Lebering, a nation of zlosta rapidly gaining strength under Claudia’s rule. To the west was the Grantzian Empire, tired and battered from countless battles but still the lion of Soleil. And to the south was the Duchy of Lichtein and their slavers.

“I see.” Claudia nodded in understanding. “That’s quite the intricate arrangement you’ve managed.”

“Frieden remains a neutral party, as it has always been. With my greatest apologies, we cannot intervene in an ongoing conflict in any way, shape, or form.”

Hiro’s ascension had been met with a slew of criticism from the surrounding nations, the Grantzian Empire—Baum’s longtime ally—among them. In order to avoid would-be conquerors protesting the occupation of humanity’s most sacred soil, Hiro had separated the nation of Baum from the institution of Frieden. Giving the latter independence and self-governance created a peculiar political situation, but one that kept it from becoming either a liability to his own nation or an advantage to another.

“Well, I suppose I have no choice but to desist,” Claudia continued. “I shall endeavor to persuade Lord Surtr.” She backed down easily. Either she had only wanted to confirm how things stood or her hopes had not been high from the start.

A faint noise passed between them, the treading of footsteps on grass. Both of their heads swiveled around.

“My, what a rare pleasure.”

A figure stepped toward them, his expression hidden behind a mask, a black blade at his hip. He removed the mask with his right hand, revealing a face with gentle features far too youthful for his age. He looked just as he had two years prior. Even what should have been a growth spurt had done nothing for his height. He had not changed in the slightest, as though time had stopped for him alone.

“Your youthfulness is the envy of us all, Lord Surtr. We of zlosta blood age less quickly than humans, but even so...” Claudia cupped her breasts in her hands. “Some forms of growth will not be halted. Oftentimes I find myself to have developed in the most unexpected places. Yet you never change, not even in the slightest. Tell me, what’s your secret?” Her eyes took on a sultry look as she peered up at him. They glistened alluringly, but in their depths lurked the predatory glint of a hawk regarding its prey.

“My secret? Stay up late, eat all you can, and laze the day away in your chambers. Be the best shut-in you can. If I’m doing anything else, I haven’t heard about it.” With a shrug, Hiro placed his mask back on his face.

Claudia let her shoulders slump in resignation, uncertain whether to laugh or roll her eyes. “Well, you can tell me more about that another time, I’m sure. In the meantime, I see that your shadow is accompanying you again.”

Her eyes flicked to the tree behind him, where Luka crouched among the roots. Normally, she would have said nothing, but the woman was muttering feverishly to herself as she stared daggers at Hiro, gone far past creepy and well into terrifying.

“What? Oh, her?” Being glared at with the fury of a thousand suns didn’t seem to disturb Hiro in the slightest. One might have wondered if he was just as abnormal.

Claudia regarded him like some kind of zoological curiosity. “I almost daren’t ask, but...do you have a thing for clingy women?” She peered into his face, eyes cold like a wife who had discovered her husband’s infidelity.

“Now what do you mean by that?”

“Only that you have given me cause for suspicion. You show no interest in any woman who approaches you, coop yourself up in your room with your books, and only emerge to battle monsters in the company of sweaty men, yet the one person you keep by your side is the woman who tries to kill you. Why, anyone would wonder whether you were getting something else out of this arrangement.”

Hiro snorted in amusement and changed the topic. “And what are you doing here? I thought I told you to wait in a reception room if you need me. How did you even get here?”

Claudia gave a shrug; evidently, she had expected her barrage of accusations to be brushed off. “I arrived in the Spirit King’s Sanctum an hour ago, but the knight-priestesses informed me that Lord Surtr was busy attending to some dignitaries or other, so I decided to take a walk while I waited. My senses are remarkably sharp, as I am sure you are aware. I sensed something most unusual nearby, and where did it lead me but this beautiful place?” She took a sip of her tea, which by now had grown quite cold.

Hiro placed his hands on his hips and rolled his eyes. “Where you met the archpriestess, and you’ve been here drinking tea ever since.”

“More or less.” The archpriestess nodded in agreement.

“Then your business here is done. I’ll hear you out in my chambers.” Hiro turned to Luka. “Luka, escort Claudia to my quarters.”

“Why should I escort this common sneak-thief anywhere?” She glared at Hiro with hatred in her eyes, biting at her thumbnail.

Luka and Claudia shared a mutual loathing that they could not get past. It extended back two years, to when Claudia had prevented her from beheading Hiro. If Hiro’s death was her greatest wish, Claudia’s head was her second.

“If she wanders off again, she’s yours to do with as you like.”

That was a joke, but Luka did not register such things. She stood bolt upright and stepped closer. “Very well. Come along, sneak-thief. And hold your tongue or you shall be disciplined.”

Claudia giggled. “Or perhaps a toothless mongrel shall be disciplined in turn.”

That was going a little too far on both their parts. They stalked off, side by side, hostility crackling between them. It seemed like a fistfight might break out at any moment.

“You two go on ahead,” Hiro called. “I’ll be right behind you.”

The pair vanished down the corridor, still glaring at one another. It was impossible to tell whether they had heard or not. Once they were gone, Hiro turned back to the archpriestess.

“I assume you saw it all. What do you think they were here for?”

The archpriestess nodded, unfazed by the sudden question. “Presently, I cannot say. But it seems clear that they came to ascertain something.”

To Hiro’s surprise, the ambassadors of the Vanir Triumvirate had done nothing but express their best wishes. It was hard to believe they would have risked their lives making the journey all the way from the southwestern edge of the continent to the east coast just to exchange pleasantries. He knew, however, that the archpriestess would have been watching, even as she sipped tea with Claudia. Hers were no normal eyes. She possessed one of the Three Great Arcane Eyes, the Far Sight. Passed down from one archpriestess to the next, they conferred the power to see across great distances, read the color of people’s emotions, and even descry the future.

“The Spirit King’s presence, perhaps?”

“Perhaps. Indeed, I believe it likely.”

Hiro stroked his chin and expelled an irritable sigh. “I’d hoped they wouldn’t cotton on so quickly.”

“We could never have kept it truly hidden. The Spirit King’s power was great. It is a miracle that the deception has persisted for so long.”

She sounded like she was trying to console him, but her words didn’t come as much of a comfort.

“The Spirit King can’t have returned if Luka found this place.”

Claudia should never have been able to enter it either so long as the Spirit King’s power remained.

“Indeed. The font remains empty. I have called more times than I care to count, but not once have I received an answer.”

“If I remember correctly, the Spirit King was already gone when I was summoned back here. Am I wrong?”

“You are correct. By the time of your return, my pleas received no answers.”

“Did they before?”

“I felt...a presence, at least, but...” The archpriestess lowered her eyes, unusually hesitant. She looked back up, expression mournful, seeming to steel herself. “I must be honest with you, Lord Surtr. The Spirit King’s power has been waning as the human population has grown. By the time of your return, only dregs remained.”

Ever since then, the Spirit King had fallen silent, as though all that remained had been used up to summon Hiro back to Aletia. Most likely, that was why certain parties who had been working in darkness were beginning to emerge into the light: the obstacle keeping them at bay had been removed.

“Something must have changed before then. There has to be a reason this happened.” When Hiro had originally returned to Earth, the Spirit King had not been so weak as to be fatigued by the growth of the human population. “I’ve been looking into something ever since I came back here, and I think I’ve made a breakthrough.”

“A breakthrough, my lord?”

Hiro nodded. “There were two periods of time that interested me. Five hundred years ago and three hundred years ago.”

Five hundred years ago was when the archons and the yaldabaoth had been discovered, and three hundred years ago was when Orcus had made their name as the only assassins ever to slay an emperor.

“My theory was that the Spirit King began weakening five hundred years ago and was almost completely powerless two hundred years later. Otherwise, Orcus would never have been able to accomplish what they did.” Hiro raised a finger. “And there’s more. There were twenty-two emperors between the founding of the empire and the appearance of the yaldabaoth and the archons. But past that point, their reigns started to get shorter. Since the assassination three hundred years ago, very few have lived out their natural lives.”

And that investigation had led him to a piece of the darkness lurking in the Grantzian royal family.

“I saw a man. A man with red hair.”

In the grave where Artheus slumbered, in that otherworld teeming with vast quantities of information, shades of previous emperors had gathered. One among them, a red-haired man, had seared himself into Hiro’s memory—him and the four weapons he carried.

“And imagine my surprise...when I saw he wielded Lævateinn.”

The archpriestess’s eyes widened, and a shudder wracked her body.

＊＊＊＊＊

The twenty-first day of the fifth month of Imperial Year 1026

A flock of birds drifted across an otherwise cloudless sky. They soared high above the affairs of the people below, reveling in the freedom it offered. The enormous, high-walled city was of no concern to them, nor were the people milling around the stalls lining its streets before retreating to its maze of buildings once they had what they came for. They cared least of all for the palace that rose above the rest of the buildings, awe-inspiring in its magnificence.

The city’s name was Cladius—the capital of the Grantzian Empire, the greatest city in Soleil, and one of the most ancient municipalities in the world. Overlooking its historic sprawl was the imperial palace of Venezyne. Unlike the busy city streets below, a stately silence hung over the palace compound, so oppressive that no one dared to utter a word. The central keep towered over the grounds like a monarch surveying their domain.

Burly sentries stood on either side of the enormous entranceway. Nearby stood a guardpost within which a squad of soldiers bunked. This was a new addition, erected as a solution to the infiltrations that had humiliated the palace guard for the past two years.

Passing through the austere doors, one was greeted by more guards. Visitors were subjected to luggage inspections and thorough body checks. Waiting rooms lay nearby, packed with nobles. A long corridor stretched ahead, leading to the throne room and then, beyond various twists and turns, a portion of the palace that only the leaders of the nation were permitted to enter. This was where the servants of the royal family had resided before most of them were slaughtered in the First Prince’s rebellion two years prior. Now, many rooms stood empty. More than a few still reeked of blood.

Deeper still was a door protected by female soldiers. This was the entrance to the emperor’s baths, and the women guarded it diligently, determined not to let so much as a mouse squeak past unnoticed. That much was to be expected—the most important woman in the empire was in attendance.

Within the steam of the grand baths stood a great crowd of beautiful women clad in sheer silks. Several wore swords at their hips, adding a hint of threat to the air. All of their eyes were fixed upon the enormous bath in the middle of the room. In the center stood a great statue of a lion, with hot water pouring forth from its ferocious jaws. The spray glittered in the sunlight shining through the window in the ceiling.

A crimson-haired girl was in the water. Her shapely body was as toned as it was well-proportioned, its natural elegance lending beauty to the steam. Sweat glittered like pearls as it trickled down her skin, adding to her allure. So potent was her charm that her form seemed like a vision created by the gods, with nothing more that could be added or taken away. She was Celia Estrella Elizabeth von Grantz, sixth princess of the empire, Lævateinn’s chosen, and the heir apparent to the vacant throne.

She was meditating. Eyes closed, she breathed deep, as though seeking the depths of a deep lake. She was attempting to reach the deepest layers of Lævateinn’s domain in order to bring out more of its power.

Not yet... Not yet... I can still go deeper...

It was like her breaths didn’t contain enough oxygen. That was how it always felt. Delving into Lævateinn’s domain was like trying to find her way by touch in a dark place, seeking the sensation of the previous wielders’ memories. Occasionally she would find one, and all at once her surroundings would be flooded with light, and she would open her eyes to find an enormous amount of information exploding before her. She had seen several awe-inspiring sights unfold already.

Not this one. I’ve seen this before. There must be more...

She forcibly cut herself off from the searing vision and continued on, seeking greater depths. In time, her breathing grew more labored, the rise and fall of her chest more pronounced, and her expression more pained.

I have to go deeper... Ngh...

Biting her lip and trying to bear the pain could only take her so far. Floundering for air, she reached out her hand, and a new sight burst into being before her.

“Agh... Hah... Back...back here again...”

Liz hunched over, breathing raggedly, reams of sweat soaking into the earth. She looked back up to see a sky so black and furious it could begin to weep at any moment. Great scars pockmarked the earth, only exacerbating the foreboding in the heavens. A battle had been fought here, where its one victim now lay dead. Two figures still breathed amid their strange surroundings: a fair young man with blue eyes and golden hair, and a black-haired, black-eyed boy.

“I’m still not strong enough.” Liz pounded a fist into the dirt.

She stood, wiped the sweat from her forehead, and began to walk toward the pair. This was her second time in this place—the memories of Artheus, the first emperor and Lævateinn’s only other wielder. Indeed, the golden-haired, blue-eyed youth before her was Zertheus, first of the Twelve Divines, in the flesh. One of the commonfolk, who revered the Divines, might have passed out from astonishment. A noble might have shed tears of joy. Liz’s interest, however, was not in him. She cared only for the black-haired boy lying grievously wounded on the ground next to a headless corpse.

“Hiro...”

His breathing was so shallow that it might have petered out at any second. His chest moved up and down imperceptibly, a ragged hole torn through it as if by a spear. So much of his own blood surrounded him that any normal person would have died. More blood burst from his mouth, flecked with bubbles. Liz leaned down to wipe his lips clean, but her fingers failed to touch him, as though she were trying to grasp mist.

“Why, Held? Why did you not return home? There was no need for you to take on this burden! And yet...what foolishness...”

Liz looked up to see Artheus on his knees, tears streaming from his eyes.

“Forgive me, Held. I call myself your brother, and yet I could do nothing to help you.”

Artheus pulled a piece of a white card from Hiro’s black clothing. It looked a lot like a spirit seal, but the aura it emanated told Liz otherwise. This was something different—something created for Hiro alone.

“This failing is mine. I could have foreseen that this might happen, but I could not bear the thought of you forgetting me. Now I see that I ought to have erased your memories and returned you to your Earth whether you liked it or not.”

He pressed the card to Hiro’s forehead, apologizing over and over as though confessing his sins. Its white surface began to glow, and it seemed to Liz like it was drawing something out of Hiro’s head.

“I shall see this through. You need only return to your world—”

A gust of wind blew across the field.

Immediately, Liz felt something wrong. Her throat turned sticky. All the hairs on her body stood on end. The air began to feel stagnant, like that of an underground jail.

“The boy is stubborn, to absorb my curse and yet live.”

A presence pressed down on Liz, so powerful that she could feel it even through the vision. She could not see its source. It was not visible. But she could sense that something undefinable had appeared in the space before her.

Artheus stared straight at it, as though he could see something in the empty air. His lips pulled back, revealing his teeth. “Come for another battle, Demiurgos? You’re in no fit state.”

“That I cannot do, bodiless as I am. I shall bide my time and await my chance.”

“Then begone with you. Regain your strength. When you return, I will put an end to you myself.”

The presence seemed to laugh. “And will you persist three hundred years hence? Five hundred? Seven hundred? A thousand?”

Artheus hesitated for a moment. “I will put an end to the Age of Gods in my lifetime. I will root you out and obliterate you, body and soul.”

A mocking chuckle shook the air. “That you cannot do. Not so long as your blood-brother’s life remains.”

The malignant presence faded away, leaving Artheus standing alone. He bit his lip in chagrin, unable to respond.

After an oppressive silence, a change came over Hiro’s body. The hole in his chest began to slowly close. Artheus breathed a sigh as his face flooded with relief.

“Held. My comrade-in-arms. This is truly farewell.” With a regretful smile, he lifted Hiro in his arms and set out into the wasteland. “When I pass on, I shall bequeath to you all I can. I hope you can forgive me for being able to offer nothing more than strength.”

Liz began to walk after them as she listened, following along so as not to be left behind.

“The war was long and cost us much, friends and family both. Only our belief in hope kept our feet from slowing. Yet all of that effort bore nothing but power to cling to, and all that truly mattered was lost. This is the fruit of our labors.” Artheus stopped and looked up at the sky. At last, he seemed to catch Liz’s eye. “Quite the bitter irony, don’t you think?”

“Maybe. But that doesn’t mean your efforts were wasted.”

Artheus could not possibly have heard her, but he nodded in seeming satisfaction. “Walk the path your heart wills, successor mine, lest you be left with regrets.”

“I know,” she answered without hesitation. “I will.”

Artheus smiled, although he looked on the verge of tears.

The memory ended there. The world began to crumble. Soon, it was buried under rubble. Even as blinding light flooded Liz’s vision, however, her gaze stayed fixed and unblinking.

“I’ll snatch your burdens right off your back. And that’s a promise.”

Her determination had only grown since two years prior. Those words, once spoken in a final fit of anger, had made her stronger. A fire burned in her chest that would never fade.

She breathed a sigh and opened her eyes. She was back in the baths. The smell of sulfur flooded her nasal passages as her lungs filled with air. Water trickled down her skin as she stood up, spilling from her clavicle down to her navel. Her ladies-in-waiting sighed admiringly at the sight, although they quickly returned to their senses and trotted up to her with towels in hand. The lapse in their well-honed manners was so slight that an observer would not have noticed the difference.

As Liz surrendered to their ministrations, another woman approached her.

“Liz, the duke of Lichtein has arrived.”

The woman projected a sultry air, her proud beauty tinged with a coquettish streak. She wore her ponytail over her right shoulder, where it heaved atop voluminous breasts. Her clothing included a daring slit up the thigh, and the voluptuous curves peeking through would drive anyone mad with desire. She was Myste Caliara Rosa von Kelheit, Liz’s elder half sister and the former third princess who had since become acting head of House Kelheit.

“Go gently on him,” she continued. “He looks nervous.”

“That depends on what he has to say for himself. I’m not going to compromise on the interests of the empire’s people.” Liz directed one of her ladies-in-waiting to bring her military uniform and turned back to her sister. “Rosa? Is something wrong?”

Rosa was looking her up and down, chin cupped in one hand. “Not at all. I was just thinking, this is the body that is attracting more ladies-in-waiting every year. Any more and our treasure shall be strained to breaking point, don’t you agree?” She addressed the question to one of the women wiping Liz dry.

Liz blushed and lowered her eyes. “Stop this nonsense. You’re embarrassing her.”

“Do you know how many marriage proposals I’ve had to field from hopeful nobles? They should know your current status won’t allow it, but to see the heartbreak in their eyes, it’s hard to feel this doesn’t bear some blame.” Rosa traced Liz’s collarbone with a finger before sweeping it down to poke her breasts, ignoring the cold glare she received. “These past two years have a lot to answer for.”

“I’m not dignifying that with a reply.”

Liz stalked past her sister from the bath chamber to the changing room, where she took a seat upon her chair and once more let her ladies-in-waiting tend to her. If she was to have an audience with the duke of Lichtein, it was her duty as imperial regent to look her best. Showing up with wet hair would be out of the question.

“With that extra height and longer hair, you’re looking more womanly than ever. Why, as I look at you now, you might turn even my head.”

Evidently, Rosa had no intention of being deterred. Liz rested her elbow on the armrest and laid her chin in her hand, making no secret of her exasperation.

“Don’t you recall that shameless merchant? A mountain of golden grantzes for one night with you, he said. Why, you were so irate, even I feared what you might—”

At last, Liz’s patience snapped. She glared at her sister. “Chancellor Myste Caliara Rosa von Kelheit, if you have nothing of importance to discuss, please make yourself scarce.”

The center of power in the Grantzian Empire had shifted greatly in the past two years. To a large extent, the change had been forced by circumstance. The emperor had been slain in a rebellion led by the first prince, and the ensuing invasion by Six Kingdoms had cost the lives of the third and fourth princes. On top of that, a group of traitors had taken advantage of the confusion to infiltrate the capital, injuring Rosa, slaying Chancellor Graeci, and grievously wounding Second Prince Selene when he attempted to stand in their way. The string of unprecedented incidents had thrown the imperial capital into chaos. Even Beto von Muzuk, the leader of the southern nobles and Rosa’s predominant rival, had been caught by surprise.

In that, Rosa had seen an opportunity. While Beto was campaigning against Six Kingdoms with Liz, she had taken the chance to act. Leveraging the financial strength of the eastern nobles and Beto’s lie that she was pregnant with Hiro’s child, she had brought both the disgraced central nobles and the war-battered western ones into the fold. Beto had returned from the battlefront to find her occupying the seat of chancellor as Graeci’s successor, her position more secure than ever.

Rosa pursed her lips in a sulky pout. “Where’s that little girl who used to follow me around the palace corridors pulling at my sleeve?”

Liz sighed. “Waiting for her chancellor to do her job.”

“All right, all right. Don’t glare at me like that. I’d hate to think I’ve offended my dear little sister.” Rosa gave a helpless shrug, clearly not remorseful. “Let’s get down to business, then.”

In a moment, her face turned serious. She dismissed the women attending to Liz and sent them from the room. Now fully dressed, Liz resettled herself in her chair and turned all her attention to her sister.

“House Muzuk—Beto—has sent me a letter.”

Beto might have lost the chancellorship to Rosa, but his success in the Six Kingdoms campaign had allowed him to preserve his influence by becoming secretary of the Ministry of Military Affairs. Technically, only the emperor could promote somebody to that position, but Emperor Greiheit had perished in Stovell’s rebellion, and his death had still not been made public; officially, he was bedridden with illness. Beto had taken advantage of the complexity of the circumstances to circumvent protocol. That said, Rosa did not have much room to complain; she had done much the same herself to secure the position of chancellor.

More curiously, Beto had not made a public move since. He had left a representative in the capital and returned to his seat in Sunspear, where he had remained for two years.

“I’d expected him to make a move sooner or later,” Liz said. “I suppose the time has come.”

“Indeed.” Rosa nodded. “He’s been working in the shadows for a long while now, trying to make you his puppet.”

“What does the letter say?”

“It’s addressed to the sixth princess, requesting that you send reinforcements to the Republic of Steissen. To the Jötunheimites.”

“Why there?”

The Republic of Steissen had originally been formed from several smaller states. It had its origins in an alliance forged five hundred years ago: the Duchy of Lichtein, the Kingdom of Jötunheim, and Kingdom of Nidavellir—three nations dueling for rulership of the south of Soleil—had joined hands to resist the empire. In time, the Duchy of Lichtein had seceded from the republic, leaving control of Steissen split between the remaining two powers.

Things had taken a turn for the worse three years ago, with the death of the high consul of the senate. An election had been held to fill the position, but the Jötunheimite candidate had been poisoned by the Nidavellirites. A portion of the Jötunheimites had sworn revenge and murdered the Nidavellirite candidate in response. The events had worsened the rift between the two camps and set Steissen on course for civil war.

“Last I heard, the majority of senators had defected to the Jötunheimites. It only seemed like a matter of time before the Nidavellirites lost.”

Rosa shook her head. “It seems things aren’t so simple. As of this year, the Nidavellirite forces are gaining ground again. Our agents are trying to keep track of the situation, but it’s too fraught for them to make much progress. Still, I’m in no doubt that somebody’s pulling the strings.”

Liz settled back in her chair and raised a hand, showing that she had a grasp of the situation. “So Beto wants to gain a diplomatic advantage by putting the Jötunheimites in our debt.”

“On the face of it, yes. However, I suspect his real aim lies elsewhere.”

“What do you mean?”

“He wants me to fail. For you to send support to the Jötunheimites only for them to lose. An imperial disgrace will give him the perfect opportunity to undermine my position.” Rosa gave a dismissive shrug, staring at the ground. “Well, I won’t deny that we could use more results in that arena. We have spent two years with our gazes turned inward, focused on reform. The nobles are growing increasingly dissatisfied with our policies.”

No doubt Beto had known that when he had tossed this dilemma into their laps.

“It’s worth consideration,” Rosa continued. “If our assistance leads the Jötunheimites to victory, we’ll demonstrate your strength to the continent at large and tweak Beto’s nose a little, as sourly as it sits with me to go along with his schemes.”

“I’ll do it.” Liz didn’t even hesitate. “If this can stop me, I’ll never be worthy of the throne.”

Rosa’s eyes widened for a moment before narrowing affectionately. The growth in Liz’s confidence was truly wonderful to witness. Pleased, she nodded several times and broke into a smile. “Very well, then. I will make ready for your departure.”

“Now, I suppose I had better get ready for my audience with Duke Lichtein.”

Liz stood up and beckoned to her ladies-in-waiting. They gathered around and set about arranging her hair. Rosa’s gaze softened as she watched, recalling how embarrassed Liz had been the first time. Now she looked every bit the part.