Shinwa Densetsu no Eiyuu no Isekaitan - Volume 9 - Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Roar in the Silence

The fifteenth day of the eighth month of Imperial Year 1026

On the empire’s border with Faerzen lay the key strategic location that was Delshia Citadel. Pending Liz’s arrival, it was currently under Aura’s command.

“Pff.”

A dissatisfied sigh sent the girl’s silver hair fluttering. Her leaden gray eyes darted about anxiously, filled with a stern glint. Put together, those two features tended to give others the impression that she was coldhearted, but the longer they looked at her, the more entranced they became by her dainty figure. With bangs trimmed level with her eyebrows and large, doe-like eyes, her appearance would stir anyone’s protective instincts. Combined with her slender frame, she exuded the charm of a porcelain doll. It was remarkable that she retained her figure at the age of nineteen.

In short, the past two years had done absolutely nothing for her stature. That was not for lack of wishing, of course. Still, with her growth spurt long over, she had no choice but to abandon any hopes of matters improving. Fortunately, she was one of the sixth princess’s most trusted retainers and a commander with a stellar record. No one would dare make any untoward comments about her height.

Her quarters in Delshia Citadel were sparse. They contained little more than a bed, a writing desk, and four chairs—one at the desk, three for visitors. The only other addition was a large bookcase set up against the wall, packed with texts on the subject of her beloved War God.

Today, the curious room had a visitor: Culann Scáthach du Faerzen, last of the royal line of Faerzen. She was a handsome woman of perhaps eighteen or nineteen years of age. Her turquoise hair, lustrous as silk, was gathered up in a bun at the back of her head. Her features were as delicate as spun glass, and her skin seemed as fine as porcelain. She wore a suit of sturdy armor on top of her slender frame, sheathing her quiet serenity in battle fervor. The maturity she had gained over the past two years gave her the peerless charm of a valkyrie.

“Lady Aura?” she asked. “Are you listening to me?”

Aura remained unresponsive, her gaze downcast. Scáthach stepped closer, eyeing her dubiously. Eventually, she spotted the book in Aura’s hands and planted her hands on her hips in exasperation.

“Again with the Black Chronicle? Surely you must already know it by heart.”

Aura was silent for a moment. “I just got to the good part.”

“The battle between Mars and the primozlosta Hydra, I presume?”

That episode was Aura’s particular favorite, as she had told Scáthach at great length. After so many lectures, Scáthach would daresay she herself could recite it word for word.

“Hydra tried to trick him, but it didn’t work. Mars was too clever.”

“If you’re there, I suppose you’ll be finished soon.” Scáthach took a seat on a nearby chair rather than pushing the point. Better to wait. Interrupting Aura while she was reading was a good way to put her in a bad mood for the rest of the day, and if the War God was involved, she would grow so irritable that it could impact her work. Her obsession only seemed to have deepened over the past two years, and she was getting harder to rein in by the day.

“Mm.”

At last, Aura set the Black Chronicle down and nodded to herself several times in satisfaction. She closed it carefully before returning it to the shelf as though she were handling a delicate vase. Her expression remained as blank as ever, but her general demeanor changed dramatically.

“A report came today,” she said bluntly. While her expression remained as blank as ever, her demeanor switched dramatically. “The Resistance is down to five thousand men.”

Her outward appearance might not have changed much over the past two years, but she had matured in other ways. As of yet, there had been no large-scale battles to showcase her strategic acumen, but when the time finally came to unveil her talents, her name would no doubt resound throughout Soleil.

“So you are already aware,” Scáthach said. “Our situation grows direr by the day.”

Not so long ago, the Faerzen Resistance had fought against the empire, but now that the land was occupied by Six Kingdoms and the domestic situation was beginning to stabilize, its members were starting to trickle back to their wives and children. Scáthach had no intention of stopping them. She would not call them traitors, nor could she force them to stay. Their happiness was their own, and she would not ask them to give it up for the interests of their former rulers.

“The road ahead will not be easy,” she continued. “Even if our cause is righteous.”

Aura nodded. “We can’t leave Six Kingdoms unattended any longer. The people of Faerzen will grow hostile to the empire.”

Faerzen’s scars had yet to heal, but its people had accepted their futures under their new occupiers and were beginning to move forward. To drag them back into war would be like a blow to the back of the head.

“Queen Lucia is quite capable, it seems. She has abolished any policies that caused suffering to the citizenry and instituted more progressive practices.” Scáthach unfurled a document her subordinates had sent her and held it up for Aura to see. “And Faerzen’s new capital is recruiting residents. They promise food, housing, and low taxes.”

Lucia was casting out tempting bait. No doubt her intention was to render the Resistance powerless. She had already given them ample reason to set down their weapons and return to their families. Now she was trying to win the people’s support in order to deny the empire justification for their war.

As Aura scanned the document, she reached into a desk drawer and took out a small piece of paper. It was a detailed map of Faerzen.

“It would be stupid to attack Anguis’s strongholds first. We should start with another kingdom’s territories.”

Anguis enjoyed especially high support from the people. An attack on its territories was guaranteed to meet with resistance from the commonfolk. They would have to think of somewhere else to begin their campaign.

“Somewhere order is less established, then,” Scáthach said. “Although that may be hard to come by. The other kingdoms are following Anguis’s lead.”

“Probably. But it’s álfar that are ruling, and they’re arrogant. Human policies won’t work as well for them.”

“The people are still tired of war. They will see us as invaders.”

Many of the commonfolk still had affection for the royal family, but nobody would want to give up their newfound stability after so many years of uncertainty. The empire’s war preparations were progressing, but moving to action would require an inciting spark, and so far that had proven hard to come by.

“Liz will be here next week with the Fourth Legion. I’ll think of something by then.”

Strength was filtering in from across the empire’s territories. Some wanted to pay their respects to the imperial heir apparent, some saw the opportunity to make their name, and some hoped to win themselves a fortune. All sorts of motivations were converging on Delshia Citadel, and some could not be trusted. Aura and her allies would have to winnow those out in the battle to come. It was a good opportunity to see who was likely to prove an obstacle to Liz’s reign. If such individuals were not ferreted out, they could potentially undermine the empire’s very foundations.

Scáthach stood and turned. “I ought to go. I will ask my subordinates to see what they can— Oof!”

All of a sudden, she tripped, falling face-first to the floor.

“Are you all right?” Aura asked.

For a moment, Scáthach did not move, but after a second, she stood back up. “Please pretend you did not see that,” she said, flushing beet red. Her expression turned sheepish as she looked up at the ceiling.

“You must be tired. Get some rest.” Aura slipped down from her chair and walked around the desk to where Scáthach stood.

“Perhaps so. I have no desire to be a burden.” Scáthach’s hands moved to hide her face.

“No need to be so embarrassed. You only tripped.”

“I have never disgraced myself like this in public before. I admit, I am not certain what I should say.”

Aura fell silent for a long moment. “I understand,” she said finally. She produced a cloth from the depths of her sleeve and held it out.

“N-No, I’m quite all right! Um...I ought to be going!” Somehow flushing even redder than before, Scáthach stalked out of the room.

“Wai—”

Before Aura could say anything, the door slammed shut. Scáthach felt the guards’ eyes boring into her as she exited the room. She acknowledged them with a wave before either could speak and walked off down the hallway.

Eventually, once the light in the corridor had faded to dingy gloom, she sagged against the wall and stared up at the ceiling. She struck her head hard against the wall. Again she did it, and again, as though trying to rid herself of a nightmare, but it did nothing to dispel the unease upon her face.

“Curse it...” she spat. “Curse it all! I won’t stop!”

Blood trickled from her nose. She wiped it away carelessly and looked down at the back of her hand. A sticky red stain stared back at her. She wiped again and again, but the blood kept flowing. An iron tang filled her nostrils, and warm wetness clung to the base of her nose.

She chuckled to herself. “All the fault of my own weakness, I suppose.”

A self-effacing smile sent blood dripping from her chin. A shadow fell over her brow as she watched it splatter on the floor.

“Time is no longer my ally.”

She planted a hand on the wall and, with labored steps, set off walking again. She produced a cloth from her pocket and set it to her nose, bowing her head so nobody could see her face.

“Just a little longer, Gáe Bolg,” she whispered to her absent companion. “Stay with me just a little longer. That is all I ask.”

There was no reply. The corners of her eyes creased, and tears threatened to burst forth as she continued along the hall.

She could not stop. She could not falter. Her place was on the vanguard, and she would not yield it. Her vengeance was not yet done. As long as her nemesis lived, she would brave any battlefield in her way.

“Though my path may be mistaken...”

Her parents and siblings still came to her at night, pleading for help in a world stained red, begging for death as they shed crimson tears. They had not been allowed to die, even as seemingly endless torture robbed them of their dignity. The sight of their suffering refused to leave her mind.

“I know you are close at hand. The Boreal Sovereign tells me so.”

His laughter had echoed through her mind ever since the day she lost her home. Even now, his hateful mirth rang in her ears.

“I will kill you with my own hands; I swear it.”

She piled hatred’s kindling upon the embers of her resentment, stoking it into vengeful rage. Like deadly poison, like stagnant mud, it began to seep into her soul.

＊＊＊＊＊

The world boiled beneath a summer sky. Sunlight glimmered off the western sea, illuminating the shore. Full-grown trees shielded the streets from the glare, while a cooling tidal breeze blew in over the ocean. Barley-skinned workers unloaded goods from merchant ships, carried new crates aboard, and saw the vessels off to sea.

Such sights were common in the city of Fierte. The capital of the kingdom of Greif, it boasted the largest and most varied markets in Six Kingdoms. Greif’s status as host to the High King did wonders to bolster international trade and encourage immigration. As a result, around half of the city’s population was foreign-born.

On a hill overlooking the town rose an opulent palace. The road to its gates was thronged with soldiers—over ten thousand, in fact. They made for an intimidating sight, and the charge in the air did nothing to relieve the tension. Their presence filled the hearts of onlookers with unease.

A short distance away from the noise of the road, an open-air camp had been set up. The flags of all six kingdoms fluttered in the wind. The monarchs who should have led them, however, were nowhere to be seen. They were at the end of the heavily guarded hill road, inside the palace of Fierte that formed the beating heart of Six Kingdoms.

“The king of Scorpius is absent again, I see.”

In one of the chairs placed around the round table, a woman sat fanning herself. She was Lucia Levia du Anguis, queen of the kingdom of Anguis. In a word, she was beguiling. A seductive aroma wafted from her every gesture, brain-tinglingly sweet. Her appearance was so dazzling that just a look could hold others in thrall. Her skin was as delicate as an álf’s, and the curves of her body were nothing short of a work of art. Crossing her legs revealed a tempting flash of thigh and drew the eye farther up to the darkness at their fork.

“I fear his condition has worsened, Your Majesty,” replied the Scorpius representative. “He has sent me, his chancellor, in his place.” They wore a white hood that left only their mouth visible, making their expression impossible to read, but the paleness of their skin and their distinctive pointed ears left no doubt that they were an álf.

Lucia snorted, unimpressed. “Oh, has he now? He looked perfectly well when I visited him last month.”

“An act, I fear, Your Majesty. He wished to avoid worrying you.”

“Then would you care to explain why the learned álfar still cannot make sense of his symptoms? Has it not been four years since his collapse?”

“We are not all-knowing, Your Majesty. I would flatter myself that I know something of statecraft, but the medicinal arts fall far outside my purview. We all have our specialities, just as humans do.”

The chancellor was evidently avoiding the question. A wicked smile spread across Lucia’s face as she moved to press them further, but a booming voice cut her off.

“I second that, queen of Anguis. We álfar are not omnipotent, nor should you expect us to be.”

The speaker was the king of Tigris—an individual more rough-spoken than was usual for the typically elegant álfar. His body and head were covered completely by a white hooded mantle, making it impossible to see his face.

“The chancellor has done fine work leading Scorpius while the king recovers. It ill becomes you to cast doubts on such a capable retainer.”

That only compounded Lucia’s vexation. Raising her fan over her mouth, she rounded on King Tigris with undisguised hostility. “Why, it almost sounds like you would believe any retainer capable so long as they were an álf.”

She had no love for systems that gave álfar all the power at humans’ expense. Excluding Anguis, only two of the six kingdoms were ruled by humans: Greif, the seat of the High King, and Esel, whose young queen commanded little respect from the other monarchs and ruled as they told her to. The girl in question sat with eyes tightly shut, evidently trying to wish herself away from the chamber. She had not spoken a word for fear of offending the others.

Lucia turned to her. “Have you nothing to add, Queen of Esel? Please, do not hold back on account of your freshness to this table.”

The girl rose stiffly to her feet, looking like a cornered mouse. Large drops of sweat beaded on her round forehead. “N-Nothing at all to add, Queen of Anguis!” she stammered. “N-Not that I have no opinion, of course... It is simply... That is...”

Her voice grew weaker and weaker until she finally slumped back into her chair, apologizing profusely. The tension in the air relaxed a little. Before a gloom could replace it, Lucia waved it away with her fan and heaved a sigh.

“Clearly, ’twas too much to hope that you might have developed a queen’s dignity. In a few years, perhaps...”

It seemed she truly had no allies at this table. The álfar now ruled the Council of Six, rendering the humans voiceless. Indeed, humans no longer held a majority share of the population in any kingdom.

“I see that everybody is present,” came a voice. “In that case, I now declare the Council of Six in session.”

A figure entered the room, the same individual who had stolen the throne of Vulpes from Luka and Igel: the woman known as Nameless, the former queen of Vulpes and current chancellor of Greif.

“The king of Vulpes is not yet present, Lady Nameless.”

“We shall proceed regardless. He apologizes by letter for his absence. It appears some matter demands his presence in his homeland, but he agrees to abide by the will of the council.” Nameless took her seat, looking unperturbed. She moved as though she were queen and not chancellor.

When she first showed herself. That was when everything began to go awry.

Nameless had first appeared in Vulpes around ten years prior. Her background unknown and her identity a mystery, she had nonetheless worked her way into the confidence of the king before last. While her rise had caused a minor stir, the other kingdoms had been too preoccupied with domestic politics to take much notice; every kingdom but Greif had undergone a change in leadership around the same time.

And almost all of the new appointees were álfar. Surely not a coincidence.

King Kratos of Vulpes had passed away under suspicious circumstances, and many of his most trusted retainers had been released from their positions. A similar story had played out in other kingdoms; monarchs had taken sick or their bloodlines had fallen from grace, invariably clearing the way for álfar to seize the reins of power. Even the High King had been struck down by ill health. It had also been around that time that the Vanir Triumvirate to the south had begun interfering in Six Kingdoms’ internal affairs.

“Will the High King be absent yet again?” Lucia asked.

“I fear he is not well today,” Nameless replied. “He has charged me with leading these proceedings in his place.”

She had been managing all of the High King’s affairs ever since he had ceased to make public appearances. It was fair to say that she—indeed, the álfar as a whole—now held Six Kingdoms in their thrall.

“How unfortunate,” the chancellor of Scorpius remarked, smiling.

“Unfortunate indeed, but needs must,” the king of Tigris grinned. “Yet again, we find ourselves leaving matters to Lady Nameless.”

“Th-The rest of you know best,” the queen of Esel stammered, glancing around the chamber fearfully.

One by one, they signaled that they would leave Nameless’s claim unchallenged, almost as if they were reading off the same script.

’Tis a farce, nothing more, and an unnecessary one at that. Nameless will have her way with or without it.

Given the choice, Lucia would have preferred to end the meeting right there and return to Faerzen. Six Kingdoms was now a shell of its former self, and debating in an arena where she had no power was a waste of time. Being too combative would only worsen the human position, however. To have a hope of restoring her homeland to its former glory, she would need to be cautious, bide her time, and wait for her chance. Someday, she would oust the álfar and reinstate a truly equal regime.

Not that I especially enjoy socializing with them in the meantime...

She cast a glance at Nameless. As ever, the woman’s face was shrouded in shadow, leaving only her mouth visible. Darkness swirled inside the hood. The woman seemed to have sensed her staring.

“Let us begin,” Nameless announced. “This council is on the subject of Faerzen.”

Her voice betrayed little emotion. There was a lilt of amusement to it, but also an undercurrent of conscious effort. It was difficult to tell how much was genuine and how much was affected.

“While all of Faerzen currently lies under our control, the Grantzian Empire’s military presence on the border has caused our influence to wane in the east. Fearing an invasion, the residents are fleeing westward, commonfolk and nobles alike.”

The exodus was placing every kingdom’s finances under strain, Anguis’s included. Even after Faerzen had left imperial control, the Faerzen Resistance had remained active, resulting in the loss of several villages and towns. The ensuing deterioration in law and order had left Six Kingdoms footing the bill for feeding, clothing, and housing the commonfolk who abandoned their homes. Scorpius and Tigris, the kingdoms with the largest territory in Faerzen, had been the worst affected. Poor decisions in the early stages of the crisis had erupted in their faces, and now they had too much manpower tied up in trying to contain the damage. Moreover, they had needed to relinquish assets to humans in order to placate the anger of the citizenry, which had earned them complaints of discrimination from their fellow álfar.

All their own fault, of course. They cared for naught but short-term gains, and it cost them dear.

Anguis, meanwhile, had received a small territory in the west from the High King. It had been comparatively more stable than the rest, allowing Lucia to devote all her efforts to easing the people’s misgivings. In recognition of her efforts, the High King had permitted her to expand her territories, first to three times their size and now to contain the new royal capital. The other kingdoms had since adopted her methods, but they had yet to meet with the same success.

“I ask you not to avert your eyes from these refugees,” Nameless continued. “Feed them to the best of your ability. Any less and we risk sowing the seeds of future unrest. If you feel that your kingdom cannot support them alone, work with your neighbors to cover the shortfall.”

Her hood turned toward Lucia.

“Our foremost priority is securing our hold on Faerzen, and that can only be accomplished if its people are willing. The Faerzen Resistance remains a thorn in our side, but while we could certainly take up arms and root them out, it would not be wise to give the empire cause for war. Better to maintain our peace and watch as it rots from within.” A smile spread across her lips. “Still, dialogue alone will not resolve everything. And on this point, I would turn to Anguis for assistance.”

It was an abrupt request. Lucia’s brows knitted together.

Nameless’s smile widened—in amusement, perhaps, at her consternation. “Anguis has been remarkably successful at ingratiating itself with the people of Faerzen—a testament to Queen Lucia’s statecraft. There is a great deal she could teach us all.”

“If there is something you wish to say, Nameless,” Lucia said, “out with it.”

“Not at all. I had simply hoped that you might share your wisdom with your fellow kingdoms. I am certain they could benefit from the knowledge of your retainers, if you were willing to provide them.”

“’Tis impossible, I fear. Anguis has no men to spare. We would be delighted to share our knowledge with you, but you must apply it yourselves.”

“If you worry that you will be left wanting for statesmen, Greif would be more than happy to provide. No doubt the other kingdoms will as well. I can assure you that we will send only our best.”

Lucia gritted her teeth. The other attendees’ eyes burned into her; clearly, they were in accord with Nameless. She technically had the right to refuse, but Nameless had the power to see her deposed if she did. The woman feared that Anguis would grow in strength once Six Kingdoms consolidated control over Faerzen. No doubt that was the true nature of this ploy: she wanted to wear down Anguis’s assets while it was still weak.

“I have no doubt the other nations would be willing to volunteer whatever goods you need,” Nameless continued. “I ask only that you contribute to bettering our human resources in the interest of Six Kingdoms’ continued glory and prosperity.”

On the face of it, she was simply asking for cooperation—equal nations helping one another equally. In practice, however, refusal would quickly worsen Lucia’s standing. Burning bridges with the other kingdoms would only strengthen the position of the álfar. That said, acceptance would mean watching Anguis’s knowledge and talent bleed away.

Does she mean to merely keep them under supervision or to claim them for her own? Whatever the case, I cannot leave this unaddressed.

She quashed the anger swirling in her chest, brought her fan to her mouth, and fixed Nameless with a cold glare. “Very well. Let it not be said that Anguis failed to play its part.” With great effort, she kept her voice level, but she could not resist adding a final remark. “I shall make you regret this,” she said, her voice dripping venom that only Nameless could hear.

Nameless seemed unperturbed. The corners of her mouth pulled upward in amusement. “I look forward to seeing how.”

Every party at the table sensed the air crackle between them, but the sight was a common one to those familiar with their relationship, and they did nothing more than watch in silence.

＊＊＊＊＊

Within the imperial palace of Venezyne lay a room filled with fine goods from all over Aletia. While its furnishings were certainly magnificent, however, they were assembled without rhyme or reason, causing much of its extravagance to fade into a bland melange. Formerly, the master of this chamber had been Emperor Greiheit. Now it was Liz. She sat on a gaudily decorated chair, listening anxiously to Rosa.

“The Fourth Legion has just arrived. That’s twenty thousand men. House Muzuk has volunteered another twenty thousand of its own forces, making forty thousand in all. The thirty thousand soldiers the eastern nobles have lent the south should take up their positions soon enough, and then we will be able to march on Faerzen without worrying about being attacked from behind.”

“I’m not concerned about that,” Liz said. “I’m concerned about the negotiations.”

The empire was slated to hold talks with Steissen, Lichtein, and Baum in the coming days. The discussions were an attempt to mediate between Steissen and Lichtein, who were currently feuding over control of the River Saale. The prickly situation had continued for a month now, ever since Lichtein had taken advantage of the civil war in Steissen to cross the border and capture Fort Brucke. However, neither side had much stomach for further conflict. Steissen was exhausted from its civil war, while Lichtein was only now recovering from a famine. Both were looking to back down and focus on stabilizing their internal affairs.

“Just our luck that the duchy would call on Baum,” Rosa sighed. “With the boulevard closed off and the archpriestess’s security draining our coffers, we’re bleeding coin. I’ve half a mind to suspect Lord Surtr is doing this on purpose.”

Judging that resolving matters between themselves was unlikely, Steissen had called on the empire to intercede. Lichtein, however, perhaps fearing Steissen getting the upper hand, had countered by bringing Baum into the negotiations. Rosa did not mean what she said. Baum had provided funds to cover its expenses. Still, closing the capital’s central boulevard for days at a time would deal an unwelcome hit to the imperial economy.

“On the bright side,” she continued, “we’ll have the leaders of three nations tied up in the capital. At least we won’t have to worry about them interfering in the Faerzen offensive.”

Still, perhaps even that had been part of Surtr’s plans. The negotiations were not exclusively beneficial to their hosts. Baum would not have taken part if they did not have something to gain from it.

Liz recognized as much. “You should be careful,” she said. “Baum wouldn’t help Lichtein out of the goodness of their hearts. They’re sure to be planning something.”

“I know, believe me. I mean to probe our friend while he’s here. Find out what he wants, what’s driving him. If we can learn that, we’ll have our answer to why he left the empire.”

Liz had told her sister about Surtr’s true identity. She wanted them to be on the same page for the weeks and months to come, and besides, if Rosa were to learn the truth during the negotiations, it could threaten her composure. The empire could not afford mistakes from her. Better to confess what she knew and ensure that the talks went smoothly.

But Scáthach knew, even before I told her. I wonder how...

Seeing that Liz was on the verge of sinking into thought, Rosa quickly interceded. “I also wanted to talk about the First Legion.”

The legion of the lion was said to be the strongest fighting force in the empire. As it lay under the direct command of the throne, the death of Emperor Greiheit had left its soldiers with nothing to do but maintain order across the central territories.

“I don’t have the authority to command them,” Liz said. “I could try to use my standing as empress regent, and you could use your position as chancellor, but the nobles would push back every step of the way. Short of a national crisis, we’ll be better off keeping things as they are.”

They couldn’t afford to give House Muzuk and the southern nobles an inch of leverage. Retaking Faerzen was the priority now. There was no point in making unnecessary enemies.

“Then that’s what we’ll do,” Rosa said. “But at least send the Knights of the Golden Lion to the western territories. Call it keeping the peace. It would be a waste to leave them twiddling their thumbs in a time of need.”

“Who’s going to command them?”

“You will, once they’re there. The whole empire thinks you’re going to be the next empress. They’ll follow your orders.”

“House Muzuk is in charge of military affairs. They won’t stand for that.”

“There are ways. Seeing as Baum’s going to be joining us, we might as well put them to use. It’s about time we started chipping away at House Muzuk’s authority.” Rosa chuckled, a wicked smile spreading across her face. She radiated mischievous glee. Evidently, she already had some ideas in mind.

Liz smiled ruefully. “Just as long as you’re careful. There’s at least one man I know won’t take this lying down.”

“Ludurr, you mean? He’s going to be joining the Faerzen offensive.” Rosa grinned. “It seems like he’s more interested in you than me.”

Liz pulled an exasperated face. “No chance of a break for me, then. At least it’ll be a good opportunity to see what he’s capable of.”

“On that point, remember that you’ll have Aura and Scáthach with you. No doubt they’ll be happy to help you. Rely on them. Don’t try to take everything on your own shoulders.”

“Of course. I’ll bear that in mind.”

“The good news is, if Ludurr’s leading House Muzuk’s troops, that means Beto intends to stay in the south. I’ll try to dig into what he’s up to, but chances are good that he simply means to watch and wait.”

Sooner or later, their feud with Beto would come to a head. He knew that as well as they did, which was why he was holing himself up in his domain, preparing for the confrontation to come.

“Keep a close eye on him,” Liz said. “He might try to reach out to Six Kingdoms.”

There was no such thing as being too cautious. Anything could happen in imperial politics. At times like these, overpreparation often paid off in the long run.

“I can’t imagine he would be that reckless, but I accept the warning. I’ll be careful.”

“Please.”

Now there was only one matter left to discuss.

“We should talk about the north,” Liz said. “I’ve been hearing ominous rumors for a while now, but recently they’ve only gotten worse. How is Selene?”

“Recovering slowly but steadily, or so I hear, but House Brommel is gaining a lot of ground. The balance of power is crumbling. I doubt he’d accept our help, though, even if we offered it. There may be nothing for it but to wait.”

“I’ll write to him myself. There’s no point waiting until it’s all too late.”

“He’s more stubborn than he looks, isn’t he?” A flash of skepticism crossed Rosa’s face, and she lowered her eyes gravely. “Well, nothing for it but to persuade him gradually. I only worry that we won’t have the time.”

“Are things that bad?”

“Officially, House Scharm still has more power, but geographically, House Brommel’s new allies have Riesenriller surrounded.”

Selene had enemies on all sides. If they attacked, Riesenriller would fall to House Brommel long before any allies could arrive. The north would inevitably destabilize, and the south would not pass up the opportunity. They would surge into the central territories.

“If that’s their goal,” Rosa continued, “they’ll strike while our eyes are on Six Kingdoms. House Brommel will move fast and hard. Once they’ve gotten rid of Selene’s retainers, they’ll take him hostage and use him as leverage to negotiate.”

“Then we’ll keep one eye on them while we’re in Faerzen. If things escalate too far, we’ll act, regardless of whether Selene asks us to. I’ll leave it to you to decide whether that’s necessary.”

“Understood. I’ll start making ready.” Rosa seemed ready to end the conversation there, but then she appeared to think of something else. “We could send the Knights of the Golden Lion north, of course. What do you think?”

They would certainly help to keep House Brommel in check, but given the current state of the nation, there was a serious risk of making the situation significantly worse.

“Any spark could set the north off. I don’t want to risk doing it ourselves. Selene is probably pushing back in his own way. For now, let’s leave him to it and try not to get under his feet.”

Selene was not the kind of person to take this kind of treatment lying down. He would almost certainly be thinking of a way to strike back.

Rosa nodded, smiling. She seemed to agree.“Very well. I shall commit some more of our agents and see what we can learn.”

“Thank you.”

“Now, I fear I ought to be going. I have other duties to be getting on with.” Rosa got to her feet and turned to leave. “Ah, that’s right. I’ve received the results of our investigation of the imperial burial grounds, although I’d recommend not getting your hopes up. I’ll look into the matter further when I can.” She laid a thick sheaf of paper on the table. “Take the rest of the day off. You’re departing for Faerzen tomorrow. There will be more than enough time to read this on the road.”

With that, she left the room. Her attitude toward Liz had not changed even now that the latter was fully grown—their respective stations might have switched over the past two years, but she would always be the elder sister. Liz felt grateful every day for that candor. Many people who used to think nothing of addressing her now hesitated to even talk to her. It was hard not to feel a little lonely, even knowing that was simply the price of growing closer to the throne. Still, it was important to remind herself that it was only thanks to the support of others that she had come so far.

She picked up the weighty report. “I’ll have to read this thoroughly,” she murmured, pressing a hand to her forehead. Rosa had taken time out of her busy schedule to put it together, and without complaint, even though it did not technically fall under the chancellor’s purview. She had even shirked sleep to visit the burial grounds. The least Liz could do was honor those efforts.

“Still, this might not be the place.” She tore her gaze from the report and looked around the chamber. “What a strange room... Surely the previous emperors can’t have slept here?”

The assemblage of furnishings had no cohesion at all. As lavish as it unquestionably was, the chamber seemed to Liz no better than a storage closet. She’d been told that some of the items could buy a small town, but they held no interest for her. She would have preferred to sell them off and use the coin to stock the empire’s treasury.

“Everything in here tells the story of a ruined nation. A history of plunder.”

That was the true nature of the emperor’s chambers. Past rulers had lined it with their spoils of war for their successors to gaze upon—a challenge to demonstrate the empire’s might anew and add their own winnings to the collection.

“There will be a reckoning for this someday. In dozens of years, or maybe hundreds.”

Rise and ruin, ruin and rise. History was a tale of cycles, and even the Grantzian Empire could not escape its hold.

“But it won’t be today.” Liz turned from the darkness of the chamber and looked out of the window. “You think so too, don’t you, Hiro?”

＊＊＊＊＊

The twentieth day of the eighth month of Imperial Year 1026

In the town of Lyon, close to the imperial capital, lay a graveyard for the dead of the nearby towns and villages. Although small and deserted, it was clearly well cared for. There were no weeds to be seen.

Tris von Tarmier’s gravestone lay among the throng. It was larger than the others but no more richly adorned, blending in easily with its fellows: a modest resting place for the trusted retainer of an empress regent.

Hiro dropped to one knee and laid a flower before the grave. A gentle wind ruffled his hair as he traced the letters carved into the stone.

“I have to say, this isn’t how I thought we’d meet again.”

Tris had been killed during the civil war in Steissen. His life had been a tumultuous and often unfair one, but he had served Liz faithfully to the end. By all accounts, his final moments had been as heroic as he had been in the rest of his life.

“Watch over Liz,” he said. “She’s setting off on a thorny road.”

Tris would not be the last loyal subject she lost. People she cared for would precede her to the grave, and yet the fighting would not end. Her heart would wither and grow cold. Perhaps it might even shatter, like his had a thousand years ago.

“But don’t worry. She’s stronger than me. She won’t break as easily.” Hiro rose to his feet again and inclined his head to the stone. “I’ll take care of her, Tris. I won’t let her walk the same path I did.”

His mantle fluttered as he turned about. With certainty in his stride, he began to walk away. A small smile spread across his face as he pushed his mask back into place.

“I will devour the world’s despair. All she has to do is follow the light.”

At that moment, Luka appeared soundlessly behind him. “Some messengers have arrived for you,” she said. “They’re wondering where you are.”

Hiro continued walking, unperturbed. “I’m sure they are, but they can wait. This is the main reason I’m in the empire at all.”

There were several reasons he had accepted the appeal from the Duchy of Lichtein. First and foremost was that it provided him with a chance to visit Tris’s grave. A king’s crown weighed heavily. He had little opportunity for any excursions, let alone a visit to a minor grave, and crossing national borders was no longer something he could do on a whim.

“Who’s asking?” he continued.

“The chancellor of the empire, the high consul of Steissen, and that pitiful worm who calls himself Duke Lichtein. All three messengers arrived at once. You certainly appear to be in high demand.”

“I can’t say I’m particularly happy about it.”

“If you didn’t want them to pursue you, perhaps you should have made it to the talks on time.”

“Haven’t you ever heard of being fashionably late?”

Luka snorted. “You think too highly of yourself.” She reached up to fidget with her mask. Wearing such an alien object seemed to sit uncomfortably with her. “I cannot believe I consented to wear this. Igel would turn in his grave.”

“You might have been able to get away with a life of seclusion in Baum, but the walls have eyes in the empire. I can’t have you going around with your face exposed.”

Luka gave a derisive laugh. “Yes, yes, I am well aware. I wanted to complain, that’s all. You could stand to be a little more tactful, or at least less dense. Learn to listen in silence, as all men ought to do.”

“I suppose I can’t argue with that.”

That would teach him to try to explain himself. Luka was apt to return any attempt at humor with ten times the strength and a hundred times the acidity. He had known that, but he must have dropped his guard. He put a hand behind his neck and took a few breaths, recovering his footing.

“So the archpriestess has said nothing?” he asked.

“I doubt she needs to when she can see you well enough. The spirits are many in the empire, if not as numerous as in Baum. Her eyes are everywhere.”

“It’s easy to forget how powerful she is, isn’t it?”

The Far Sight was capable of seeing across vast distances, and while it could not relay spoken words, it could read human emotions as plain as day. It was an immensely powerful ability that allowed the wielder insight into virtually any situation.

“Your Uranos is no less unfair,” Luka said. “And I would swear there is something amiss with your right eye as well.”

“Oh?” Hiro stopped and cast a meaningful look back at Luka.

“What?”

“It’s nothing. You’re overthinking things, I’m sure. Perhaps it just looks strange when it’s a different color to the left.” With a shake of his head and a shrug of his shoulders, he resumed walking.

“Perhaps so,” Luka said. She did not press the point, but Hiro could feel her gaze boring into him from behind.

He lifted his hand to cover his right eye. Perhaps a little more fine-tuning might be necessary.

After he had lost his eye in the battle with Six Kingdoms, it had been regenerated by a miracle left behind for him by Artheus. Strictly speaking, it was not entirely the same eye, but it was still indispensable to his plans.

Now that I think about it...I wonder which one she’ll develop?

There was no longer any doubt in his mind. He had known ever since his visit to the imperial burial grounds, when he had seen the infant Liz in Greiheit’s arms.

It won’t be long, Artheus. If she really does have your blood, she’ll awaken soon.

＊＊＊＊＊

The imperial palace of Venezyne was a hive of anxious noise. The banners of Steissen and Lichtein fluttered above the grounds, divided into eastern and western camps by the central rose garden. In the west, at the entrance to the residential district where the powerful nobles had their mansions, the beastfolk of Steissen stood in disordered groups, conversing merrily. In the east, where the First Legion’s Knights of the Golden Lion were quartered, grave-faced soldiers of the duchy stood guard in quiet ranks. To the north rose the keep proper, the beating heart of the empire. Imperial soldiers kept watch at its weighty doors, alert for any suspicious activity among the other two nations’ troops. Elsewhere around the palace grounds, units of soldiers from all three nations stood on guard, filling the air with an uneasy tension.

The soldiers’ commanders were inside the keep, within a spacious, rectangular council chamber. The room was sparsely decorated, with few furnishings other than a circular table and accompanying chairs.

“And when’s this Lord Surtr planning to show his face?” Skadi Bestla Mikhail, chieftain of the beastfolk and high consul of the Steissen senate, bared her fangs in a snarl, making no attempt to conceal her irritation. Anger aside, she was astonishingly beautiful, dressed in revealing tribal garb and draped in gleaming jewelry. If not for her aggressive manner of speech and the smoked meat dangling from her belt, she might have passed for a nobleborn lady. As it was, her wild streak was impossible to ignore.

“Wh-Who can say, my lady?” Karl Lichtein, the young duke of Lichtein, covered up a nervous chuckle with a diplomatic smile. His face was pale and sickly, and his cheeks were sunken. His journey appeared to have taken a toll on him.

Skadi scowled distastefully. “And what’s got you so twitchy, eh?”

“N-Nothing, my lady. Just nerves, nothing more.”

“That so? Maybe some meat in your belly’ll cure you.” The beastwoman pulled out a dagger and sliced off a piece of meat, which she held out to Karl, blade and all.

“Thank you for the offer, but I-I must refrain. I’m, erm...not hungry.”

“Suit yourself.” Skadi flicked the meat into her mouth and wasted no time tearing it apart.

Karl blanched even further as he watched. He glanced to the side, silently seeking help from the other woman at the table: Myste Caliara Rosa von Kelheit, former third princess, acting head of House Kelheit, and chancellor of the empire. Her fine-featured beauty was known across the continent and her noblewoman’s dignity was tinged with seductive allure, every lascivious movement stimulating the senses. The two years since the emperor’s death had only refined her wiles.

As soon as he met her gaze, Karl grew flustered and looked away. Caught between two beauties, he made for a pitiful figure, even if they were not consciously trying to charm him.

Rosa regarded him curiously as he lowered his gaze to the floor. “Lord Surtr has already arrived, I believe. You must have heard the cheering from the central boulevard. Still, it may be a little while yet before he joins us. Procedures must be followed.”

Nations as old as the empire and Baum tended to accrue a crust of formalities. Even leaders needed to respect protocol, lest they be chided by their retainers for disrespecting the glory of their forebears. Rosa often found herself chafing against the stuffiness of it all, but there was no escaping that the arrival of another nation’s representative was an important affair. Outside times of great need, etiquette had to be observed, no matter how long it took.

“What’s he done to earn himself this grand welcome, anyway?” Skadi pouted, looking unimpressed. “Baum and the empire go back a long way, I know, but is that really enough reason to shut off your streets for a parade?”

Skadi had arrived in the empire to a certain degree of curiosity from the commonfolk, but little ceremony. Yet now, they were cheering so loudly for the king of some far-flung eastern nation that it was audible from the palace. In both peace and war, beastfolk reveled in being the center of attention. It clearly bruised her pride that the so-called Black-Winged Lord was attracting more notice than she was.

“S’pose I’m still beating out Lichtein, though,” she added, shooting Karl a sympathetic look. The duchy was not popular with the citizens of the empire, and he had arrived in the capital to jeers and boos. Given that the empire was hosting this gathering, the townsfolk had made a poor account of themselves, but it was hard to blame them—Lichtein had been the aggressor in every conflict to date. Common opinion held that if the duchy had not agitated the other nations of Soleil with their attack three years ago, the empire would be in a far better state today.

Karl gave a nervous chuckle. “I simply count myself lucky that nobody threw stones.” He wiped the sweat from his brow, looking more pitiable than ever. It seemed like he wanted nothing so much as to leave the room and ride back home. The experience had clearly been grueling for him, even without stones being cast.

“Stand up for yourself, boy!” Skadi roared. “No need to hold back just ’cause you’re in a foreign land. If someone insults you, smack the shit outta ’em!” Her encouragement only made Karl shrivel up further. With a heavy sigh, she clapped a hand on his shoulder and flashed him a grin. “Well, if you wanna start a war, anyways.”

The blood drained from Karl’s face as the beastwoman burst into gales of laughter.

“I apologize for the actions of the townsfolk,” Rosa interjected. “The ongoing conflict has them fearful for their futures. I hope you do not take offense.”

If anything, Karl grew paler. “M-My lady! I was not seeking an apology! That is to say...I understand.”

Skadi clasped her hands behind her head and whistled. “Oh, that reminds me, Chancellor. I wanted to ask you somethin’.”

“By all means.” Rosa smiled back. She didn’t so much as bat an eyelid at Skadi’s lack of manners. The beastwoman evidently cared little for etiquette, but her forwardness gave her an honesty that made her hard to dislike—although perhaps some advance warning from Liz was coloring her impressions on that score.

“I heard the princess had headed for Faerzen already,” Skadi said. “You sure the empire’s got enough soldiers in stock?”

It was not entirely clear why she was asking, but as chancellor, Rosa was not at liberty to give a full answer. “My apologies,” she replied with a smile, “but I’m afraid I can’t divulge any information about the state of our defenses.”

“S’pose not, no. In that case, how about I make you an offer?”

“Oh?” Rosa cocked her head. She had been told that Skadi could be pushy. Perhaps this was what Liz had meant.

“I’ve brought five thousand of my best to the capital. If you need blades in hands, say the word and Steissen will answer.”

“I see.” Rosa was not about to turn down an offer of free help, but the beastwoman seemed not to have thought her suggestion through. “Let me ask, though...are you certain you will be able to commit so many soldiers? What if you end up at war with Lichtein? There’s no guarantee these talks will end in peace.”

It was an astute observation. Karl, too, turned to Skadi in surprise.

The beastwoman only nodded, grinning broadly. “Aye, maybe we will, but no matter. I promised the princess my aid, and we beastfolk don’t break our word.” She brought her fist down on the desk, narrowing her eyes at Karl like a predator sizing up its prey. “If it comes to it, I’ll send my five thousand on to Faerzen and raze Lichtein myself. I should have plenty of time to catch up before the fighting starts.”

“Please, my lady,” Karl stammered, clearly intimidated by the beastwoman’s dauntless confidence. “Surely we can find common ground...”

“Funny thing about we beastfolk.” Skadi grinned. “It’s only when we’re cornered that we really show our claws.”

She sounded like she was already dead set on Lichtein’s destruction. Karl stood bolt upright with a face like a convict handed a death sentence.

“You took that fort without spilling blood,” she continued, “so I figured there was room to talk. But I’ll tell you this: if you’d started putting towns to the torch, I wouldn’t have cared that there was a civil war on, or that we didn’t have supplies, or that we didn’t have the men. I would’ve hunted you down and sliced you open from tip to tail.”

The beastwoman’s savage smile radiated such intense ferocity that Karl broke out in a cold sweat. He found himself unable to speak, only to wait for her next words.

“So thank your lucky stars that you were merciful. And that you had Baum behind you.”

Karl gulped, but he retained enough of his wits to keep his silence and meet her gaze—a wise choice, perhaps. If he had spoken poorly, the negotiations might have ended before they’d even begun.

Looking on from the sidelines, Rosa could see that Skadi was trying to take his measure. Her outburst, half bluster and half genuine, had been intended to test him. Admittedly, her actions had risked very real bloodshed, but while Rosa would usually have reprimanded her for that, this time she opted to move matters on.

“Was that why you decided not to strike back against Lichtein, Lady Skadi?” she asked. “Because of Baum’s alliance with the empire?”

“Eh? Bah. As if the empire and Baum would band together to help the likes of Lichtein. No, it was Baum’s new king who was the biggest reason. The one callin’ himself the Black-Winged Lord.”

Rosa’s ears pricked up at the reverence with which Skadi spoke the name. She still didn’t have a complete grasp of the beastwoman’s intentions, but she was starting to glean a better understanding of what had brought her to the talks.

“The beastfolk worship the Black-Winged Lord as their god, as I recall,” Rosa said.

In other words, Skadi was curious to know more about this man who had taken the name of her nation’s patron deity. It was possible she even intended to cut Surtr down if he fell short of her expectations. Rosa would have liked to think that the leader of a nation wouldn’t act so rashly, but with the beastfolk’s famously warlike temperament, it was hard to know for certain.

“Aye, that’s right. I want to see for myself what kind of man takes the name of a god.”

“I see.” Rosa nodded pensively.

At that moment, the doors of the chamber burst open. One of the sentries stood in the opening. “Forgive my interruption!” he cried, his expression strained. “Lord Surtr has arrived!”

Rosa hardly needed to be told. She sensed him on the wind blowing in through the door. Only a handful of people in Aletia possessed such a tangible presence. Small wonder that sweat was beading on the soldier’s brow; no surprise that the blood had drained from Karl’s face. Even Skadi was emitting a bestial growl, suddenly on guard. Rosa, however, felt no such threat. Indeed, she found herself smiling. The reason was simple: to her, the presence was a reassuring one. It was familiar enough that she could detect its kindness and its tenderness.

“He may enter,” she commanded. “Show him in.”

“At once, my lady!” The sentry turned around and called back to someone behind the door. A moment passed in silence, and then...

“I apologize for keeping you waiting.”

A masked man stepped into the room, clad in a white mantle. His boots clacked on the stone floor as he approached the table. His presence seemed curiously insubstantial, like a cloud in human form, but there was no denying that his aura of might set the air thrumming, and the wicked black blade at his belt exuded a malignant air that none at the table could ignore.

“I am Surtr, the Black-Winged Lord and second king of Baum. It’s a pleasure to meet you all.”

A crushing pressure fell upon Karl and Skadi as he spoke. A strange power began to seep into the chamber.

Skadi was the first to register the change. Her blaring instincts set every hair on her body on end. “Well, well,” she growled. “Lookin’ to bare steel after all, eh?” In the blink of an eye, the bladed claws dangling from her belt were ready on the backs of her hands.

Karl looked around, alarmed by her sudden aggression. “L-Lady Skadi? What are you—”

The so-called Black-Winged Lord stared Skadi down with an indomitable smile.

The beastwoman’s mouth twitched at the provocation. “Aye, you’re on!” she cried, erupting with fury. She lunged at him so fast that in the blink of an eye she had vanished.

The battle was over in a heartbeat. Not an instant had passed before a fierce wind raged through the room, although the windows were all closed. The eyes of everybody present snapped to Surtr as an explosive clang shook the air.

“Is that all? How disappointing.”

Skadi’s claws grated against a sword wreathed in darkness. All present wore expressions of astonishment, but none were more stunned than her. She stared, wide-eyed, at Surtr.

“How did you...?”

She bounded backward, putting some distance between them, but made no move to strike again, simply glaring at her opponent.

A quiet voice issued from Surtr’s throat. “Are you done?” The cold malice in his tone weighed heavy in the air. “Then allow me.”

The others stared, unable to lift a finger as darkness billowed forth.

“Stop!” Rosa’s voice broke the silence as she flung herself between them, heedless of the danger.

Hiro shot her a glance, seemingly disappointed, then shrugged and returned his blade to its sheath. The tension in the air dissolved in an instant, leaving only silence in its place.

Rosa turned to Skadi, disapproval in her eyes. “The fault lies with you, Lady Skadi. What were you thinking, attacking a guest like that?”

“But it was him who...” Skadi trailed off as she registered Rosa’s glare. She raised her hands in surrender. “Aye, fine, fine. I shouldn’t have been so hasty.” That was the extent of her contrition, however. She flashed Hiro a taunting grin. “Don’t he just make your skin crawl, though? Those eyes of his. Like he can see right through you. Like he’s looking down on you.”

Hiro took her animosity in stride. “I apologize for any offense I might have given,” he said in an inflectionless voice before taking his seat at the table.

“You’d better join us as well.” Rosa patted Skadi on the back, prompting her to sit back down. She returned to her own seat and cleared her throat, trying to dispel the unease hanging over the room. “Well, now that we’re all here, I think we ought to begin.”

She cast her gaze at each of the three rulers in turn. Skadi nodded, nostrils still flared. Karl looked away nervously. Hiro folded his arms, the picture of composure.

Rosa breathed an exhausted sigh. “Very well. We are here to discuss a peace treaty between the Republic of Steissen and the Duchy of Lichtein. With regard to your terms—”

A dull thud echoed through the chamber, cutting her off. Skadi had dropped her feet on the table. She turned to Karl, eyes flashing with unspent frustration from her previous confrontation with Hiro.

“Immediate withdrawal. Nothing less. I want every last ducal soldier out of Steissen.”

Karl trembled beneath the intensity of her gaze, as though he were being assailed by a blizzard. Even so, he did his best to return her stare, conscious of his responsibilities as the leader of his nation. “I would propose a compromise. Steissen and Lichtein should share control of Fort Brucke and the River Saale.”

“Where’d you pull that from? We already told you we’d free the river; what more d’you want?”

“But you would still have your hands around our throat. How could we agree to anything knowing you could choke us at any time?”

“Don’t trust us, eh? S’pose I can’t blame you.” Skadi gave a sheepish smile and continued, scratching one of her horns. “But just so’s you know, it was the Nidavellirites who cut off your river. We ain’t underhanded like them.”

“With respect, my lady, it was Steissen who dammed the river. It doesn’t matter which faction was to blame.”

“Aye, fair enough. Still, doesn’t strike me as if you’ve got much leverage. Your folks in Fort Brucke can hole up for a while, but they’ll starve eventually. It’s only out of the goodness of our hearts that we haven’t taken back our wall already.”

The border wall between Steissen and Lichtein was currently under the control of the duchy, but while it was constructed to fend off attacks from Lichtein, it would quickly fall to an offensive from within Steissen. The duchy’s army was plagued with starvation and did not have the strength to hold out for long. That much was common knowledge. Karl had no choice but to back down, grinding his teeth.

“Way I see it,” Skadi said, “we’re throwing you a bone here. I reckon you should be happy with it.”

“How can we be? We have only just told the people that the river will flow freely again. If we were to announce we have given up Fort Brucke, there would be riots in the streets.” Swallowing his pride, Karl began to explain Lichtein’s domestic situation. Presumably, he meant to show that his conviction would not waver, even with his vulnerability on full display. Unfortunately, the person he was trying to negotiate with was not given to sympathy, but that did not stop him.

“I have managed to ease the nobles’ nerves a little,” he concluded, “but if the river were to dry up a second time, it would mean the end of Lichtein. I cannot afford for that to happen.”

“Aye, and I’ve given my word that it won’t.”

“Forgive me, Lady Skadi, but your word is not enough. The dwarves may have been avaricious, but the beastfolk are greedy too, in their own way.”

The conversation was starting to go in circles. Neither of their positions had any room for compromise. Rosa, the would-be mediator, was left at a loss.

Just then, Hiro raised a hand. “If I may make a suggestion...” All eyes in the room converged on him, but he continued undeterred. “Why not simply tear down Fort Brucke?”

“’Scuse me?” Skadi frowned. It was not hard to understand why. Even Rosa looked a little taken aback.

Hiro tactfully ignored their reactions. “If its only purpose is to defend the river, where’s the harm in getting rid of it altogether?”

“The Nidavellirites built it to put one over on the duchy, it’s true,” Skadi mused. “And I’d rather not waste soldiers manning the place if I could help it.”

“Perhaps you could even use field laborers from Lichtein to do the work, seeing as they’re wanting for employment.”

“I see, I see.” Skadi’s brows knitted in distaste. She seemed to have cottoned on. “But what do we get out of that? Plenty of workers out of a job in Steissen too. Civil wars will do that. They won’t be happy with me if I hire another country’s labor.”

Hiro nodded in acknowledgment and raised a finger. “I could at least offer some of the former Nidavellirites employment in Baum. With some minor conditions attached, of course.”

Skadi indicated for him to continue with a thrust of her chin. She seemed content to listen until he was done.

“Aside from that, a number of towns and villages in Lichtein have been devastated by the ongoing famine. Why not send the rest of the dwarves there to earn some coin? The civil war might be over, but I’d imagine they still aren’t on good terms with the beastfolk.”

Skadi grunted. “Aye, you’re not wrong.”

“Then it would be wise to put some distance between your peoples for now and allow relations to cool off.”

It seemed a profitable suggestion for all concerned. Both Lichtein and Steissen had a great many workers in need of employment, most of them in the prime of their lives. It would be a waste to leave them out of work when they could be earning a wage in other lands.

“It’ll do as far as I’m concerned.” Skadi shot Karl a glance. “What do you think?”

The duke nodded without hesitation. “I agree with Lord Surtr’s proposal.” As terrified as he had seemed of Skadi earlier, he now seemed entirely self-assured.

Skadi narrowed her eyes at the man searchingly, struck by a sudden suspicion, but he only looked away. “That so, eh? Well, no reason to argue.”

“Then we are in agreement. Lichtein’s forces will withdraw from Steissen in the coming days.” Rosa looked to Karl for confirmation.

“I will be happy to oblige. However, I would like some form of assurance that Steissen will not seek to dam the River Saale again after dismantling Fort Brucke.”

Skadi scowled at the shift in Karl’s demeanor, but her glare seemed to bounce off him to little effect.

“Naturally,” Rosa replied. “If Steissen were to renege on its promise—insofar as our agreement holds, at any rate—Baum and the empire will lend their assistance to Lichtein. I assume you have no objections to that, Lady Skadi?”

“None. As I said, we beastfolk keep our word. The river won’t be touched, even if we come to blows elsewhere. We ain’t the Nidavellirites.”

If Steissen dammed the River Saale, Baum and the empire would move to support Lichtein. By the same token, as long as the river flowed free, they would maintain a neutral stance. It seemed an agreeable compromise for both parties. Still, it sat a little uncomfortably with Skadi. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she had been manipulated into that outcome.

“Well,” Rosa said. “Now that we’ve decided on a direction, we can start working out the details.”

She began to usher proceedings onward, but Skadi’s gaze remained locked on Hiro all the while.

＊＊＊＊＊

With the talks concluded, Hiro was about to retire to his chambers when a voice brought him to a halt.

“Ah, there you are, Lord Surtr. May I have a second?”

“Oh?” He looked back to see Rosa standing in the corridor, looking faintly pleased. She seemed a little more worn than he remembered—by all accounts, she had hardly had a moment to rest since becoming chancellor—but her beauty had not dimmed. If anything, the intervening two years had polished it to a fine sheen.

“Could you come to my chambers this evening? There’s something I wanted to discuss.”

“Very well. I’ll be there.”

Hiro had followed events in the empire closely enough over the past two years to guess what she wanted. More to the point, his visit in his capacity as the king of Baum would be instrumental in putting Liz’s administration ahead of rival factions. For that, he had to admire Rosa’s sharp-eyed judgment.

“I’ll be looking forward to it,” Rosa said. “Until tonight, then.” She turned and departed down the hall at a fast walk, waving as she went. No doubt she had many other matters vying for her attention.

Once she was out of sight, Hiro made to set off again, but another voice stopped him in his tracks.

“Lord Surtr. A moment, if you would.” Karl moved around to stand in front of him. The man’s face was filled with delight, and his breathing was a little heavy, as if with exhilaration. “I knew you would not let me down. How can I ever thank you?”

“It was no trouble at all. We both stood to gain. I only ask that you keep your word.”

Hiro’s eyes were dark and cold as he watched Karl bow profusely, but the man didn’t seem to notice. His expression only grew brighter.

“Of course. I will return to Lichtein at once and see about sending what you requested.”

With that, Karl departed, accompanied by his guards. His steps were light on the stone floor. He seemed overjoyed that he could at last return to Rankeel with good news.

Hiro breathed a sigh and shook his head, already exhausted. Again, he made to leave, but at that moment...

“Not so fast.”

Apparently, everybody wanted to speak with him today. He turned around irritably to find Skadi standing behind him, arms folded.

“Is there something you need?” he asked.

“You two were in cahoots, weren’t you? The duke had spine deep down, even if he was a whimpering weakling on the surface, but the moment you piped up, it was all ‘yes, my lord, whatever you say, my lord.’ The chancellor didn’t notice it, but I did. What are you plotting?”

The beastwoman looked irate enough to pounce at any moment, but Hiro only looked back coolly. “Everybody’s plotting something. Baum might be small, but it’s still a nation as complex as any other. I have my people’s interests to consider.”

The world was not kind enough that countries could run on pleasantries. Those that moved too hastily were conquered; those that moved too slowly fell apart under their own weight. Yet turning back was not an option. They had no choice but to forge ahead. The monsters known as nations would not be halted, even if they marched to their own destruction.

“That’s what nations do,” Hiro continued. “They turn against one another, become friends again, resolve their problems, then find new reasons to go to war.”

That was an endless cycle no one could escape. The people of the world would remain trapped within its confines until the end of time.

“Aye, true’s true. But that’s not what you’re planning, is it?” There was not a hint of doubt in Skadi’s voice. “You’re aiming for something bigger. And you’re looking to use us to get there.”

“What makes you say that?”

“’Cause you ain’t even looking at us. You’re looking somewhere else, far off over the horizon. Steissen ain’t worth two shits to you. I can see it in your eyes—we’re just one more bump on your way. One more pebble by the roadside.”

“Well, you’re observant, I’ll give you that.” Hiro made no effort to deny it. He lifted a hand with his index finger raised. “You’ve got one thing wrong, though. I’m not particularly trying to use you.” He raised his middle finger and took a step toward Skadi, smiling. “But I’m not looking to be everyone’s friend either.” At last, he raised his ring finger. “If anybody isn’t strong enough for the age to come, I’ll leave them behind.”

He closed his fingers into a fist and swung it into the wall. Skadi leaped back, her guard raised.

Hiro took another step forward, amused by her reaction. “You aren’t an obstacle. I just don’t want to take the effort to kill you. If you’re too weak to be worth using, I recommend you keep quiet, watch from the sidelines, and stay out of my way.”

Only those strong enough to withstand the flames of hell would be needed in the world to come. Only a handful of champions would survive.

“Bold words,” Skadi snarled. “Let’s see you back them up!”

That seemed to have exhausted the last of her patience. She drew the claws hanging from her belt and slipped them onto the backs of her hands. Their blades glowed black, answering her fury with their own.

Hiro gazed at the weapons with empty eyes, unshaken by the outlandish sight. “The Claws of Madness—one of the five Dragon Emperor’s Drakeblades. The claws of the Lord who once ruled the skies.”

Surprise filled Skadi’s face. “Who are you to know that?”

Hiro lowered his gaze, stifling a laugh. She had reacted just as he had expected. “Do you really want to know?” His voice was amused as he raised his right hand to push his mask back into place. “Do the Claws not tell you?”

“They tell me to rip you limb from limb. That’s enough.” Skadi looked around. Observers were beginning to gather. If they were to fight there and then, the damage and casualties would be great. “But this ain’t the place for a fight. Come with me. We’ll do this somewhere quieter.”

She turned around and strode away. Not once did she look back. There seemed to be no doubt in her mind that Hiro would follow.

“She’s more than just a battle-crazed berserker, I see,” he murmured to himself. “Then again, the Claws of Madness wouldn’t have chosen her otherwise.”

She was frank in speech, fiery in temperament, steadfast in loyalty, and contemptuous of underhanded tactics—a fine example of the brash beastfolk. She reminded Hiro of a beastman he had once known; one who had served as a member of the Black Hand.

“This should be fun. Maybe I’ll even manage to cure your arrogance...just like I cured his.”

A smile spread across his face as he watched Skadi depart, so convinced she would not be defeated.

＊＊＊＊＊

“Will you not listen while I speak?”

Lucia narrowed her eyes at Nameless, but the álf said nothing. She only continued to stare silently at the eastern sky, as she had been doing since something caught her attention several moments prior.

“You truly are impossible to read.” Lucia followed the woman’s gaze, but there was nothing out of place save for a few clouds moving slowly across the blue. Below stretched the rooftops of the city of Fierte. As ever, the port was alive with marine traffic. Most of the ships were merchant vessels from the Vanir Triumvirate to the south, the pale skin of the álfar they bore standing out starkly against the earthy tones of the dockworkers. If Lucia looked for long enough, she could sense something of the uneasy atmosphere hanging over the docks.

“I am still not used to seeing so many.”

The álfar were not an unusual sight in the west of Soleil; not compared to the east, at any rate. Still, it was only within recent decades that they had become quite so common.

“Whatever has brought the recluses out of their holes, I wonder?”

The álfar historically shunned contact with outsiders. Once upon a time, the only place they could be found in significant numbers—aside from their homelands in the western continent and the Vanir Triumvirate—had been Tigris and its environs. Over the past few decades, they had propagated across the rest of Six Kingdoms.

“One wonders where they were all hiding.”

For many years, the withdrawn álfar had been thought to be few in number. Historical documents asserted that their long lives resulted in a low birthrate, assigning them a certain mystique to compliment their fair features. After spending so long in close proximity to them, however, Lucia had learned that she truly knew less than that.

“After all, they are not nearly so few as the books assume.” She flicked open her fan and wafted herself, turning her attention back to the álf beside her. “You are returned, I see. May I ask where you were?”

As ever, Nameless’s face remained unreadable, concealed by her hood. An observer had no choice but to glean what they would from the portion of her mouth that she showed.

“A little farther afield than usual,” the álf said.

“Did something intriguing catch your eye?”

“Intriguing? No, I wouldn’t say that. Fearsome, perhaps.” Nameless was not usually so forthcoming. Whatever her prying eyes had picked up must have truly shaken her. “Remind me, what were we talking about?”

The question came before Lucia could probe any further. Nameless evidently had no intention of offering any illuminating answers. With no other choice, Lucia let the matter drop and returned to the original topic.

“Whether you would object if I returned to Faerzen.”

“Ah, yes. That’s right. No, not at all. Have we all not just agreed to defer to your judgment with regard to governance? You may do as you see fit.”

“Wonderful. Then we have naught more to discuss.”

Lucia turned and began to stride away. She had no intention of spending any longer in Nameless’s company than she needed to. Before she got more than a few steps, however, the álf addressed her again.

“A word of advice. Show the empire no vulnerability. The lion will not hesitate to pounce if it senses weakness. Aged though the beast may be, its fangs are more than sharp enough to pierce a heart.”

Lucia hardly needed the warning. The empire was only one of the many walls standing in her way. “Then I shall return the favor. Those who gaze overlong at the clouds are apt to fall flat on their faces.”

Nameless giggled. “Farewell, Queen of Anguis. Do not neglect to keep a weather eye on those closest to you.”

A pointed phrase, but there was only one thing Lucia could think of that it could be referring to. “Fear not. I am well aware.”

“In that case, I’m pleased my concerns were unfounded.”

“Until we meet again, then.” Lucia’s shoes clacked on the stone as she stalked away, making no attempt to hide her displeasure.

Once she was out of sight, Nameless turned her gaze back to the eastern horizon. “The claws clash with the fangs...”

She wrapped her arms around herself. The warm breeze did nothing to assuage her chill. Her teeth chattered as she recalled the terror she had seen.

“A lord of old that brought the world despair. Though its body is broken, its strength lives on, undimmed after a thousand years... A fearsome beast indeed.”

The destructive force of the clash still lingered in her mind’s eye, seared into her brain. The mere grinding of the blades against one another had shaken the earth and gouged the soil. Every time she recalled the sight, it set her heart hammering anew. Still, it was not long before her ardor cooled. In time, she stopped shaking, and her lips curled into a faint smile.

“Yet it is but a relic of the past in the end.”

She turned around and wandered away. No more did she look back at the horizon.

“Loneliest and most terrible, indeed...but bereft of a body, a Lord no longer.”

Her form shimmered like a mirage and disappeared, leaving behind only an echo of mocking laughter.

＊＊＊＊＊

“Is something amiss, Your Highness?”

Liz wrenched her attention from the eastern sky and turned to the man who had addressed her: the captain of the Knights of the Rose. A host of soldiers had gathered around her in a protective formation. All at once, sound returned to the world—the crunch of her steed’s hooves on stone, the whisper of the wind in her ears, the steady tread of military boots, and the jangling of armor.

“It’s nothing.” She flashed the man a smile as she rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. They had been acting strangely in recent months, blurring over as if she was looking through a haze. It didn’t seem to have impacted her vision—if anything, she could see clearer than before. Sometimes, however, it affected her sense of distance. Things that were far away appeared very close, and things that were very close seemed far away.

How long has it been like this? Two years, maybe...

The change had come over her sometime around her battle with Luka du Vulpes. Ever since their clash, she had begun to perceive things she never could before. Shifts in the weather, the currents of the wind, the weight of the air, fluctuations in human emotions—things she had only previously felt now manifested as visible phenomena. It was as if the world were baring itself for her gaze, wanting to be seen. The condition even persisted while she slept. Concerned, she had arranged with Rosa to be examined in secret by the palace physician, but the results had been inconclusive; perhaps her senses had simply been honed by battle, she had been told, or else her eyes were tired from overwork.

But I’m not tired. And my senses aren’t particularly honed either. Not like that.

Even now, at this moment, she could sense Hiro’s presence far away in the capital. Not clearly; it was vague and hazy, as if seen through mist. But sometimes the mist lifted, as though the sun had shone down to clear it away...and this time, in her newly clear view, she had seen him clash with Skadi.

I’ll have to ask Aura and Scáthach once I reach Delshia Citadel.

Between them, they were bound to know something. Odds were good they could tell her what was happening to her eyes.

“I do hope they’re doing well,” she murmured to herself.