II
La Chaim Palace in Elsphere, capital of Mekia
The Holy City of Elsphere was encircled by two white walls and boasted jade-green roofs, beautiful in their uniformity. Looking down over it all towered the vast La Chaim palace, with eight outer towers gathered around a central spire. Taking advantage of Mekia’s immense output of rare minerals, La Chaim palace was constructed from the hardest of all stones, commonly known by the misleading name “black glass.” Though traded to foreign nations at exorbitant prices, here it was used with no regard for moderation so that the palace also functioned as a sturdy fortress. The common folk called the castle unassailable.
Deep within there was a beautiful garden, decked out in a medley of different flowers. A statue of the goddess Strecia stood in the center, carved from yet another rare mineral—blue quartz.
Just when I thought I couldn’t find you anywhere, you show up here... thought Lara Mira Crystal. As she entered the garden, her eyes landed on a figure sat at a neat little round table, gracefully sipping a cup of tea while surrounded by fluttering butterflies drawn to the scent of the flowers. With a small sigh, Lara strode over to the table.
“My Seraph,” she said.
“Dear, dear. You finally caught me,” replied Sofitia Hell Mekia, ruler of the Holy Land of Mekia. Her shoulders slumped like a child caught in a prank.
“I have not ‘caught’ you. You wandered off without even your personal guard. I beseech you to think a little more of how irreplaceable you are, my Seraph.” Lara turned to look daggers at the ladies-in-waiting. Highly distressed, they all looked down in terror. Some were even trembling. They knew, of course, that one word from Lara and their heads would roll.
“I made them let me,” Sofitia said. “Don’t be too harsh on them.”
“But—”
“More importantly, it’s such a beautiful, tranquil day today. Why don’t you join me for a cup of tea, Lara?” Sofitia tilted her teacup and smiled. A breeze that carried a hint of a chill brushed through her lilac hair.
“Thank you kindly for the offer, my Seraph. I should be glad for a cup.” To sit together with the Seraph was a dire offense, but Sofitia despised it when anyone did anything more than the absolute minimum of ceremony. Lara accepted her offer without protest, sitting down on a chair pulled out for her by a still-terrified lady-in-waiting. Another immediately poured her a cup of tea with trembling hands. The fresh aroma of the tea leaves coiled up with the steam to tickle Lara’s nose. Meanwhile, Sofitia ordered another servant to bring more cakes.
“Now,” she said when she turned back to Lara, “what brings you here today? You seem quite out of sorts.” Her tone was playful.
“I hope you will excuse the impertinence, but I wish to know why you ordered Amelia to carry out your plan,” Lara said. “Even without Lady Berlietta, this is still the Crimson Knights we’re talking about. Most humbly, I have to question whether her abilities are sufficient...” Amelia had only recently been promoted to thousand-wing. She was clever and talented enough, but she lacked firm experience. There was every chance that if she met with a situation outside her predictions, she wouldn’t be able to adapt. That was why Lara had insisted that she be the one to go instead.
“I appreciate your concerns...” Sofitia said. “However, I think you do her a disservice in your assessment of her.”
“A disservice?”
“Indeed. You are measuring her against yourself, are you not?” Sofitia set her teacup down soundlessly and looked directly at Lara.
Confused, Lara turned the question over in her mind. She wasn’t sure enough of herself to simply shoot back that it wasn’t true. On more than one occasion she’d found herself, just as Sofitia said, sighing over how good-for-nothing her officers were compared with herself.
“You may be right, my Seraph,” she admitted. Sofitia smiled gently.
“I agree that unlike you, Amelia is hardly a host unto herself. She is young, and thus still has much to learn. But despite all that, I am not worried in the slightest. It is not for nothing that she attained the rank of thousand-wing.”
Ranks within Mekia’s army went as thus, from lowest to highest: guardian, ten-wing, senior ten-wing, hundred-wing, senior hundred-wing, thousand-wing, senior thousand-wing, and finally blessed wing. Those who graduated from Mekia’s sole military academy, the Saint Endymion School, began as ten-wings if they were commoners, or hundred-wings if they came from noble stock. In order to reach the rank of thousand-wing, the requirements were rather different. Excellence was of course demanded, but the ability to use magecraft was also a nonnegotiable requirement. In other words, the ranks of thousand-wing, senior thousand-wing, and blessed wing were all synonymous with “mage.” There were very few who possessed the power to make them eligible, however, and most of them allowed their mana to run out of control and died in infancy. Krishna Halbert, the Bishop of Artemiana Cathedral that stood as the founding institution of the Holy Illuminatus Church, had despaired of the poor stock born over the past decade. This was yet another reason that the mages were Mekia’s secret weapon.
Lara processed Sofitia’s words before she next spoke. “Very well,” she said. “As one upon whom is bestowed the rank of blessed wing despite my own inadequacies, I shall not question your decision any further.” She rose quickly from her chair, then knelt before Sofitia.
“I do understand your concern, Lara,” said Sofitia. “However, our objective here is to reduce the Crimson Knights’ military capabilities. We are not looking to claim new territory. Such a task is within Amelia’s capabilities. Besides...” Sofitia’s words cut off, and silence fell over the garden.
Lara slowly raised her head and saw that Sofitia wore a terrible smile. She swallowed unconsciously to moisten her dry throat, then asked hesitantly, “What is it, my Seraph?”
Sofitia laughed softly. “Besides, that smile of hers is at its most beautiful on the battlefield.”
The Imperial Army, before the gates of Fort Astora
Late that night, two men stood before the gate at Fort Astora. One of the two, named Deryck, was hunched over and shuffling his feet restlessly.
“Oi, the next shift should’ve come by ages ago,” he said loudly, apparently at last reaching the end of his tether. “I’m freezing my ass off here.” Meanwhile, Kylle, a middle-aged man holding a spear under his arm, looked over at the gatehouse.
“It’s the cold,” he said. “I bet they’re all stuck to the fireplace.”
Deryck clicked his tongue. “Yeah, I bet they are,” he said, shooting a glance at the gatehouse before letting out another noise of intense frustration. They had been assigned to the night watch because they were veteran soldiers among the Crimson Knights, but even so...
“Huh?”
Deryck stared intently out into the darkness, the tension in his voice apparent. “Hey, I heard something. And it’s getting closer.” One of the reasons Deryck was on the night watch was his preternaturally good hearing. Kylle raised his spear and focused on the darkness before them with utmost vigilance. Eventually, he heard the rustling of grass being pushed aside just as a figure in a hooded white cloak emerged.
“A woman? Oi, that’s a woman, isn’t it?” Deryck said stupidly, his demeanor changing abruptly. Fort Astora had been built in preparation for the oncoming war with Fernest, so there were no towns or villages nearby. It was unusual, therefore, for there to be anyone around other than themselves, woman or otherwise. Kylle kept one eye on the woman as he surveyed their surroundings, never letting his guard down. There was no sign of anyone else.
“Hey girlie, what’re you doing out here?” Deryck called. Without replying, she approached, moving like a ghost. There was definitely something off about her.
“Oi, stay back!” Kylle bellowed to try and head her off. Guyel had given them strict orders to allow no one near the gates, not even a child.
“This is your last warning. If you come any closer—” Deryck stepped forward, then drew the sword at his waist. A glance at his face was all it took to know that this was no mere threat. Yet the woman continued to make her way toward them.
“The broad’s got guts,” said Deryck, a ferocious glint in his eyes. He raised his sword high above his head. A few steps before coming into range of his blade, the woman suddenly pitched forward and fell.
“Huh. She collapsed.”
“Guess so...” Deryck and Kylle shared a glance, then they both walked over toward the woman. Kylle warily checked her vitals, as Deryck craned his neck over his shoulder to peer at her.
“She’s not dead, is she?” he asked.
“No, she’s breathing. Looks like she just fainted.”
Deryck scoffed. “Looking at her now, I guess she really couldn’t hear us at all before, huh?” He returned his sword to its scabbard with a sour expression, then kicked a pebble at his feet. The clatter as it rolled away seemed to weave through the darkness around them.
“Now, take a look at this cloak,” Kylle said. Though at first glance the cloak appeared ordinary, close inspection revealed it to be woven from high-quality cloth. Layer upon layer of delicate embroidery ran from the sleeves up to the shoulders.
“This silver wing pattern...” Deryck said, looking nervous. “Do you think she’s from the Illuminatus church, then?”
“Most likely,” Kylle replied, his expression just as tense. “And unless I’m much mistaken, she’s of high rank.”
“I agree. So? What are we going to do?”
“Damned if I know...” If she were just an ordinary believer, they could have just left her out here. But if she really was of high rank, that would lead to problems. The Church was powerful. If they pretended not to have seen her, the woman would undoubtedly freeze to death, and if then it somehow came to light that they’d abandoned her, he could well imagine the trouble they’d be in for.
As Kylle deliberated over whether to report her to his superior officer, the girl let out a faint groan and rolled over so that she was facing up. This revealed her enticing, snow-white thighs, and Kylle heard Deryck swallow loudly from behind him.
“Hey...” he said warningly. “I’m sure I don’t need to say it, but don’t get any funny ideas. She’s an important person from the Church.” Up close, it was clear how incredibly beautiful she was, and Deryck’s weakness for women was well known.
“Oh, y-yeah. Of course,” Deryck muttered, though he continued to leer at the woman’s exposed thighs. While they spoke, it appeared the girl had regained consciousness properly. She shook her head vigorously, trying to stand. Her hood fell back, and her pale blue hair fell around her face.
“Whoa, whoa there! You all right?” Kylle called out in alarm as she looked like she might collapse again. She blinked several times, then exhaled as though in relief. It looked like she’d grasped what had happened.
“M-My apologies. I’m afraid I have troubled you,” she said haltingly.
“No, not at all...” Kylle replied. “But what were you doing out here?” The woman explained that she was from a group of pilgrims that had been attacked by bandits. She had fled in desperation after watching her companions murdered before her eyes, running until she arrived here. It seemed as she spoke that the terror of the experience returned to her. She was trembling.
“You’ve suffered a lot,” Kylle said.
“Yes...” she replied. “Tell me, did any of the others escape and make their way here?”
Kylle shook his head, looking away so he didn’t have to see her pleading eyes. It would be cruel to say it to her face, but making a pilgrimage in the middle of the night was stark raving madness. The bandits probably saw them as a once-in-a-lifetime prize. Not only was he stunned by the pilgrims’ stupidity, he also couldn’t find an ounce of sympathy for them.
“There’s been no one,” he said bluntly.
The woman, apparently not ready to give up, pressed him. “It’s really only me?”
“Yeah. Sorry, but it’s just you.”
“I...I see.” Her disappointment was obvious. She leaned forward, leaning her cheek against Kylle’s chest. He smelled her sweet, feminine scent and felt his masculine urges flare up.
Damn, this is tough, he thought, trying to hold himself in check.
Deryck pouted. “Why couldn’t she have fallen into my arms?” he muttered. He looked thoroughly displeased.
“Now, don’t you worry,” Kylle said to the woman. “What matters is you’re here now, where no bandits can get at you. Unless they’ve got the balls to defy the Crimson Knights, that is!” He roared with laughter.
“So you are the famed Crimson Knights...” the woman said. “When I ran here I was thinking only of escape. It seems I was very lucky.” She gazed at him with such strong feeling that Kylle felt his ears grow suddenly hot.
“Well, um, that’s right. I’m afraid I can’t let you into the fort, but at least drink this and let yourself calm down a bit.” He took the flask from his belt and handed it to the woman. She thanked him, then began to gulp down the water.
“How’s that then? Feeling better?” he asked.
“Yes, thank you,” she replied, giving him a small smile.
“Well, that’s good to hear...” he said, then added, “Now I think of it, we haven’t introduced ourselves. I’m Kylle, and this degenerate beside me is Deryck.”
“Who’re you calling ‘degenerate’!” Deryck snapped, then gave a snort of indignation. The woman, having drawn away from Kylle, slowly stood up. She bowed courteously to them.
“How rude of me to not even offer my name after you were so kind as to rescue me when my life was in danger. I am called Amelia. I...” She paused, then said, “I would like to do something to express my gratitude.”
“Oh, no, we don’t need—”
“Please, look here,” Amelia said, cutting Kylle off. She held out her hands as though she were cupping water in her palms. Kylle, unthinking, looked as instructed and saw a pale blue flame suddenly flare into life.
“H-How are your hands burning?!” he cried.
“Y-You...You’re a mage?!” Deryck spluttered.
As the two men stared at her in shock, Amelia said softly, “Both of you, be calm. There’s nothing to fear.”
“How can we be calm?!”
“Just look into the flames... That’s right... Don’t rush... Look closer...” Kylle felt as though Amelia’s words filled up every corner of his body, penetrating right down to his heart. He felt his awareness growing dimmer, and saw Deryck’s enraptured face beside him, a string of drool hanging from his mouth.
“Isn’t the fire beautiful?” Amelia said.
“Yeh... issuh...”
“Suh... beau...utiful...”
The howl of a beast cut through the night. A smile like a crescent moon spread across Amelia’s face.
No Comments Yet
Post a new comment
Register or Login