A month had passed since the vicious battle against the fell dragon king.
In the palace’s courtyard—a sacred area previously only accessible to a select few—a large crowd of people had gathered to enjoy the sunny afternoon. All eyes were on a balcony up above, where an exquisitely beautiful girl with pink hair was standing with a small magical loudspeaker close to her lips.
“Good day, my people,” she said into the device. “I am the sain—no, I am Artemisia Herzeth, princess of this kingdom.”
Gripping the hem of her skirt, Artemisia curtsied. The people gathered there, who had never seen royalty, cheered loudly in response to her beauty and sincerity.
Artemisia smiled softly, then raised her right hand. “I was once the saintess, offering daily prayers for the kingdom’s prosperity from within that tower.”
She gestured at the remnants of the Saintess’s Spire, which had been mostly deconstructed. Only the lowest level still stood—a monument to the building’s troubled history.
“But, as you all heard the fell dragon king say, that was all a ploy by him to ensure his revival. We established a strict class system, ensured absolute power was concentrated in the hands of the royal family, and protected the dragon’s lair, branding it a sacred place. From the very beginning, our nation was heading in the wrong direction.”
Artemisia hung her head low, wearing a mournful expression, before lifting it again.
“And that’s why, now that the danger has passed, we must reevaluate our ways and right the wrongs we have committed.” Her voice took on a resolute tone. “We will reexamine the very principles our nation was built upon. This, of course, includes the cruel class system we’ve enforced for so long.”
A shock ran through the crowd, with cheers and shouts erupting in equal measure.
“Of course, this will not be easy, and it will take a long time. Class differences and discrimination have become ingrained in our society over generations, and will not simply vanish overnight. But please, remember that it was the people of the slums who took the initiative to protect us in this crisis. And the savior of our kingdom is a poor man.”
Looking straight at the crowd, Artemisia continued to speak.
“I will no longer pray for or cling to what I cannot see. From now on, I must help change our home for the better with my own hands. Such were the terms set by our savior, and such we vowed to him.”
Of course, there were those among the upper class that frowned upon this reform. But Artemisia was determined to fulfill her promise to Zenos, savior of the nation and a man the royal family owed a lifelong debt to, as compensation for his efforts. Besides, she’d seen the slums with her own eyes. And so, ever since relocating from the Saintess’s Spire to the palace, Artemisia had relentlessly urged the men of the royal family—starting with her own brother, who could barely tend to his own needs—to prepare for today’s ceremony.
A sense of unity transcending class had taken root among the people who had survived the great calamity. That spirit would surely help fuel the coming reforms.
All thanks to the efforts of one very inspiring shadow healer.
“Princess,” said a child standing in front of the crowd. “Where’s the hero? What’s he doing now?”
Artemisia smiled and shook her head. “Sadly, he’s not here. And I don’t know what he’s doing either.”
Sighs of disappointment rose from the crowd.
“Look, I’d rather avoid trouble, so can you please not tell the public about me? I don’t have a license, so I don’t want to make this a big deal.”
That had been the second condition set by the healer who had eradicated the seemingly eternal plague that had afflicted the kingdom. What he’d achieved had in fact been a big deal, rivaling the feats of the legendary heroes of the Great Human-Demon War. Still, to him, saving a person and saving a nation likely weren’t that different.
If it were up to her, Artemisia would see Zenos every day. But a princess’s visits would undoubtedly draw too much attention, and so for the past month she had kept her distance to honor their agreement.
As a result, she truly did not know what Zenos was up to now—though one thing was certain.
With a small smile, Artemisia looked up at the azure sky.
“But I’m sure that, even now, somewhere underneath this same blue sky, he’s going about his business, doing what he does best—saving people.”
✦ ✦ ✦
In a quiet corner of the ruined city on the outskirts of the capital stood an unlicensed clinic.
As the door slowly creaked open, a beautiful elven girl dressed as a nurse hurried forward to meet the newcomer.
“Welcome! This is your first time here, right?”
The newcomer nodded, and a quiet laugh drifted down from the second floor.
“Hee hee hee...what trouble is afoot this time?”
“Carmilla, stop creeping out our new clients!” said a man sitting at the desk in the examination room, heaving a sigh.
He seemed to be the clinic’s owner, and wore a brand-new black cloak. Grinning boldly, he gestured at the chair in front of him.
“Now, take a seat. I can heal anything. As long as you pay me, that is.”