He clenched his sword tighter and sprinted back into the fray. Once this was over, he would knock Hiro senseless for saddling him with this troublesome shrike.
＊＊＊＊＊
Something black and turgid welled up inside Claudia’s chest, and it took several seconds to recognize it as jealousy. The realization came with a small sense of surprise. She had not thought herself capable of feeling something so ugly.
“My, my. How she has grown.”
As she watched, the Crimson Princess tore through the enemy vanguard, slaughtering monsters several times her size. Nothing could stand in her way. Even the troops who followed her inherited something of her strength. Common soldiers fought just as fiercely as she did, cutting down monsters that ought to have been beyond their capabilities, pushing beyond their limits to prove themselves worthy of her service.
Only she could have made this possible. No one else could have produced such a sight. It was like watching a goddess lead her faithful into battle, and it left no question that she was the only worthy heir to the throne. She was the stuff of legends, her valor inspiring all who followed—a born ruler, leading her troops onward with the prayers of her people at her back. Her growth was astonishing. Now that she had found her wings, she was steadily acquiring the presence of an empress.
“Four years,” Claudia murmured. “So much time, and yet so little. Just when did she pull so far ahead?”
Where had this gulf come from? It was not as if Claudia had spent the past four years resting on her laurels. She had accumulated plenty of experience since becoming queen, and she had taken care not to neglect her training. Perhaps the difference was one of environment. She had lived a charmed life next to the Crimson Princess, she had to admit. Her family had doted on her since birth, and her father, recognizing her potential as an auf, had educated her in secret on matters of rulership. Her brother’s rebellion had been a bump in the road, but compared to Liz, she had taken the throne with relative ease. Therein lay the difference, perhaps. She had wanted to be queen, while Liz had wanted to be empress. She had sought to accomplish her goals, while Liz sought to accomplish her dreams. She had been content to walk, while even now, Liz pushed herself to run.
“A matter of perspective, perhaps. A small distinction, and yet perhaps the most vital.”
Part of growth was cultivating a strong heart. The Crimson Princess had been shaped by the trials she had endured; by every disdainful boot, every cruel blow, every ignominy, every setback she had weathered without losing sight of her goal. Without them, she could not have reached these heights.
“One might almost suspect her misfortune was placed in her way to make her stronger.”
There seemed to have been some will at work, although Claudia could not guess whose. None of the Lords, that much was certain. Some greater being had laid the path Liz now walked. It was a path beset with obstacles, but at the end lay the highest honor of all: the throne of empress.
“Lord Surtr, perhaps? No, even he was only a pawn in this game.”
Hiro had goals of his own, and his schemes did not allow for anybody else to interfere. That was how he had gotten the better of the Lords, after all. But then, who could have used him so? It would have taken someone who knew him well...or so Claudia’s instincts insisted, but no one who fit that description came to mind.
“I always thought he was at the center of it all, but now...”
Now, she suspected she had been mistaken. It was not Hiro around whom the age revolved. And if even he had been merely one more instrument to mold the Crimson Princess into who she needed to be... The implications sent a shiver down her spine.
“If this war truly was orchestrated, I daresay not even I could say how it might end.”
Such a scheme could only be the work of a true god, an entity to transcend the Lords of Heaven. As for whether such a figure truly existed... Well, the outcome of this battle would reveal that.
“If there is such a mastermind, they will reveal themselves in due course. In the meantime, why not enjoy the melee before me?”
She dug her heels into her horse’s flank and spurred it into a gallop, lopping off head after head with deft strokes of Lox’s Fellblade. Liz might have stolen a march on her, but she would make up the difference. Her pride would not admit defeat. If fortune had decreed her to be born alongside the Crimson Princess, she would have history know her as a worthy rival. There were many years ahead of her yet. She was too young to concede. Jealousy and ambition would fuel her to heights unknown. She would not chase Liz. Indeed, she would not follow in anyone’s footsteps. Liz’s way would not be hers. She would walk a different path, honing her blade for the day they converged once more.
“Perhaps this will be enjoyable after all.”
Peace might return to Soleil once this war was over, but it would not come to her so easily. Life had ever been a series of endless trials.
She glanced at the imperial vanguard. “The stage is yours for today, would-be empress. Have your moment of glory. It would be boorish of me to take it from you.”
For the briefest moment, she smiled, and then it was as if a wave had withdrawn. She turned back to the battle with a gaze as sharp as a knife, centering herself again. There was no time for frivolous thoughts. As she watched, a great force flung several of her own dear troops back from the melee. The figure responsible grinned defiantly as blood and gore rained down around him.
“So these are the famed zlosta. No wonder such feeble creatures never cast their shadow over Soleil.”
A tall, dark-skinned man covered in intricate markings swung a Lebering soldier about like an infant. Claudia’s delicate features twisted with rage. How valiant her troops were, advancing undaunted toward a fight they could not win, and how ugly this man seemed as he crushed them like insects.
“Do excuse me.” She braced her feet against the saddle and leaped high, readying Hauteclaire in midair before falling on the yaldabaoth like a bolt of lightning.
He turned. “Hm?”
“I believe you owe my dear soldiers an apology.”
“Ghk!”
Hauteclaire bit deep into the yaldabaoth’s right shoulder, but it jammed before it swung clear. Claudia pressed down harder, but the arm would not come loose. She scowled and pulled Hauteclaire free. A gout of blood sprayed from the wound. In a silver streak, she swung once more at the yaldabaoth’s neck, but he caught the blow with an enormous axe. Sparks sprayed. She pressed the attack, turning into a piercing thrust. The yaldabaoth tried to dodge, but he was too slow.
“Good.” He spread his arms wide, grinning from ear to ear. “Very good.”
All of her strikes struck home. They shattered his bones, skewered his heart, froze his flesh. By the time she came to a stop, he looked as if he had been carved from solid ice.
A cheer erupted from behind her. Her troops rejoiced, praising her name. It was hard to blame them—the yaldabaoth had made light work of them, but she had dispatched it with ease. Yet as they moved closer, she raised an arm to ward them back.
Something was happening. Flakes of ice began to fall from the carving. A web of cracks spread across its surface. Finally, with a crash, the yaldabaoth broke free, smiling even wider as the ice burst from his skin.
“Well, now. You’re a worthy foe.” He drew a deep breath, then exhaled, lifting a hand to his neck as he turned to regard Claudia. “I am Null, chieftain of the yaldabaoth. And you are?”