Three days after the attack on Barlama, Princess Tishna was up on the hill overlooking the lake. It was afternoon, and she was enjoying the spectacular view alongside her personal maid, Emma-Leonie. The setting sun painted golden stripes through the clouds, and the calm waters glittered.
“The tea is ready, Your Highness.”
“Thank you, Emma-Leonie.”
Seated on a stone with a cloth thrown over it, Tishna accepted the teacup and took a sip. Emma-Leonie had used auramancy to boil the water, while the mess kit was the same make that mercenaries often used at camp.
She was a versatile maid, but her tea-brewing skills left something to be desired, and as Tishna sipped the drink, bitter from over-brewing, she could only grin and think that its taste summed up her own life quite perfectly.
“I must say,” she said, looking down at Barlama’s chalk-white walls, “I never thought I’d see this view again.”
The Registan Empire’s sabotage efforts were stopped thanks to Ras and his allies. While Barlama itself did not escape extensive damage, casualties were mercifully slim. The Registanian troops on the border had already begun their retreat, and there was a growing feeling that the threat of war had passed.
Ironically, Registan’s efforts had served to strengthen the bonds of the Shrumland Alliance. It was clear that the power-hungry empire still harbored expansionist ambitions, and the allied nations felt a renewed sense of danger that reinforced the alliance’s purpose. The summit was nearing its end now, with the closing ceremony being the only item left on the agenda.
Tishna felt a huge weight had been lifted from her shoulders. The crisis had passed, and her role was over.
“I must apologize for what I’ve put you through, Emma-Leonie. It can’t be easy, being the Wicked Princess’s personal maid.”
“Not at all, ma’am,” said Emma-Leonie with a smile. “In fact, it was surprisingly enjoyable, meeting the kinds of people I wouldn’t usually have cause to associate with. Some of them were a little unsettling, I must admit.”
“You mean Ras?”
“Yes. I understand why you were so afraid of him now.”
Ras Talion Veredica, son of Count Veredica, and owner of the jet-black Chasseur that single-handedly wiped out the vast majority of the fiends terrorizing Barlama. His strength approached that of a Blade, yet he was bound by none of their laws.
If he had wanted to, this terrifying individual could have turned on the kingdom and slain the king all by himself, but perhaps the most frightening thing of all was that he didn’t seem to want anything.
He could not be bought with titles, land, money, power, or even fame. Even his own position as a Guardian of Silver seemed to him like a loose shackle he could break free of at any time. The only one who could tame this wild horse was the silver-haired princess of Argyll.
“It’ll all be okay as long as Fiarca’s there…,” Tishna muttered.
She knew. In the version of the future only she knew, she had seen what Ras was like when the princess no longer held the reins…
“I know,” Emma-Leonie replied. “And rest assured, I shall not lay a finger on her. I shall take her secret with me to the grave.”
Tishna smiled and gave a gentle nod.
She wanted to be the one to save him. She wanted to save him from his past, the past even he had forgotten, that ignited his hatred and drove him to cleanse the fiends from this land.
But Tishna couldn’t be that person. She was out of time.
“These sweets are simply divine. Is that Hilica I taste?”
“I knew it would be to your liking, Your Highness.”
Emma-Leonie watched as Tishna stuffed her cheeks with the baked goods she had brought. While her tea-making skills were somewhat lacking, her nose for sweets was rather impressive.
Then, she leaned in close and whispered in Tishna’s ear.
“It is not too late, Your Highness. I can still call off the contract.”
“Thank you, Emma-Leonie, but I’ve made up my mind. My work here is done. Make sure to leave my body in an obvious place, like we planned.”
“…As you wish,” said Emma-Leonie with a bow.
Tishna sat, smiling beautifully. In Emma-Leonie’s hand was the knife she had used to serve the cakes. The crest of the Argyll Empire decorated its handle.
“Thank you for serving me so faithfully, even at the very end,” said Tishna. “Goodbye.”
Then she closed her eyes, at utter peace.
Emma-Leonie turned her cold gaze upon the princess’s exposed neck. She steeled her nerve, preparing herself for the execution of her task. The princess must not suffer. She must not even feel pain. That was the least she could do for the one who had employed her.
But right at that moment, there came a voice.
“Tishna!!”
Emma-Leonie froze. A beastfolk girl came bounding over toward them.
“Koko?!” exclaimed Tishna, eyes wide with shock. “What are you doing here?!”
Koko threw her arms around the princess, while Tishna and Emma-Leonie both tried to work out why Ras’s servant had appeared. And then…
“Don’t move,” came another voice. It was calm and unthreatening, but it nonetheless caused Emma-Leonie’s whole body to seize up like she’d been paralyzed. A suffocating sense of dread overwhelmed her.
“Drop your weapon, Emma-Leonie Curbell—or should I say, assassin of Eterusia?”
Ras grabbed Emma-Leonie’s wrist and tore the knife from her grip. The princess’s maid struggled for a second but quickly abandoned the effort.
Tishna stared at her saviors, stunned. The look in her eyes was not one of relief, but of despair, as it dawned on her that her final wish would go unfulfilled.
“Ras… What are you doing here…?” asked Tishna, her voice quivering, as she staggered to her feet.
Ras only returned a sullen stare. However, his anger was directed not at the assassin who had just tried to kill the princess, but at the princess who had been about to die.
“There were a lot of things that didn’t make sense,” came a second, more cheerful voice, as Fiarca stepped out from behind Ras. She wasn’t disguised as Auriol today, and Kanalayka and Elmira were nowhere to be seen. Instead, Fiarca was wearing Elmira’s usual uniform. She had forced the body double to take over the crown prince’s official business in her place.
Fiarca raised the index finger of her right hand. “First,” she said, “we knew that a high-ranking noble had to be sheltering the assassin. Duchess Knauss seemed to fit the bill at first, but she turned out to be working with Registan. It wouldn’t make sense for her to hire an Argyllian agent.”
Thinking back to Valdemar’s infiltration of the duchess’s estate, he had actually failed in his original task, which was to uncover evidence of the assassination plot surrounding Princess Tishna. Instead, and quite by accident, he had stumbled upon a secret alliance with the enemy empire.
“Plus,” she went on, raising a second finger, “the information we received was far too accurate. I mean, come on. An assassination group operating out of the Argyll Empire is plotting to kill Princess Tishna of Charlgia? Our Silver Fangs may be the world’s greatest intelligence agency, but there’s simply no way to obtain intel that precise. Unless, that is, whoever employed the assassin leaked the information on purpose.”
Tishna remained silent. Fiarca glared at her coldly. Why would the royal princess hire an assassin to kill herself, and then leak information to sabotage that assassin’s efforts? Obviously, because she had something to gain by doing so.
“You were desperate,” said Fiarca, grinning. “You needed to move our engagement forward, and for that, you needed me in the kingdom ahead of schedule. That’s also why you sent Ras back to me.”
To prevent Barlama’s ruin, Tishna needed Argyll’s assistance as soon as possible. But she still needed the marriage to seem natural, which was why Fiarca had to be brought to the kingdom with a few days spare.
To do all this, Tishna made her own life the bait. She spread information that Argyllian assassins were after her, forcing Fiarca to act.
“You are the grand mastermind behind this assassination plot, Princess Tishna Lumedienne Charlgiana. You hired an assassin to kill you. It sounds ridiculous, but I have to admit you had us all fooled for a while. Trust the Wicked Princess to come up with such an exhausting scheme.”
“I’m surprised I fooled a soul with this miserable plan,” said Tishna, grimacing at Fiarca. “When did you realize it was me?”
“When Ras told me you kissed him.”
“What?”
Tishna blinked a few times in shock. She had never imagined that Fiarca might see through the plan so early.
“You told us you died in the attack on Barlama, and that was why you didn’t know what happens after,” said Fiarca. “But I don’t think that’s true. Because if it is, then when did you get so close to Ras? Unless you’re claiming you fell in love at first sight?”
“Erm… Yes, I suppose I can’t really argue that, can I? …Sorry.”
“Hey,” interrupted Ras. “Why are you apologizing? What’s wrong with that?”
Fiarca ignored him and carried on with her explanation.
“You survived Barlama and became friendly with Ras, and now you’re trying to pretend none of that ever happened. That’s because you know something terrible will occur as a result. Am I wrong?”
Tishna endured Fiarca’s questioning gaze for a few moments, before shrugging.