“I’m...hungry...”
It was dusk. At the center of what looked like the remains of a beast’s meal was a severed human head set atop a green lizard body. It spoke haltingly, in broken sentences. A closer look at the scarred head revealed it belonged to Luciana, the former Duchess Robur.
Standing a little ways from me was the one clearly tasked with observing this scene—the severed head’s former husband, Laiyevist Robur. I, of course, was hiding in the shadows to conceal my presence. Laiyevist remained as expressionless as ever. But wait, was there not a subtle glint in his eyes, as he watched on? That was undoubtedly the magic fool activating his powers.
It was clear that he felt neither pleasure nor displeasure; his emotions toward his ex-wife were undoubtedly nonexistent.
Stepping ahead of that magic fool, to come face-to-face with her transformed mother, was none other than his own daughter. Yes, as expected, Laiyevist showed no sign of concern for her either. That in itself was really something else.
“You seem to have eaten a lot, but you still aren’t satisfied, hm?” said Lady Laviange Robur, facing the massive, visibly tattered form of her mother, caked with dark, dried blood. The white robe that Lady Robur wore shimmered with silver; even at just a glance, this clearly a magical artifact with special properties.
An appraisal spell revealed holy magic that radiated inward from it. It seemed to serve both a protective role and a sealing role. What was most startling, however, was that this magic power was unlike anything human. Though mixed with demonic magic, it was clearly distinct from the magical spells that stemmed from human magic power.
Lady Robur was my second son’s former fiancée, and yet we had not properly met face-to-face or exchanged words until sometime after the engagement had been broken.
After the death of my aunt, Princess Beljeanne, there had been no more pact-bearers for sacred beasts. Yet for all these years, a new pact-bearer had indeed existed, hidden away. Or had for a time, at least, since Sacred Beast Vamillia was no longer among us. That pact-bearer was none other than the lady standing here.
I’d never dreamed that this lady, a direct descendant of the royal family and Four Great Ducal Houses, those institutions who had constantly disparaged Princess Beljeanne, would create a pact with a sacred beast.
The chancellor, upon receiving the report of the pact from the Knight Commander, had become so excited that he’d clung to me day and night, persistently and relentlessly, demanding an order for Lady Robur to visit the castle. Well, I couldn’t say I didn’t understand his feelings.
However, I knew the circumstances that had made Princess Beljeanne into an unmatched villainess, and the full truth of the matter. As such, I was reluctant, and I’d ordered that this information remain strictly confidential until I’d personally discussed it with Lady Robur and confirmed her wishes. It was the right call—though I’d later had to console the chancellor.
The pact had been forged because Sacred Beast Vamillia was a fan of that scandalous novel Sengoku Rendezvous, and even the chancellor judged that fact unfit for disclosure. Now that Sacred Beast Vamillia was gone, it would continue to remain confidential. If rumors started spreading, I wouldn’t know what path to take to quell them.
This event ranked among the top three I’d faced since ascending the throne as king—no, in my entire life—that I couldn’t make a decision on.
Even so, rumors about Lady Robur persisted: that she was talentless, incompetent, uncultured, and always running full tilt from responsibility...
I observed the lady once more. Even facing her utterly changed mother, she remained unshaken. She still wore that cool, aristocratic smile.
Rumors were unreliable things, after all. Contrarily, Lady Robur seemed to be hiding something.
Suddenly, her perfectly shaped lips murmured what seemed to be a nickname. “Cas.” A white nine-tailed fox appeared on the lady’s shoulder, wrapping its own magic around her body to make it look gorgeous and extravagant.
Could that be Casquette, the sacred beast that Lady Robur had a pact with?!
My eyes couldn’t help but widen at the sight. I reflexively looked at the color of the fox’s eyes, said to mimic the color of the pact-bearer’s pupils. Just as my mother had told me, and as recorded in the late king’s diary, those eyes were like lapis lazuli.
“No one...has satisfied me...yet...”
“I see. Is it your stomach that feels unsatisfied?”
“I’m hungry... Mother... Someone...”
“Very well. Come here, Lucy,” said Lady Robur, extending both hands toward her mother and addressing her by an affectionate nickname. In that moment, the young lady’s form wavered. She transformed into a strong-willed-looking girl with black hair and narrow, violet eyes like a cat’s. She appeared to be the same age as Lady Robur. An illusion spell, perhaps?
“Ah, mother. Oh, I’m sorry, I want to eat, I’m sorry, I want to eat, I want to eat...” Spitting out those hair-raising words in a clumsy voice, the massive bulk of the creature staggered toward the girl.
“Don’t apologize, Lucy,” the black-haired girl said, in a tone brimming with affection, as if to her own beloved child, and smiled. “I love you.”
“Mother... I was... I was so lonely...” Contrary to her words, however, the magical beast stood before the girl with its large, sharp claws poised to slash. Laiyevist was still standing nearby, and he would surely act if anything happened. I held back, watching from behind my cover.
Laiyevist, though clearly intrigued, remained utterly still—body and magic unmoving. His aid had been unnecessary from the start.
At the moment I realized this, a silver blade of wind imbued with holy magic suddenly appeared, severing the beast’s head in a single strike.
“I know that you were starved for love.”
“Mo...ther...”
“Good girl. I love you.”
“There... Mother...”
Lady Robur embraced the shrunken form of her mother that rolled toward her. She held her close, speaking words of love, not caring that the flowing black blood stained her white robe. She repeated the words gently until the broken, stumbling voice calling for her mother fell silent. Like a mother would a child, she stroked the black hair softly.
In front of Lady Robur a wind of purification, born of holy magic, swirled up. It enveloped the giant form collapsed in the pool of pitch-black blood. As if possessed of its own will, the black blood writhed through the air, trying to escape the wind. Yet the wind, stubbornly determined not to let it go, wrapped around it relentlessly.
A death cry rang out from somewhere. Then, both the black blood and the beast’s body crumbled into fine, crystalline dust and vanished with the wind.
By then the voice of her mother, cradled in her arms, had already faded.
Lady Robur held her mother with one arm, then produced a crimson magic stone so large it barely fit in her hands and radiated a five-colored brilliance, holding it in her other hand. The magic stone seemed to have been retrieved from what appeared to be some sort of pocket dimension.
Drawing magic power from the stone, Lady Robur wrapped it around herself.
“Next time, I hope you can live more like a child.” As she spoke, her slender arm raised the magic stone overhead. Warm crimson flames enveloped both the girl and her mother. Though holy in nature, this flame carried a distinct, purifying power.
Blood and black smoke rose from Luciana, trying to escape the flames. But the crimson fire, like the wind before, pursued and engulfed it all. A death cry rang out from nowhere again, vanishing along with the black smoke. As the flames and wind subsided, it left only a skull resting on Lady Robur’s arm.
Most would have found such a sight terrifying. Yet, perhaps due to the lingering residue of purification around the girl and the faint glow of her robe, I strangely didn’t feel that way.
The illusion wavered, her peach-gold hair swaying softly as she returned to her ordinary appearance.
Still, the image of the black-haired girl lingered in the back of my mind. From the words exchanged and respective reactions from both women, the illusion must have been of Lady Robur’s maternal grandmother, who was deceased. Yet, a question arose.
Lady Robur’s maternal grandmother. Shortly after Lady Robur’s birth, that woman had incurred the wrath of her own sister. The sister’s anger had never subsided, and Lady Robur’s grandmother had passed away, never again permitted to have anything to do with House Robur.
Why was it that Lady Robur knew her maternal grandmother not as an elderly woman, but as a girl her own age?
“Lavi!”
I startled at the tense voice, having been lost in thought for a moment. Looking up, I saw Lady Robur sitting there, breathing heavily.
“Phew, I’m fine. Seems I overused my magic a bit. It’s only been a few days since I used my power so dramatically at the church. It can’t be helped.” Lady Robur placed the skill and magic stone carelessly on her crossed legs, supporting herself with both hands to keep herself from falling backward. Her arms trembled. But still, she offered a warm smile to the sacred beast, Casquette. That smile overlapped with the image I had of Princess Beljeanne when she’d been alive. Among the few existing portraits of her, that smile was captured in just one of them.
“Now, don’t make that face,” she said. “I wanted to ease mother’s suffering quickly, so this is fine. With the magic my brother channeled through the light arrows into her body, we had to destroy the demonic power while at least some of her self-awareness remained. Otherwise, after death, her soul would have been devoured and obliterated. That would be a bit sad, wouldn’t it?” She spoke soothingly, as if to brush away Casquette’s worries. A slender wrist peeked out from the slightly rolled-up cuff of her sleeve. Something glimmered there, catching my eye for just a moment.
Faint silver letters... Could that be a holy seal? Was it obscured by the glimmering of her robe? Of course, I couldn’t be certain of what I’d seen at all. Yet I felt it somehow connected to the end of the princess I’d known.