Chapter 37

4. Gentle Fingers As the sun began to rise, the surrounding area brightened slightly. The faint sunlight brought color to the forests and meadows, letting all the living things know that morning was on its way. The air was serene. The birds chirped. Despite having played out a million times before, the process remained unchanged. As constant as nature was, however, not everything in the world stayed the same. In fact, something unusual was happening. That unusual event was taking place in the Rosta region, in southwest Kisk. With no prior warning, an army of thirty thousand had appeared on the plain near the Farsasian border. Armed with magical technology that made them impossible to track, the army had teleported into their neighboring country with precision, and at sunrise, they swiftly leaped into action. They traversed the area just north of Caribala, where all the trouble had started, heading northeast toward a fortress on the border. “All you need to do is give the town a bit of a fright. If the people are intimidated, it’ll be easier to control once Azulia gets there,” Lars informed his generals during their meeting. “The fortress is what really matters. There’s no need for us to conquer it—just attack it a little to silence them.” The king, having decided on the route that his army would take, pointed out Weisuz Fortress. It was located along the highway that began in the castle city and was a strategic point in the southwest where troops from Kisk were stationed. If Farsas made a move, that fortress would be the first to fight back, and they had the military strength to do so, too. A large army wouldn’t be necessary in Caribala; there were nothing but rioters and petty criminals there. It was the nation and the castle itself that Farsas wanted to apply pressure on. And so the prelude to war between the two Great Nations began with just a small number of troops. The king of Farsas had decided to bypass Caribala, the expected focus of the conflict, and begin by threatening Weisuz Fortress instead. Learning of the Farsasian invasion, a hint of panic appeared on the face of General Dolfa, the man in charge of the fortress. “I’d expected them to teleport here, but I didn’t expect them to bypass the town completely… Will our defense spells be ready?” “They’ll take another five hours to complete. By that stage, the Farsasian army might have already reached us…” “We’ll have to buy ourselves some time, then. I’ll engage them in battle, so use that time to finish constructing the spells,” Dolfa swiftly decided, before ordering his army to deploy. He’d prepared this strategy in advance, but they needed to make it look like it had been conceived after they’d learned of Farsas’s invasion. As per the king’s orders, Weisuz Fortress needed to signal to Farsas that this wasn’t a meticulously planned provocation. Beelhurse hadn’t given a clear explanation, so nobody knew the purpose behind his orders, but it sounded as though he was reluctant to engage in a full-scale war with the mighty Magic Kingdom. Nevertheless, Farsas was not an opponent to be underestimated. Dolfa spread out a map of the area surrounding the fortress on the table and finalized the deployment of his forty thousand troops, then donned his armor. “There are only thirty thousand men in Farsas’s army. As long as we focus on defending ourselves, they shouldn’t be able to break through our fortress,” Dolfa said, encouraging the fearful troops he’d be leading in the vanguard. The highway ran through a hilly area in the central region, so the troops from Kisk hid there. Concealed by the sloping peaks, they finished getting into formation only thirty minutes before the Farsasian army arrived. A gentle breeze blew toward Lars, tickling his hair as he listened to the scout’s report. He knew that following the highway stretching out before him would eventually lead to Weisuz Fortress, but it seemed like they’d get trapped before they reached it. Looking up at the hills covered in lush green grass, the king spoke in a carefree tone: “So what should we do, Truce? Teleport past Kisk’s army and land straight in front of the fortress?” “That’s easier said than done,” replied Truce. “We’re in the middle of a foreign country—we can’t get the coordinates for a large-scale transit gate. Not to mention, unauthorized teleportation might be forbidden around the fortress.” “Good point. We don’t want to get cornered from both directions. We’ll have to breach the fortress head-on.” The highway itself seemed to cut through the hills. The wide road before them curved gently along the flat ground, with large slopes flanking it on either side. Kisk’s troops, presumably waiting for them farther down the path, had skillfully hidden themselves behind those hills. After a moment of contemplation, Lars ordered his troops to advance over the westernmost of the two large hills. As he watched his army leap into action, a mischievous grin appeared on his face. “Well, then… Let’s have a little fun here. It’s not every day you get to go to battle.” The grass swaying in the breeze was trampled by horses’ hooves. There was a tension in the air, and the chirping birds had fallen silent. Only the clanging of iron and the murmur of incantations spread across the hills—and shortly after sunrise, the first battle commenced. Having emerged over the top of the hill, the Farsasian army was immediately targeted by the Kisk archers. While Farsas had the height advantage, the wind was in Kisk’s favor. Dolfa had figured that his army’s head start would work in their favor, but as he’d partially anticipated, most of the arrows were blocked by magic. Stroking his beard, he instructed his troops to deploy their magical barriers. “Putting their mages on the front line… What is Farsas thinking?” It seemed that more than half of the troops in Farsas’s vanguard were mages; their attire made them easy to identify, even from a distance. Typically, mages weren’t placed at the forefront of an army, but at the rear, tasked with defense and healing. However, the fact that they’d been deliberately positioned at the front suggested that Farsas’s strategy would be heavily reliant on magical firepower. Dolfa frowned as he watched the Farsasian army rain fire down on his troops, then asked one of his nearby subordinates, Isal, for his opinion of the situation. “What do you think? Will we be able to defend ourselves?” “This level of attack shouldn’t be a problem. They might be called the Magic Kingdom, but they don’t seem that impressive.” Dolfa could tell by the young man’s face that he was being overconfident, but that was better than being pessimistic. He ordered Isal to launch a counter-attack, then withdrew to the rear of the army. When the general got in touch with the fortress, he was informed that the defensive spells that would shield the fortress would be completed in about three hours, which seemed to bring him some relief. “All right… Let’s just hope we can last that long.” Dolfa was known for his cautious nature, and he had no desire to become a hero by crushing Farsas’s army. His only goal was to fulfill the king’s command by stopping the enemy’s advance toward Weisuz Fortress and redirecting them toward the city of Caribala. Farsas’s decision to invade Kisk had probably been strongly influenced by the pleas of the Casola people. In that case, why not surrender Caribala, where the majority of the people from Casola lived? There were hardly any pure-blooded Kisk people who lived there anyway. If it became apparent that they couldn’t capture the fortress, Farsas would likely turn back the way they’d come. Beelhurse had told Dolfa to hold them off for two weeks, but he couldn’t help but feel like that was far too long. “What are you doing, Isal?!” Dolfa exclaimed in anger, glaring fiercely at the hill in front of him. But his subordinate didn’t hear him. The general watched Isal, whom he’d put in command of the troops, chase after the retreating Farsasian mages. Riding his horse, he personally led the charge, pushing Kisk’s front line forward. As the mages on the enemy side panicked and turned their horses around, he ordered his own troops to launch magical attacks. However, the effects of these attacks were neutralized by the enemy’s barriers, and Isal failed to achieve the outcome he was hoping for. Despite this, Kisk held onto its momentum and continued to drive the already retreating Farsasian army away. Before long, his army started going down the other side of the slope on the hunt for their enemy. As his troops disappeared over the hill blinded by the potential of victory, Dolfa raised his voice, desperate to bring them back. “Contact the mages! Order them to pull back the front line!” But the order wasn’t needed. At the same time that Dolfa had reprimanded his subordinate, Isal had brought the troops’ charge to a halt, met by an astounding sight. Isal had assumed that Farsas’s main army, which mostly consisted of cavalry, was positioned on the other side of the hill—but unbeknownst to him, the troops had chosen to take the opposite direction from the highway, circumventing the hill altogether. Lars had sent mages to the front line and made them pretend to retreat to distract Kisk’s army. While Farsas’s reputation nowadays was that of the Magic Kingdom, it had been a nation of warriors for most of its history. Yet Farsas’s formation centered around their mages had made Isal forget about the nation’s military strength. Instead, he’d hastily convinced himself that if he could defeat the mages, Kisk’s victory would be assured. Mages were good at fighting and defending themselves from a distance, but they struggled with close combat. This knowledge had driven Isal to pounce on the retreating mages, but in doing so, he’d broken his own army’s formation. This was all part of Farsas’s plan. As he watched the Farsasian troops come around the hill and attack the core of his army, Isal looked at the messenger mage behind him—but before he had the chance to speak, he and his horse went up in flames. A beastly scream erupted from the blaze. In his thirties, Truce was Farsas’s head mage, and the one who’d set fire to Kisk’s commander. He let out a small sigh. “Okay. Turn and attack. Reduce them to ashes.” Following his orders, the mages who’d been retreating stopped in their tracks and started to chant, while Farsas’s lancers used this as an opportunity to charge ahead. Shocked by their commander’s sudden death, Kisk’s men were suddenly gripped by an uncontrollable fear as they watched the cavalry charge up the hill. In the forest near the right flank of their army, a mage from Kisk had set up a magic barrier and was surveying the situation. At that moment, however, he noticed something infiltrate the area he was in charge of. As he focused his senses, he cast a detection spell. The mage was receiving updates of the battle via magic communication, and it sounded like things were becoming fairly chaotic around the hilltop. For the time being, Kisk seemed to be holding on, but if this was a decoy and Farsas was mobilizing a separate force, they’d need to change their formation as soon as possible. He began to form a communication spell. However, just before he completed it, something rushed into his field of vision. An instant after he noticed the large, dark shadow, his head was separated from his body. Riding his horse with such ease that it may as well have been an extra limb, the man who’d taken the mage’s life with a single swing of his sword smiled gently. It was an expression that seemed unsuited to a battlefield. He looked down at the severed head, the mage’s eyes still wide with shock. “Don’t rely too much on magic. You need to look at what’s happening around you. Consider this a lesson learned.” The king of Farsas, armed with the royal sword, pulled on his horse’s reins again. It was only then that Harve, responsible for the king’s protective barrier and communication, finally caught up with him. “Your Majesty! Please don’t go off alone! Leuticia will be furious with me!” “Don’t worry about that. Just let her scold you. Rather you than me.” “If you want to kill the spies, get an archer or mage to do it for you!” “I like to do things myself every now and then. I didn’t force Lettie to take over my official duties for nothing.” Harve wanted to ask the king to swap places with her right away, but he stayed quiet. Ultimately unable to express most of what he wanted to say, he followed Lars’s orders and relayed the command to begin the attack on the main force of Kisk’s army. With every step she took, Shizuku could feel her stomach aching. She assumed that most of this was her imagination, but the agony had left too much of a mark on her memory for her to forget it. Shizuku recalled her reflection she’d seen in the mirror. “I’ll never be able to wear a swimsuit looking like this… If we can’t heal it, I won’t even be able to go home.” For the time being, she was using a magic remedy to curb the pain, but she didn’t know how she’d get relief in a world without magic. Shizuku let out a sigh as she came to a stop in front of Ortea’s room. Faneet was standing there, and he gave her a concerned look. “Are you alright?” “Oh. Did the princess tell you what happened?” “Yeah.” “I’m fine. That aside, there are a few things I want you to do for me.” “What?” Shizuku collected her thoughts and gave Faneet the general rundown of her requests. At first, he looked suspicious, but he soon worked out her intentions. “I’ll get on that,” he said with a nod. Not even a hint of a smile crossed his lips. Next, Shizuku had to speak to Niké, then Ortea. Shizuku took a deep breath in front of the door. “Farsas has begun its invasion,” Faneet said from beside her, his voice even. “General Dolfa met them in battle, but his men were quickly overpowered and it seems they’ve retreated to the fortress.” “…Okay. Doesn’t sound like we have much time, then.” Shizuku had suspected that something like that would happen, but being confronted with the reality was incredibly nerve-racking. Even so, escaping wasn’t an option for her anymore. No matter how difficult her situation was, she was determined to get through it somehow. Shizuku stood up straight and stepped through the open door. Reflected in Faneet’s eyes, her profile looked abnormally calm, as if she’d worked for the princess for decades. How did it feel not to be able to trust your family? Shizuku had no idea. It was a feeling beyond her comprehension. Unbeknownst to her, Ortea had been betrayed by her own brother. Since that incident, she’d lost her family. How much turmoil had she been through? Shizuku could try to imagine it and sympathize with her, but that would only hurt the princess’s feelings. Not to mention, the people that Ortea had trampled over were just as deserving of sympathy. The situation had already become very serious. The fates of Beelhurse and Ortea would soon be determined, and the country would be forced into action. Shizuku knew that the turning point was just around the corner. So she couldn’t ask for much. There was just one thing she wanted: for this mayhem to come to an end. “Is that all you wanted to say?” “Yes. There’s barely any time to spare. Please act on my advice right away,” Shizuku responded unflinchingly. Ortea glared at her, but Shizuku kept her face completely still and accepted her master’s stare. The expression on her face seemed to ask, “Can you not do that?” making Ortea grit her teeth a little. She seemed like a completely different person from the woman who’s been screaming in pain only the night before. Shizuku appeared as if she had nerves of steel. All her proposals were urging Ortea to take a drastic, unsparing change of course. Also present were Niké and Faneet, who had nervous looks on their faces. “Why do I need to do something like that? Can’t you at least give me a reason?” “No—but I’m sure you’ll be able to work it out.” Shizuku’s confident proclamation made Ortea frown. She was right, though. Ortea didn’t need it explained to her. The majority of the tactics Shizuku had proposed would lead to one outcome: the usurpation of the throne. Shizuku was suggesting that Ortea depose her half-brother. It was a bold proposition for a subject to make, and rather unsurprisingly, the princess couldn’t hide her dismay. “Why would I target my older brother? Do you have a personal vendetta against him?” “I do have a grudge against him, but that’s not the whole story. As one of your vassals, it is my humble opinion that these plans are necessary. The details should become clear in due course.” “You’re being absurd. I’m not fit to be queen.” “Do you lack confidence in your own abilities?” “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s simply that everybody’s scared of me.” Ortea gave Shizuku a sad smile. Nobody in the castle would question how capable she was, but her reputation for cruelty extended past her country’s borders. If the infamous princess were to take the throne, people both within and outside the country would come together against her out of fear. Ortea had only been able to demonstrate her own abilities because her position was inferior to her brother’s. She wasn’t the kind of person herself who could represent a nation. However, the princess’s argument didn’t make Shizuku change her opinion. She responded to Ortea in a voice that was neither devoid of emotion nor filled with it. “That’s why we need to make the king shoulder some of your bad reputation. Everything else will be determined by your actions. You don’t need to gain overwhelming support. As long as you show that you’re competent and generous toward your citizens, people are sure to accept you.” “Are you suggesting I suddenly reinvent myself and show my generosity? Can I really beg for forgiveness after everything I’ve done?” “If you want people to forgive you, you need to come up with a way to redeem yourself. I’m talking about the future, not the past.” Some people would never forgive Ortea, no matter what she did. As much as it pained her, Shizuku couldn’t do anything about that. Inevitably, there was no changing the past. If they both continued raking over what came before, they’d never make any progress. If Ortea really regretted what she’d done, then it was up to her to do something about that. Besides, there probably weren’t that many citizens who genuinely loathed the princess. The majority of those who frowned upon her behavior had only heard of the princess’s actions secondhand. If Ortea improved those people’s impressions of her, she’d be fully capable of serving as queen—or at least, that was how Shizuku felt. As long as her reputation was better than Beelhurse’s, that was all that mattered. It would take some scheming to overcome the current situation, but once they did, everything else would depend on Ortea’s mindset. The princess was far more politically savvy than Shizuku, so surely she realized that. Yet even if she did, the princess didn’t agree with it. She raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow and fixed her gaze on Shizuku. “Why do I have to do all that?” It was a childish protest, but at least it was honest. Why did she have to put herself on the line for her country? Until that point, her royal status had afforded her a life of leisure, fulfilling minimal obligations while enjoying maximum authority. For Ortea, who’d been cast aside during her childhood, this approach must have seemed like her only option in the country that had once sacrificed her. She knew she was supposed to be useful to the kingdom, but she’d always despised the country itself. That wasn’t something that could be changed overnight. “Why do I have to give in? I’ve always done everything my brother asked me to do. I’ve fulfilled my royal duties. Why do I have to do even more for this country…? That’s not what I want, nor what our citizens want!” A great deal of emotion was imbued in her cries, but Shizuku showed no sign of backing down. “Princess. You’re the only one with the right to ascend the throne. No one else can become ruler.” “Then what’s wrong with my brother staying king?! I don’t want to rule!” “So you’re willing to cast aside your own country?” Ortea looked up, taken aback. This woman, who claimed to be from another world, didn’t seem angered by Ortea’s fit of rage. She just kept her eyes on her, with the same calm gaze that a mother would give a child. She wasn’t going to lecture the princess or scold her. Speaking as though she was reading out a list of facts, Shizuku continued making her point. “You’re not chained to this castle or this country, Princess. You can escape. However, we don’t have much time. If you’re going to leave the castle, you need to start preparing immediately. And, of course, you have to make sure His Majesty doesn’t find out.” “Shizuku.” Faneet stepped forward, attempting to stop Shizuku’s speech, but she just blocked him with a hand and kept her gaze fixed on Ortea. Shizuku’s unexpected suggestion made Ortea’s jaw gape open in amazement. “You’re telling me…to leave the castle? Me?” “If that’s what you wish. It’s not impossible.” That would be another way to end things. Beelhurse was planning on sacrificing his sister, but Ortea could still escape from his grip and disappear. The king would be annoyed to lose one of his pawns, but with Farsas’s ongoing invasion, he wouldn’t be able to devote all his energy to looking for her. Plus, escaping might be the easier route for the princess. She’d be freed of all her duties and could carve out a new life for herself. She was still young. She could start over and leave her past behind. Fighting her brother wasn’t her only option. There was a long silence. Shizuku stayed frozen to the spot, Faneet maintained his stony gaze, and Niké stood up straight, stifling his emotions. Ortea kept her eyes fixed on her lap. She looked apprehensive, like a bird that had only just realized that the door to its cage had been open all along. She smiled, her expression filled with equal amounts of lonely emptiness and self-derision. “Are you telling me…I can escape from here?” “If you don’t want to become queen, then you should run away right away.” “Is that what you want for me?” The two young women had walked completely different paths in their lives, but at times they saw one another as a different version of themselves. If Shizuku had been born a royal, and Ortea had been a commoner… How would they have turned out? What would they have done? They saw the answers inside each other, like gazing into a mirror where the reflection didn’t quite match up. Shizuku returned the princess’s gaze. She spent a moment thinking about her journey so far, then turned her thoughts toward the unknown future. It wasn’t all going to be smooth sailing, but she probably wouldn’t have to do it alone. She straightened her back, then fixed her gaze on her master. “If I may express my own wishes, then…” Shizuku opened her mouth, her voice filled with emotion that not even a thousand words could convey. “Please become queen. Throughout history, there have been benevolent rulers who ended up as tyrants; I want you to go in the opposite direction. If you see this country with your own eyes—rather than through the bars of a cage—you’ll soon start to see the truth. It’s true that the world of men is filled with injustice…but at the same time, it can be surprisingly kind.” Shizuku knew that better than anybody. Human kindness had been her salvation. It had allowed her to travel across a world she knew nothing about. She wanted Ortea to find out what that was like. She wanted her to interact with and learn about the outside world, not just from the inside of the twisted birdcage her brother had shut her in. She wanted Ortea to realize that most people cared about others—and that included Ortea herself. “Do you really want to make the princess queen?” Niké’s question sounded more skeptical than appalled. Without saying a word, Shizuku shrugged her shoulders. Taking that as affirmation, the mage reacted with disgust. Shizuku poured some tea into his cup. The two of them were the only people inside the small break room. After listening to everything Shizuku had to say, Ortea had asked for a chance to think things over and dismissed her aides. They were short on time, so Shizuku wanted her to make up her mind quickly, but if the princess wasn’t convinced, there was nothing she could do about it. Shizuku had done everything she could for the time being, so she’d called out to Niké to stop him from leaving and given him a few of the requests she had in mind. And so he’d responded with that question. Shizuku cocked her head as she served some tea cakes. “Why do you ask? Are you against the idea?” “You know full well what kind of person she is. Do you realize how many people she’s executed on a whim?” “Uhh, sure.” Shizuku had expected people to take that stance. It was true that she knew very little about what Ortea had done. She’d heard that the princess had committed numerous atrocious acts, but she’d never witnessed any with her own eyes. She didn’t really have a leg to stand on when people accused her of being ignorant. Shizuku stared at the man. As the princess’s helper, Niké was frequently sent to foreign countries on secret missions. Shizuku didn’t know much about how he’d ended up as the princess’s aide, either. Nor how he felt about her. As Shizuku glared at him in silence, Niké furrowed his brow. “Stop looking at me,” he said, waving his hand in front of his face. “What…? Well, fine. But yeah, at the end of the day, I guess I am pretty naive.” “You must be. It’s pretty obvious.” “Yeah. No matter how annoyed I am with them, when I see a different side to someone, I tend to assume they’re kind deep down. I think I want to believe that. It makes me feel better.” “You’re an idiot… At this rate, someone’s going to trick you.” “They already have,” Shizuku admitted cheerfully, making Niké frown even more. He must have known that the mark etched onto her body was a result of her naïveté. He clicked his tongue and took a sip of his tea. Shizuku smiled at her coworker, who now looked very mean. “You leave a terrible first impression, but I know that you have a kind side to you, too,” Shizuku told him. “If the princess is the same way—and I sometimes get the feeling that she is—then she might be able to lead a different life.” “Don’t use me as an example.” “You shouldn’t turn a blind eye to your faults. You’re one of the princess’s retainers.” “She gives me plenty of work because she knows that I’m not a faithful subject.” “Huh? Wouldn’t it usually be the other way around?” Shizuku asked with surprise. Niké shoved a snack into her mouth, looking irritated, then rolled up the paper packaging and set fire to it in his hand. “The princess knows that deep down, I want to rebel. That’s why she uses me. She knows that I wouldn’t dare turn my back on her, no matter how I feel. Sometimes, she issues me with orders just to test me. She enjoys seeing how I react… I know what she’s doing, so I don’t let my feelings show.” “Wow.” Come to think of it, Shizuku remembered Faneet pointing at Niké soon after she arrived and saying that he was the princess’s favorite because he was two-faced. Maybe this was what he meant by that. Shizuku’s sudden shift in perspective made it hard for her to articulate a clever response. She ate the food that had been thrust into her mouth. “You’re like a miserable member of middle management,” Shizuku said—but not even she really understood what she meant. With a bitter expression, Niké picked up his mug. “Regardless of whether she’s kind or not, she has that kind of personality. I doubt being queen would suit her,” he mused. “Hmm… She’s still young, though,” replied Shizuku. “Under normal circumstances, she would have been married by now. She’s far from young.” “Huh? Really?” From Shizuku’s point of view, nineteen sounded plenty young to be getting married. “For a royal, I mean,” Niké clarified, noting Shizuku’s dumbfounded expression. Shizuku let out a deep breath. “You know how a super-impactful event can alter someone’s trajectory? Sometimes I wonder whether a person’s life could have been even more different if that event hadn’t happened.” “…Maybe.” “I think people like that can still change. If they truly want to start over, it’s probably achievable, to a certain extent anyway.” Were people really that malleable? If somebody could be influenced by other people, then why couldn’t they decide to change themselves if they were given a chance? Shizuku was probably incredibly naive for thinking that way. She felt like she expected too much from people. Still, dismissing someone’s potential didn’t seem like the correct approach, either. Shizuku smoothed out her wrinkled brow with her fingers. Niké watched her, his face devoid of expression—but then, unexpectedly, he began to mutter something. “You seem serious about this, so let me tell you something. She didn’t kill any of the children who failed the experiments.” “Huh?” “It might be more accurate to say I set them free, in a town far away from here. She probably knows that, but she didn’t condemn me for doing it. I let the princess of Anneli go for that same reason. She knows that I do things in secret, and to a certain degree, she turns a blind eye to it.” “What…?” If Ortea gave Niké important jobs to do because he was unfaithful, did that mean she also valued his habit of secretly sparing the weak? The princess knew how Niké conducted himself, which must be why she gave him so many tasks to carry out alone. Was that the hidden side to the so-called Bewitching Princess? As Shizuku pondered this, Niké confidently set her straight. “Don’t get the wrong idea. That doesn’t change what she’s done. The princess is still a cold-blooded person.” “…Yeah.” The fact remained that Ortea was cruel and unsparing. Shizuku could never let herself forget that. Niké watched as Shizuku offered him a meek nod. Then he let out a tremendous sigh and got up from his seat. “Well, whatever. It’s not like I can ever go back to being an ordinary mage. I’ll support you in your plan.” “Oh. Thanks.” “So what will you do if the princess’s personality stays the same when she ascends the throne? Will you still stick by her?” This was a possibility that Shizuku had to bear in mind. The notion brought an uncertain smile to Shizuku’s face. She looked through the room’s only window, which faced southwest; the sky was blue, without a cloud in sight, and looked as flat as if it had been painted with a brush. It must have stretched all the way to the battlefront—the thought of which made Shizuku shut her eyes. “Good point… That’d lead to even more friction. It might even result in the end of the Kisk royal family.” The royal family had descended from Tryphina’s dishonesty. Perhaps Ortea would witness the line come to an end, as queen. That scenario seemed fairly likely; Farsas’s reach had already expanded within the kingdom’s borders. If Kisk failed to halt their advances, there’d be no future for the royals. “Ah, this is so much pressure,” Shizuku said. “Why am I a royal aide?” “Like I know. Just hurry up and get to work.” Shizuku complied with Niké’s blunt reply and left the break room. By the time she took one step out of the room, her face no longer looked like that of the young woman who complained of the pressure of her station, but that of an experienced vassal to the princess. The baby felt so small and helpless in Shizuku’s arms. She moved the lightweight child into a more comfortable position and smiled. Yura, standing by her side, wore a gentle look on her face. “I’m sorry, Yura. This is a dangerous thing for me to ask you to do.” “It’s okay. I’m happy I can help.” The court lady was around Shizuku’s age, and her voice sounded warm and reassuring. Relieved by the strength of her words, Shizuku placed Vied back in Yura’s arms and looked around the small room. Moving Vied into a different room had been the first thing Shizuku had done upon learning the king’s true intentions. Now that Farsas had invaded, the baby’s existence was quite significant. He was part of the reason why Beelhurse had let Shizuku live. She needed to make sure the king couldn’t get his hands on the boy, no matter what it took. Shizuku had left the task of moving him in the middle of the night to Yura and Willett, the two women in the castle that Shizuku trusted the most. She’d had them look after Vied while she picked out new, trustworthy wet nurses and maids. It had been a hassle, but it was necessary for her peace of mind. Willett was busy using a magic heating pad to warm up the breast milk another wet nurse had given her, but she’d received no explanation. Neither Yura nor Willett had known about Vied before being entrusted with him, but they didn’t dare ask who his parents were. Shizuku had insisted that they stay silent about the matter, so they’d probably realized how serious it was. Despite how young she was, Willett was surprisingly adept at caring for Vied, saying that she used to look after the babies in her town. Having made quick work of warming up the milk, she gave it to Yura and moved on to folding up Vied’s many washed blankets with a smile. “That reminds me, Shizuku. You and our esteemed colleague Niké seem to be getting along well lately!” Willett said. “Whoa, that ‘esteemed’ title doesn’t suit him. We don’t not get along, but we don’t have the best relationship, either. You must just see us talking about work.” “Oh, that’s a shame. What kind of person do you like again? I’m so eager to know.” “Eager about what…?” Shizuku didn’t want her to get enthusiastic about anything other than taking care of Vied. A pained look appeared on her face. But then she remembered something. “Ah…,” Shizuku said without any enthusiasm. “I know… I want someone who doesn’t care if I have a weird mark on my body. Did I include that in my list of requirements?” “What are you talking about?” Yura said from behind her, sounding surprisingly serious. Noticing the probing concern in her expression, Shizuku hastily smoothed things over. “Oh, it’s nothing. Everything’s fine.” “Are you sure? No one’s done anything to you, have they?” “Absolutely not! There’s no need to beat anyone to a pulp!” “If you say so…” Yura backed down, looking somewhat disappointed. Shizuku felt flustered, as though she’d come close to getting beaten up herself. If she’d told her the truth, Yura might have confronted Jired. Regaining her composure, Shizuku waved at the other girl, who was busily folding laundry. “Hey, Willett. Do you want to hear about my ideal type of guy?” “Oh! I’d love to!” Willett’s eyes lit up immediately, and she rushed over to Shizuku, who flashed her a grin. All the while, Shizuku wondered whether one day this conversation would actually lead to anything. Over the past few days, the small backstreet tavern had gradually been losing customers. Its main clientele were mercenaries, and they’d caught wind of the Farsasian invasion before it even happened. Initially, skilled mercenaries from all over the land had gathered there, hoping for more employment opportunities. However, once it became clear that Kisk wasn’t going to budge, they went abroad to avoid the ensuing hassle. Some had been hired by nobles who wanted to know what was going on, but those people were staying with their employers, primed for action. They weren’t going to visit one of the city’s bars. The conspicuously vacant tavern did, however, receive one guest just before noon. His imposing build clearly indicated that he earned his living by the sword, yet he lacked the mean demeanor of a typical mercenary. The man—Faneet—locked eyes with a group of men who’d gathered in the corner of the room. “I’m looking for a mercenary named Tarkis,” he said in his usual tone of voice. “Does anyone know him?” “Tarkis? What about him?” “Someone recommended that I hire him for a job. If any of you know where to find him, I’d appreciate it if you told me.” “Sorry, but he left Kisk a few days ago. Said he was heading to Medial.” “…I see.” They’d only just missed one other, but that couldn’t be helped. Shizuku had originally recommended Tarkis to Faneet, saying that he was trustworthy and well-connected. In reality, however, Faneet had always had his sights set elsewhere. “In that case, I’d like to hire some other people. You’ll be handsomely compensated, and I don’t care how many of you are involved so long as you’re able to keep a secret.” “What’s the job?” “Tracking someone down. And it needs to be done urgently.” The reward Faneet offered was exceptionally generous, considering it was a simple person-finding mission. The men’s expressions visibly changed when they heard it. “That’s incredible. You must work for a member of the upper classes. Another guy like you came around not too long ago.” “Don’t pry into who I am. If I can’t trust you to keep a secret, the deal’s off the table.” “Our lips are sealed. So who’re we looking for?” the mercenary cheerfully inquired. Faneet told them the man’s name. At that point, nobody knew that this action would change Ortea’s fate. Ortea’s brother sat across from her wearing his usual smile. The atmosphere in the room was no different from before—but that in itself filled Ortea with an inescapable sense of dread. She observed her brother as he picked up an ivory game piece between his fingers. When the king summoned her, she initially suspected that it had to do with Shizuku, but instead, he brought up Farsas. Around eight hours had passed since Farsas had first invaded, and the armies had reached a stalemate in front of Weisuz Fortress. When Ortea suggested that they send out reinforcements, the king smiled awkwardly. “Are you confident that we can win, Ortea?” he asked. “I wouldn’t trust anyone who claimed to be confident.” “But you were the one who started this game, were you not?” The king’s voice became quieter—so quiet, in fact, that Ortea had to concentrate to understand what he was saying. He didn’t sound like he was reproaching the person who’d caused the crisis; in fact, it was as if he was looking down at the game piece in his grip, watching it struggle. Pretending not to notice his change in tone, Ortea placed her piece on the board. “There’s no need to wipe out the entire Farsasian army; we just need to get rid of the king. If he’s personally commanding the army, wouldn’t it be enough to turn the tide if we rely on our numerical advantage?” Truth be told, Ortea didn’t care how the battle ended. As long as it threw both Kisk and Farsas into a frenzy and exacerbated the chaos, she would be satisfied. Just the thought of confronting the king with the child he had no knowledge of brought a smile to her face. Or at least, that’s how she’d felt up until the previous night. Now the color seemed to have drained from everything, and nothing sparked her interest. Beelhurse knocked over the piece that Ortea had placed on the board. “But if we went that far, there’d be no turning back for us,” said the king. “People will think we started this fight with Farsas because we have a royal descendant in our possession.” “Were you planning on ‘turning back’? Our father always insisted that he wanted to do something about Farsas.” “I still share that view; however, there are a few things that give me pause. If you have anything to say, though, I’d be happy to hear you out.” It was a very wishy-washy response; the king was just as vague as ever. Why had Shizuku told Ortea to flee the castle if she wasn’t willing to become queen? Whatever the case, Ortea kept her mistrust under wraps. She stared at the piece that Beelhurse had taken from her, then parted her red lips to speak. “Then grant me authority over the military. At the end of the day, we can’t suppress Farsas if we’re half-hearted about this.” Beelhurse was incapable of making drastic decisions. As the most powerful individual in the country, the king had the authority to mobilize his entire army, yet he was unable to determine the right time to act. Although Ortea wasn’t well-versed in the art of war, she knew that when you were faced with a formidable enemy, holding back military strength was not an option. Once you’d decided how many troops to mobilize and when and where to deploy them, the rest was up to the generals. Ortea’s request brought a strained smile to the king’s face. “I can’t do that,” he said. “You’ll miss your chance.” “That’s fine. Just wait a little longer… That’s all you need to do.” Ortea gave up arguing with her brother, who was unusually calm. A few moments later, having moved a piece across the board, the king looked up. “That reminds me. Did that girl say anything to you?” Her brother’s casual, unfazed query brought a slight frown to the princess’s face. “Which girl?” she asked. Why had Shizuku suggested that Ortea oust the king? The reason was simple: He was incompetent. Of course, his treatment of Shizuku and Ortea was unforgivable, but if he’d been a competent ruler like Lars, Shizuku would have urged the princess to flee the castle rather than overthrow him. However, for better or for worse, the king didn’t possess such talents. If both siblings were twisted, then it was best to have the more capable one of the pair on the throne. That was the realistic calculation that Shizuku had made. Ortea was much younger than her brother. She had the potential to become a great leader in the future. Shizuku was also running the risk of creating a frightening tyrant, but the citizens wouldn’t stay quiet if that were to happen. Shizuku felt it was her job to stay by Ortea’s side and keep admonishing her for bad behavior to ensure that her fear didn’t become a reality. “You called for me, Princess?” Shizuku knelt on the stone floor, her head bowed. Ortea had summoned her immediately after Shizuku had finished lunch. Faneet and Niké were both out doing their respective jobs, so the two girls were the only people in the princess’s private chamber. Ortea wasn’t sprawled across her chaise longue this time; instead, she was sitting on it with her legs hanging down. She looked down at her subordinate’s black hair. “Shizuku, I met with my brother.” “Is that right?” “He’s planning on offering me up to stop Farsas’s invasion.” The princess’s words descended on Shizuku from above. There was a coldness to them, as if this idea was one that Ortea herself had agreed to. Trembling a little, Shizuku lifted her head. Her dark, brownish-black eyes clashed with Ortea’s amber ones, which looked like real jewels. A silent ripple cascaded through the room. Shizuku had never seen Ortea look so calm. Her face was beautiful, reminiscent of a clear, calm sea. She couldn’t discern any sadness or pain from the princess’s expression. So why did the sight of it make Shizuku’s chest hurt? Words began to spill from Ortea’s crimson lips, her voice as clear as a bell. “He’s planning on handing me over to Farsas, saying that I caused this conflict. And he’ll probably pay off part of Rosta to get them to back down. Once I’m out of the way, he can get his hands on that child and wait for his opportunity to come along. He never wanted war. He’d rather employ a different method.” “…Did he say that himself?” “No. But I could just tell. If he isn’t going to mobilize the troops, the only way he can stop Farsas is by negotiating with a considerable bargaining chip. Land and money aren’t going to cut it. He’ll need to give them someone who can shoulder the blame.” “Princess.” “There’s nothing I can do about it. It’s true that I’m at fault. This is what happens when you take your games too far. My brother’s not the forgiving type.” Her voice was flat, but she also sounded a little downtrodden. Ortea averted her gaze and stared out of the slightly ajar window. How did Ortea view her older brother? Was she reassured by their relationship, even if she looked down on him? Did she suspect that he’d thrown her to the wolves? Shizuku had never even seen them together, so she couldn’t imagine. When Ortea had declared that there was nothing she could do about the situation, her words had lacked their usual arrogance. Shizuku found this disconcerting; she didn’t want the princess to become discouraged and surrender to Beelhurse’s plans. Shizuku, for one, had no desire to let him win, and she didn’t want to hand Vied over to him, either. Shizuku frowned as she attempted to read Ortea’s facial expression, but the princess just glanced at her, dry-eyed. “Is there something else you’re not telling me, Shizuku?” “You’ll find out the truth soon enough, if you so wish.” “…I see.” Did Ortea think she was the only person in the wrong? If Beelhurse had acted the way he had today on the assumption that Ortea would feel this way, then his audacity truly knew no bounds. Shizuku felt the urge to confess everything she knew. Annoyed, she gritted her teeth. “Shizuku.” “Yes?” “You’re naive. You spout nothing but immature ideals, and every single thing you say sounds like a lecture.” “That’s true.” What was Ortea talking about all of a sudden? Whatever the case, she wasn’t wrong, so Shizuku couldn’t interrupt her with any counterarguments. Ortea continued. It didn’t seem like she was ridiculing Shizuku. “And to make matters worse, you’re stupid. I almost killed you, yet you’re suggesting that I become queen. You can’t be thinking straight.” “…Well, I am.” “There are way too many holes in your plan. Do you mean to let me destroy myself?” “I’m very sorry.” Shizuku had spent all night devising her scheme, but it undeniably had its fair share of problems. Since they were so short on time, she’d started implementing some of her ideas, but her plan still needed to be fleshed out. She stared at the floor, thinking things over. Ortea’s stern voice, however, interrupted her thoughts. “That’s enough. I never had high hopes for your scheme anyway. Just leave the rest to me.” For a moment, Shizuku felt like she was hearing things. Her head bounced back up. “Princess…” She’d thought that her master had surrendered to her brother’s betrayal, but her eyes had suddenly lit up again. She looked like a beast lurking in the dark—an agile, ruthless, yet captivating creature that had assumed human form. Her voice began to resonate, her words fluid. “You get deserted because you’re powerless. That’s why you suffer such a fate.” With those words, the beautiful princess renounced her old self that had been betrayed. “But now, I’m different,” she continued coolly. “I have no interest in taking the throne, but if my brother is planning on doing away with me, then I’ll do what I have to do… Even my own people fear me. I can’t let anyone forsake me without putting up a fight.” Ortea abruptly turned her gaze toward Shizuku as she spoke. “I can’t stand the idea of being handed over to that man, either… I’m going to take a page out of your book and find a way to wriggle out of this.” The first time Shizuku had seen her amber eyes, they’d been bewitching, overflowing with confidence. They were enchanting, capable of making anyone fear her. Now, though, they seemed to waver, like those of a hesitant child. Ortea followed the breeze that was gradually slipping in through the window and looked around. The smell of incense had disappeared. The air was slowly changing. This room, once weighed down by numerous people’s hatred and resentment, now looked bare, as if all pretense had been stripped away. The woman seated at the center of it fixed her gaze on her kneeling subject. “Shizuku. This…is the right thing to do…isn’t it?” Ortea was hesitating. She was wondering if her own actions had led her brother to make the decisions he had. This uncertainty made her reluctant to target Beelhurse with her schemes. Even so, she was determined to decide on a course of action. It was necessary to protect herself and to keep her dignity. She was placing her trust in Shizuku, who always combatted her with idealistic notions. She was directing the twisted cruelty that her brother had instilled in her right back at him, attempting to seize the very country she’d wanted to flee. Would this defection bring intense pressure in Ortea’s life? For now, all Shizuku could do was to support her. “Just follow your heart. Move forward without hesitating, Princess.” Perhaps the battle that lay ahead would lead Ortea to uncover her past. Shizuku wasn’t sure if the truths that came to light would destroy her, or give her the chance to change. Either way, there was still potential there. She had to choose to fight, not run away. It might take a lot of effort, but it was the only path that would let her carve out her own future. “If this plan fails, you will pay with your life,” she told Shizuku. “It took you long enough to threaten me,” Shizuku said. “Of course, I don’t plan on holding back my criticism, either.” “But your lectures are seriously depressing.” “Nobody enjoys being lectured.” Shizuku had experienced a fair amount of deception herself, and she readied herself for the next chapter in her story. This choice could put her in danger one day. She was well aware of that. But right now, she couldn’t stop. She continued making her way forward, eager to keep moving. After all, she’d come to the realization that this was the kind of person she wanted to be. There were, broadly speaking, two ways to oust the king in Kisk’s royal court: You could either resort to violence, or you could do it by legitimate means. When Faneet first explained this to Shizuku, she had, quite reasonably, asked what he meant by a “legitimate” ousting. It seemed that in Kisk there still existed a body of nobles that decided whether the monarch should vacate the throne. “It includes a total of twelve families, the most powerful of which are the royal lineages of the three countries that formed Kisk: Kiaph, Tylga, and Ladmai. These families have the authority to depose the king if they can secure a majority vote.” “Huh? That’s all it takes?” Shizuku remarked, sounding relieved. Faneet nodded, his face expressionless. “Yes. This system has only been used to dethrone a king at one point in history. In truth, it’s a half-forgotten system, and it can only really be implemented if the heads of those three families come to a consensus. That’s the part you need to be cautious about.” “Cautious? In what way?” “It’s the heads of those three families who decide on how royalty is disciplined. If the king grants his permission and two of the three heads agree, a member of the royal family can be punished. If His Majesty were to hand Princess Ortea over to Farsas, it would have to go through that three-family council first.” “Oh… So we need to stop that from happening.” Shizuku couldn’t read the documents Faneet had spread out in front of him, but she was aware of about half of the news manipulation and persuasion strategies that were being employed. It seemed like Ortea was miles better than Shizuku when it came to handling these sorts of affairs. The princess had been covertly bringing magistrates into her fold and swiftly expanding her schemes to include nobles and lords. Faneet tapped one of the papers with his rugged finger. “It’s practically impossible to win over the Marquis of Tylga, so we’ll have to find a way to get the other two on our side.” “Why is it impossible?” Shizuku asked. “The princess had the Marquis of Tylga’s nephew executed.” “…Oh.” Shizuku got the urge to face-plant into the sea of papers, but she resisted, aware that she wasn’t in a position to do so. She was so disappointed that her jaw almost dropped. Faneet expanded on the story. “He was the one in the wrong, though. Despite his uncle getting him a job as a magistrate, he embezzled money from the castle.” “So the princess wasn’t really at fault.” “He kicked up a fuss and begged her to summon his uncle, but she ignored his pleas and ordered his execution, having received barely any input from anyone else.” “Yeah, I doubt his uncle’s going to budge, then. Let’s pin our hopes on the other two.” This was just one of a number of similar conversations they’d had, and Shizuku’s head hurt. She heaved a deep sigh and got Faneet to look for the documents regarding the other two families. Once he found them, she picked them up. “Ideally, we want to find this missing person,” Shizuku said. “People are out searching for him. Will he really be able to sort things out?” “I think so. If all goes well, he’ll be able to turn this situation around. For now, just trust me.” Shizuku flashed Faneet a confident smile, to which he responded with a silent nod. He must have had plenty of opinions of his own, so Shizuku was simply grateful that he was willing to trust her. Faneet didn’t exactly excel at scheming. Unlike Niké, who’d come up with his own schemes after hearing Shizuku’s general plan, Faneet stayed glued to Ortea’s side. Shizuku couldn’t imagine that Beelhurse would harm Ortea before handing her over to Farsas, but given that the princess was at the center of everything, she couldn’t be left unguarded. For the time being, having the right people in the right places was key. Shizuku looked back toward the room where Ortea was. “And Farsas is in the picture now, too… Won’t they just go home?” “The Farsasian army hasn’t even made it out of Rosta yet. Extricating themselves and advancing toward the castle city won’t be an easy feat, though. Weisuz Fortress is beside the highway, and it’s manned by people who specialize in anti-magic defense. Not even Farsas will be able to defeat it easily,” Faneet explained. “…Still, I hope they don’t call for reinforcements. In truth, I’d like us to form a proper army, but without the king’s permission, that’s not going to happen.” “Ah, if only the king or His Majesty were on our side.” Shizuku was talking about both Beelhurse and Lars, but Faneet didn’t respond. It didn’t seem like he’d understood what she’d meant. She returned her attention to the documents. Having picked out a certain word, a thoughtful expression appeared on her face. “Hey. Can’t we make use of this guy?” “Who?” asked Faneet. Both of them settled their gazes on a particular line in the report about the Marquis of Ladmai. Faneet’s eyes widened. It seemed as though he’d cottoned on to her idea. The two rose to their feet, seemingly having reached similar conclusions, and headed over to Ortea. Just three days later, Beelhurse would have formulated his views on Farsas’s invasion and suggested to the leaders of the three families that Ortea was to blame. The breeze had been blowing steadily for several days, yet it seemed to have gotten even stronger. The Farsasian army had set up camp in a forest, from which the distant Weisuz Fortress was visible to the north. In an effort to illuminate their dim early-morning surroundings, they decided to fuel their lights using magic rather than fire. It had been seven days since Farsas invaded Kisk territory. Farsas had triumphed in the early stages of the battle, but Kisk’s army had taken refuge in Weisuz Fortress, leading Farsas to temporarily halt its advance. Farsas had started by attacking Kisk’s army for two reasons: to prove that it was stronger, even with a comparable number of troops, and to immobilize them for a while. Kisk had launched attacks from its fortress base on four occasions, which Lars had handled by getting his main army to retreat. During these periods, he’d assigned a separate squadron to Azulia and had her occupy Caribala. At the same time, he had people track the movements of noble lords within the Rosta region. Although Rosta was part of Kisk’s territory, the country had abandoned it like a sacrificial pawn. There was a chance that Rosta would decide to fight back of its own accord. With this suspicion in mind, Farsas investigated the situation, but even those who’d been openly pressuring the people of Casola before the Farsasian invasion remained silent. It was as if half of them were dead. “We’ve come all this way just to be ignored,” Lars remarked, having heard some brief updates. “Perhaps we should go somewhere they can’t avoid us, like the castle city.” “I’d advise against that. You’d need another hundred thousand troops.” “It’d cost money. And the magistrates wouldn’t like it.” Farsas wanted to force Kisk, or perhaps Rosta, to surrender without mobilizing any more troops. If Farsas took over Caribala and made it part of its own territory, they could eliminate any future concerns. Lars, however, also wanted to punish the castle. After all, he knew that Kisk was behind the recent attempts to assassinate him. Sitting on a tree stump, the king drew an indecipherable picture on the ground using a stick. Had he been a child, someone might have scolded him for not paying attention, but given his status, no one dared to admonish him. After finishing his drawing of a four-legged bird, the king suddenly looked up. “What’s the status of the fortress?” “There’s a protective barrier covering the whole thing, and it’s just as tough as ever. Unauthorized mages can’t formulate spells while they’re within its range.” “What if they formulate the spell outside it and then enter?” “The moment they cross the boundary, the spell is rendered futile. Essentially, our forces cannot use any magic, be it defensive or healing, in the vicinity of the fortress.” “Right.” This was a defense spell of the highest grade, and it took far too much manpower and magical energy to maintain it consistently. Days had passed since they’d confirmed the existence of the barrier, and the strain was probably increasing with each passing day. Still, considering Farsas’s forces were stationed nearby, the fortress couldn’t simply abandon its defensive formation. It was Kisk’s lifeline. Lars twirled his dead branch in the air. “Shall we bomb them from outside the area?” “It’s highly likely that they’d be able to protect themselves against the bombs, considering how far away we’d be. Why don’t we call Leuticia instead?” “No way. She’ll get mad at me.” The king’s council members weren’t sure why she’d get angry at him, but they got the impression that it didn’t stop at just one reason. As silence was threatening to descend on the area, the king suddenly remembered something. “Oh, I know something that might work. Sitting around waiting is so boring. I guess we’ll have to topple that fortress after all.” “Huh?!” Ignoring his ministers’ shocked reactions, the king began to issue rough instructions. A few of them glanced apprehensively at him, disconcerted by the sudden improvement of his mood, but none of them dared say a word. “There’s nothing even remotely endearing about that girl… What’s the point of her serving the princess…?” Jired muttered cantankerously as he turned a corner in the corridor. Over a week had passed since he’d let Shizuku slip through his fingers, and he still hadn’t gotten over his frustration. Having shown up out of the blue, Shizuku had carried out an experiment related to the epidemic. Her arrival had elicited both jealousy and relief from the mages, and their curiosity had prompted them to take a closer look at her. When they did, they’d noticed she seemed remarkably young for her age. Her small face and big, dark eyes reminded them of a doll from a foreign land. She tended to dress plainly, but if she were to wear a fancy dress, let down her hair, and put on some lipstick, he figured she wouldn’t be that much of an eyesore. It occurred to Jired that he might as well give her a “helping hand.” For now, she was busy teaching children how to communicate and testing out teaching materials, but once she had outlived her usefulness, the princess was sure to dispose of her. That seemed like a bit of a waste. If she was going to be deemed unnecessary, Jired reasoned that he might be able to have her for himself. However, contrary to his expectations, Ortea showed no signs of letting go of Shizuku. When Beelhurse had told him that Shizuku had been appointed a certain child’s tutor, he was honestly disappointed. By the time she was freed from Ortea’s clutches, she would have turned into a fully grown woman. For the time being, it was hard to tell how old she was, and it was her dangerously youthful appearance that drew him in. Once she grew out of it, she’d lose all value. The opportunity Jired had been hoping for, however, arrived surprisingly quickly. In a self-destructive act, Ortea had called Farsas into her nation’s borders, prompting the king to decide to disown his sister. With the princess gone, Jired could do whatever he liked with the girl, and there’d be no one to reprimand him for it. In fact, he figured that Beelhurse must have ordered the spell to be cast on Shizuku because he was aware of his aide’s desires. However…she’d fled just at the pivotal moment. Being reined in by the princess’s detestable aide was infuriating enough, but the look Shizuku had given him only intensified his anger. Her glare was too grown-up. There was nothing remotely girlish about it. “That wench… Just you wait.” Beelhurse had called the three most influential families in the country for a meeting. Soon Ortea would be arrested as a criminal and handed over to Farsas. Then there would be no one left to protect Shizuku. She wasn’t exceptionally beautiful, so he doubted he’d have to fight for her. Smirking at the thoughts swirling in his mind, Jired spotted a door opening farther down the hallway and slowed his pace. Out stepped none other than Shizuku. When she spotted Jired, she appeared momentarily startled, but she standoffishly turned her back to him. Her defiant attitude made Jired raise his voice. “What are you doing here?” he asked. “None of your business,” Shizuku snapped. The moment the words left her lips, she started charging in the opposite direction. Jired hurriedly followed her. He grabbed hold of her wrist just as she was turning the corner, and Shizuku looked up at him, glowering. “What?” “What happened to your pain?” said Jired. “Did you give your body to that lapdog?” “…‘Lapdog’?” Shizuku brushed his hand away, but Jired had no intention of letting go. She frowned and placed her opposite hand on her hip. Grasping the hem of her white tunic, she lifted it slightly to reveal her slender waist. Her skin was pale, untouched by the light of the sun, and looked as fresh as a new sapling. The magic sigil he’d etched into her was still there. Jired gulped. That kind of spell was typically reserved for the king’s own women. The combination of the restrictive sigil and her youthful skin emitted the kind of irresistible allure that only something secret could. “Happy now?” she asked, her voice tinged with mockery. As soon as Jired relaxed his grip, she pulled herself free and leaped away. Her guarded demeanor resembled that of a wild animal, ready to flee at any instant. Then Jired recalled a rumor he’d heard and posed Shizuku a question. “Wait. You like men with money, don’t you?” He’d overheard some court ladies gossiping about her in the castle. She must have been on the hunt for an older, wealthy man who could support her when Ortea, her master, fell from grace. Jired’s impolite inquiry made Shizuku’s face contort with anger for a moment…but she soon answered back with a defiant retort. “So what if I do? You’re nothing more than a royal court mage.” “Don’t lump me with that lapdog. Taking care of you wouldn’t be a big strain on my finances.” “Prove it, then,” said Shizuku. “Give me something that proves you’re telling the truth.” She seemed to be putting up a brave front. Her refusal to reject him outright was evidence of that. Jired smiled, realizing that he had the upper hand. “Very well. How about I give you some jewels?” “A cast-off from His Majesty? That won’t prove anything.” “I’ll have your name engraved on them. That should make it clear.” Engraving someone’s name on expensive jewelry required a skilled craftsman, as well as a considerable sum of money. Hearing that, Shizuku’s expression softened a little. “If you bring something that fancy, I might give it some consideration.” Although she maintained her stubborn attitude, Jired found her words quite charming. He nodded arrogantly and turned on his heel. “Look forward to it. I’ll have it done right away.” He’d been planning on dolling her up anyway; a single piece of jewelry was nothing. Jired left, unable to conceal his delight, and Shizuku watched with undisguised contempt as he disappeared down the hallway. “The Marquis of Tylga has arrived.” The magistrate’s announcement elicited a deep nod from Beelhurse. The patriarchs of the three royal lineages that had birthed Kisk were all present. Just one week had passed since the king arranged for them to be summoned. Their discussions would be conducted according to protocol, but it was obvious what conclusion they would come to: The princess would be blamed for Farsas’s sudden invasion. The Marquis of Tylga, whose nephew had been executed by the princess, wasn’t the only person who knew of Ortea’s proclivities—it was something most of the kingdom was aware of. She’d thoughtlessly summoned Lord Tigor of Rosta to the royal court, leading not only to internal conflict but also to the Farsasian invasion. This unruliness was too much for even her older brother to ignore. It had all gone according to plan. The king signed the documents he’d prepared and handed them to a magistrate. While the Marquis of Tylga had only just arrived, the other two marquises had secretly been staying in the castle for the past two days. Now that they were all present, the king wanted to begin their discussions immediately. It would be a nuisance if Ortea got wind of their gathering, and more importantly, urgent action was required if they wanted to stop Farsas. “Gather the three marquises. We’ll start our discussions in one hour.” There was another matter that wasn’t on the king’s agenda but troubled him nonetheless: the issue of the commoner who worked for his sister. From what he’d heard over the last few days, it sounded like she’d already found someone else to take care of her. Perhaps the pain had become too much to bear, or she had realized that she had no future with her previous master. Either way, she’d distanced herself from Ortea. The king still didn’t know where to find the child she’d been tasked with educating, but she had probably hidden him, either because she’d learned of Ortea’s role in Farsas’s invasion or to protect herself. In any case, he’d have plenty of time to search for the boy once Ortea was gone. He’d known his sister for so many years—all her life—yet abandoning her didn’t give him any distress. He’d considered killing her before he handed her over, but Ortea was a beautiful young woman. She’d be more valuable alive. If he were dealing with a different country, he might have second-guessed his decision, but the king of Farsas wasn’t the type to be swayed by a woman’s flattery. Beelhurse didn’t know the full details, but the man had once banished a beloved concubine whose company he’d kept for many years because she’d tried to interfere with the governing of the kingdom. If Ortea was handed over as a criminal, he doubted she’d be treated any better than one. The king stood up, lifting his long, royal robe off the ground. He looked up arrogantly as he began striding ahead. This was his chance to create a nation of his own—one that belonged to him and only him. It wouldn’t be an easy task without Ortea around to help, but at least he’d be able to rid himself of the inferiority complex that had tormented him for so many years. “Did I keep you waiting?” As soon as Beelhurse stepped into the discussion room, the three marquises stood up and bowed. Beelhurse glanced at them, maintaining his regal demeanor. The Marquis of Kiaph—who, like Tryphina, was a descendant of Kiaph’s royal family—was a calm man in his mid-fifties. Exuding a generous air, he always wore a gentle smile, and his judgments were spot-on. He had studied politics alongside the previous king in his youth, and Beelhurse had always trusted him like a real uncle. Until three years earlier, the Marquis of Kiaph had frequently offered his candid advice to Ortea—albeit with a frown—however, due to his wife’s declining health, he’d retreated to his domain and had seldom been seen at the castle since. Nonetheless, recent events had likely soured his opinion of Ortea. He was sure to believe it was time for her to be distanced from the governing of the country. The same age as the Marquis of Kiaph, the Marquis of Ladmai always appeared self-important, but beneath that facade, he was always nervously assessing the situation. He’d never stood up to Ortea, but that was only because she was such a formidable ruler and he was cowed by her authority. If he realized Ortea had no future ahead of her, he’d naturally align with Beelhurse. He was, in a sense, an easy man to manage, always siding with the stronger party. The youngest and most intimidating of the three, the Marquis of Tylga was an unsmiling, hard-faced individual. Fearless—or more accurately, outspoken, no matter whom he was talking to—he often rebuked Beelhurse for letting Ortea have too much freedom. This annoyed Ortea, and it was suspected that she’d executed his nephew partly to spite him. He was the last person who’d support Ortea—in both public and private matters. As long as Beelhurse could get two of the three to agree with him, Ortea’s disposal would be decided. That said, Beelhurse felt like he’d be able to get all three of them on his side; Ortea had become more of a poison than a remedy. Once the king took his seat, the others resumed theirs. A magistrate who was one of the king’s closest aides bowed and began reading out the agenda. Everybody listened in silence as he outlined the current situation and pointed out Ortea’s wrongdoings. After the reading concluded, Beelhurse let out a deep sigh, his eyes filled with a somber light as he looked around at his audience. “For the reasons you’ve just heard, I, Beelhurse Neuskys Noid Kisk, have decided to strip Ortea Stiss Lyn Kisk of her royal status and hand her over to Farsas as a criminal. I am abiding by protocol by requesting your endorsement.” His voice shook at the end of every word he uttered—not from guilt, but from exultation. It was only then that he realized he’d wanted to do away with her for a long, long time. If he’d known how things would play out, he wouldn’t have hesitated to order her killed when she’d been kidnapped as a child. Perhaps then, he would have led a different life, not this wretched life of a figurehead king who was exasperatingly dependent on his sister. But it was too late for regrets now. Beelhurse’s lips turned downward, giving a sorrowful cast to his face. To the other men, he just seemed sad that he had to punish his sister. The first person to speak before the outwardly mournful king was the moderate Marquis of Kiaph. “Did Her Highness truly intend to go that far? What if she hadn’t expected Farsas to invade?” “If that were the case, I don’t understand why she’d summon Tigor. It was clear that dragging him away from Rosta would only increase the tension around Casola,” rebutted the Marquis of Tylga. This brought a frown to the Marquis of Kiaph’s face. Known for being a loving husband, he turned to Beelhurse, a steadfast look in his kind eyes. “If the situation in Rosta deteriorated due to Tigor’s absence, the fault lies with Tigor for neglecting to raise a decent successor. Farsas’s invasion is in no way beneficial to Her Highness, so there’s little proof that it was intentional.” The Marquis of Kiaph had taken issue with the lack of apparent benefits for the princess—but the advantages were unclear only because Beelhurse was keeping Vied’s existence secret. If he were to reveal that a direct descendant of the Farsasian royal lineage was under the castle’s roof, there was a risk the men would demand that the baby be offered to Farsas to stop the war. Beelhurse, however, wanted to keep Vied as an extra form of insurance. For the time being, not even Farsas knew about the baby. It would be possible to continue concealing him. No matter what Ortea said to Farsas, Beelhurse could keep feigning ignorance. After all, the king of Farsas didn’t know a thing about the child. Beelhurse couldn’t respond to the Marquis of Kiaph’s counterargument. The Marquis of Tylga, interpreting his anxious reaction as proof of his desire to protect his sister, shared his view: “I consent to the punishment of Her Highness. I want to make it clear who’s to blame.” “I’m against the idea. Whether it’s right to punish her or not, I can’t consent to the princess of Kisk being handed over to Farsas as a criminal. That would be akin to surrendering to Farsas’s army.” The Marquis of Tylga’s and the Marquis of Kiaph’s opinions were split right down the middle. On the inside, Beelhurse lamented their reactions. It was a shame that they were on opposite sides of the debate, but this situation wasn’t entirely unexpected. If anything, the king should have been happy that he’d received a definitive yes from the Marquis of Tylga. The decision rested with the Marquis of Ladmai. He was sure to support the king over the princess. He was the one with the most authority, after all; in the past, he’d felt obliged to comply with Ortea’s demands out of pure fear, so he wouldn’t pass up the chance to have her expelled. As the room’s focus naturally shifted toward the Marquis of Ladmai, the portly man looked around nervously. Then he uttered a quiet, breathy statement. “I-I’m against it…” “What?!” Beelhurse couldn’t help raising his voice, so he was grateful that the Marquis of Tylga let out a similar yell a moment before he did. Once the king had collected his thoughts, which were dominated by surprise, he cast an imposing gaze upon the Marquis of Ladmai. “Go on, then. Let us hear your opinions, not just your conclusion.” “His opinions on what, dear brother?” Her voice rang out clearly. Its bewitching sound resonated throughout the room, causing a shift in the atmosphere. It was immediately obvious who the voice belonged to. There was only one person who could call Beelhurse her brother. The king looked at the open door, his eyes wide. The three influential noblemen turned around in surprise. Behind them stood the princess—the focus of their discussion. Even the magistrates and guards were staring at her. “What’s this all about?” she asked. Ortea flashed an enchanting smile, then strode elegantly into the room. She walked past the other three men who were seated and came to a stop in front of the king. Beelhurse trembled with fear as he looked at the princess’s beautiful face. “…Why are you here? Who told you about this?” “What a strange thing to say. You’re deciding my fate, are you not? You should have invited me.” Dressed in a gray dress rather than her usual fine silks, Ortea gave her brother a dazzling smile. Only the king, seated right in front of her, could tell that it wasn’t genuine. How much had been leaked to her? How long had she known? All he knew was that she was already aware of the whole story. Gritting his teeth, he narrowed his eyes at her. “I am no criminal,” she said to the room. “It seems as though you three have already come to the same conclusion. I doubt this was how my brother hoped things would play out…” The king glanced past his sister at the Marquis of Ladmai, who hurriedly averted his gaze. The fact that Ortea already knew the outcome suggested that she’d already meddled in the discussion. Beelhurse, who’d been convinced that Ortea was oblivious to his plans, felt a bitter taste in his mouth that he couldn’t swallow. His tongue felt rough, as though it was covered in sand. “What have you done, Ortea?” he asked. “Nothing. I have some ideas I’d like to pursue, though.” “…What ideas?” Ortea was a beautiful woman. The gap between her appearance and her personality gave her an unsettling allure. It invoked fear in people, but it was powerful enough to stop them from looking away. It was the kind of twisted beauty that women who brought countries to ruin supposedly possessed. Even those who had perished at her capricious whims wouldn’t have been able to deny her beauty. That was how powerful her mysterious charm was. That was not the Ortea before him now. She exuded a different aura, like a flower blooming proudly on a clear day, and the sight of her confident smile made Beelhurse shudder. The selfish and callous princess who he’d known for so long—the one he’d assumed was wrapped around his little finger—now seemed like his equal or even his superior. He could sense defiance in those amber eyes that looked at him as if he was her enemy. His thin lips began to quiver. Without waiting for the king’s response, Ortea turned around, the hem of her dress fluttering as she moved. Ortea, the Bewitching Princess of Kisk, adopted a self-assured stance and stood next to her brother, placing a hand on his shoulder. With the youthful, passionate gaze of someone who wasn’t afraid of a challenge, she looked at the three noble patriarchs. “I…Ortea Stiss Lyn Kisk, demand the abdication of the current king, Beelhurse, as first in line to the throne. As such, in accordance with ancient law, I wish to hold a Twelve Family Council. Summon the heads of the families.” Beelhurse could hardly believe what he was hearing. As soon as the meaning of her words sank in, the king kicked his chair away and jumped to his feet. He looked at his sister. His right hand was clenched into a fist, as if he was about to punch her. “You…! What do you think you’re doing…?” “Despite the urgency of the situation, Beelhurse, you haven’t even bothered mobilizing your army. Instead, you’ve chosen to lie low and wait for Farsas to go past. Your actions do not befit the image of a king entrusted with a Great Nation. If you will not wield your military authority, then I will gladly take it off your hands—along with your crown.” “What nonsense! You were the one who started this…” “Or perhaps you remained idle because you wanted the opportunity to expel me?” Ortea continued. “There’s someone who claims to have imprisoned Tigor under your orders. Which one of us really caused the Casola uprising?” At these final words, everybody in the room fell silent. They directed their confused, suspicious looks toward Beelhurse. If Beelhurse were the kind of person who could handle the unexpected in a composed manner, the atmosphere could have calmed down, and Ortea’s words would have been dismissed as mere slander. Unfortunately for him, however, he wasn’t the type. The feeling of inferiority he’d harbored for years had left him so shaken up that he couldn’t even defend himself against Ortea’s provocation. Instead, he just let out a groan-like murmur, inviting a fleeting look of pity from Ortea. Before long, though, she shifted her gaze away from the king and turned her attention to the bewildered trio. Speaking in the kind of authoritative tone that one would expect from a royal, she made a declaration. “As the heir to the throne, I formally request the council be summoned. Until the discussion reaches its conclusion, the king and the marquises shall serve as the decision-making body of our nation.” Ortea was implementing an ancient system that dated back to the founding of Kisk. While this emergency governing body was legally binding, it had never been put into practice before. Realizing they’d be the ones to shoulder the responsibility, the three men gulped. Ortea’s elegant smile, however, eased their tension. “Let’s start by addressing the matter of Farsas. Their troops are currently in Rosta…and I intend to confront them with military force. Kisk is not a timid nation that stays silent when it’s being encroached upon. That stance remains unchanged, no matter who we’re up against. Anyone who attempts to invade must be pushed away, even if their attempts aren’t completely serious. Now then, nobles, tell me whether you consent.” They were entering an interim period before the next ruler was officially chosen. Eventually, the heads of the three families, tasked with defending their nation’s pride against the impending attack from a rival nation, agreed to Ortea’s plans. “You have a good…attendant looking out for you,” the Marquis of Kiaph said to the princess as they exited the room, leaving Beelhurse to dwell in his despondency. Realizing who he was talking about, Ortea hemmed and hawed. Shizuku had followed Ortea’s orders and negotiated with the two marquises who’d arrived early. Although she’d instructed Shizuku to “expose Beelhurse’s faults,” Ortea wasn’t sure what she’d actually discussed with them. The Marquis of Kiaph seemed to look at her like a father watching his daughter grow up, which made Ortea feel uncomfortable. “Your Highness, I’ll pass on your invitation right away, but it’ll be at least a week until the council can get together. There will be a lot of talk around you, so take care until then.” “I will. Thank you,” Ortea replied, surprised at how meekly she’d responded. The Marquis of Kiaph smiled gently and started to walk away. “He’s a nice man,” Shizuku had told her. “When you talk to him face to face, you’ll see what I mean.” Ortea watched him until he was out of sight. The first words he’d shared with her had been punctuated by a pause. The princess, however, knew what he really meant. “You have a good friend looking out for you.” At least, that’s what it had sounded like to Ortea. The three most important marquises held their council meeting earlier than anticipated, which unnerved Ortea, but it sounded like they’d navigated the situation without any issues. Relieved to hear Faneet’s message, Shizuku headed straight to Vied. On her way there, she ran into Willett in the corridor. “Have you received some good news, Shizuku?” she asked. “I have, actually. It feels like I’ve passed all my classes for this semester.” “What does that mean?” The Twelve Family Council—what could be called the main event—was yet to convene, but it still felt like a celebration was in order. Willett, who’d never seen Shizuku so happy, cocked her head to one side. “You don’t have someone special in your life, do you? Your taste in men was pretty unexpected, though. I mean, a guy over forty with money to burn? Sounds like you want a provider, not a boyfriend!” “Well, I guess. But I’m done with that stuff now.” “Someone like you should go for a someone a bit younger… Huh?!” The girl, who’d spread the news of Shizuku’s dating requirements around the entire castle, leaped into the air. “What?! You’re ‘done with it’?” “Yeah. I got what I wanted.” Willett tilted her head suspiciously, but Shizuku couldn’t put it any other way. Shizuku’s professed “preferences” had just been bait, and there was no one else she needed to lure in. All she had to do now was wait for it to bear fruit. Shizuku raised both of her hands in the air and stretched wide. Then she continued marching down the corridor with a spring in her step. How had things come to this? All he knew for certain was that Ortea and that girl had set him up. Several hours had passed since the meeting of the three noble families had ended in failure, and Jired, who’d been summoned by the king, groveled on his hands and knees in front of him. “Y-Your Majesty… You’re mistaken! It’s nothing more than a rumor!” “A rumor, you say? We both know it’s the truth. You were colluding with that girl. I was impressed that you’d managed to win her over. Little did I know you were actually committing an act of treason. Betraying your own king—what an interesting choice.” The first time Jired had realized that something was off was immediately after the discussion, when the Marquis of Ladmai had asked him to give his regards to the princess. He didn’t have a clue what he’d meant by that. When the king made the same comment, he expressed his bewilderment and fled. Jired couldn’t understand why people were asking him to pass on their greetings to Ortea, but those doubts were cleared up when the king summoned him. As it turned out, people assumed he was the one leaking information to Ortea through Shizuku. Allegedly, Shizuku had spoken to the two marquises before the meeting and convinced them that disposing of Ortea was unjust and ill-advised. People suspected that he’d been the one to notify Shizuku of the two key marquises’ arrival and told her where they were staying. “D-don’t be ridiculous,” he said. “I haven’t done a thing…” “Someone saw you talking to that girl near the room where she and the Marquis of Ladmai had met.” “I-it’s not what you think…” Jired hadn’t realized that Shizuku and the marquis had been negotiating when he’d stumbled across her. Upon learning of this, Jired desperately tried to defend himself. However, the king was in a rage after the unsuccessful meeting and had no intention of listening. “Do you recognize this? Or do you want to come up with even more excuses?” “H-how did you get that?! That’s preposterous! Why…?” Jired had seen the piece of jewelry in front of him before. The necklace, which had been kept in his house, had both his and Ortea’s names engraved on it—alongside a pledge of loyalty. Jired stared at it in disbelief. He’d asked to have Shizuku’s name carved into it—not Ortea’s. Yet the engraving undoubtedly bore the princess’s name. “Y-Your Majesty, y-you’re mistaken. I…” “A witness from your own residence claims that you summoned the artisan yourself and had it engraved.” “No! It wasn’t Ortea’s name I had engraved. It was…” Before Jired could finish his sentence, Beelhurse picked up the necklace and threw it at his subordinate’s face. The man let out a shriek. “Get out of here,” the king spat in disdain as the man prostrated in front of him. “And don’t ever show yourself in front of me again!” “Y-Your Majesty… Wait…” Beelhurse didn’t respond to Jired’s pleas. Seething with anger, the king stormed out of the room. Ejected from the royal chamber, Jired walked through the castle corridors, each step heavy with frustration and shame. All he could think about was the woman who’d pretended to bargain with him. In reality, she’d just been deceiving him. “That wench. How dare she…” She must have threatened or sweet-talked the craftsman to get him to change the name on the engraving. Only someone who knew the necklace was being gifted could have done such a thing. She’d undoubtedly picked a time when Beelhurse was too angry to make any calm decisions to reveal it; Jired had ended up incurring the king’s wrath and being expelled, exactly as his adversary had planned. Regaining the king’s trust would take more than just dispelling his doubts. He’d need to do something constructive if he wanted to get back in the king’s good graces. His first plan of action was to make Shizuku suffer and force her to divulge the full story. As he was searching for Shizuku, hoping to put this plan into action, a mage appeared with a sly smile on his face. Niké, clearly aware of all that had transpired, made no effort to conceal his derision. His attitude caused Jired to grit his teeth. “What are you doing here?” said Jired. “Nothing much. Just came to catch a glimpse of the man who was destroyed by a woman’s tricks.” “You bastard…” Jired instinctively began formulating an attack spell—but he stopped the moment he remembered the person he was dealing with. A former child prodigy, Niké had become a royal mage at an early age. Somewhere along the line, he’d been lured over to Ortea’s side, but the abilities he’d demonstrated up until that point had been far superior to Jired’s. Rumor had it that he’d specialized in assassination after becoming the princess’s aide. If Jired succumbed to the mage’s cheap attempt to provoke him and ended up in a fight, he’d be the one to suffer. Even so, Jired couldn’t bring himself to back down. He followed Niké, who’d turned around with a grin. Niké had started ascending one of the castle’s spires, and he glanced back at Jired with a sneer. “Did you like those jewels?” he asked. “That was your doing?!” “I don’t know—was it? I’ve been so busy, I can’t even remember. I doubt the princess would appreciate that kind of jewelry, though. She hates anything mediocre.” Niké had basically admitted his guilt. As he ascended the spiral staircase that ran along the outside of the tower, Jired gave the other mage a hateful look. He swiftly closed the distance between them and grabbed Niké by the shoulder. “You… I won’t let you get away with this… I won’t forgive either of you!” “What are you going to do about it, then?” Niké abruptly turned around, the intimidating look in his eyes making Jired momentarily catch his breath. The young mage had been to different places and taken on different jobs throughout his life. Niké was in his early twenties—so he’d only been alive for about half of Jired’s life—but he’d experienced far more than the older man, who’d made himself all too comfortable inside the royal court. Niké’s strong, confrontational gaze made Jired take a half step back. When he looked over the railing, he suddenly realized they were much higher up than he’d thought. There was no one around. Looking down into the abyss below, Jired froze, and Niké smirked coldly at him. “Well, which do you prefer: killing yourself over being abandoned by the king, or killing yourself because a woman rejected you? Oh, and don’t forget being murdered for angering the king. That’s also an option.” “W-wait. What?” “You’re a mage. Use your magic.” Before Jared could even cast a spell to resist, he was thrown into the air. All of a sudden, it felt like he was floating. His mind turned blank. I need to use my magic, he thought—but all he could muster was a pointless scream. “What? He killed himself? Really?” “Seems so. Not that I care.” Shizuku had covered the large meeting room desk with papers, and when Niké told her about Jired’s death, mixed feelings reflected on her face. She’d hoped that he’d be demoted to a meaningless post within the castle so that everyone could burden him with annoying tasks he’d hate doing. She’d never expected him to kill himself. Feeling responsible, Shizuku frowned. “Hmm. I can’t bring myself to feel any sympathy toward him, but I hope he rests easy.” “What are you talking about? Ah well. It is what it is. He would have tried to sabotage us as long as he was alive anyway.” “You might be right there. Still, jumping to your death is scary. I should know—I have firsthand experience.” “You do, huh?” Niké clicked his tongue, casually swiping the teacup that Shizuku had been about to take a sip from out of her hand. Shizuku almost protested, but in the end, she gave her busy colleague the benefit of the doubt and stood up to brew herself some more. The heads of the twelve families were summoned without problem. All that was left to do was win them over and contend with Farsas. An army of thirty thousand was still stationed at Weisuz Fortress. Ortea decided to send another fifty thousand troops as reinforcements and chose three generals to lead them. Since Kisk now had more than double the troops they had before, it was wise to demand that they push Farsas back to the border. Immediately after this command was issued, however, the castle received the news that Weisuz Fortress had fallen. General Dolfa, the commander of the fortress, couldn’t hide the bitter look on his face as he contemplated the situation. Eleven days had passed since Farsas had invaded, and his troops had been left with no choice but to hunker down and rely on magic to protect them. Kisk had been outwitted in the first stages of the conflict. The country’s army had attempted to strike out from the fortress on several occasions, but Farsas’s army repelled them every time, leaving Kisk unable to inflict any significant damage. While Kisk’s defensive barrier stopped them from being completely annihilated, the road ahead still looked uncertain. The deadline imposed by Beelhurse was only three days away, and General Dolfa was unsure what the next step would be. Still, as long as nothing eventful happened, he’d probably be able to follow the king’s orders. That alone gave him some solace. Dolfa asked for one of his regular updates to be sent to the castle, then gazed restlessly out the window. It was an ordinary, pleasant day. Just an hour later, however, reports arrived indicating that Farsas had begun sending its forces toward the fortress. “Farsas has lined up behind the defensive barrier. They’re probably trying to drag our army out of it.” “I don’t see what other explanation there could be.” The barrier was about twenty times the size of the fortress it centered around. Inside it, Farsas’s forces were unable to wield magic, which meant they couldn’t protect themselves from any of Kisk’s magic attacks or heal the wounds inflicted on them. As mighty as the nation was, it seemed unlikely that they’d confront Kisk head-on in such a situation. Until that point, Kisk’s troops had managed to evade relentless pursuit by hiding behind their protective barrier. Dolfa instructed his officers to prepare for combat at a moment’s notice, but he waited for the opportune moment to initiate the assault. Meanwhile, Farsas advanced toward the fortress with their king leading the charge. It was like they were provoking Kisk’s army, which was refusing to come out. If the king was killed, the conflict would come to an end. It was an obvious trap, but the temptation was too much to resist. Despite his qualms, Dolfa led his troops out of the fortress and toward Farsas’s army, making sure they didn’t leave the barrier. The Farsasian troops had a forest behind them, while Kisk’s army stood in front of the fortress. Desolate, open plains stretched out on either side. The twenty-thousand-strong Farsasian army had come head-to-head with the thirty thousand soldiers from Kisk. Unlike their previous skirmish, there were no hills in sight to hinder either army’s view. While Farsas’s troops stretched out in a loose arc along the edge of the barrier, the troops from the fortress clustered tightly together, anxious not to get separated. In this situation, however, Kisk’s defensive barrier made a bigger difference than the army’s formation. Kisk initially tried to target their enemy from a distance, but since King Lars was outside the barrier, all their attacks were deflected by the magic barrier protecting him. Even when their arrows landed right in front of him, the rival king looked unperturbed. A sour expression appeared on the face of one of Kisk’s mages. “What shall we do, General?” he asked. “…Don’t move yet.” Farsas wanted to lure Kisk’s forces out beyond the barrier, while Kisk wanted the opposite. Both sides were aware of each other’s intentions—hence their reluctance to make a move. In the end, it was Farsas that broke the stalemate. Until that point, the Farsasian army refused to step over the boundary line—aware that doing so would result in the suppression of their magic powers. Now they’d crossed it as if it was nothing and begun their advance. Dolfa was caught by surprise, unsure whether to interpret this as a heroic decision or reckless bravery. Still, he quickly regained his composure and gave his envoy mage an order. “Use magic to shoot the king down.” This could be Kisk’s chance to win. Although he wasn’t overly optimistic, Dolfa wasn’t going to let the opportunity pass him by. A team of mages created a giant fireball and launched it immediately. At that moment, however, their focus was solely on the defensive barrier. Kisk’s army, which had repressed Farsas’s magic abilities to gain the upper hand, had forgotten that Farsas had a similar trick up its sleeve. As the fireball rushed toward him, Lars’s double-edged sword flashed. It seemed like an innocuous action, but the next moment, the flames vanished as if they’d never been there at all. Dolfa had never seen anything like it before, and he looked on in astonishment. “Was that…Akashia?!” Akashia was a sword that could nullify all magic. Dolfa, having witnessed the power of the one-of-a-kind sword with his own eyes, couldn’t help but let out a sigh of admiration. This was no time to be marveling at the king’s weapon, though. Just as Dolfa was about to order another attack, in the distance, Lars raised Akashia into the air. He drove the sword into the ground from atop his horse. Dolfa trembled at the sight. “Akashia can’t dispel the barrier, can it?” “No… Not a chance. That barrier covers a huge area. Even if one part of it were to tear, the mages at the fortress could repair the damage before a hole had the chance to open up.” “Why is he doing that, then?” Dolfa asked. He found out the answer right away. Yet even after, he still couldn’t grasp how it had happened. Dolfa and his men froze, their eyes fixed on Farsas’s army. Countless flaming arrows created by magic filled the air. Lars, standing with his back to them, pulled out his sword that he’d thrust into the ground and got to his feet. With the eyes of a mischievous child, he smiled. A single swing of Akashia wouldn’t be enough to neutralize the vast defensive barrier. That was what Truce, the head mage, had said when he sensed the barrier. Even if Akashia nullified a section of it, the inference caused would be minor. Like a drop of water in the ocean. Truce’s assessment, however, only applied if Akashia was the only weapon used. Lars turned toward the mages behind him. “Is this going to work?” The king’s straightforward question garnered a nod from one mage, who had a sapphire magic implement attached to his right ear. “If you’re happy with that area becoming a battlefield, then yes.” “That’s fine.” Success wasn’t guaranteed, but Lars just smiled, relaxed about the opportunity ahead of him. The leader of the “most powerful kingdom on the continent” ordered his army to charge into Kisk’s barrier, leading from the front. He repelled the fireball aimed at him with one swing of the royal sword. His sights were set on the core of the spell formation. A small crack would suffice—even if it was just a drop in the ocean. Lars held his sword aloft, then thrust it point-down into the structure of the spell. With that, the barrier started to erode away. “You idiot! I thought they couldn’t use magic!” Dolfa exclaimed in astonishment, having asked for a defensive wall to shield him from the downpour of flaming arrows. Kisk had only been able to compete with Farsas because their magic abilities were suppressed. If that advantage was lost, simply having troops deployed outside their fortress would be risky for Kisk. Dolfa deliberated whether to retreat or attack as the enemy cavalry closed in. Then he heard a mage say something in a raspy voice. “The spell…is losing its effect. Their mages have infiltrated its structure…” “What do you mean? Can’t you fix it?” “I’ll try and contact the fortress…b-but they’re working at an extraordinary speed. More and more of the barrier is becoming ineffective, and at this rate—” “I’ve heard enough!” Dolfa didn’t understand the intricacies of magic. He ordered the mage to attempt to repair the barrier, then went back to command his troops. He directed his entire army to focus their attacks on the main central part of Farsas’s army where the king was located. Kisk began advancing by mobilizing their troops, who had been stuck in one place, and charging directly at their enemy. When Lars worked out what they were doing, he got the central part of his army to slow down and boosted the speed of the troops on either side. Due to this difference in speed, the originally arc-shaped formation of Farsas’s troops gradually bent out at the edges and took on a concave form. Aiming for the core of the enemy’s forces, they were trying to lure Kisk’s army into their midst. Dolfa wasn’t completely oblivious to Farsas’s intentions. He initially began to slow down his troops’ advance, but after having second thoughts, he urged them to speed up instead. Right now, suddenly stopping their charge or changing direction would only cause confusion. Rather than doing that, he decided to attack the core of the opposing army and do away with the king, even if it meant running into Farsas’s trap. Letting out murderous yells, Kisk’s forces began their assault. The flanks of Farsas’s army swiftly attacked the sides of Kisk’s, almost surrounding them in a semicircle. The metallic sound of swords colliding with shields immediately filled the grassland. That was how Farsas’s unexpected breach of the barrier marked the inception of the battle—one that would later become known as the Battle of Weisuz. The protective barrier had been infiltrated. Even those who were keeping an eye on the spell from the fortress’s many rooms picked up on this. The mage in command turned pale but still ordered the spell formation to be repaired. Magic Kingdom or not, Kisk hadn’t expected Farsas to do that. The king had used Akashia to destroy the barrier at its most vital point, then allowed magic power to seep in. This technology rewrote the formation itself, bit by bit, and instilled in the mages fear rather than admiration. “Stop the infiltration of the barrier! Don’t let it spread any further!” It would likely be impossible to restore sections of the barrier that had lost their functionality, but if they let things continue as they were, Kisk’s army would completely lose the upper hand. When the mages heard how the battle was progressing, it made them even more apprehensive. Having failed to crush the main force of Farsas’s army with their initial attacks, Kisk’s army had broken through the enemy’s left flank and were now attempting to retreat. If the troops could make it back to an area where the barrier was still in effect, they could still turn the tide. Essentially, the fate of Kisk’s army rested on the mages themselves. Over thirty mages focused intently on the spell, sweating from the stress. It was at that point that a message from the battlefront arrived at the fortress. “Magic-enabled communication has been cut off, but I could tell this is a matter of grave concern,” shouted a soldier who tumbled in through the open gate, followed by another ten or so soldiers and mages. They weaved past the fortress’s own troops, who seemed particularly tense about something, and asked to speak to the mages responsible for the protective barrier, then dashed to the office. When the mages saw their guests, the battered appearance of the injured messenger filled them with panic. “What’s the news?” one of them asked. “Do you know a way of fixing the spell?” “N-no… At this rate, it seems like the entire protective barrier is going to become ineffective.” “What?! How come? What are we supposed to do?” “It’s too late now…” Hearing those words, the mage who’d been tasked with keeping the situation under control let out a groan—and immediately collapsed onto the floor. “Huh?” The mages behind him were stunned. A short dagger had been thrust deep into the fallen mage’s chest. The man, who’d been disguised as a messenger soldier, tossed the Kisk emblem he’d been wearing on his shoulder aside and gave an order to his underlings. “Kill them.” “You scoundrels! You’re from Farsas…,” said one mage, who’d quickly worked out what was happening—but a dagger flew at his throat, silencing him. With that, the room instantly transformed into the scene of a tragedy. “It sounds like all the mages have been assassinated. The barrier is no more.” Lars had been wielding his sword on the front line when Harve gave him the news, and he responded with a simple nod. “Good.” Letting out a maddened scream, a man lunged forward with his blade, only to be struck down by the king’s next blow. “Then take over the fortress as planned. Tell Truce to use a transit gate from inside to let in the other troops,” instructed the king. “Understood,” replied Harve. As Harve retreated to pass along the message, Lars skillfully handled the reins of his horse, charging ahead. He rode into a crowd of men and horses and swung his sword again. He struck down one of Kisk’s soldiers without even giving him the chance to fight back—when suddenly, a battle-ax swung at him from the side with alarming speed, and he parried it with Akashia. Dolfa had put all of his strength into that strike, yet it had been deflected. Brimming with fighting spirit, he fixed his gaze on Lars. “King of Farsas. I challenge you to a duel!” “Okay, but are you sure you’re ready to die?” This impudent remark prompted Dolfa to take a big, sideways swing of his axe. If the blow had landed, even the king’s armor wouldn’t have stopped his insides from being crushed. However, Lars took a step back, letting the axe cut through the air instead. When the king realized that his opponent was the commander of Kisk’s army, a fearless smile appeared on his face. The Kisk army had started to retreat to the fortress, having sensed that their formation was at a disadvantage, but Dolfa had hastily ordered a counterattack, hoping that they could recover from their tragic situation. Communication from within the fortress had become sporadic, and something seemed amiss. Dolfa’s instincts, forged by years on the front line, told him that they’d never recover if they turned back now. If General Dolfa were somewhat more inclined to look at the bigger picture, he might have chosen to abandon the fortress and withdraw from battle altogether. However, the gloom that had built up inside him after spending several days cooped up inside the fortress, as well as the deadline that Beelhurse had imposed on him, had taken that option away from him. Instead, Dolfa had attacked the king himself, brandishing his own battle-ax. Each strike from the axe was weighty, and any one of them could have been fatal if it had landed, but Lars effortlessly parried them all. Lars wasn’t scared of death. His blue eyes were impossible to read, which Dolfa found vaguely disquieting. But then the king of Farsas quickly shifted his gaze to his left-hand side. What had he seen? Dolfa didn’t waste any time wondering—the fact that he’d looked away was an opportunity. Aiming for his opponent’s neck, he struck with his axe. Dolfa’s weapon, however, never touched Lars. With his eyes still directed in a different direction, the owner of Akashia swung his sword, severing Dolfa’s right arm at the elbow. A heavy sound resonated as both axe and arm fell on the grassy field. “Gahhhhhhh!” Dolfa’s scream roared across the battlefield. Immediately, magic flew toward them from the direction the king had been looking in, engulfing Dolfa. With one swift strike of Akashia, the protective barrier cast on the general shattered and red flames consumed him, reducing Dolfa’s body to ashes. The magic was so ferocious that flames spread to the surrounding area, and Lars grumbled to himself as he neutralized what was left of the spell. “Who could that be, lashing out so recklessly even though I’m here? Someone with a long-standing grudge?” The king’s invincibility was a regular topic of hushed conversation among his staff. He readied his blood-stained sword and surveyed the battlefield. With the stench of blood hanging in the air, it was becoming clear to anyone watching who was going to win. When Niké and Shizuku heard the news in the meeting room that Weisuz Fortress had fallen to Farsas, they were—unsurprisingly—too astonished to speak. A few moments later, Shizuku questioned the magistrate who’d brought them the news. “Huh? How? Faneet said they had people there to maintain the magic defenses.” “About that… It seems Farsas was able to rewrite the barrier,” answered the magistrate. “Really? That’s incredible,” said Niké. “I didn’t realize something like that was possible.” It might have been an incredible achievement—but right now, it was a serious problem. When Niké asked whether the princess had already heard the report, the magistrate told him she had. Apparently, Ortea had issued orders to recover soldiers who’d escaped from the battlefield and asked for the area around the fortress to be surveyed. Once the magistrate had left, the pair exchanged looks. “What are we going to do…? This is bad, right?” said Shizuku. “It certainly is,” agreed Niké. “The fortress is our strategic point in the southwest. Even in terms of fatalities, the losses are huge. Plus, if they create a transit ring in the fortress to help them replenish their forces, we’re out of options.” “Maybe it’s time to beg for their forgiveness,” suggested Shizuku. Niké’s expression soured. It was as if he wanted to say, “If that was in the cards, we would have already done it.” Although it was hard for someone like Shizuku to comprehend, neither of the Great Nations could give in that easily. Shizuku had gotten into an argument with the princess after declaring her opposition to the war. After that, she’d been sent to deal with the twelve families instead. She exhaled, her breath too shallow to be considered a sigh. “Don’t you have any hints to offer? Weaknesses King Farsas might have, for example?” Niké asked coolly as he rolled a hard candy across the map. “Uh, carrots?” replied Shizuku. “Tell me how that information’s going to help us.” “It won’t. Sorry.” It was true that Lars hated carrots so much that they made the color drain from his face, but Shizuku couldn’t imagine how that knowledge would prove useful on the battlefield. Shizuku picked up the hard candy that Niké had rolled toward her and rested her chin on her hand. “I mean, who am I to know what his weaknesses are?” said Shizuku. “All I know is that he’s a horrible guy… Oh, and that Leuticia has him under her thumb.” “The princess?” replied Niké. “So he’s weak when it comes to his younger sister?” “She’s important to him. It’s almost like he can’t go against her.” Just as they were having this exchange, a question came to Shizuku’s mind. If Ortea had had Lars as her older brother, how would she have turned out? Would she have grown up without a care in the world? Lars would have never tricked his sister into committing evil deeds, tormented by jealousy. “Hmm… Maybe things wouldn’t have worked out. It depends on whether they’d get along or not.” “Don’t let your imagination go to such scary places. You’re making me want to quit being a royal court mage and go off and become a hermit instead.” “I didn’t even say anything. And besides, you need to submit your resignation a month in advance.” “You’re both here?” Faneet asked, making the pair jump to their feet. “We’ve found the person we’ve been looking for.” Shizuku had requested this search some time ago, and she grinned. “Th-that’s great. Just in time!” “There’s an issue, though. You’ll have to come, too.” “An issue? What is it?” Faneet beckoned her over. Shizuku was puzzled, but she followed his instruction nonetheless. Working under Ortea’s command, Shizuku had negotiated with two of the marquises before the three-family meeting. Initially, she secured the cooperation of the Marquis of Ladmai—who had a newly born grandchild—by promising priority access to the language education materials she was currently developing at the castle. Despite being criticized as “naive” and “stubborn” by those around her, Shizuku knew how to adapt her approach depending on who she was dealing with. She told the Marquis of Kiaph, a moderate, about the possibilities in Ortea’s future. With the timid Marquis of Ladmai, she mixed threats with the benefits she enticed him with. Next, Shizuku needed to negotiate with a whole host of people in preparation for the Twelve Family Council. The person they’d been looking for was expected to play a significant role in those negotiations. Shizuku cocked her head as she walked down the corridor with Faneet by her side. “What’s wrong? Are they refusing to cooperate?” “No. I’m sure they will. It’s just, the princess…” “What about the princess?” Shizuku had a bad feeling about what Faneet was going to say next. When Shizuku reached the princess’s chamber, she realized she could hear smashing sounds. This came as no real shock, but she still pressed her temples apprehensively. “Oh… It’s happened, huh…?” Shizuku felt the urge to hold her head in her hands in despair, but she couldn’t bring herself to turn a blind eye to what was happening. So she followed Faneet into the room. Ortea’s chamber was always a mess, but on this occasion, it was an atrocious sight. The room’s owner was pacing around in fury, whacking pots and other ornaments onto the floor. The princess was barefoot, this being her own room; however, she must have cut her feet on some of the broken pieces, because traces of blood were smeared across the floor. The injured princess, however, didn’t seem bothered by these wounds. Instead, she continued to take her emotion out on the objects around her. “Why now, after all this time? Did you really think you could beg for my forgiveness and ask me to help your people?!” “It’s not what you think, Your Highness. I just wanted to apologize for—” “It’s too late!” Entering the room, Shizuku looked at Tigor, who was prostrating in front of the princess, then at Ortea, who was in the middle of her fit of rage. Shizuku had anticipated that this would happen, but still hoped it wouldn’t. These two thoughts swirled in her mind. Shizuku had asked Faneet to find Tigor because she believed his testimony had the potential to improve Ortea’s reputation and damage the king’s. Tigor felt guilty about what he’d done to Ortea in the past, whereas Beelhurse had jailed him, muzzled him, and caused turmoil in his domain. If Tigor told the marquises the truth, that would be more effective than anything Ortea could say. At this moment in time, Shizuku felt like Ortea needed individuals like the Marquis of Kiaph and Tigor on her side—people who’d spent years cultivating strong reputations in society. Ortea’s angry yells echoed around the room. “You just want to get everything off your chest to make yourself feel better! What will that achieve?! What’s done is done!” “You’re not wrong about that. I committed a crime, whether I atone for it or not. I’ve been tormented by it for a long time. I want to make peace with that, so…” Shizuku hadn’t necessarily expected Tigor to confess his past wrongdoings. Upon finding out the truth, Ortea would realize Beelhurse had been working against her for a long time. Perhaps that knowledge would help her reach a conclusive decision. At the same time, though, Shizuku wished the princess never had to find out the truth. The revelation could have crushed and broken Ortea’s already warped psyche to its very core. Still, the decision of whether to admit the truth was Tigor’s to make. Only he could choose whether to confess his past sins, or to simply tell the princess about the king’s recent misdeeds. On their way to Ortea’s room, Faneet had told Shizuku that it was Tigor, as she’d suspected, who’d arranged for the king to be assassinated. After a fierce argument with Beelhurse, Tigor had realized that if he left things to Beelhurse, the castle would become corrupt from the inside. After Tigor had escaped from prison with the help of an underling, Beelhurse had relentlessly pursued the lord. If he attempted to return to Rosta or contact any of the other marquises, the king would have been able to find out where he was. Backed into a corner, Tigor had hired an assassin to put an end to the king’s tyranny and salvage some freedom of his own. Once the king was dead, he could return to Rosta and beg Farsas to surrender. Alternatively, he could once again ask Ortea for mercy. Praying that the attempt would be successful, Tigor had been hiding in the storeroom of a small tavern in the city, desperately thinking of ways to solve his predicament, when the people Faneet had hired finally found him. “I—!” Ortea picked up a glass candlestick. Grasping it in her hand, she glared at Tigor—but then she finally noticed Faneet and Shizuku’s presence. She addressed the girl who was frowning at her. “Shizuku.” “Yes?” “Did you know about this?” Shizuku couldn’t answer out loud, so instead, she used her eyes alone to communicate her answer. For a moment, Ortea was astonished. Cracks appeared in her amber eyes, making them look like shattered crystal balls. As if someone had just told her that everything was meaningless, her gaze fell to the floor. She tossed away the candlestick that she’d been clutching tightly, then retreated into her bedchamber at the back of the room, refusing to say a word. With its owner gone, the room was left with a feeling of something closer to remorse than confusion. The bitter aftertaste left behind wasn’t directed at anyone in particular, yet it felt even more oppressive than the room’s atmosphere. It gradually settled on the floor covered in pieces of broken ornaments. Shizuku shook her head, shaking off that oppressive feeling. She walked over to Tigor, who was still sitting on the floor, and crouched down beside him. The man looked a lot more haggard than when she’d last seen him, and he widened his eyes when he noticed her. “You’re…” “Sorry about last time. My name’s Shizuku. Thank you so much for coming here. I know this room’s a mess, but just be patient for a while. She’ll calm down soon.” “But—” “It’ll be fine. Just wait there.” Shizuku asked Faneet to get the room tidied and have the princess’s wounds healed. Then, after locating a few objects, she knocked on the princess’s bedroom door. In a quiet voice, she called out to her master. “Princess.” There was no response. Undeterred, Shizuku knocked again. “Princess, I’m coming in,” she said, her words more a warning than a question. The door wasn’t locked. Shizuku stepped inside to find Ortea lying face-down on her bed. She was so still that it almost looked like she was dead, but she probably just didn’t want to move. Shizuku knelt by her master’s feet, examining the wounds there. Fortunately, none of the cuts looked to be very deep. Shizuku began to remove the small fragments that had sunk into her skin with a needle. Ideally, she would have preferred to use tweezers, but as crammed full of bizarre objects as Ortea’s room was, Shizuku hadn’t been able to find anything similar. As Shizuku was wiping away the blood and removing the fragments, she heard a muffled voice coming from the bed. “That hurts.” “I’m not surprised. There’s quite a lot of blood,” said Shizuku. “Why don’t you use magic?” “I don’t have magic powers. A mage has been summoned for you.” “I don’t want one.” “What am I supposed to do, then?” Shizuku asked as she continued her work. Once she’d finally pulled out all the fragments and wiped away the blood with a damp cloth, she wrapped strips of cloth tightly around Ortea’s small feet. Ortea didn’t react. It almost seemed like she was asleep, but Shizuku knew she wasn’t. Shizuku stayed by her side, not saying a word, and eventually the princess let out a small murmur. “This…isn’t going to work, is it?” “What do you mean by that?” Shizuku asked. “We can’t change the past. I can’t bring myself to forgive my brother or Tigor. Which means…people must feel the same way about me.” Regardless of what she’d done wrong and why, that was in the past now; she couldn’t change it, no matter how hard she tried. The damage was done, and the hatred still lingered. In the same way that Ortea loathed the two men who’d betrayed her in her youth, there were probably a lot of people out there who’d continue to detest Ortea. They’d hold onto that hate for as long as they remembered the wounds she’d inflicted on them. There was no way to undo that chain of negativity. The stronger the hatred inside of her, the more sensitive she’d be to the hatred directed at her. “How could someone like me ever become queen?” Ortea’s honest statement—or you might even call it a complaint—made Shizuku frown. Ortea was still young. The pressure must have been driving her crazy. If they traded spots and Shizuku was saddled with the same burden, she’d feel just as distressed, even if she was reaping what she’d sown. Clutching her knees, Shizuku shut her eyes. What had people said to comfort her when she’d been at her breaking point? A few memories came to mind. Without saying a word, Shizuku thanked her lucky stars for the irreplaceable friends, family, and other people in her life who’d been there for her. It was thanks to their help that Shizuku could be here now. “Princess,” she said. “What?” What could Shizuku do? Not all events that formed a chain reaction were negative. Shizuku knew that, but there was still something she wanted to ask out loud. Even in this a faraway world, she was still allowed to voice her thoughts. She was incredibly grateful for that. “Princess, please stay strong. Accept that the hatred you feel is natural. In the same way that you resent them, you have to take responsibility for what you’ve done. There’s no getting around that.” Shizuku let out a deep breath, then looked at Ortea. “But, Princess, what is it that you want from Lord Tigor right now?” If the only way Ortea could fight her hatred was by getting revenge, she’d never be able to fulfill her role as queen. If she became blinded by hatred and haunted by the fear of retaliation, she’d end up self-destructing at some point during her solitary reign. If that was the inevitable end to this, then fleeing was the better option by far. She could get revenge on her brother and Tigor, then run away from the country that had hurt her. Shizuku couldn’t deny that was one way to wrap things up. But…she knew that Ortea had other options available to her. If the princess simply detested her country, then why had she been serving it all this time? Had she simply been reluctant to abandon her royal duties? Shizuku doubted that Ortea wanted Tigor to die. So there must have been something else she was hoping for. Shizuku didn’t say any more than that. She waited silently for her master to respond. If time allowed it, she was willing to wait there forever. The atmosphere in the room was no longer stagnant. In fact, there was even a breeze passing through. Just as Shizuku was starting to feel that the stillness would last an eternity, Ortea slowly got up. She glanced at her feet, wrapped in white cloth. “…It hurts.” “I’m sure it does.” “I can’t walk like this. Call Tigor here.” “Okay.” Shizuku went back to the other room, then brought a shamefaced Tigor before the princess. Ortea looked down at the man who knelt before her, hanging his head. “Tigor.” “Your Highness. I am prepared to accept any punishment you see fit…” “Are you really?” the princess asked. Ortea’s mood had become subdued, as though the fury she’d displayed only moments earlier had all been a dream. She fixed her emotionless, amber eyes on the man who’d once betrayed her. His thin shoulders shaking, Tigor answered the princess’s question. “Most certainly. But…the people of Rosta have nothing to do with this. I don’t mind what happens to me, but please have mercy on them…” “Fine. In that case, I want you to work for me.” It was a blunt decision. Ortea spoke quietly, yet her words were powerful enough to send shivers down anyone’s spine. Tigor lifted his head, looking as though he’d been struck by lightning. Shizuku, standing nearby, was equally astonished. She couldn’t say whether it was a person’s upbringing that made them a royal or if it was something they were born with. Yet being a monarch and adopting the mindset it demanded was something you chose to do. Despite never having wished for it, Ortea was adopting that mindset for herself. The words “stay strong” were so cruelly simple, but Ortea would personify the spirit of that message for as long as she lived. Tigor lowered his gaze. In an instant, the regret that was deeply etched inside him dissolved into his eyes and vanished. He looked up and straightened his spine. Despite the years, his eyes still had a powerful light behind them. His unwavering gaze was fixed squarely on Ortea. “Your Highness… No, Your Majesty. My life may be of no consequence, but I pledge it and my everlasting loyalty to you.” Shizuku couldn’t find a trace of doubt on his face as he uttered those words—only the firm resolve of an esteemed lord. Ortea nodded haughtily. In that moment, complex emotions and sentiments condensed together. Shizuku was witnessing a turning point that made her keenly aware of the passage of time. It forced people to keep moving, whether they liked it or not, and it was sweeping her along, too, no matter how she tried to fight it. She just hoped that the conclusion they were reaching would bring even a little bit of peace of mind to somebody. The room was spacious and full of expensive furnishings. The atmosphere in the air, however, was bleak. A man was seated in a large chair at the back, his body half-buried in it. His eyes were teeming with a murky anger, but aside from that, his expression was lifeless. A curse-like grumble spilled from his lips. “Ortea…you’ve really done it now…” Beelhurse had heard about Jired’s suicide; now he was unsure whether the man had truly betrayed him or not. Either way, Beelhurse had lost one of his closest aides, and Ortea had put her plan to dethrone him in motion. If he did nothing, sooner or later, he was bound to be ousted from the throne, leaving him to live out the rest of his life in eternal humiliation. Beelhurse clenched his trembling fingers into a fist. “I won’t let you get away with this, Ortea…” How could he keep his sister in check and return to power? His mind had never been particularly sharp, but he began formulating a strategy nonetheless. In only six days, the Twelve Family Council would meet to discuss whether Beelhurse was fit to sit on the throne. He was determined to bring Ortea down by any means necessary. He started to sputter dark insults about her, but nobody was around to listen. According to Beelhurse, only a fool would believe Tigor to be competent—but as far as Shizuku could tell, he actually was. After pledging his allegiance to Ortea, Tigor immediately grasped the situation she was in and began to negotiate with the family heads he was acquainted with. The difference between Tigor’s and Ortea’s reputations inside Kisk was like night and day. There were plenty of people who frowned when the possibility of Ortea becoming queen was suggested to them, but the fact that Tigor was supporting her made them reevaluate her capabilities. Public opinion naturally shifted in Ortea’s favor when people also heard that the king had imprisoned Tigor. So far, two of the patriarchs who Tigor had negotiated with had declared their support for the princess. “Since things are heading in the right direction, how about you apologize to that massive sadist?” “What does that mean, ‘massive sadist’?” “It’s what we call people who share the same inclinations as Marquis de Sade, a renowned writer from my world. It’s just my way of referring to the pervy king of Farsas.” Shizuku articulated her merciless slander of the king with a straight face, earning her a dubious sidelong look from Ortea. The princess rearranged the papers in front of her, acting as if she hadn’t heard a thing. “How many times do I have to tell you this? This castle isn’t running as well as it should. If we were to surrender, it would tarnish our reputation as a Great Nation. That would upset both our citizens and our nobles. In fact, our generals and soldiers want to fight on the battlefield.” “But once they die, that’s that. If there’s any way to avoid that situation, you need to look for it.” “Who are you to give me advice…?” Ortea looked at Shizuku like she was stupid, but Shizuku parried her condescension with a blank expression. If she let such trivial comments anger her, they’d never get anywhere. If no one else was going to offer their opinion, then Shizuku had to, even if it meant disregarding her own shortcomings. “Your approach will work fine if you win, but if you lose, the damage will be even greater.” “We’re not prepared to give up that easily, are we? I’ve never claimed that we’re going to crush them, but if we can inflict enough damage to convince Farsas that continuing the fight would be detrimental, then it’ll be easier to negotiate further down the line. As things stand, giving up the entirety of Rosta—not just the fortress—wouldn’t be enough for them.” “…Oh.” Maybe Ortea wanted to avoid settling things on the battlefield, too. Still, her options were limited. She had enemies both inside and outside her country’s borders, and she lacked a solid foundation for herself. Her position was a precarious one. As she flipped through her papers, the princess calmly expanded on her point. “Also, I won’t be able to take the throne unless I venture to the battlefield myself. If people think I’m just pulling the strings from deep inside my castle, I won’t stand a chance.” “You’re planning on going to the battlefield?!” “Of course. I’ll let General Dalai command the troops, but I’m still going to join him.” The moment she heard this, phrases like “watch out” and “don’t do it” popped into Shizuku’s head—but in the end, she didn’t voice any of them. Ortea had to repay her debts, even if she could only do it gradually. There wasn’t much Shizuku could do to change that. “But…do you have time? It isn’t long until the heads of the twelve families meet.” The council was due to assemble in just five days. Teleportation magic made it much quicker for armies to advance within their own borders, but they still didn’t have much leeway. Would Ortea be able to achieve the military success she was hoping for and still get back in time for the council meeting? Shizuku couldn’t hide her apprehension. Ortea abruptly glanced out of the window. “I’ll make sure I can get back. But if I don’t make it in time…” There was a faraway look in her eyes. Was she thinking about the past or the future? Envisioning a grisly death, or a life filled with pain? Whatever Ortea was imagining, it had nothing to do with Shizuku and was something deeply personal that she couldn’t share. In the depths of their minds, everyone carried a unique idea of how things would end. They did it their whole lives. Ortea shifted her gaze back toward Shizuku. There was a firm determination in her beautiful amber eyes, and they captivated Shizuku with their brilliance. “If I don’t make it in time, you will act as my substitute. Get that throne for me.” Shizuku’s master’s order was a straightforward one. Stunned, Shizuku stood frozen to the spot. Faneet would most likely accompany the princess, while Niké would keep a low profile. Shizuku would be the only person left in the castle who could serve as a negotiator. Plus, she’d make a more appropriate stand-in than Tigor. If Shizuku couldn’t overcome the drawbacks of being a young woman and win people’s support, there was no way they’d accept Ortea as queen anyway. A tingling sensation coursed through Shizuku’s body—but she found it comforting. Since when had Ortea placed so much trust in her? The first time they’d met, they hadn’t been on the same page about anything. But as they continued to butt heads, they’d learned what frustrated and annoyed each other. And now, here they were. Somewhere along the line, the princess had won Shizuku’s heart. She genuinely wanted to support her. Shizuku bowed deeply to her master, a woman no older than she was. “I’ll make sure to live up to your expectations, Princess.” Shizuku wasn’t going to let this break her. She was going to withstand the pressure. By clashing with one another and compensating for each other’s shortcomings, the pair had evolved as people. One day, they would each create a place where they truly belonged, entirely on their own. Within the castle, most people viewed Shizuku as an unknown, enigmatic person. She was the woman who’d earned Ortea’s confidence. Initially, she’d come along with a solution to the widespread epidemic, leading people to assume she was a foreign academic—but as time went on, she’d begun to seem more like the princess’s aide. She was more forthcoming with her criticism than Ortea’s other advisors, and she was also tasked with negotiating in her place. As such, she was chiefly regarded as Ortea’s close spokesperson. Despite being the same age and gender as her master, Shizuku’s personality differed greatly from Ortea’s. She wasn’t as intimidating and astute as the princess, and she lacked her knowledge, but Shizuku had the ability to sit down, converse with people, and eventually win their trust. Her features alone made it obvious that she was a young girl, but once someone actually spoke to her face to face, they’d discover that she was surprisingly brave. Yet it was her tendency to respond to honesty with an equal amount of her own that made people feel most at ease. Shizuku balanced out Ortea’s infamously fiery disposition. Having received directions from her master and advice from Tigor, she’d been steadily negotiating with the heads of the twelve families. “Oh, you look much younger than I expected. Are you really nineteen?” asked the Marquis of Sage immediately after meeting Shizuku in person. “I get that all the time,” she said to the man. People often pointed out how young she looked. Perhaps that was why most of the negotiations began with her either being treated like a child or looked down upon. On the other hand, people’s reactions to her appearance helped her guess what attitude to adopt with them. She prudently altered her approach depending on whom she was talking to, responding with sincerity to those who took her seriously despite her appearance, and using intimidation and bargaining with those who underestimated her. According to Ortea and Tigor, the Marquis of Sage was a rather crafty individual. Tigor had offered to negotiate with him instead, but the marquis had requested to meet with Shizuku. That alone gave Shizuku a glimpse of his personality. Shizuku spread the papers she’d been carrying in front of him, then picked up the notes she’d made in Japanese. “I appreciate you taking the time to meet with me today, Your Grace,” she said. “The pleasure’s mine. I’m sorry for making you come all the way to my residence.” The marquis was a gentlemanly man in his mid-forties whose perpetual smile suggested a lack of vulnerability rather than warmth. Shizuku kept smiling, not letting her nervousness show, before broaching the matter at hand. “I’m sure you already know why I’m visiting you… I’ve come to ask you to support Ortea in the meeting in four days’ time. As the incident with Lord Tigor suggests, the current king is trying to ostracize and expel Princess Ortea. However, it is clear that the sovereign lacks the ability to run this country. For the past few years, Princess Ortea has been the one governing its affairs.” “It does seem that way,” responded the marquis. “That said, I do wonder whether that’s a good enough reason to revive an ancient council and replace the king. A monarch doesn’t necessarily have to be competent. I admit this isn’t the best way of putting it, but hasn’t the current sovereign been using Princess Ortea to run the country? Few kings in our continent’s long history have actually been wise. All a king needs is the ability to utilize his staff effectively, or at least that’s what I believe.” Having said his piece, the marquis directed his probing gaze toward Shizuku and smiled at her. Shizuku forced herself to return the expression. This marquis had decided to challenge her from the very start. “You make a valid point,” she said. “However, does King Beelhurse really possess that fundamental ability to utilize people effectively? As we saw in the recent Farsasian invasion, he repeatedly rejected Princess Ortea’s advice to deploy his troops. It doesn’t matter how competent his subjects are—a king needs to be able to mobilize them effectively and make the final decisions himself. King Beelhurse may well be a good king when peace is guaranteed, but at the moment…” “Farsas is here. I understand.” The man nodded theatrically, looking as if he’d known what Shizuku was going to say all along. He wasn’t hoping to glean anything from Shizuku’s rhetoric, but had been assessing how the princess’s confidante would respond to him. “What exactly would change if Princess Ortea were to become queen?” This question made Shizuku switch her focus elsewhere, and she began explaining the policies that would be implemented after Ortea’s ascension to the throne. “First, she will improve the roadways throughout Kisk. We’ll gather opinions from the regions and use them to build roads and refurbish existing ones. We plan to increase the number of transit rings fivefold within five years, facilitating the distribution of excess resources between territories.” Shizuku pointed to the relevant sections in the documents she’d given him, explaining the policies one by one. Among the proposals that Shizuku described were tax reductions, comprehensive state-run childhood education, strengthened trade relations with the eastern country of Nadolas, as well as armament changes and trial-related legal reforms. She made sure to go into plenty of detail about all these issues. Some of these policies hadn’t been implemented due to Beelhurse’s lack of approval, while others were issues that Ortea had cast aside because they were a hassle to address. Upon learning this, Shizuku was secretly relieved that the princess wasn’t overly diligent. “Tax reductions are great, but will there be enough money to finance the other projects?” “We’ll repurpose the extra money that’s been stashed away in the castle. Once the domestic distribution of goods starts running smoothly, we estimate that the tax reductions can be recouped within about three years,” Shizuku explained, maintaining her composure as she responded to the marquis’s intermittent questions. Although the man was asking about the policies, he still looked unimpressed by them. Eventually, Shizuku decided to mention something that wasn’t laid out in the documents. She had the princess’s explicit permission to touch on it, but she was still slightly hesitant to do so. “Furthermore, Princess Ortea has decided to delegate some areas that are under the direct control of the castle to a number of other territories. A forest within your own territory is one such area, Your Grace.” The monarchy directly owned a range of assets, including treasure, mines, and land. Most of these assets, however, were currently stored away, so Ortea had chosen to hand over this unused land to the marquis as a form of compensation instead of holding onto it in vain. Marquises who prioritized their own interests usually responded well to this news. Moreover, suggesting that Ortea would ascend the throne without a husband elicited favorable reactions from those with eligible sons. Shizuku herself was uncomfortable with the idea of using the queen as bait, which made her think of Tryphina, the country’s first queen. Yet Ortea herself was unfazed. “I’m not promising that I’ll actually marry anybody,” she’d said. “We just need to make them believe they have a chance at marrying a queen.” And so it was probably wise for Shizuku to exploit Ortea’s status as much as she could. The Marquis of Sage was a single man. Shizuku tried to discern whether he was interested in becoming Ortea’s husband from his facial expression, but his smile prevented her from grasping his real intentions. After listening to her explanations, he looked at Shizuku with his head tilted to one side. “Very informative. Thank you. Now excuse me for changing the topic, but I’d like you to tell me about yourself. You seem like a very ordinary person. Why, then, do you work for Princess Ortea?” Shizuku was taken aback, her eyes widening in surprise. Maybe this was a question that everyone in the castle wanted to ask but hadn’t dared to. She quickly suppressed her alarm and offered him a wry smile. She clasped her hands in her lap. At that point, she suddenly remembered that she’d never held Ortea’s hand. “It…might have just been fate. Meeting the princess, the fact that I ended up working for her—it’s all largely a matter of chance, I think.” If one cog in the machine had been out of alignment, she and Ortea may never have crossed paths. It was all merely coincidental…but Shizuku was fine with that. “Still, even if our meeting was only coincidental, I’m determined to support the princess. She can be quite stern, but she’s proven herself to be very kind of late. I’m sure she’ll be a wise queen.” The Marquis of Sage narrowed his eyes at Shizuku, who wore a faint smile. Crossing his legs, he asked her another question. “So you serve her because you believe she’s worthy of your loyalty?” “That’s right.” “If so, would you be willing to give yourself up for the princess?” The man’s sudden question had come completely out of left field, and it left Shizuku looking somewhat surprised. She replayed his words a few times in her head. When she looked over at him, she noticed him directing an arresting gaze her way, a false smile stretched across his lips. Without hesitation, Shizuku nodded. “I’d sacrifice whatever it took—whether that’s my life or my body.” “Oh my.” “All I can offer is myself, though. Nothing more. Regrettably, I can’t pledge that having me will earn you any special favors from Princess Ortea.” Ortea had never asked Shizuku to use herself as a bargaining chip; in fact, she’d warned her to be careful. If Ortea found out that Shizuku had put herself up for sale, she’d probably be furious. At the end of the day, though, Shizuku was the only one who’d have to make a sacrifice. To her, it was a small price to pay. The throne and the future of her master were at stake. Her own chastity meant very little in comparison to that. Then she remembered the strange mark on her stomach. Perhaps she should have mentioned it. The constant, faint stomachache she constantly suffered came to mind—but suddenly, the marquis burst out laughing. Shizuku looked bemused as he vigorously waved his right hand at her. “Don’t worry, I was only joking. You’re cute, but I’m not into young girls. I just wanted to see how much loyalty the princess has earned from someone like you. I’m sorry.” “…I apologize for my baby face,” replied Shizuku. “That said, I like you.” All traces of laughter vanished from the man’s voice. In his powerful gaze, Shizuku suddenly noticed a willingness to accept her. She found herself sitting up even straighter. The marquis, who naturally embodied the sophistication of the nobility, unlaced his fingers resting on top of his lap and nodded. “I will gratefully consider Princess Ortea’s request. You can expect a favorable outcome.” “Your Grace…thank you so much.” “And you should come and see me in five years’ time—if the mood strikes you.” Was that a joke or not? Shizuku’s dark eyes widened, turning as round as a cat’s. Her expression made her look even younger, eliciting a shrug from the marquis. “Actually, better make that seven years,” he said with a chuckle. The view from the walkway was truly spectacular, and Shizuku couldn’t help but gape in awe. In the plaza inside Kisk Castle, thousands of soldiers were lined up in neat rows. The metal armor covering their vitals reflected the light, reminding Shizuku of the ocean’s surface. It was like a scene out of a movie, but it was clear from the piercing tension in the air that it was real. “This is amazing…,” she muttered, her words tumbling down onto the walkway’s railing. Shortly thereafter, preparations for the transit ring appeared to be complete, and the soldiers slowly started to move. They advanced toward the large magic circle etched into the ground, maintaining their orderly rows. One by one, the soldiers vanished into it. It was such a surreal and wondrous sight. But then again, such things were probably ordinary in this world. Ortea would be departing in just two hours. Shizuku stood up from where she was leaning on the railing and walked away, hoping to say goodbye to her master. Three days had passed since the news of Weisuz Fortress’s fall had reached the castle. As planned, Ortea had ordered for fifty thousand troops to be teleported to the battlefield. They would end up on the bank opposite the Shisa River, north of the fortress. The bridge over the river had been captured immediately after the fortress fell, under Ortea’s orders. Even for Farsas, it was impossible to determine the coordinates for large-scale teleportation in other countries, so there was no chance of the Farsasian army occupying the fortress teleporting over the river. In the meantime, Kisk’s army had prepared for combat on the opposite bank. They were going to teleport back to the southwest of the fortress before launching an offensive against the Farsasian army. According to reconnaissance, there were around twenty to thirty thousand Farsasian troops stationed at Weisuz Fortress. Still, it was harder to attack a fortress than to defend it. Plus, there was a chance that Farsas was using teleportation magic to bring in reinforcements. Kisk couldn’t afford to be too optimistic. “I’m here, Your Highness,” Shizuku announced upon entering the room. The armored woman turned around to look at her. Ortea’s hair, which she normally wore down, was tied into a ponytail. Her white metal armor covered her front, shoulders, elbows, and the area from her knees to her toes. Somehow, it made her look even more lovely than usual. She was wearing gauntlets over her hands, which trembled like two small animals. The clothes she was wearing underneath must have been enchanted, because Shizuku could see intricate patterns covering them. Her slender frame suggested that she had hardly any muscle. Full armor probably would have been too heavy for her to move in. Faneet waited in the room, also clad in partial armor, but in his case, it was probably to help him move around more easily. He was going to stick by the princess’s side, even on the battlefield. Ortea wasn’t going to be on the front line, nor would she be directly commanding the troops, but that didn’t mean assassination attempts were out of the question. She’d have to stay vigilant. Yet despite the gravity of the situation, Ortea simply shrugged her narrow shoulders slightly. “It’s so heavy, Shizuku.” “It definitely looks that way. Want to trade places?” “No.” Shizuku had actually volunteered to serve as a decoy on one occasion, but Ortea had promptly dismissed the idea. “Everyone would laugh at me if I did something like that,” Shizuku’s master had told her. “It’s not like I have to go to the front line anyway.” So Shizuku had reluctantly backed down. Instead, Faneet was accompanying Ortea as her bodyguard. Shizuku shot him a worried glance, and he replied with a nod, his face as expressionless as ever. “It’ll be fine. I’ll keep the princess safe, even if it costs me my life.” “What are you talking about? If we get into any situation where your life’s at stake, then we’re already done for,” the princess joked, strapping her sword for self-defense to her waist. No matter what the princess said, Shizuku was certain that Faneet would defend her, even in the most unexpected of circumstances. Shizuku smiled and nodded. A moment later, Tigor showed up and began to give Ortea his final update. “You need seven votes to ascend the throne, Your Highness. So far, we’ve succeeded in getting four of the men to pledge their support. In addition to those, there are three more who seem likely to come around. We will continue the negotiations over the coming three days.” “Very good. I’m counting on you,” replied Ortea. Considering the short time frame and the princess’s disadvantageous starting point, things were actually going quite smoothly. However, some, including the Marquis of Tylga, were still vehemently opposed to Ortea’s coronation, while others remained loyal to Beelhurse. The situation was incredibly precarious. After listening to everything he had to say, Ortea spoke to Tigor. “While I’m away from the castle, I’m leaving the rest to you.” “As you wish.” “You’d better not do anything stupid, either, Shizuku,” she continued. “That was a sudden change of tone. I’ll be on my best behavior,” said Shizuku, puffing out her cheeks. The princess giggled. Then her amber eyes abruptly took on a solemn gleam. “If anything happens to me, I want you to negotiate with the boy’s father to decide what to do with him.” “Huh? Uh, of course,” Shizuku replied reflexively, but it was an ominous topic to bring up. Besides, was it really safe to assume that Lars was Vied’s father? Shizuku looked puzzled, prompting Ortea to expand further. “Niké knows who the father is. He was the one who brought Seilené here.” This revelation came as no surprise to Shizuku. Niké must have approached Seilené to gather information about the king of Rozsark. She’d seen him extend the same invitation to Lyshien before her very eyes, so it wasn’t hard to work out. That said, Shizuku still couldn’t understand why Seilené, who’d been a member of Rozsark’s royal court, had given birth to a direct descendant of Farsas’s royal lineage. Shizuku couldn’t hold Ortea up any longer, though; she was about to go into battle, and there was a lot that needed to be done. She could ask more questions once the princess returned. Satisfied with that thought, Shizuku bowed. “I understand. I’ll see you when you get back.” Shizuku had a hard time concealing her apprehension completely, and Ortea gave her a mischievous smile. “Don’t worry. I won’t push myself too hard. Oh yeah… Do you like the king of Farsas?” “Not in the slightest.” “In that case, I’ll bring you his head as a souvenir. Look forward to it.” “His head is the last thing I’d want. Just make sure you don’t lose your own.” Ortea raised her eyebrows slightly but decided not to reprimand her subordinate for her ill-mannered statement. With Faneet by her side, she confidently raised her head and left the room. In just three days’ time, everything would be decided. That knowledge excited Shizuku in a way she couldn’t explain. One year earlier, she never would have predicted how things would turn out. She couldn’t help but smile wryly when she thought about the situation she’d found herself in. If someone were to tell her that she could go back to her old world…she’d ask to stay for another three days, at the very least. As she watched her master walk away, she prayed she’d get to stay a little longer. It might have been Shizuku’s imagination, but once Ortea, Faneet, and the soldiers departed, the castle suddenly felt incredibly empty. She flicked through her papers as she made her way through the deserted corridors. Immediately after seeing Ortea off, Tigor had gone to visit another member of the Twelve Family Council. Beelhurse knew that Ortea had taken the lord under her wing, but he didn’t make any moves against him, likely because the news of Beelhurse imprisoning Tigor was already widespread. The king being the king, he had apparently been in contact with the marquises, but Shizuku hadn’t received any precise information about his movements. After scrawling a checkmark on one of the handwritten documents, Shizuku started reading the next page. There, she found notes about royal assets inside Kisk’s borders—knowledge that Ortea had shared with her. While this information was highly confidential, Shizuku had translated it into Japanese so if, by some chance, her notes ended up in someone else’s hands, they’d be unable to decipher them. As Shizuku read through the remaining assets she hadn’t brought up in any of her negotiations, one of them suddenly caught her attention. “Huh? I didn’t know something like that existed. I’d love to see it.” According to the records, it had remained entirely untouched since it came into the royal family’s possession. Feeling that this was a waste, Shizuku casually marked it with a star. She’d arranged to meet with another one of the twelve marquises that evening. Some of the council members were already in the castle, while others remained in their own territories that were impossible to visit without the use of teleportation magic. Shizuku reached into her pocket to check the time, but before she could take out her watch, she bumped into somebody who’d come darting around the corner. “Oops, sorry!” Shizuku instinctively apologized as she tried to regain her balance—but the person, who was dressed like a magistrate, ran away without saying a word. Shizuku took out her magical watch again. “Hmm. I guess I have time for another cup of tea,” she said to herself. “…Ouch.” Had she been hit in a weird place when they’d collided? Shizuku twisted her side, which was stinging in pain, and started walking toward the break room. By the time she’d finished looking through all her papers, she was right in front of the door. At that very moment, Willett appeared from the other end of the hallway. When she spotted Shizuku, she stopped in her tracks, and Shizuku offered her a wave. “Hey, Willett. Do you want some tea?” “…Shizuku.” “What?” For some reason, the girl was becoming paler by the second. Just as Shizuku was about to ask what was wrong, Willett pointed a trembling finger at her. Shizuku cocked her head, then glanced down at her own body. Her side was covered in bright red blood. “Waaaaahhhh?!” Shizuku cried out. Even she thought she sounded like an idiot. Until that point, she hadn’t noticed any pain at all. She hastily shoved her bloody clothes aside to try to locate the wound, and sure enough, she found a gash in her blood-drenched side. It looked like a bladed weapon had been plunged directly into her skin. The sight of the injury made Shizuku dizzy, and she felt as though she was about to pass out. Having heard the scream, Yura rushed out of the break room and grabbed Shizuku by the arm. “Shizuku?! What happened to you?!” “I-it looks like…I was stabbed.” Shizuku couldn’t feel any pain, but her mind was beginning to become hazy. Her eyelids were getting heavy, threatening to drag her into a peaceful sleep, and she resisted the urge. “If Niké is around, call him for me…,” she said, then immediately lost consciousness. “Are you stupid?” That was the first thing Shizuku heard after she cracked her eyes open. She blinked, then looked up at Niké sitting by her bedside. The sight of her colleague’s face, which looked genuinely annoyed, was a comforting one. Shizuku ran her fingers through her sweaty bangs, then pushed herself up on the couch where she’d been lying. Yura and Willett were also standing in the small break room, looking at Shizuku with concern. She was relieved that nobody else had needed to find out about the mark on her body. “Didn’t I tell you you’d be numb to pain? If you’d fainted with nobody else around, you’d be dead by now.” “I-I’m sorry. I was pretty out of it.” Shizuku looked underneath her new clothes. The blood had been wiped away, and everything looked normal. Niké had presumably been the one to heal her, and he asked her a question, his voice cold: “So? Who did this to you?” “…I didn’t see their face.” “You really are stupid, huh.” Come to think of it, the person she’d bumped into on the corner had appeared abnormally intent on hiding their face. Even so, they must not be a professional assassin, otherwise Shizuku would have been dead there and then. There were plenty of reasons for her to be targeted. Shizuku was a close aide to Ortea. Considering the situation at hand, walking around without any guards was rather careless. Niké sighed and rose to his feet. “I’ll get in touch with the princess,” he said. “Wait, hang on a minute. You need to keep this a secret.” “Don’t be dumb! She’d be furious with me!” “Please! We can both get scolded together when the time comes. The princess is going through a tough time herself… Just tell her to watch out for assassins.” “You’re the one who needs to be more careful! You’re lucky I was in the castle at all!” Having been thoroughly reprimanded, Shizuku shrank back a little. Niké was completely right. She’d neglected to consider that she was one of the people at the center of this commotion; it’d be humiliating to die at this stage of the process. Shizuku bowed her head again. “I’m sorry. I was careless. I’ll be more cautious from now on.” “…If anything like this happens again, I won’t give you any more medicine. You’ll have to find a man yourself.” “Argh. I’ll bear that in mind.” Still looking angry, he took something out of his pocket and threw it toward her. When Shizuku caught it, she realized that it was a small ring, and she gazed at it with wonder. It had a transparent crystal embedded in the center. “What’s this? It’s so pretty.” “It’s a protective magic implement. It won’t defend you from particularly powerful attacks, but it’s enough to offset ones like this.” “Oh. Erik gave me something like this before.” “He did, did he?” “What?!” Shizuku had only been telling the truth, but for some reason, Niké had decided to pull her hard by the ear. It hadn’t hurt, but it still felt weird. She clasped her hands over her ears. Shizuku didn’t have a good understanding of magic implements, but they probably weren’t all the same. This one could be totally different. Regretting her sweeping assumption, she corrected herself. “No, it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t made with a crystal.” “…Crystals are frequently used in the manufacturing of magic implements. There’s a direct correlation between their quality and the tool’s efficacy. However, due to the explosive increase in magic implement production, there’s been an issue with overconsumption, meaning there aren’t that many pure, unprocessed crystals available.” “Ooh. You really know your stuff, huh?” “What do you think we mages are?” “The intellectual class of society?” “Not necessarily. There are plenty of different types of mages.” Niké checked that Shizuku had the ring on, then stood up. “I’m leaving the castle now. Make sure to keep your wits about you.” “Everyone’s got a lot on their plate. I know. Thanks.” Niké looked like he had something he wanted to say, but he left the break room without another word. Shizuku reflected again on how careless she’d been. Tigor never did anything without one of his underlings by his side. He was probably worried about what Beelhurse might do. It made sense that someone like Shizuku, who was always by herself, would be targeted. She bowed her head at the two court ladies who were looking worriedly at her. “I’m sorry. You saved me back there. Thank you.” “Shizuku! You gave me such a shock!” “Aha-ha. I’m not surprised.” Willett rushed toward her, and Shizuku managed a smile as she embraced her. It must have been like a scene from a horror movie, seeing a blood-covered person walking down the corridor. If Shizuku had been in her shoes, she probably would have screamed even louder. Shizuku looked up and glanced at Yura over the younger girl’s shoulder. She was smiling silently. Yura was smiling but not with her eyes. In fact, they seemed to be fixed on something. The stern aura she was emanating made Shizuku tense up. The color started to drain from her face, as if the blood loss was only just getting to her. Still smiling, Yura began to speak. “I’m glad you’re okay, Shizuku.” “Th-thank you…” “By the way, you’ll have to excuse me, but I did catch a glimpse of your body while I was changing your clothes.” “……Okay.” “What’s that mark? And what’s that ‘medicine’ Niké mentioned?” “G-good question…” Yura was probably the last person Shizuku wanted to see that mark. After being squeezed to a pulp by Willett, Shizuku managed to slip away by insisting it was a secret she couldn’t share, but the whole ordeal had sapped about five negotiations’ worth of energy out of her. The man was painting haphazardly on the white stone wall of Weisuz Fortress’s office when he was interrupted by his subordinate. A pot full of blue paint in hand, Lars listened to the report. “So Kisk finally made a move,” he remarked. “About time.” “It appears that right now, in the castle, the king and his sister are fighting over the throne. It’s the princess who’s mobilized the troops.” “A fight between siblings? They’re lacking in resolve.” The mage who’d brought Lars the report wondered what kind of “resolve” siblings were supposed to have—but considering the kind of sister Lars had, perhaps something like that was necessary. Lars set his pot of paint down on the desk. “So is Ortea coming to the battlefield?” “Yes. Reconnaissance confirms she’s with the main force of the army, at the rear.” “Good. Let’s capture her and teach her a lesson. We’ll beat that twisted nature out of her.” The king’s hypocritical disparagement brought about an awkward silence. The mage who’d arrived with the report pulled himself together and continued doing his job. “There’s one more report you need to hear,” he said. “What is it?” The king began listening to the news with a frown, but it had nothing to do with the army from Kisk they were about to fight. There was another, unrelated problem that was being investigated. “We need to hurry up a bit,” muttered Lars irritably, having heard the entirety of the mage’s report. “This is going to be a breach of contract.” There was no breeze on the grassy plains. Ortea, mounted on her horse, looked up at the overcast, early afternoon sky. The clouds were thick, but it didn’t look like a downpour was imminent. Her armor was already heavy and cumbersome enough, so it’d be annoying if it did rain. Ortea found herself distracted by the sight of tens of thousands of soldiers marching. It was a sight she’d never witnessed before. “We’re almost at Weisuz Fortress, Princess,” Faneet whispered, riding alongside her. “Right.” Kisk’s army had teleported from the other side of the river and was approaching Weisuz Fortress, marching along a straight line connecting the fortress and the town of Caribala. Farsas’s army, having captured the fortress, were reported to have a force of just over twenty thousand men, but with the use of teleportation, that number could swell. Their plan was to strike at Farsas with their fifty thousand troops before things got to that stage. This was easier said than done, though. With the fortress occupied by their enemy, the battle wouldn’t go that smoothly. “It seems that when Farsas captured the fortress, they lured our troops outside and used that confusion to infiltrate, disguising themselves as messengers,” Ortea said. “Yes,” replied Faneet. “There are reports that even our magical barrier spell was overwritten. That’s terrifying if it’s true.” “It suggests that relying too much on magic could be dangerous. We won’t beat Farsas using magic alone.” Ortea’s voice resonated serenely across their dark surroundings. Unusually, it didn’t sound like she was simply being self-effacing; she seemed to be genuinely praising the enemy nation. Faneet was momentarily taken aback by her words, but he soon carried on guiding his horse as if nothing had happened. Before long, the Kisk army came into the view of Weisuz Fortress. The troops hadn’t encountered any of the obstacles they’d been worried about, and they positioned themselves slightly behind where the protective barrier had once stood. Their goal was to recapture the fortress and drive Farsas out of the country. General Dalai, who had total command over Kisk’s army, explained his strategy. When Ortea heard that his plan was to “take the fortress by storm,” she smiled confidently. “I understand. I can’t hold a candle to you, here on the battlefield. I’m counting on you.” It was motivating to hear this encouragement from the beautiful young princess. Dalai and the other officers eagerly set their magical barriers, and they began to approach the fortress. As they got closer, they noticed people on top of its high walls, keeping watch. Some of them must have been mages. They hurled a few spells in Kisk’s direction to keep their enemy in check, but their effects dissipated upon hitting the barriers. Unless the spells were particularly powerful, attacks launched by individual mages got weaker the farther they traveled. Kisk’s army partially surrounded Weisuz Fortress, positioning themselves to the southeast and stretching west. “Good. Halt! Prepare the siege fire!” Dalai ordered, as planned. In response to his command, the mages deployed behind the soldiers began their incantations. Groups of three started conjuring massive fireballs to support the siege, creating a dozen of them in the air. Ortea, stationed at the rear of the army, couldn’t help but express her admiration at the spectacle. “That’s incredible…” In all honesty, the princess didn’t want Weisuz Fortress to get destroyed—it was Kisk’s property, after all—but this was no time to express such sentiments. General Dalai fixed his fierce gaze on the massive fortress, then ordered the attack. “Fire!” The fireballs flew through the air, reaching the walls and gate of the fortress. A few seconds later, they exploded with a deafening boom, and black smoke billowed into the air. The gate crumbled, creating a small opening. “Prepare the second volley!” The mages started to create another round of fireballs to attack with, but before they could launch them, several beams of light shot out from the direction of the fortress. The first person to notice shouted a warning. “This is bad! Brace yourselves!” But the warning came too late. The beams of light pierced several of the half-prepared fireballs, and the magic caused them to explode right in the midst of the Kisk army. Mages’ bodies were flung into the air, and nearby horses neighed. Amidst the sudden chaos, Dalai raised his voice. “Don’t falter! Fire!” One of the fireballs reached the lookout tower, where a sniper must have been lurking, and a resounding vibration echoed through the sky as the top of the tower crumbled to pieces. The other balls of fire hit the gate again, widening the hole that had already been created. The expansive grassland had suddenly become filled with activity, as mages not only launched fireballs but tended to the wounded, shot snipers, and kept their wards in place. Thus, with the exchange of long-range spells, began the Second Battle of Weisuz. Occasionally, small stone fragments from the blasts would strike her in the face. Ortea lifted her arm to shield herself from the slight pain they caused. She looked toward the fortress far in the distance, behind the vast army of people and horses. “It’s quiet…” “Huh?” said a young guard, unable to contain an inane exclamation of confusion. He met Ortea’s gaze and, flustered, yelled out, “I’m so sorry!” but Ortea gently waved her hand to show that she was unfazed. “Don’t get me wrong. I can see that Farsas is fighting back, but it’s only magic, right?” “They have fewer troops. They must be planning to stay inside the castle.” “Do you think so? I thought that fool would call for reinforcements, rather than draw things out.” Ortea knew Lars far better than General Dalai did. She’d come to blows with the king on multiple occasions when handling governmental affairs. Lars gave the impression of a wise ruler, faultlessly running his country’s affairs with an open-minded, far-sighted, and generous approach. However, beneath this facade lay the contradictory side to his temperament, marked by impulsiveness, coldness, childish fussiness, and his rough-and-ready nature. Niké tended to omit parts of his reconnaissance reports, but when Ortea was bored enough to make him share the whole thing, he’d often include useless stories about Lars. Ortea had met him in person. They tended to encounter one another at events in Gandona, the country that both Farsas and Kisk shared a border with. Still, he often had a crowd of princesses from other countries around him, and Ortea, who found talking to people a nuisance, had a habit of escaping as soon as she got the opportunity, leaving them with very little opportunity to converse. Regardless, the fact that Shizuku, of all people, hated him told her everything she needed to know. “I hope these negotiations will go in our favor,” she muttered. It would probably be hard to coax Farsas into surrendering, but if Kisk could inflict a certain amount of damage on them, Lars might agree to negotiate. If they could engage in a fair discussion without Lars becoming too big-headed, then Ortea could take care of the rest. The princess looked out at the gate, which was gradually being destroyed. Once it came down, Dalai was supposed to send his troops inside; however, for the time being, the constant barrage of magic coming from the fortress was keeping Kisk at bay. How long will it take for the situation to be resolved? Ortea wondered. But just as she was turning that thought over in her mind, a sudden commotion broke the stalemate. “Reinforcements from Farsas!” A succession of astonished cries prompted Ortea to turn around. She stared at the wide highway that stretched out before her. An army from Farsas stood on the road running adjacent to the forest. The troops seemed to have appeared out of nowhere, and they started getting themselves into position, as if they were trying to block Kisk’s path of retreat. Realizing that one of the possibilities she’d speculated about had become a reality, Ortea frowned. “Were they waiting for us to attack…? That man’s so annoying.” With a new army positioned at their rear, Kisk’s troops were worried about being attacked from both sides. Dalai wasn’t sure whether to attack the enemies behind them or those ahead. He wanted to take control of the fortress, where the king of Farsas was likely located, but that would be time-consuming. If Farsas’s army attacked them from behind while they executed this plan, they’d suffer significant losses. After making a swift decision, Dalai instructed his troops to move clockwise around the fortress and hurriedly advance to the northwest. Instead of fighting both of the armies that had surrounded them, he wanted his troops to occupy a different part of the battlefield—a strategy that would allow them to attack each enemy in turn. Farsas’s troops, however, didn’t just sit around and watch it happen. The cavalry that had appeared behind Kisk sped up and began attacking the enemy, who’d begun to move. In the blink of an eye, sparks flew on the grassy field as Kisk’s soldiers fought back. “This way, Your Highness!” Ortea and the cavalrymen protecting her weaved through the throng of soldiers, attempting to flee in the opposite direction from Farsas’s onslaught. However, since Ortea’s group was at the rear end of Kisk’s army, they inadvertently ended up closer to Farsas’s forces. The young soldier had called out to the princess in an effort to take the lead, but unfortunately, it backfired. When they heard the words “Your Highness,” several soldiers from Farsas drove their horses in Ortea’s direction, swords in hand. Catching sight of them, Faneet swiftly reached out and smacked the rear of Ortea’s horse, sending it galloping. Soldiers rushed to clear a path for Ortea’s escape. Riding right beside her, Faneet whispered to his master. “We’ll be able to make it out, Princess.” “…Okay.” As she raced forward, pressed on by the surrounding troops, Ortea looked back at the enemy soldiers. They weren’t far behind. It wasn’t long before Kisk’s soldiers intervened, though. They cut into the Farsasian cavalry, hot on her heels. The sounds of swords clashing and men falling off their horses melded together. Yet Ortea and her group didn’t slow their horses. It wasn’t long before the battleground faded into the distance. The next time Ortea looked over her shoulder, she was greeted by a sight that made her amber eyes widen in shock. For a moment, her gaze met that of a man cutting down a Kisk soldier with a longsword. He was wearing plain armor and riding an unremarkable horse—yet his eyes were familiar. It only took a few seconds for Ortea to recognize him. As soon as she did, she yanked as hard as she could on her horse’s reins and came to a halt. Before her flustered guards had the chance to turn back, the princess began to yell. “Don’t be fooled! There are no reinforcements!” She pointed a narrow finger at the Farsasian soldier. “That man is the king of Farsas! Capture him!” Everyone from Kisk was momentarily stunned. During the ensuing silence, the man flashed a relaxed smile. He cast aside the sword he’d been carrying and drew another weapon hanging from a sheath on his saddle. The double-bladed sword gleamed brightly. “I’m surprised you noticed, Ortea.” Akashia—the marker of Farsas’s king. Holding his true sword of choice, Lars took hold of the reins and jutted his chin in Ortea’s direction. “Anyone who captures that woman will be handsomely rewarded.” Seemingly unaware that he himself was also a target, the young king made his way forward. Ortea’s proclamation had impelled Kisk’s soldiers to rush toward him to try and capture the rival monarch. The conflict rapidly escalated to a free-for-all as soldiers jostled and collided with one another. Lars and his Akashia silently cut down the soldiers who had rushed toward him, but when he noticed that Kisk’s main army—which had begun to retreat to the northwest—was turning back, he scowled. “Damn. Word spreads too quickly. That woman’s such a nuisance.” “That’s why I told you to stay back, Your Majesty…” When Lars had heard that Kisk’s army was approaching, he’d had most of the soldiers in the fortress teleport to the forest to the southwest to lie low. Only a few mages had remained in the fort, responding to attacks in a way that gave the impression it was still fully manned. Lars had planned to make his army look like reinforcements who’d teleported from their homeland, hoping to throw Kisk’s comparatively large army into disarray. His plan had all but succeeded before Ortea recognized him, rendering his efforts futile. Harve gave the king a disdainful look. Lars surveyed the battleground, trying to spot Ortea. Without any tricks on their side, Farsas’s army was simply outnumbered. Lars had been flexible in his command of his front line as he held off the enemy offensive, but he suddenly looked up at the overcast sky. “I think it’s about time, Harve.” “Understood.” Having received this royal order, Harve used magic to communicate with those still inside the stronghold. In a room deep inside the fortress, a man nodded in response to the message. He wasn’t one of the mages who’d been on top of the walls, fighting back with magic; his role was of a different nature. Touching the blue gem in his right ear, he issued instructions to the ten mages gathered there. “Direction is northwest to south. No change to strength and range from the authorizer.” The mages started their respective incantations, setting into motion the preprepared spell. Their commander took charge of the core section, from where the magic would shoot out. He squinted as if he could see the sprawling battlefield through the walls of the enclosed room. Then he began pouring a huge amount of magical power into the core. “Now, then… Let’s begin.” Like a vast blanket being laid down, they unleashed the colossal spell outside the fortress. As it spread out in a beautiful fan, it instantaneously nullified the magic of any Kisk soldier within its reach. When Shizuku told Tigor that she’d been attacked, he went pale, concerned about her health. There was no doubt that the Twelve Family Council, which was just around the corner, must have motivated someone to take direct action. They both had the same idea about who’d ordered her to be killed, but not knowing who could be listening or where an eavesdropper might be hiding, neither of them dared utter the person’s name. Tigor exhaled, wiping the strained expression from his face and giving Shizuku a forced smile. “Anyway, keep your wits about you. You don’t know when or how someone’s going to strike.” “I will.” “At this rate, half the council seems to be on our side. But even so…” Tigor hesitated. Shizuku was puzzled, but she didn’t pressure him for an explanation. She’d already worked it out herself. Ortea’s victory was becoming increasingly more certain. But would Beelhurse really go down without a fight? With the same doubts going through their minds, the pair went back to their respective tasks. It turned out their concerns weren’t unfounded. On the day before the Twelve Family Council was scheduled to assemble, the Marquis of Ladmai, one of the main patriarchs, was murdered. “What? Really?” Shizuku had been enjoying a late breakfast after finishing her morning work when she’d been informed of the marquis’s death. It had happened just as she was spreading honey on a piece of nicely toasted bread, and her spoon fell into the honey jar. The magistrate who’d brought the report gave her a nod. “One of his assistants found him dead in his bed. It appears that the liquor he drank as a nightcap was poisoned. Investigations are still ongoing, however…” “Oh…I see. Thank you for letting me know.” Shizuku was understandably taken aback by the sudden news, and while she was sorry to hear about the passing of an acquaintance, she couldn’t shake the feeling that they were in trouble. The Marquis of Ladmai had promised to support Ortea in exchange for educating his grandchild. He was one of the main three patriarchs, so there would be significant consequences from his disturbing death. Shizuku left her meal to get in touch with Tigor. He’d gotten wind of the incident already, so the pair soon gathered in the meeting room. “Honestly, this is an incredibly dire situation.” Tigor let out a deep sigh. Shizuku likely wasn’t imagining the deep furrows she noticed in his brow. “I don’t know who poisoned the Marquis of Ladmai’s drink, but there’s talk going around that it was done under Ortea’s orders.” “Huh?! But the marquis…” “I know. He was on our side. However, he was demanding a trade, and rumor has it that the deal fell through. Of course, there are those who assume the perpetrator was someone who dislikes Ortea, but others are suspicious of Her Highness herself. Someone must have manipulated public opinion to suit their agenda. There’s a risk that the Marquis of Rema and the Marquis of Riyas will withdraw their support.” “The princess is on the battlefield! How can they even think such a thing?!” Ortea had headed to Weisuz Fortress with fifty thousand of her soldiers, and from what Shizuku had heard, they were facing an uphill battle. Farsas’s army had attacked them from the rear while Kisk’s forces were attacking the fortress, and in the midst of the ensuing chaos, a forbidden defensive barrier had been put in place. The spell had initially been formulated by Kisk to seal Farsas’s magical abilities, but the Magic Kingdom’s army had retaliated by implementing the same magic across the region. As a result, Kisk had lost more than a third of their army, leading them to retreat from the fortress and move farther southwest. Luckily, it sounded like Ortea was unharmed, but Farsas was pursuing her, intent on capturing the princess. Many, including Shizuku, wished she’d just teleport back to the castle, but the army needed her as moral support after the battering they’d suffered the day before. “I can’t come back yet,” she’d said in her most recent message the night before. It was outrageous that suspicion had turned to Ortea, especially when she was so desperate to help. In all likelihood, Beelhurse was the one responsible for the poisoning. His brazenness had gone too far this time, and Shizuku wished she could yell at him. “What will happen without the Lord of Ladmai there?” “His son might have been able to fill his seat, but this incident was so sudden. I think his position in the council will be left empty.” That might mean Ortea won’t get enough votes. Shizuku went pale, but she refused to let herself feel disheartened. She gathered the papers spread out in front of her and held them to her chest. “All the marquises are already in the castle, right? I’ll go talk to them.” “You can’t do that.” “Why not?! There’s still time!” There was still half a day left. She could clarify the misunderstanding about Ortea and request their support again. Shizuku couldn’t understand why Tigor would try to stop her. He shook his head weakly and looked at her, his eyes filled with bitterness. “As a result of this incident, all meetings with the marquises are prohibited. The Lord of Kiaph was opposed to the idea, but since His Majesty and Lord Tylga both agreed, it was passed by the kingdom. Our movements are now restricted.” “…You’re kidding.” Shizuku felt like she could see the darkness closing in on her. The gloominess of the world made her head hurt, and she pressed her temples. She heard Tigor sigh. The Twelve Family Council was assembling the following day. Soon, the long-standing grudge that had been festering within the walls of Kisk Castle would reach its conclusion. With Farsas sealing their magic, Kisk initially lost many soldiers amidst the chaos. Eventually, however, under Dalai’s command, their army managed to escape from the barrier. By the time they got away, their numbers had dwindled from fifty thousand to thirty thousand, with the enduring barrier also preventing them from launching another attack. If that wasn’t bad enough, Farsas was unyielding in its pursuit, leaving the Kisk troops unable to reposition and forcing them to keep retreating. Now even farther southwest from the location they’d initially teleported to, Kisk dispatched messengers under the cover of night to get a handle on the state of its troops. Having been humiliated by Farsas’s strategies and magical technology, Kisk’s military officers were initially too vexed to speak. Ortea looked around at the men who formed the core of the army and got the ball rolling. “I’m sure you have regrets and can think of things you would have done differently, but I want to hear about our next steps. If any of you has a strategy for quickly bringing down the fortress, speak up. I don’t care what your rank is.” It sounded almost like the princess was reprimanding them, and all the men gulped. Those who’d been on the brink of despair began to regain a bit of their former fire. Still, the reality of the situation was harsh, and none of them said a word. After a short while, a pained smile appeared on Ortea’s face. Instead of reproaching the officers, she simply pointed to a spot on the map spread out between them. “In that case, I’d like you to listen to my thoughts. While Farsas’s invading army has set up base at Weisuz Fortress, they also have troops stationed elsewhere—in the town of Caribala, southwest of here.” All the officers knew that. At first, they’d assumed that capturing Caribala was Farsas’s goal. Back then, they never could have imagined that Farsas would capture the fortress. The men grimaced as they recalled the situation they’d found themselves in. Ortea ignored the heavy atmosphere and continued making her point. “In an ideal world, we’d be able to take back the fort, but if we continue as we are, we could end up losing more than we gain. What if we captured the town of Caribala and used it as leverage instead? There’s only a small number of troops there. We could either swap Caribala for the fortress or use it to draw Farsas’s troops away from the fortress. Whichever option we go for, it would give us an alternative to continuously attacking the fortress.” The officers silently listened to the strategic assessment of the princess—a woman unfamiliar in the ways of military tactics—seemingly mulling it over. A few moments later, Dalai asked for permission to speak. “There’s a chance that the plan could go well; however, the town of Caribala is close to the border. Couldn’t Farsas just call for reinforcements from their homeland?” “That would be a problem for us—but the same thing could happen at any time, anywhere. With teleportation in play, there’s no end to the list of possibilities. We’re better off setting our sights on a place where we’re more likely to succeed. It’d only take a day and a half to march from here to Caribala, even at a normal pace.” A bewitching flower blooming in the depths of the castle. That was how people thought of Ortea. Her hair was now covered in dust and had lost its luster, but the light in her amber eyes was just as bright as ever, filled with a strong determination. The princess looked different from what the younger officers had imagined, but they found their eyes drawn to her nonetheless. She was far more beautiful than when she was languishing in the closed rooms of the castle, even if she was soiled with blood and sweat. Dalai fixed his gaze on Ortea’s face once again. The Twelve Family Council was being held in just two days. Ortea wasn’t supposed to be putting her life at risk at such a crucial point. She was showing how determined she was to become queen through her actions, but she’d already done more than enough. The wisest thing to do would be to return to the castle immediately. Still…that was clearly not what the princess wanted to do. Carrying the morale of her whole army on her shoulders, Ortea looked up from the map and glanced at each and every one of her officers. “What do you think? I’m a total novice when it comes to war, so feel free to speak up if you have any thoughts.” As distinguished as her expression was, there was no trace of arrogance there. A few moments later, one of the officers hesitantly raised his voice. “You make a good point, Your Highness… But can Weisuz Fortress, a strategic point within our borders, really be compared to Caribala, a town in Casola? It’s a volatile place, whether there’s an invasion happening or not. Wouldn’t it be in Kisk’s best interests to hand it over to Farsas…?” “Caribala is a town in Kisk,” Ortea said emphatically. Her statement was clear, but peculiarly, she said it in a neutral tone. Faneet, standing behind her, held his breath. The incident from Ortea’s past had been swept under the rug, meaning that he was the only person present who knew Ortea’s history with Caribala. She gazed at the city on the map with a sorrowful look in her eyes. “There may be people from Casola living there, but it’s also a town of Kisk. We can’t just surrender it to Farsas without any resistance. Plus, it’s right on the border; its location is probably more valuable to Kisk than a fortress deep inside Rosta. We have nothing to lose by gaining control of it.” Her last sentence sounded quite typical of Ortea, and the officer who’d spoken up let out a sigh of relief. When she noticed his reaction, the princess gave a faint smile. Perhaps this was one way of getting revenge. Caribala was the town she’d been sacrificed to protect. This time, she was going to sell it to Farsas. Having become a pawn in the negotiations between the two nations, it would be plundered, conquered, and handed over. Shizuku felt no emotion toward the town, which had been tossed from one country to another in a conflict that nobody could be blamed for. She was indifferent. It was like dealing with a lifeless entity. What would Shizuku think if she heard Ortea’s plan? The princess looked up at the starless night sky. Her officers began to express their agreement, one after another, but Ortea simply furrowed her brow and closed her eyes, not saying a word. Having retreated from the fortress, Kisk’s army began their march to Caribala under the cover of night. When Lars heard the news, a cynical look appeared in his eyes. “Your Majesty, what should we do? Head them off before they get there and fight them back?” “No, there’s no need for that,” the king replied. “It’s the fortress they want the most, so we should just let things play out.” “What should I say to Azulia?” “Tell her to retreat if it looks like we’re going to lose.” Once the mage messenger had left, Lars began to look over the damage from the previous day. The Farsas invasion seemed poised for success. Kisk must have realized that they weren’t going to win the war, and Lars had a hunch that they might broach the subject of negotiations soon—assuming the council meeting scheduled for the following day went smoothly. Lars glanced at the papers he’d received from his homeland—a report from his sister about the unrest among the nobility within the country—and smiled. “Now then, Ortea. Considering it doesn’t really belong to either of us, what will you do with that city?” he asked himself. “…To tell you the truth, that place is too much for Farsas to handle. Our memories of the disgraced king are still too fresh.” The streets were all ablaze. There was nothing that could escape the fire’s grasp—not buildings, not people, not even the sky itself. It was all burning. A nauseating stench filled the air. The smell of burning blood and searing flesh. The air reeked of death, as though everything had rotted away. Mercy was nowhere to be found here. Screams echoed in the distance, accompanied by the pounding of hooves. Ahh. They had to flee, and quickly. Otherwise, that person was going to come back. They were already on their way. As he teleported from city to city, country to country, Niké began to see things more clearly. In the past, all of those places were just toys for Ortea to play with. She would stir up small conflicts to avoid more catastrophic choices and add fuel to the fire just to quell her boredom. When Niké told Shizuku about Ortea’s tendencies, she’d said, “That sounds like something out of Arabian Nights,” but Niké still didn’t know what that meant. “I really wish they’d hurry up and call the king back…” Niké had just had another secret meeting with a lord from Farsas. It was just one of many. After it was over, Niké let out a sigh of exhaustion and made his way to the tavern of the small town. No one else was around to hear him, so he took a moment let out his grievances. In the past, he’d gathered seeds of unrest for the princess’s amusement, but now he’d altered his approach slightly, provoking conflicts within Farsas at his own discretion. He’d already wound up some discontented nobles in the castle and gotten them to cause problems, but it wasn’t enough. One could question why he was doing this, but his objective was simple: He wanted to get people to summon Lars back, dragging him away from Kisk in the process. If Niké’s coworker was to be believed, the incumbent king of Farsas—who was currently wreaking havoc within Kisk’s borders—supposedly had two weaknesses: carrots and his younger sister. That sounded totally stupid to Niké, but Leuticia had temporarily taken over the running of Farsas. If Niké gradually increased the number of problems she had to deal with and put more strain on her, the king’s fondness for his sister might prompt him to rush back. Niké wasn’t completely serious about this idea, but inciting an uprising within a country to get them to call back their troops was a commonly used tactic. Niké had been working on these strategies whenever he wasn’t busy gathering intel, so he decided to enjoy a drink to distract himself from his mounting exhaustion. “Next, I’ll go and see what’s happening in Caribala…and then I’ll go back to the castle.” The Twelve Family Council was being held the following day. His master was sure to return to the castle for it. Shizuku had been attacked only a few days earlier, but he sincerely hoped that nobody else would resort to such extreme measures. To Niké, both Ortea and Shizuku seemed like restricted, powerless people in danger—but that was just how mages tended to view ordinary folk. If they got injured, they had no way of healing themselves. It wasn’t wise for him to stray too far from them. Still, there was something else troubling him: Caribala, the town that had sparked this whole issue. There was an unmistakably tense atmosphere between the residents of Caribala and the Farsasian troops who had occupied the town. Farsas had rescued them from the riots plaguing the town, so anyone would assume they’d be more welcoming, but the mood was still heavy. If the people of Caribala were that unhappy with their occupiers, perhaps Niké would be able to easily incite a rebellion. He’d be lying if he said the idea hadn’t crossed his mind. Why were the people of Caribala unwelcoming to Farsas? Only the residents themselves knew the answer to that. It was the same answer to the question, “Why hadn’t they returned to their old town after the war ended sixty years ago?” There were memories that would stay with people for as long as they lived. Their tales of despair were passed down from generation to generation. The fear they felt when they saw the disgraced king laughing at the razed remains of their homes left behind deep scars, even after all that time. The town of Caribala had no walls surrounding it—just a highway that ran adjacent to it. Having once quietly facilitated trade between Kisk and Farsas due to its proximity to the border, the conflict had transformed the town into a key location in the struggle between the two countries. However, this “key location” proved too much for both countries to deal with. Kisk had given the settlement to Casola’s refugees after Farsas’s invasion drove them out of their homeland sixty years ago, but memories of their now-defunct nation remained everywhere around the town. The Kisk army halted its advance toward the town of Caribala roughly three hours after the break of day, as the morning was coming to an end. Ortea, situated at the core of the army, squinted as she gazed into the distance at the town. This was her first time seeing Caribala with her own eyes. Until very recently, the streets must have been teeming with thousands of people living peaceful lives. This thought gave her mixed emotions that she wasn’t able to process. If it weren’t for that one incident, she might never have seen the town in such circumstances. Nor would she have fought with her brother for the throne. There were about two hours left until the Twelve Family Council began. Tigor and Shizuku were still at the castle, and if Ortea hurried, she could still make it back. Having marched through the night, the princess rubbed her heavy eyelids and looked up. They had decided not to teleport the army to Caribala—not just because the mages were so exhausted, but also because relying on magic could cause them to fall for Farsas’s ploy. With a pained expression, General Dalai fixed his eyes on the town where Farsas’s additional forces were presumably stationed. “Have they set up any traps?” he asked. “It’s hard to tell from here,” replied Ortea. “But ideally, we want to avoid fighting them inside the town.” If they engaged in battles scattered throughout the town, Kisk wouldn’t be able to leverage their numerical advantage. General Dalai wanted to retreat without engaging in battle with Farsas’s additional forces. He considered this as he ordered his troops to advance. As they drew closer to the town, its buildings gradually began to look bigger. There was no sign of any soldiers emerging from the settlement. Had they already heard about Kisk’s advance? He debated whether to send someone to scope out the situation, but then, just as they were about to continue their advance, he heard what sounded like a faint whistle. Suddenly, an arrowhead appeared right before his eyes. Dalai was startled, but he didn’t hesitate. As the defensive barrier around him slowed the speed of the arrowhead, he swiftly dodged it by twisting his neck at just the right moment. The arrow grazed past his ear and pierced the belly of the soldier’s horse behind him, causing the animal to release a high-pitched cry and thrash around. Unable to withstand it, the soldier was thrown from the back of his horse. “Dammit! A sniper attack?!” If it weren’t for the barrier—or if he’d been slightly slower to react—the arrow would have pierced Dalai’s forehead. He looked around, trying to spot the culprit, but there were no nearby buildings a sniper could use to hide. If the shot had come from the lookout tower he could see in the distance, then even if they were being aided by a magical implement, they must be incredibly talented. “Stay on guard. Attacks are incoming. Strengthen your wards,” the general ordered. The mages commenced their incantations as ordered. But just then, as if triggered by the chants, the Kisk soldiers found themselves besieged by a barrage of attacks, some originating from within the town itself. Lars had entrusted Azulia, who had one thousand soldiers under her command, with the town of Caribala. This didn’t sound like enough to occupy the town, but there had only been a few dozen guards there in the first place, and the number of residents had drastically decreased due to the ongoing riots. As a result, Caribala had been relatively easy to occupy over the past few days. Despite the presence of Farsasian troops on patrol, the town had retained its typical serenity—at least, it had as long as you disregarded the citizens’ looks of fear and scorn directed toward the soldiers. “Oh, you’re kidding! He dodged it! The arrow struck a horse!” The woman, having fired her magical bow from the railing of the watchtower, became extremely frustrated when she saw that her arrow had missed. The sorcerer standing behind her stifled a sigh. If she were annoyed that she’d failed to kill the enemy general, her reaction would be understandable. But that wasn’t what had upset her. “A horse! A horse!” the commander shouted repeatedly, prompting the mage to confront her as calmly as he could. “His Majesty has instructed us to retreat whenever we see fit.” “A horse! How dare the old man do that?!” “Are you listening, Azulia?” “Yeah.” Although she was the best archer in Farsas Castle and possessed considerable prowess when it came to fighting at close quarters, Azulia rarely accompanied troops onto the battlefield. It was clear that her excessive fondness for horses was the reason for that. If she was going to lose her mind every time a horse was killed, she’d be useless out there. Azulia pulled herself together and gave the order to strike back. It was less a serious counterattack and more a tactic to pin down the enemy and buy Farsas enough time to withdraw. Upon receiving this command, the mage shrugged his shoulders. “Does that mean we can finally leave this town behind? …To be honest, I’m getting fed up with the looks these old cronies keep giving me.” “That’s unavoidable. The tale of how the disgraced king Dysral ravaged the town of Casola is too shameful to mention.” “Our current king is so easygoing, though. That said, I’m sure it’d take a while to convince them of that.” The people who had escaped Dysral’s clutches and fled to Kisk had had no intention of returning to their homeland after the war, even after Farsas helped rebuild it and it had become part of the country’s territory. The region just brought back too many painful memories. “But from Kisk’s perspective, the people of Casola are still foreigners,” said Azulia. “They have nowhere else to go home to. It’s about time they came to terms with that.” “There’s a new generation, and many people have sought refuge elsewhere. It must be hard for the elderly to change their mindset.” Azulia nodded and readied her bow once again. “I’m going to kill that old man, even if it’s the only thing I do,” said the commander, to which the mage let out an audible sigh. Kisk’s troops weren’t concerned about the magic pelting down at them from the town. Strengthening their barriers to fend off the attacks, the soldiers rushed into the city, searching for enemy mages. Casola’s remaining residents were startled by this sudden turn of events, yet seemed unwilling to fight back. The troops scurried into the buildings and hesitantly looked around. However, the mages and archers from Farsas had halted their attacks and disappeared as soon as the enemy army approached the town. The only person still targeting them was the powerful archer stationed in the watchtower. As arrows continued hurtling toward Dalai one after the other, an officer raised his voice. “This person’s pretty persistent! Hide behind this building, General Dalai!” Once Dalai was out of sight, the archer simply started targeting other people, and before long, Farsas started taking on casualties. The perpetrator must have begun using arrows that could break through magical barriers. Dalai gritted his teeth. “Head to the tower! Kill that archer!” he commanded, but his orders weren’t necessary. Dozens of troops were already on their way there. Yet by the time they reached the watchtower, a powerful barrier had been put in place preventing anyone from trespassing. Standing in front of the barrier, the soldiers looked up at the top of the tower. At that moment, an arrow came flying down from almost directly above them and struck a soldier in the face. The man let out a croaking sound as he collapsed to the ground. The metal arrow had pierced his jaw and gone all the way out the back of his neck. Provoked and threatened by this attack, the other soldiers seethed with anger. “Someone fetch a mage! We’ll make them break that barrier!” “Let me destroy it!” Before they knew it, a mage had positioned himself in their midst. When one of the soldiers saw his face, he was shocked. “You…work for the princess…” “Wait a moment.” The man—the most unusual mage in the entire castle—held his hand over the barrier and began to recite an incantation. The others remained vigilant for any attacks from above as they watched him cast his spell. A few seconds later, they heard something break. With the barrier removed, the soldiers scrambled inside, but there didn’t seem to be anyone in there anymore. The archer must have slipped away, their previous attack being their last. Suspecting that this was the case, Niké recited another incantation and teleported back to Ortea. If Caribala were to be described in one word, it would be “desolate.” Setting foot in the town for the first time, Ortea aimlessly scanned her faded surroundings. The town had once been abuzz with traders, but now, a lot of the houses had their windows firmly shut. Many residents seemed to have fled to the region of Farsas where Casola had once been situated. While Farsas’s occupation had proved exceptionally straightforward, Niké assured Ortea that the people hadn’t been happy about it. Instead, they’d been living their day-to-day lives in misery. Now that the town had been taken back by Kisk’s army, the few remaining residents watched the soldiers pass by from inside their homes, looking both bewildered and apprehensive. Ortea met the gaze of an old man who was watching the cavalry’s procession through his grimy window. Her expression stiffened. “Still, I imagine that staying in Rosta will be nothing but hard for them,” Ortea remarked. “Farsas is where their ancestral home lay. Surely they’d find life easier there.” Faneet looked around the deserted town. “Maybe they can’t forget what happened sixty years ago. The older generation of today must have heard about it again and again from their parents.” “King Dysral, the disgraced king…” He may have been the ruler of a foreign nation, but the disgraced king’s reputation was so awful that even Ortea knew about him. The deranged monarch had destroyed his own country, murdered his own people, and, in the end, even slain his own family. The king’s strength and temperament had made him seem almost inhuman, and Ortea was struck by a sudden sense of irony. In a way, he and I are one and the same. She had incited wars and executed people, too—and now she was preparing to fight her own brother. Where was she going to end up? As Ortea stood filled with self-mockery, a soldier came running over. He bowed apologetically. “Princess Ortea, the town elder wishes to meet with you.” “The town elder? What’s happened?” “Well… He asked who was commanding the army, so I mentioned you and the general. He insisted that he wanted to meet you, Your Highness…” “Fine.” The man probably just wanted to thank her for freeing his people from the occupation. She knew just how depressed she was feeling, but the princess refused to let it show. She followed the soldier, accompanied by Faneet and Niké, to the town’s assembly hall. Inside, Dalai, several officers, and seven people who looked like local men were waiting for her. They were positioned in a circle, suggesting that they’d been discussing something, but when they spotted Ortea, they all bowed in succession. After Ortea had given them a silent nod, an old man appeared from behind the wall of people. His body was trembling, so a young boy was helping him stay upright. The old man fixed his sunken eyes on the princess. “Oh… You must be…” “Are you the town elder I was told about?” “Yes… I have wanted to meet you for a very long time, Princess.” The man sounded overcome with emotion. It seemed like the princess wasn’t the only one who found this remark strange; the town elder’s inexplicable welcome brought a skeptical look to Ortea’s face, but she quickly interpreted it as the sentimentality of an old man. Ortea responded, refusing to show any emotion of her own. “I’m sorry it took us so long to deal with this situation. I don’t know how things are going to develop, but—” “Your Highness, I am relieved to see you all grown up safe and sound… I hoped to meet you once before I died…Princess.” What in the world was this man talking about? Confused, Ortea debated whether or not to ignore his comments. Had he already gone senile? She glanced at the boy who was holding him up, trying to work out whether he always acted this way, but when she did, Ortea got a surprise. The boy stared at Ortea with an extremely earnest look in his eyes. His gaze was clear, brimming with respect and gratitude. It was a pure and loyal gaze, one she had never encountered before, and the princess caught her breath. When he noticed how overwhelmed she seemed, the boy looked awkward for a moment. But then his expression reverted, as if he’d made up his mind about something, and he began to speak. His clear voice reverberated around the room like a bell. “I know what happened, Princess. I heard the story from my grandfather…and the lord. I know that our town was once saved because of you.” It was so dark. She was scared. She was locked away in a small room. It was cold. She was worried. She wanted to escape. She cried and cried. She lashed out, screaming at the top of her lungs. Let me out. Let me go. Let me go home. Please. The wrinkled corners of the old man’s eyes welled up with tears. Ortea already knew what this display of emotion signified. Her small lips began to tremble. “Princess… We came from somewhere else…but you refused to abandon us. You gave yourself up in our place… I can’t begin to imagine how painful that would have been. You must have been so worried. As young as you were, you carried the weight of all our lives on your shoulders. The pain that must have caused you doesn’t bear thinking about… While we are grateful, we’re filled with remorse.” As soon as Ortea was rescued, she’d shut herself in her room inside the castle. She made no attempt to see either of her parents. She had all their letters thrown away. Inside that castle, she was a princess. Nobody thought about the person beneath the title. Once she came to that realization, she stopped expecting anything from anybody. She started to look down on any kind of warmth. “I always hoped I’d get the chance to meet you, Princess…,” the elder continued. “I’ve wanted to express my gratitude to you for a long time. But most of all, I wanted to say sorry… You endured so much hardship for our sakes… All I can do is apologize.” The man extended his hand to the princess. His fingers looked as brittle as a withered branch, but the gesture overflowed with emotion. Hesitating, Ortea gently took hold of his hand. It felt like skin and bones. At that time, this was all she’d wanted. Words that showed that someone cared. The warmth of someone’s touch. All she had needed was a shred of that kindness, and she could have stayed the princess she’d been. She would have been able to devote herself to her country without straying off course. Ortea closed her eyes. Visions of what she’d lost and what she’d abandoned burst to life, then vanished behind her eyes. A warm feeling started to rise in the back of her throat, but she repressed the urge to cry. Instead, she squeezed out a hoarse reply. “I’m grateful for your words. But…I’m not the kind of person you should feel gratitude to. I never have been, and I never will be… In fact, I’m probably going to hand this town over to Farsas if I need to.” She resented Casola. She hated Rosta. That said, she wasn’t opposed to using them as pawns in her negotiations. She had no other options. Kisk wasn’t going to triumph against Farsas in battle. She already knew that. But even so, Ortea’s voice was full of anguish. As the princess’s eyes clouded over with regret, the old man looked up at her and smiled. “If that is your decision, then certainly. I will convince the people still here that it is the right thing to do. You saved this town. If it can be of any use to you…then we shall support you.” Shizuku had told Ortea to look at her nation with her own eyes. To step outside, instead of cowering away in her birdcage. Her words may have sounded naive and pushy, but as Ortea clutched the man’s aged fingers, she realized that there was truth to what Shizuku had said. “…I’m really sorry.” Ortea’s quiet apology was met with a smile from the elderly man. He held the princess’s hand between both of his own, which were creased deep with wrinkles. The world of men was cruel and irrational. And the people were always foolish. Yet she had probably been the most foolish of all, hating everything around her. Some things you could never understand unless you saw them, and others you had to want to learn about to in order to know them. The old man’s weak grip instilled in her an endless warmth—proving that sometimes, people could display incredible kindness. She opened the lid of the glass bottle. Shizuku took out a white pill and placed it in her mouth. The hard sphere slid down her throat. Already accustomed to this sensation, Shizuku switched her focus. She lifted her head and looked at herself in the mirror. “All right. Am I ready?” Shizuku was dressed in a white collared jacket and a long gray skirt. Her hair was tied up, and she had applied a light layer of makeup. Nothing was amiss. If anything, her youthful face might have put her at a disadvantage, but she hoped people would turn a blind eye to that. There wasn’t much she could do about it. Shizuku slipped on a pair of white gloves and left the room. The soldiers who were acting as her guards were already waiting outside. When she came out, they led her to the council chamber. Regrettably, it didn’t seem like Ortea was going to make it in time; about fifteen minutes earlier, Shizuku had received a message saying that the princess was “reclaiming Caribala.” This was nothing she hadn’t foreseen, though. She’d been left behind to fill in for Ortea, so she was in no position to complain. Upon hearing of the Marquis of Ladmai’s murder, Ortea had simply said, “I can’t say that I’m surprised.” Shizuku asked her master if she should take any extra precautions, but Ortea just told her to watch her own back. With only half a day left before the council and meetings prohibited, there really wasn’t anything she could do. Unless she resorted to assassination herself. “I’d never do that, though,” Shizuku mumbled as she strode down the long hallway. Thinking back, it had been the assassination attempt on the king that had revealed Beelhurse’s true nature to her. If she hadn’t foiled it, her situation right now would be much easier. But although she felt that way, Shizuku still believed that using such methods was despicable. Ortea was going to secure the throne without resorting to murder. She had to do things the proper way, for the sake of her future. When Shizuku reached the hall, her guards opened the doors for her, and she thanked them and stepped inside. She was led into the waiting room, which was being used as a small reception area. That said, it was only small by the castle’s standards—you could easily fit Shizuku’s bedroom into it four times over. Shizuku was guided to a chair by the wall, where she sat down. Tigor was already seated beside her. When Shizuku greeted him, he flashed her a nervous smile. “Where’s His Majesty…?” “It doesn’t look like he’s here yet.” The marquises had already begun their discussions in the next room. However, members of the royal family, including the king, were not allowed to attend this first part of the deliberations, when the patriarchs would discuss whether the king should abdicate. The royals could only be present during the final stage, when the marquises were ready to announce their verdict. Until then, Beelhurse, Shizuku, and others had to wait in the antechamber. Shizuku maintained her silence for a while, but eventually, she exhaled and gave a strained smile. “This is quite nerve-racking, isn’t it…” “It really is.” The situation reminded Shizuku of interviewing for colleges. She relaxed her tense shoulders. At that moment, the doors opened, and Beelhurse entered the room accompanied by a magistrate. “…” He was the man whose throne they were vying for, but regardless of what Shizuku thought of him, Beelhurse was still the reigning king. Shizuku and Tigor quietly rose to their feet and bowed. The king responded with a faint smile. They all took their seats. After an indeterminable period of silence, Beelhurse suddenly shifted his gaze toward Shizuku. A gentle smile—the one he had shown her so frequently in the past—appeared on his face. “You must have run out of patience with Ortea by now, haven’t you, Shizuku?” “No. That’s not the case at all.” “But she’s a bad woman. Did you know that just yesterday, the Marquis of Ladmai died because of her?” “That’s…!” Shizuku almost leaped out of her chair, but Tigor stopped her. When she looked over her shoulder, she saw the man shaking his head. He was telling her not to cause a scene. Seeing that, she suddenly began to calm down. How dare you cast suspicion on Ortea. She wanted to say it to him so badly she could feel the words halfway out of her throat, but instead, Shizuku put it out of her mind and smiled. “What are you talking about?” Shizuku asked the king. “The princess would never do such a thing. She wouldn’t gain anything from it, either.” “How would you know? She’s employed that tactic plenty of times before. Has something changed?” “It has,” she declared, so angry that her voice almost cracked. On the surface, though, Shizuku kept her smile plastered on her face as she glared at the king. “I would advise against making unfounded speculations, Your Majesty. Such behavior may well come back to haunt you.” “No, it won’t. Everyone knows what Ortea’s like.” Discomfort settled in her stomach, like a serpent sleeping inside her. Without realizing it, Shizuku found herself pressing the mark on her abdomen. She scratched the site of the magic suppressing her speech through her clothes. How evil could a person become? What caused a person’s character to deteriorate and change? Shizuku wasn’t interested in the process by which Beelhurse had transformed, nor did she wish to learn about it. She felt like simply acknowledging it would make her change, too. She confronted the king, refusing to avert her gaze. She was here on behalf of her master, after all. She couldn’t afford to lower her eyes deferentially. “Your Majesty. My master has nothing to hide. She’s not like you. She has a firm understanding of her own wrongdoings. She’ll make a far better monarch than you. That’s what I believe.” “…You’re a fool, Shizuku. Don’t blame me if you come to regret this.” “I don’t plan to. And even if I do, my regrets wouldn’t mean anything to you,” she retorted haughtily, causing Beelhurse’s expression to darken further. He opened his mouth to speak again, but at that moment, another magistrate entered the room. “The vote will begin shortly. Please enter the council chamber.” The message caused a shift in the atmosphere of the room and elicited a small sigh from Shizuku. She looked at the king out of the corner of her eye. He rose to his feet, a bitter expression on his face. Shizuku stood up as well, straightening her posture. The vote would be decided by eleven people. Shizuku wasn’t entirely sure which way it would go. She didn’t want to lose. Especially not to this man. Shizuku stood up tall and stepped into the council chamber. Eleven pairs of eyes immediately focused on her. It made her feel like she was in a tribunal, where people judged others for their actions. The marquises were seated in two rows of desks facing one another. The debate had probably been a heated one. Most of the tea laid out in front of each person had been drunk. A court lady was serving them new drinks as the king, Shizuku, and Tigor stepped inside. Beelhurse and Shizuku walked past the desks and headed toward the chairs positioned at the back of the room, where they sat down. It felt like they were about to make a presentation at a seminar, but the nervousness Shizuku was experiencing was on a different level altogether. Beelhurse didn’t even try to look at her. He just kept his gaze fixed on the doorway they’d come through. Shizuku glanced at him discreetly, then cast her gaze down toward the floor. I need to calm down. She’d worked so hard to get to this point. She was sure she could get through it. Things would work out one way or another. Shizuku had encountered countless obstacles since finding herself in this new world—yet she’d managed to overcome them all. She had nothing to fear. She’d extract the outcome she was hoping for. Shizuku slowly breathed in. Then she looked up. After a long blink, she gazed at the faces of each of the marquises. Some men returned her gaze with a smile, while others conspicuously looked away. But this no longer made her feel anxious. Instead, she confidently puffed out her chest. “The voting will now commence.” At the end of the road paved with twisted emotions, in the darkness marred by wounds, began the trial that would settle everything. There were eleven patriarchs. Shizuku had met six of them in person. If she were to include the deceased Marquis of Ladmai, that made it seven. The other four had only negotiated with Tigor. However, there was one who’d adamantly refused to meet with her: the Marquis of Tylga, whose nephew had been executed by Ortea. It appeared that the voting would start with the Marquis of Kiaph, seated opposite the Marquis of Tylga. The voting would not be conducted anonymously, allowing the monarch to find out who had opposed them. Last time the council had voted to put a new monarch on the throne, the newly crowned ruler had immediately imprisoned those who had cast their ballots against them. The Twelve Family Council hadn’t convened since. Until now, there had been no incidents serious enough to warrant ousting the king. It was the first time that the royals and the marquises had been harmed personally. The Marquis of Kiaph smiled at Shizuku. “I vote for Ortea,” he stated. His voice echoed around the silent room, surprising everybody inside it. This was a different decision than when the three patriarchs had met previously. This time, they weren’t deciding whether to treat Ortea as a criminal, but whether she should become queen, and as significant as the decision was, he’d decided to support the princess. This sentiment made Shizuku happy. She silently bowed to him. The moment the first marquis, who was among the most important of the patriarchs, cast his vote for Ortea, the atmosphere in the room shifted significantly. Eventually, the next marquis raised his hand and announced his support for Princess Ortea as well, although he did so hesitantly. Ortea needed a total of six votes to secure the throne. A few of the marquises who had expressed their support for Ortea during the negotiations ended up voting for Beelhurse, but Shizuku maintained her poker face and calmly waited for the next vote to be cast. The ninth vote—and the fifth for Ortea—came from the Marquis of Sage. “I cast my vote for Lady Ortea,” he said with a smile, winking at Shizuku. His inappropriately casual demeanor nearly made her burst out laughing. With that, Ortea had five votes, and Beelhurse had four. If one of the two remaining marquises pledged their support for Ortea, she would win. The tenth person to cast his vote was the Marquis of Rema, a man close to the Marquis of Ladmai. After Shizuku’s lengthy debate with him, he’d admitted that perhaps entrusting the job to Ortea wouldn’t be that bad. His turn had come, prompting him to raise his hand. The man looked at Shizuku, furrowing his brows slightly. She swallowed nervously. “…I vote for His Majesty, King Beelhurse.” The moment he heard this, a pleased looked crossed the current king’s face. It was five votes against five. The only person who hadn’t cast their vote was the Marquis of Tylga, who hated Ortea. She wasn’t going to get enough votes. Shizuku went pale as she recalled the contingency plans for such a scenario. First, she needed to make sure Ortea got away. Considering how things had turned out, it was lucky that the princess hadn’t attended the council. Shizuku glanced at Tigor. He responded with a nod. They had to get Ortea out of the country immediately. Then they would approach Leuticia to negotiate. She would ask Farsas to help them oust the king in a non-legitimate manner, in exchange for Beelhurse’s head and some of Kisk’s territory and assets. There was a chance that Shizuku wouldn’t be able to escape, but as long as she wasn’t executed immediately, Niké would come to rescue her. Naturally, plans were already in place for Vied, Yura, and Willett’s escape. They just needed to act swiftly. Shizuku looked straight ahead, refusing to let her disappointment show. Instead, she put up a determined front, focused on her next move. The princess—who’d once threatened to take Shizuku’s life if she failed her mission—would be extremely angry if Shizuku were executed. Or at least, that’s the impression Shizuku got. As such, Shizuku needed to do everything in her power to resist. However, just as she resolved herself to do so, the Marquis of Tylga cast the final vote. “I vote for Ortea to become queen.” Silence filled the room. Above all else, shock filled the room. Everyone’s stunned gazes converged on the marquis, but he just looked at Shizuku, unwavering. His intense gaze prompted her to straighten her posture before the relief even hit her. Then she returned his gaze. The silence seemed to test her with every passing second. In the end, it was the former king sitting beside her who shattered it. “W-why?! You…!” “There is no ‘why.’ I’ve cast my vote for Ortea. That’s all.” “Don’t you hold a grudge against her?!” shouted the marquis’s previous master, rising from his seat. The Marquis of Tylga gave him a stern look. “You seem to be mistaken about something, Beelhurse. The goal of this council is to select a king. It’s not a place to settle personal grievances. I think that Ortea is better suited to the role than you. That’s all there is to it.” “Are you saying I’m an inferior ruler?!” “At the very least, she’s willing to put her life on the line for her country. Isn’t the fact that she’s not here all the proof we need of that?” “That’s…” Just as Beelhurse was trying to argue back, the door burst open. When everybody saw who’d entered, they rose to their feet, shocked. The woman they were all staring at stopped in her tracks and gently tilted her head to one side. “Sorry I’m late. What was the vote?” There wasn’t a hint of pretense in her voice. She must have come straight from the battleground. Dressed in dirty linen clothes with her dusty hair still tied up, she looked around at everyone. The last person her gaze settled on was Shizuku. The princess’s aide bowed deeply. “Just the way you’d expect. We have fulfilled your command.” “Well done,” Ortea replied. Ortea didn’t even bother looking at her brother, who trembled with humiliation. Now he was a mere symbol of a bygone era, so she ignored him and chose to address the eleven marquises. “Firstly, I’m incredibly grateful to you all for giving me the opportunity to be queen. And yes, I’m talking to all of you. I don’t care who voted for me. I have no need to find out, either. I’m going to prove myself to each of you anyway. But before that, allow me to ask you one question.” The woman, who’d taken the throne from her brother at the age of nineteen, looked at everyone with the kind of dignity one would expect from a queen. She showed no nerves or timidity, but simply gave the impression of a strong-willed monarch. “Unfortunately, it seems unlikely that we’ll be able to deliver a decisive blow to Farsas in this war, even if we do rely on our military strength. We’ve taken back the city of Caribala, but our enemy has captured the fortress. Therefore, I intend to change tack and pursue negotiations. Naturally I’ll ensure that Kisk is disadvantaged as little as possible…but we’re in a weak position. I can’t guarantee that we’ll come out of it unscathed.” This decision wasn’t entirely surprising. A serious atmosphere enveloped all the people listening. “So let me say this. If any of you object to inviting Farsas to negotiate, speak now. If you think I’m not capable of ruling as your queen, tell me now. Don’t hold back.” Ortea had just won over the majority. Shizuku couldn’t help but wonder why she was asking them to do something that could potentially undermine her own position, but she quickly quashed the thought and watched her in silence.