1
Not very long after, on a suitably spacious field south of the town, a military camp had been raised, with twelve large, brown tents. Among those, the three adventurers found themselves guests in the largest, the command tent, in the company of the Imperial leaders, with Colonel Miragrave Marafel as their host.
“When I was eleven,” Yuliana explained to her friends, “my father took me with him on a visit to Bhastifal, the Imperial capital. We stayed there for a few months, and it was during that time that I met the commander. She was kind enough to keep me company now and then when I was alone and idle in the palace.” The princess's face turned a bit bashful when she added, “I was quite the unruly child. Instead of any innocent plays, I insisted on having her teach me fencing, tell me about military tactics, famous heroes and battles, and other such things. I even insisted on calling her my 'master' and mentor. I had to have been a terrible burden on her...But it was the commander's patient wisdom and example that inspired me to join the army as soon as I came of age. And you know the rest.”
“I was only a lieutenant at the time,” Miragrave said, recalling the past with a faint smile. “And you were not a burden at all. Many times I have thought back to those carefree days and wondered how your highness turned out since. Now I see the answer before me. You don't believe how lucky I feel for that.”
“Master...” Yuliana smiled meekly and looked down at her feet.
“Then, there is no doubt?” the gray-haired man standing nearby asked. “The girl is who she appears to be?”
“Yes,” the commander nodded. “Those memories are not a lie. As if there ever was any doubt. This is her highness, Yuliana Da Via Brannan of Langoria and no other.”
“We are in luck, then,” the man said. “Ever since the news of her abrupt...departure from Walhollem, the Emperor has expressed a great interest towards meeting her. How nice of her to come to us. Spares us the effort of looking for her.”
“Vizier...” The Colonel frowned at his words.
“Excuse me, commander,” he retorted. “But I'd like to remind you that while here, I am his majesty's mouth, eyes, ears, and every other part, save for the manhood. That I'd like to keep to my own name. You've heard the reports. Our man at Grelden perished a bare week ago in what appears to have been a covert raid by the Langorian special forces. Eyewitnesses insist they saw the princess in town at the time that it happened. I must say, I share his majesty's curiosity in the matter. The princess comes with us and it's not up for debate.”
Sighing, Miragrave gestured at the man and introduced him to Yuliana,
“Vizier Rubeus Thelonius Attiker, his majesty's internal affairs advisor. Forgive me, Yuliana. Orders are orders. You need to come with us to the capital.”
“That is fine by me,” Yuliana answered. “There are things I would like to discuss with his majesty myself.”
“You will have the chance,” the Vizier said. “That is, of course, after we have completed our current mission. Which sadly means your highness is going to have to go through this little excursion in our company also.”
“Surely you don't mean that?” the commander berated him. “It's too dangerous!”
“What other choice do we have?” Attiker spread his hands. “Leave her to the town guard to wait for our return, and you can be sure it will be the last we ever see of her highness. And neither can we afford to detach manpower from our already modest crew to watch her. The only viable solution is that she joins us then. Her...er, retinue, on the other hand, is free to go as they please. Their presence is not demanded.”
“Too bad, wherever the princess goes, we go,” Riswelze defiantly announced and neither Izumi nor Yuliana imagined it was because of her boundless loyalty.
“They are…?” Miragrave eyed the two women behind Yuliana again.
“Ah, they're...friends?” Yuliana struggled to answer. “As I see you already know, I was forced to leave my home due to...complex reasons, and these two have been kindly helping me along the way.”
“Hmm?” The Colonel's curiosity didn't appear sated. “So you've only met them recently, yes?”
“T-that's right, though it already feels like a lifetime ago!” Yuliana felt uneasy about the way the question was posed and hurried to change the topic. “But why the Felorn Woods? What would the Emperor want in such a place? There should be nothing of interest in there, so far as I'm aware.”
“That would be classified information,” Vizier Attiker answered.
“Classified, because the reason is too embarrassing to be uttered aloud,” Miragrave wryly remarked. “For some time now, his majesty has expressed an interest in mythical sources of power. He despatches one pointless expedition after another in pursuit of campfire stories and folklore. Our unit got the short end of the stick. Apparently, there is one such place of power somewhere deep within the forest. What was it again? A source of...everlasting life?”
“The Felorn spring is not a simple myth, mind you,” the white-haired older man sitting on a chest in the corner suddenly spoke, while blowing his nose on a napkin. “The Divines prophesied its existence. And we've had multiple oneiromancers independently verify the general location. All these accounts bear striking similarities, to the point that they cannot be rationally dismissed. Think whatever you will of the legend of Agelaos itself, but there is no need to doubt our sources. Whatever miracles the Darkwood hides, it is worth investigating, wouldn't you say?”
“And I used to look up to the famous Court Wizard Yornwhal when I was a little girl,” the commander replied. “Only to learn he is a man willing to pursue childish treasures with daydreams for evidence. Adulthood is full of disappointments, isn't it?”
“When did this rascal ever look up to me!” the wizard bemoaned. “Though I knew her father and cured her of a terrible fever once, all she has for me is contempt. Contempt!”
“Trust me, I know only too well what you have to endure, Master,” Yuliana sighed and told the Colonel.
“Yet, I would consider us blessed, if only this farcical quest were all we had to deal with,” Miragrave said, her countenance turning darker. “Alas, it is not.”
“Hm? What do you mean?”
The Colonel stood up from her chair behind the command table and walked to the open tent front, gazing over the fields.
“No matter what his majesty says—to me, the search for this well of wonders was and remains a secondary purpose.”
The sudden shift in the mood seemed weird to Yuliana, as she watched her past acquaintance's turned back.
“Hmph,” Attiker made a sound. “She derides our goals and tries to pose as the voice of reason, while pursuing phantoms herself. Ha. Nothing but pots and kettles here.”
“Now that I recall, your unit wears hunting banners,” Yuliana said to the commander. “What is it that you hunt?”
For a while longer, Miragrave remained silent, maybe out of reluctance towards the subject, or simply trying to decide where to begin. Then, after this lengthy pause, she finally spoke,
“Since twenty years ago, Tratovia has had a military pact with the cirelo of Ledarnia on the old continent.”
“Also a highly classified state secret, I should add,” the Vizier notified her.
Ignoring him, the Colonel went on,
“As part of our exchange program with the elves, once every year, we send select officers-in-training overseas. To show them what life is like on the front lines. To incur genuine wartime experience. To teach our soldiers the true meaning of prudence...and fear. Some come back wiser for it, resolved. Some come back broken. And some—do not.”
She turned around and her piercing gaze swept over the guests one by one.
“Less than a week ago, one of our ships was found washed ashore in the north-western Luctretz. Intact but empty. Not a soul was left aboard, and not a single corpse. Only blood, in copious amounts. The ship was identified as the Ikanos, dispatched nine months ago. The vessel did reach Ledarnia, that much is certain. Our allies confirmed that it departed back in safety as well, with all the cadets on board and accounted for. Yet something happened on that ship during the weeks on the sea. A massacre.”
Izumi had a hard time understanding where the story was going, but she could recognize the tension building up in the tent. She could see the look in Yuliana's rounded eyes, a look of shock and fear that she hadn't seen there before. It couldn’t have been for a simple fight. Something else was involved.
“Yes,” Miragrave nodded grimly. “There is a chance—a slim one but real—that a daemon made it on that ship. And is now here.”
A heavy silence took over the audience, as they let the meaning of her words sink in.
But the silence was soon broken.
“I still believe you are jumping to conclusions,” the Vizier said. “There are too many holes in this theory to even begin to count. First of all, it is common knowledge that daemons cannot cross flowing water.”
“Yes, the sea should have been an eternal, impassable barrier between us and the nightmare of Amarno,” the Colonel replied. “But man gave them the means.”
“So it sailed to us! Like Kupid or Franqoir?” Attiker argued. “Don't be ridiculous, Marafel. They are beasts, mindless monsters, nothing more. For one of them to infiltrate our ship, somehow containing its murderous impulses for long enough to set sail, nobody suspecting a thing—it's preposterous. What you're suggesting is no different from a tiger dressing up as an attendant to board an elevator to the king's quarters, completely ignoring the kitchen along the way. No! It’s unthinkable. The cirelo mages would've detected the beast long before it made it into the harbor. The Ikanos was hit by pirates. Pirates with an overwhelming advantage in numbers. And that's that.”
“Pirates leaving a captured Imperial ship to drift?” the woman retorted. “Pardon me, Attiker, but that seems even more absurd to me than a tiger riding an elevator.”
“Then it was a sickness. Poisoned food stock, a mutiny. Collective madness. A great sea monster. Whatever. There are countless more sensible ways to explain the ship's fate.”
“More convenient ways, don't you mean?” Miragrave sighed. “Anything, anything else would be better. But the investigator's reports on the site leave very few alternatives. No matter how you deny reality, I know better.”
“Oh, I'm the one denying reality? Wouldn't you prefer it were a daemon instead?”
“...”
“Sadly, no matter how you excel in academics, there is no way for a woman to be promoted above the rank of a Colonel, when it's peacetime. So you will become 'Marafel the Daemonslayer'! You think bringing that creature’s head will earn you the Emperor's grace? No matter! Don't waste your breath answering. Your ambitions are of no concern to me. So long as you remember your present orders.”
“Yes, yes,” the woman sighed and gave up on arguing. “'Since you are going the same way, escort Attiker to the spring'. Our majesty has an odd sense of humor at times. And like you, no grasp of danger. Otherwise, his priorities would be...different.”
Miragrave returned to her chair and sank wearily into it.
“I was once a cadet myself,” she said. “One of the chosen, an 'elite'. A fate I've cursed ever since. I saw in Ledarnia things no human ever should. Before the shadow of Amarno, the word elite the way we understand it—means nothing at all. Babies. Before the might of daemons, we are all babies, you and I.”
Before her lightless gaze and the despair lurking behind it, even Attiker was forced to remain silent and avert his face.
“By our calculations, it can't have been much longer than a week since the Ikanos reached ashore,” Miragrave soon returned to usual and said. “Even if our fears prove correct, the daemon can't have left Luctretz yet. It's still here, in this province and within our reach. No matter how we are babies, there are a hundred of us. I will hunt that monster down and slay it, one way or the other. Even if it costs me my rank and my life.”
“She's obsessed,” the Vizier shook his head and told the others, before leaving the tent through the second doorway to the side.
“Forgive me, Yuliana,” the commander soon added in a softer tone. “The Divines have finally brought our paths together again, and it has to happen under such dire circumstances...”
“No.” Making up her mind, the princess shook her head and took a step forward. “After learning everything, I am glad that it did. I may still have ways to go before I can match you, Master, but allow me to help carry this burden with you now, however I am able. It's at times like this that we shouldn't be looking at flags and ranks or borders, but join hands against a common threat.”
“Look at you,” Miragrave said to her. “Haven't you grown into a splendid princess. No, a knight.”
Yuliana's smile at those words of praise easily surpassed in brightness the frail sun looming behind the clouds of noon.
2
“I...did not imagine we'd be dining in imperial company today,” Riswelze said, absentmindedly mixing her portion of light meat soup with a spoon. “Or any other day, ever.”
“Well, same here,” Izumi mumbled, having already emptied her modest bowl. “I don't think I've played a game like this before. For the first time, I'd appreciate a nifty datalog or a glossary to explain a few things for me. A chapter summary would be nice too.”
They were sitting on supply crates left among other clutter by the road, on the edge of the camp. As a member of royalty and a military officer, Yuliana had been invited to have lunch together with the Imperial leaders—an offer which she of course accepted. Being only simple civilians and commoners, Izumi and Riswelze were naturally left out. Though they were given food the same as the knights, they chose to keep a polite distance. Had the Imperials been aware of the pair's past deeds, the treatment probably would've been nowhere near as hospitable. Knowing this, the two were fairly content with their lot. Even if the situation was strange.
“Oh right, you said you were from another world,” the assassin said. “I keep forgetting. What kind of world was it, anyway?”
“Well, more complicated, but also kind of easier,” Izumi replied.
“Easier, how?”
The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
“Like, right now, I can't stop thinking about how handy it was to have a café and a convenience store right around the block. At this rate, I'm going to forget the flavor of potato chips, and there's no ice cream either. Honestly, just a can of soda would make me feel a lot better now...”
“Yup, don't understand one bit.”
“That's right, no one here can understand what I'm going through,” Izumi whined. “Anyway. So these monsters everybody keeps talking about, they're from another continent? I feel like I'm missing something important, having never heard of those things.”
“You mean the daemons? I don't know too much about them myself, to be honest,” Riswelze answered. “They're just folklore over here. No one's ever seen one. No human—save for the Imperials, apparently—has been to Amarno for centuries. But, the story goes that the cirelo and the cruleans are still fighting out there, to this day. Kind of hard to believe, if you ask me. A war that has gone on for way longer than most people live, and there's no winner to be found. How's that even possible?”
“Cirelo...” Izumi repeated. “Why do I feel like I've heard that word before?”
“Fallen elves. The sorcerer at Haywell was one, remember?”
“Oh, that boy. So what made them ‘fall’?”
“It's kind of a long story,” Riswelze shrugged.
“Are we in a hurry somewhere?”
The assassin played with her spoon for a bit, gathering her thoughts, before beginning her explanation,
“A long time ago, elves ruled in Amarno. There were other races living there too, sure, but it was their continent, entrusted to them by the Gods themselves, after the Golden Age. So they like to claim, anyway. They also say it was downright paradise. Beautiful, massive cities of white stone, gold, silver, bronze, and brass; enormous waterfalls shining in all rainbow colors; dense, vast jungles with exotic animals and delicious fruit, magic everywhere, and all that shit. A real La La Land. Then, nobody knows exactly how or where, but the daemons showed up. As a result, everybody else was either killed or chased out.”
“Just like that?” Izumi furrowed her brows.
“Yep. The books and songs tend to play it up nice and family-friendly, labeling it a War of Tears, a War on Nightmares, and so on, that was so barely lost after a lot of bold heroics. But my guess is, what happened there was no war. When one side tosses the rest into the sea like that, it can only have been one atrocious butchery. No way the elves left willingly, but at the end of the day, they had no choice but to hop on their ships and evacuate the whole continent. Some never quite got over it. They swore undying vengeance on the enemy and resolved to get their lands back, by any means necessary. Over time, that oath became a curse. The elves were supposed to be the nice guys, see? The Gods' favorites. Serve the light, respect the spirits, live in harmony with the earth...that sort of thing. Most of them wanted to just get over their loss and start anew elsewhere, so they settled on the island of Alderia and stayed there. But these other guys, the Oathmakers—they went, 'screw that, we just want to kill the bastards who killed our families and took our homes! And anybody who isn't with us is against us, be they gods or beasts.' So they stopped with the Divine worship and cut ties with the rest of their folk. That's how the story goes. The elves call themselves, 'emiri', or 'walkers of dawn', while 'cirelo' means 'dwellers of dusk' in the old tongue. Like night and day, that's just how deep their differences had become.”
“So, did they ever get any of their lands back?” Izumi asked.
“Weeell, they did try,” Riswelze answered, already fully in storyteller mode, pulling closer. “This is a bit cool part, really. About two hundred years ago—two-forty or some shit, don't remember, but anyway—the cirelo allied with a bunch of other races. Humans were left out, but the more prominent ones played a part somehow. Together, they amassed a huge fleet and sailed overseas to kick daemon ass. It was called Operation ‘Dayglow’. They say the sea was so full of ships that day, you could've crossed it just by hopping from deck to deck. It started out well. In a few months, the allied forces took back a good third of the continent and a bunch of pretty cities. Mysteriously enough, there was practically no resistance. Every place stood empty, abandoned, as if the enemy had just packed up and left. Why conquer all those cities and then leave them unused? Maybe they all went and died of loneliness? It looked too good to be true.”
“I think I can see where this is going,” Izumi said.
“Wait for it!” the girl hushed her. “Okay, so the elves had promised to divide Amarno between the allies like, 'whatever you set your flag on is yours to keep, no strings attached'. Pretty generous of them, huh? That's just how bad they wanted their homes back, and this promise kept the alliance together. Most lesser races were pretty thrilled to get their hands on the elven lands, or expand their old. But among them, there was an exception. As soon as they pulled ashore, the cruleans only took a chunk of the east coast for themselves and stopped right there. They were supposed to be the fiercest of warriors and age-old rivals of the elves, yet instead of occupying any more free territory, they were content with only a narrow province. They put away their swords and started fortifying the place like no tomorrow, setting up these enormous walls—cruleans are good with their hands, see? Then, the other allies came to see their buddies, busy at work, and were reasonably confused. 'What are you doing? The job’s not finished yet, we’re only getting started here.' And to that, the cruleans simply said, 'don't kick the sleeping dogs, and easy comes easy goes.' And they refused to take a step further. But the cirelo, they were up for a fight. That's what they came for in the first place, revenge. 'So be it’, they said, ‘but don't come begging us for more when we own everything'. And they kept on advancing, taking back mile after mile, bent on reviving the glory of their ancestors, and for a while, they kinda did.”
“Just for a while, then?”
“Yeah, as if it could last!” Riswelze gave up on keeping the suspense and smacked her knee. “The daemons were just taking a nap! I think everybody saw it coming, but really, what happened? The stories are kinda vague about how it went down. Despite all the huff and puff, the avengers got kicked out for the second time. It didn’t end well for anybody. A few tribes bet their everything and went extinct on that trip. Ultimately, all the cirelo were left with was the small province of Ledarnia on the coast southeast. They dug into a valley between the mountains and the sea and held it, determined to fight to the last pointy-ears. And somehow, they're still there, in that rocky little vale. Though the losses were...maybe not entirely worth it.”
“Sucks, but that went by the book,” Izumi said. “So I take it they're pretty strong then, these daemons?”
“Why do you think humans got left out of the alliance? Waste of space. You met the elf guy. The cirelo are pretty tough, but clearly not tough enough. So we don’t have much of a shot in those games.”
“That makes this Amarno a non-player zone then? I've been trying to come up with a travel plan, but without even a map, it's a bit tough. I could miss some important events if I only roam around at random. Oh, what a pain. How many continents are there in this world, anyway? Yule told me not all of it is even mapped yet.”
“Humans live mainly here in Noertia,” Riswelze explained, counting with her fingers. “Some folks live also in Estua in the south, where the merchant came from, though that's generally considered a big island. Then there's also the great southern continent and—ah, ask somebody else. I'm no professor, ma'am.”
“Didn't go to school, huh.”
“Screw that. I know enough, don't you think? What’s the point of traveling anyway? Just stick to where people live and you’ll be safe. Can’t make money elsewhere.”
“Setting aside the problem of money, you won’t become a hero if you play it safe.”
“A hero? Oh, whatever. If it's maps you want, I bet these guys have a plethora of them.” Riswelze nodded towards the tents behind. “Though they might not be too willing to share.”
“Hmm...” Izumi glanced at the tents as well, lost in thought.
“Don’t tell me you’re actually thinking about stealing from these people?” the girl asked. “Professional advice: forget it. Not worth it.”
“That’s not what I’m thinking,” Izumi denied. “That spring—sounds like it could be real, after all. Would I really be able to get young again?”
“Maybe, if you can beat them to it. They might be stingy with their maps, but this is something else. The Imperials get their hands on the magic juice first and that’s the last you’ll see of it.”
“Well, races are always fun.”
“I don’t think fun is the word I’d use here...”
“——!”
Suddenly, as the two were immersed in this exchange, a melodic whistle sounded in the air. It was a bit too loud and consistent to belong to a bird. That seemingly innocuous sound stirred an immediate reaction in the Imperial camp. It was an alarm signal by a watchman, indicating that something suspicious was approaching. Even those with soup left in their bowls set aside their spoons, put on their helmets and rushed to take their predesignated positions.
Seeing their hurry, Izumi and Riswelze left to look for Yuliana as well.
It was already noon, but the sunlight failed to warm up the air and the damp mist still hung persistently over the fields around Varnam.
The camp was set deliberately by the road so that the knights could easily inspect anyone approaching the town. This was not about to be a routine inspection, however. Following exemplary discipline, the knights adopted a fan-like formation, those with tall shields and spears at the front and archers in the back. Their meticulous preparations might have looked blown out of proportion to a layman, but it wasn't any average bandit they were expecting. The watchman wouldn't have alarmed the camp over any simple merchant wagon or a harmless vagabond. He'd been instructed to give the signal only when detecting something clearly out of the ordinary.
“What is it?”
Commander Miragrave took her position at the center of the formation, where she could easily observe and control the situation, accompanied by Yuliana and the court wizard. As a non-combatant, Vizier Attiker wisely chose to remain further back behind the knights. Though Izumi wanted to get a better view, Yuliana gestured for them to remain where they were, near the Vizier.
“A single man on foot,” a Lieutenant reported the sighting. “Armed and armored. No identifying insignia, behaves oddly. Wouldn't respond when hailed.”
“On foot...” the Colonel repeated. “Surely he did not walk through the whole principality. Archers, ready.”
The bowmen reached for arrows and set them on their bows, eyes fixed on the road ahead.
“The stories say that daemons have hides harder than iron,” Yuliana noted. “Is that true? Will simple bows be enough?”
“Simple bows, but not simple arrows,” Miragrave answered her. “Heads forged of pure dimeritium, engraved with the rune of immolation. They penetrate two inches of steel and set ablaze anything they hit. And daemons have a weakness for fire. Each one costs a fortune, but not even a God would walk away from it. Now quiet.”
Everyone waited with bated breath.
Waited.
And waited.
Nothing moved in the mist.
It was starting to seem like the whole alarm had been a prank or a misunderstanding. But just as Izumi thought that, her eyes picked up a faint shadow swaying up ahead.
Some two hundred feet away, a vague man's figure slowly emerged. He walked slowly, with difficulty, either exhausted or wounded. Several times, he stumbled on his feet and nearly fell. As the man came closer, everyone could see he was a knight in a deep blue uniform, his head bare and bloodied.
“It can't be...” At the sight of the uniform, Yuliana drew a sharp breath.
“Halt!” When the unknown knight came close enough to be seen in detail, one of the watchmen called out. “In the name of his Imperial Majesty, stop where you stand!”
Still the man staggered on, searching for the source of the voice with his confused gaze. It seemed he hadn't noticed the interception yet.
“STOP! IF YOU VALUE YOUR LIFE, STOP!” The order was repeated, louder.
It was then that the man saw the crowd of knights blocking the road and stopped in dismay. He was now close enough for everyone to see his dirtied face.
And, identifying the man, Yuliana failed to hold her voice,
“Brian!”
She wasn't mistaken. It was none other than Sir Brian Mallory, the Langorian knight they had met yesterday. Alone, without his helmet or his squad, the man’s reappearance here was as ghastly as it was unexpected.
“Y-your highness…?” hearing her voice, the man took a step forward.
“STOP!” the Imperial knight hollered again.
The archers strained their bowstrings, awaiting the killing order.
“Don't! I know this man!” Yuliana turned to Miragrave to save his life. “He's a knight officer from my kingdom, sent by my father...”
“Quiet! Stand back!” the Colonel swiftly silenced the princess and gestured to her to keep behind. “Daemons have the ability to assume the form of any creature they've met. It is too soon to tell if he's what he appears to be.”
“That's...”
Miragrave took a step forward and shouted,
“Soldier! State your name and rank!”
“I...Who is this...?” Brian answered.
“I ask the questions! Name and rank! Do you wish to get shot?”
“I am...I am Brian Mallory of the Langorian Royal Army, Captain,” he answered with hesitation. “I was...sent on a classified mission, to retrieve her highness. A task which I abandoned of my own volition, to be of assistance to her...I've no more ties to my fatherland. I'm not your enemy. Please…”
“It's him,” Yuliana desperately appealed. “It's all true. On my honor, it's him.”
“Damn it, anyone could learn that by torture,” the commander wasn't that easily convinced. “Ask him something only he and you will know.”
The girl desperately thought for a moment, shaking her head,
“Um, your birthday! When is your birthday?”
“Th...the twenty-first of Lenzith.”
“It's correct.”
“Too basic! Ask him something harder! A memory only you two share!”
“I—I don't know him that well!” the princess cried. “We were cadets together, but in different units, and I never pried into his private life...I can't think of anything, please spare him!”
“Yornwhal?” Miragrave turned her attention from Yuliana to the magician.
The Court Wizard answered with a helpless shrug,
“The attire he wears is genuine steel and cloth, not mimicry, that much is certain. The blood on his face is human blood, whether his own or not. I don't perceive any malice or bloodthirst from this man. Beyond that, your guess is as good as mine.”
“Don't be daft, Miragrave!” Vizier Attiker was losing his patience as well. “Daemons are beasts! They do not speak! Will you have to kill the poor bastard before you're satisfied?”
“...Yornwhal, can you quell the flames if we shoot his leg?”
“The rune of Yodith? No, I cannot!”
“Master!” It was getting too much for Yuliana to bear. “He’s an innocent man! You'll kill him!”
“...”
Commander Miragrave shifted her gaze from Yuliana to the exhausted knight on the road and thought for a moment.
Then, she finally said,
“Daemon impersonation is never perfect. They do not understand our anatomy. There will be something missing, a body part, a toe, a finger, an ear—it will expose him.” She then raised her voice and ordered poor Sir Mallory. “Soldier, strip!”
“What?” Sir Brian was visibly confused.
“I said strip! Take off your clothes! Your armor! Your weapon! All of it and throw them away! Be quick, or you will have an arrow in your eye!”
Anxious and confused, but with no other choice, the Langorian knight started to unbuckle his belt and threw it away together with his sword. Then the chest plate. The shinguards. His surcoat, the boots, the shirt, and the trousers...
“Yes, I said all of it!” Miragrave answered to the knight's questioning gesture. He was down to his cotton underwear, his muscular upper body, arms, and legs left fully bared, but was given no mercy.
“Javiése, woman!” the vizier swore and shook his head, still convinced daemons couldn't even understand speech and that it was all senseless horseplay.
But Miragrave Marafel wouldn't relent.
Soon enough, the man stood fully naked before the scrutinizing gazes of the hundred knights, his princess, and the other bystanders.
Feeling deeply sorry for the comrade she had first abandoned and now led to this disgrace, Yuliana bashfully looked away.
“Turn around! Until I say stop. Slowly! No sudden moves!”
As the man kept turning around, his arms raised, everyone could count his toes, fingers, ears, and other parts prominent on the human body, and note that none were missing. While he had blood splatters on his face, he didn't seem to be otherwise wounded. No matter how you looked at him and from which angle, he was a regular—if not above average—human male, who had taken good care of his mortal shell.
“Satisfied?” Brian asked after a sixth turnaround, sounding fairly frustrated with the open examination. At this point, he was probably starting to think that being shot might not have been all that bad.
“Well, he does seem to be sufficiently...equipped, for a man,” the commander noted and nodded to her attendant. The Lieutenant, in turn, shouted to his colleague from another kingdom,
“You may get dressed! But leave your weapons and armor!”