1
Izumi didn’t feel well. Instead of joining her friends again, the earthling spent some time strolling by herself. She walked slowly across Varnam, along the central street, all the way to the northern exit, then back again to the Imperial camp, barely paying attention to her surroundings. Her mind was occupied by an internal conflict.
For as long as she could remember, Izumi had wanted to get into another world.
In the beginning, what had led this desire to blossom in her heart?
Perhaps as a child, her driving motivation had been a pure one; to become a hero who defends people against evil. Evil represented exclusively by unfeeling monsters. Such simple, clear-cut threats didn’t exist in her own reality, so the only way to fulfil this innocent dream was to travel into another altogether.
Over time, as Izumi grew, her goal gradually shifted.
Instead of looking for a way to bring salvation to others, it became a matter of saving herself. She wanted an escape route because the common everyday life was too uninspiring and painful. There were many like her. Ironically enough, it had been largely her dream and the pursuit of it which had made things so.
Either way, unlike many others of her kind, Izumi had found what she had been looking for—escape.
In this world, whatever troubles appeared were permissible to be settled with a sword. Or so it had seemed. The troubles of her original world so easily left behind, Izumi had the time to consider other, secondary matters again, including her views on heroism. But as she thought about it, she soon arrived at an alarming realization.
Since coming to Ortho, she had killed a lot of people.
Naturally, she had expected it. She had prepared herself for the possibility that she might have to. Not every person could be good or worth saving, as was said. If it was a matter of kill or be killed, then the answer was easy and straightforward.
Perhaps too easy.
It was indeed a lot of people she had killed.
In fact, since coming to this world, she had killed nothing but people.
Where was the evil?
Instead of saving anyone from monsters, wasn’t she called a monster herself?
Izumi was disturbed by how little it disturbed her. It was as if she completely lacked that essential buffer between thoughts and deeds that should exist in every person.
The earlier conversation with Riswelze had calmed her somewhat, but facing another person in combat again had rekindled the anxiety. Whether it was for real or play made no difference. She had nearly killed the man. Not because he was an enemy, because her life depended on it, because someone else’s life depended on it, or because she was upset. Only because she saw that she could. Because it had become too easy.
This might be bad.
Perhaps a week ago she wouldn’t have cared so much. But now, a compass of morality certainly existed for Izumi, even if not within herself.
At this rate, I’ll end up alone again.
No matter what she did or tried, it seemed Izumi could only show her poor points to Yuliana. She hadn’t intended to scold the girl so much, but when it came to the art of combat, her mindset changed altogether. There was no perceivable way to “take it easy”. Whenever she saw the girl make an easy mistake, Izumi could only think about how it was going to be the death of her.
Without Izumi, the princess would die—she was certain of it.
During her brief stay here, she had learned that many dangers existed in Ortho.
Evil men, wizards, trolls, goblins, griffins, manticores, dragons—and daemons.
If it was a fight against another person, Izumi was confident she wouldn’t lose. But was she strong enough to prevail in a fight against beings she had never seen before? She had no way of even guessing. And if her present ability turned out to be inadequate, then was there any way for her to get stronger still? Having been denied the video game options of leveling up or enchanting her weapon, and unable to cast spells, Izumi was limited to her existence as “a human of Earth”.
Regardless of her experience and knowledge, sooner or later, she'd reach her limit. Instead of becoming more powerful, she was only getting weaker by the day, as old age slowly but surely ate away at her cognition, nerves, bones, and muscles.
Izumi wasn't particularly troubled by the idea of her own death.
But she had found people she couldn’t imagine losing.
This might be really, really bad.
Yuliana wouldn’t really leave her. Not after everything that had happened. Izumi had believed so. But lately, hadn’t the princess acted oddly cold with her. She still kept on talking about her mission to the other continent.
It has nothing to do with her—as nonchalant as Izumi had acted, those words had hurt.
She’ll leave me behind—and then die.
When she regained her senses, Izumi found herself in the midst of the tents again.
The mist had largely cleared, but it helped visibility little, as the sun was about to set. The coming of the dark seemed terribly foreboding, almost metaphorical. She had been able to save the princess from peril once, but the longer their journey went on, the harder it was bound to become.
Am I here to protect Yule...or are the Imperials protecting us all?
She sullenly looked down and continued to walk.
“Hm?”
Suddenly, an unexpected observation caught Izumi's attention.
“This is...!”
Somewhere between the tents, her nose picked up the strangest scent. She was hardly a hunting dog, but the scent was distinct enough for even her human senses to identify without fail.
It shouldn't have been possible.
It could've only been an illusion, a hallucination.
Nevertheless, a wild hope made Izumi's heart race and, sniffing the air, she started to look for the source of that scent.
Her chase led her to one of the larger tents.
No doubt, the aroma was coming from there, through the open entryway.
Without hesitation, she stepped inside.
“This smell is——it's coffee!! It’s the scent of coffee!”
What she had blindly stumbled into was none other than the lion's den—the Colonel's private tent.
A bit smaller than the main command tent, it was still large enough for people to stand in without bending their backs, with a wooden table and some chairs in the middle, a camping bed in the back, as well as a wooden folding screen, behind which to get changed and freshen up with an appropriate level of privacy.
On the table, there was a large steel pot, with steam gently rising from the beak.
The commander herself sat behind the table, in the company of the old wizard Yornwhal to the right, engaged in a casual conversation over cups filled with hot, near-black liquid. Interrupted, they both turned to look at the woman with surprised faces.
“That's the real deal, isn’t it! It's coffee, isn't it?” Too excited by the discovery to care about her dreadful breach of basic etiquette and military regulations, Izumi examined the pot from all directions, knelt before it and inhaled the familiar, strong scent, like a pagan before the altar of her deity. “Oh, my! There's no mistake! It's just what I've been looking for! I can't believe it! I already thought it didn't exist! To find it in such a place—this is a miracle! A miracle! The eighth wonder of the world! Where-oh-where did you find it!? You have to tell me! Please tell me! I'll do anything you want, if only you tell me this!”
At the sudden intrusion of the uninvited guest, the old wizard was the first to recover,
“Ahem, as I was saying, it is a drink made of certain beans, from eastern Estua. An emissary brought a few sacks as a gift to his majesty a short while ago, of which he was gracious enough to spare me some. It has mysterious, revitalizing effects, or so I'm told. As far as I understand, the beans are first dried, then carefully roasted under the scorching sun, only possible in the exceedingly dry climate of Estua. And before extraction, they’re ground to—”
“Yes, that's coffee!” Izumi nodded. “It's coffee if there ever was any!”
“Eh, ko-phee? What language is that? I thought the Estuans had a different name for it? I am certain they claimed the invention was all theirs. How peculiar...”
Izumi wasn't listening. Like a child at a candy shop, she clung to the corner of the table, staring at the pot, as if it contained the very elixir of eternal life in it.
Looking at her, a faint smile spread on Colonel Miragrave's lips as she graciously inquired,
“Perhaps you'd like some?”
In a moment, Izumi had joined the Imperials around the table, another cup in front of her. She was willing to fight the entire encampment for just a drop, but fortunately it hadn't been necessary.
“Aah! This is the best!” she savored every little sip. “It tastes just the way I imagined. No, even better than I remembered! Heaven is what it is!”
“Really?” Yornwhal wrinkled his brow at the exaggerated reaction and looked into his cup. “Not to speak poorly of his majesty's gifts, but I find it terribly bitter for my palate...”
“It's an acquired taste,” Izumi said. “You can put in a bit of milk and sugar if you want to, but I think that's just waste. This deep, unadulterated flavor is just the best…!”
“Hm, milk and sugar? What manner of an alchemist came up with such a recipe? Does it really 'reinvigorate one's body and spirit', as they say?”
“Of course, of course! I just can't get going without it. Really, it’s been so long since the last time, I thought the headache was going to kill me...I could do without the withdrawal symptoms...”
“Withdrawal?” The wizard and the colonel looked at their cups, a bit alarmed. “It's addictive...?”
“Perhaps his majesty should be more careful with gifts from Estua in the future,” Miragrave suggested, before turning her gaze back to Izumi. “Madam, you were with Yuliana, yes? By her words, she owes you a great debt. Would you mind elaborating? Who are you, exactly, and how did you come to meet her highness? Pardon, but you don't look Langorian to me.”
“Oh, did I forget? I thought I had already introduced myself. I'm Izumi. Itaka Izumi. Just an adventurer, from a galaxy far, far away. I met Yule by chance and helped her a little on the way, so we ended up traveling together. Um, what else should I say? I'm just trying to see the world and have some fun while I'm at it.”
“...Galaxy?” The wizard repeated.
“I mean continent! A country! Something or the other. The point is, it's far. You probably wouldn't know the place even if I told you the name. Yes, you could even say it's 'worlds apart', ufufufu!”
Again, Izumi was the only one to chuckle at her own wit.
“An adventurer,” Miragrave repeated. “There aren't many in the world of today who can say such carefree things. Far less those of your age.”
“Even for an officer, bringing up my age is too rude,” Izumi answered. “I met one general a while ago and he at least had the courtesy to lie and call me young.”
“My apologies. I meant nothing by it.”
“I believe you,” Izumi said, happily sipping her coffee. “You don't seem like a bad person, Mira-rin.”
“Ever flattered,” the Colonel replied, sighing helplessly at the excessive familiarity. Again, Izumi's age earned her a free pass with behavior that probably wouldn't have been tolerated from any other guest. “You have been traveling with Yuliana for a while then? Do you know, where is she headed? Why leave home all by herself? Is it true what they say, that she has been called a traitor in the Langorian court?”
If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
“So it seems,” Izumi answered. “Though I hear it was only a misunderstanding.”
“A misunderstanding?”
“Yeah. Yule wanted to save the world, but her daddy wouldn't let her, so she took off.”
“Pardon me?” Miragrave frowned. “Save the world, what do you mean by that?”
“Um, there was some kind of prophecy—how did it go again? I wasn't paying too much attention. The world is in decay and needs a software update, so people must go to some tower at the ends of the earth to fight for a championship. And the winner gets to be a messiah and one wish granted as payment. I think that was the gist of it.”
“You mean the Covenant?” Yornwhal asked.
“Ah, that was it.”
“I don't believe it!” the wizard looked astonished by the news. “She's going to the Trophaeum? She would—by herself? Has the child lost her mind?”
“Well, that's the deal.”
“Yornwhal?” The commander didn't seem to understand the topic. “What is she talking about?”
“Ah, yes, the Convenant mythos isn't very well known in Tratovia outside the academic circles. That’s a shame. I understand it is not particularly meaningful to know to a layman, but this is our world's history we're talking about. By the calendar, a thousand years have passed since the previous Night of the Covenant. The winter solstice this year marks the end of the thirty-third cycle. I see her highness is well-read.”
“The story is true then?” Izumi asked him. “There really is a tower and a competition?”
“Ah, yes. It is,” the wizard nodded. “Since ancient times, champions of all the free races of the world have gathered at the root of the Tower of the Gods on the destined night. Once the gates are opened at dusk, they race together to the summit, challenging the trials of the tower, as well as one another. Through this sacred ritual, the victor gains the power to restore life to our degrading world once more and is anointed a God himself. I won’t begin to guess how much of that is true, but records exist of both the Trophaeum, as well as the champions who left for the games.”
“Godhood? Somehow, I have a hard time believing that,” Miragrave waved her hand dismissively.
“Well, me two,” Izumi said.
“I can see why you would,” the wizard admitted. “But I wouldn't be so confident if I were you. This year could well be the last we all have left to live. For there is another prophecy.”
“A prophecy?”
“Yes. On the thirty-third cycle of the Covenant, a champion arrives in our world from another. A warrior different from anyone else. And that warrior will take apart the Covenant, bringing about the Age of Chaos. All built by men will be reduced to ashes and we living beings perish. Ahaha, I see now. The princess has heard this as well and wants to preserve the cycle. Bless that child!”
“She believes this tall tale to be true?” the commander asked. “Do you?”
“Why, I am not a thousand years old yet! I don't know, and what I don’t know, I won’t say. I can read books the same as anyone, but being able to write them too, I am more than aware that they may easily lie. But I do know his majesty believes it.”
“News to me,” Miragrave wryly remarked. “It's starting to seem to me like his majesty will believe anything his counselors tell him. Where is this Tower of legend then? Should we not seize it and see what we can learn from it?”
The wizard looked uncomfortably down in his hands and sighed, before answering,
“Amarno. It is in Amarno.”
The Colonel's smile turned twisted and she made a gesture with her hand, like a magician showing the coin on her palm had disappeared.
“Goodbye, world.”
“Hmm?” Izumi frowned at their exchange. “It’s hard to get to?”
“Hard?” Miragrave repeated. “Impossible. Have you forgotten? That land is all lost. To the daemons.”
“I've been wondering about this for some time,” Izumi said, “but what are these daemons, really? No one can tell me. So far as I know, there are monsters on this continent too. Nobody seems to mind the huge rock giants that could squash a town or two by one bad step. If a griffin kills a noble on a hunting trip, it's just an amusing anecdote to pass around at a banquet. An army’s worth of folk has gone missing in the woods nearby, and apparently an Emperor too, but people still treat it like any old forest. So what is it about daemons that makes them stand out?”
The woman's question resulted in a heavy silence.
The oil lamp hanging from the support beam above flickered, making the shadows dance.
The Colonel sat in her chair, an extinguished look on her otherwise graceful, picturesque face. Right from her, the Court Wizard appeared ten years older than he was, biting his lip and staring at the table with a look of resignation.
Right as Izumi was about to lose her patience, Miragrave broke the silence,
“There are monsters out there. And then there are daemons. Which dark abyss did they crawl from? What was the God that made such beings and for what purpose? No one can tell. Yet, they exist. As hard as we wish they would not, they are. What makes daemons stand out, you ask? Nothing. They kill? Anyone can kill. They are cruel? Men can be cruel. They are difficult to kill? So are wyverns, so are drakes, dharves, elves too. And yet, pit one against a daemon and even a manticor will know fear. Daemons...know no fear. There is only one thing that drives them, and that is the ceaseless desire to ruin all that is good, as thoroughly and painfully as possible. In this craft, they are the masters. No matter how we try, we humans cannot hold a candle to them in the extent of our atrocities.”
“If they're that bad,” Izumi said, “then why won't everybody in the world join forces and get rid of them?”
“That is his majesty's vision,” the wizard answered her. “Unite all the races with mankind at the helm. Many find the task impossible, and I can’t blame them. The differences between the races are too wide and deep for that, our history too bitter. Not only have we drifted apart from the other races, we men stand divided among ourselves also. It is only after we've set aside our differences and become one people that we may begin to even dream of joining others. But, we’re making progress, though it takes time.”
“It takes too long,” Miragrave said. “So his majesty turns his hopes to these myths. He feels his age catching up with him, the whisper of mortality in his ears. Who will continue his legacy when he is no more? Who can, if anyone? Among men, there is no one like the other. And he knows this only too well. So what is the solution? Eternal youth!”
“Oh, I can sympathize,” Izumi said. “I mean, I'm not an emperor, but growing old isn't very nice, no matter who you are.”
“There is a sentiment that resonates within this weary heart as well,” Yornwhal nodded. “As much as I'd like to insist that the wisdom gained makes up for it, there is that certain passion of youth lacking in my Art. And too many bones that ache and wake me up on a cold night.”
“Then I thank my fortune I am not your peer there yet,” the commander said, being only twenty-seven.
“Yes, Mira-rin sure is still cute,” Izumi noted. “What if this spring thing is real? Will you have a cup? That way you could remain a beauty forever.”
Miragrave only groaned at her words,
“And what about this life is so grand that you would want it to last forever? Even if adorned in youth.”
“...”
“...”
Both the wizard and the earthling exchanged glances.
“...Could it be, Mira-rin is actually a granny on the inside?”
“Now that I recall, I've heard that she is still without a spouse at her age. Could this be the cause? How unfortunate. Unfortunate, indeed...”
“...And this is the part where the guests excuse themselves,” the commander glared at them in return.
“Indeed,” the sorcerer took the cue and stood up, leaning on his staff. “It is about time I retired to my humble quarters in meditation. It is a long journey we still have ahead of ourselves. Oh, and if you like, Mira, you may keep the sack of beans. A gift it may have been, but I have no taste for this...coffee. I feel it rustling unpleasantly in my bowels already. So I gift it on.”
“You're really missing out, grandpa,” Izumi remarked.
“Ha,” the wizard huffed and turned towards the entrance.
“Thanks a lot, you're a lifesaver,” Izumi told the Colonel, emptying the remains of her cup and standing up. “If you know any way I can pay back for the favor, then let me know! I may not look like it, but I can do anything if only I try.”
“I shan't forget those words,” Miragrave answered with a bit of a sly smile. “If it is work you're looking for, I can arrange as much as you like.”
“Ehh...” Izumi grimaced. “I didn't have a long-term commitment in mind, really...”
“——!”
At that moment, a long, loud, whistling sound could be heard.
As it had already been heard once before that very day, its significance wasn't lost on anyone. At once, Miragrave stood up from her chair and reached for her belt and sword.
“Captain!”
“Yes, ma'am!” A knight officer immediately appeared in the doorway.
“The Langorian?”
“Asleep at the medical tent.”
“Ten men there, the rest to intercept.”
2
In no time, the rehearsed, fan-like ambush formation had been set up to receive the anomalous traveler. The sun had set, it was already dark and getting darker still. The commander took advantage of the small bonfires lit along the road and moved the squad accordingly. If the approaching stranger stayed on the path, he would be illuminated by the flames sufficiently to be identified. If he strayed, his fate was sealed. To put an arrow in a man-sized target, the Empire's elite archers needed no light beyond what was naturally available.
Again, they engaged in the anxious wait, silent as a funeral.
Izumi had ended up absentmindedly following in Miragrave's wake and found herself with a front row view this time. No one seemed to care about her presence, while she stayed quiet and out of the way. Yuliana and Riswelze soon made their way to her, looking tense.
Another false alarm...or perhaps not?
Soon, everyone could discern a dark figure approaching along the road, against the lighter sand. Once they saw it, they could also tell something was off. For a person, it was moving in a strange, eerie way.
The traveler was on foot, alone, like Sir Brian before. He appeared vaguely human, a man in ragged, dark clothes. But instead of walking normally, he dragged his feet stiffly forward, swaying and convulsing. A couple of times the figure fell over, but struggled quickly back up with almost unnatural obstinacy and kept coming. As if he was merely pretending to be wounded. Looking at it, Yuliana shuddered. It felt wrong. All wrong. If he was an ordinary human, what on earth was wrong with him?
Once the shady figure had reached close enough, the order was again called out,
“In the name of his Imperial Majesty, halt!”
The man wouldn't stop. As if he hadn't even heard.
“Halt, if you value your life, vagrant! Stop where you stand!”
Still no reaction.
The weird walker forced himself forward, step by step, as if driven by some pressing, otherworldly urge. He wasn't fast enough to seem threatening, but as he steadily approached the blockade, everyone was starting to grow anxious.
“STOP! NOT ANOTHER STEP! STOP!”
Even now, the stranger paid no attention to the knight's commands. He was already close enough for Yuliana to clearly see his attire and features in the bonfires' warm glow. A black overcoat, a white silk scarf around the neck, expensive-looking riding boots, black hair hanging partially over a bloodied forehead…
“Baron Eisley!” Yuliana gasped, recognizing the man.
“Who?” the Colonel asked.
“It's the son of Lord Eisley of the Kingsguard! He followed me to avenge his father! He's the man Brian dueled on my behalf! He's alive but horribly wounded! We have to help him!”
“Keep back,” Miragrave told her, unaffected. “It's the oldest trick in the book. Daemons assume the form of their victims and feign injury to catch others off-guard. If he is who he seems, then why won't he respond? Yornwhal, what can you tell me?”
“You depend too much on me,” the wizard shook his head. “The materials of his clothes are real. I perceive no structural manipulation. But his mind, it's all fuddled. He is barely conscious. Or has no mind to begin with. I cannot tell, good grief! Don't make me the judge of his fate!”
“FOR THE LAST TIME, HALT!”
The man looking like Baron Eisley continued to slouch on without uttering a sound. No, being this close, everyone could hear a low, hair-raising groan coming from his throat. His face so smeared in blood that the expression was difficult to see in the poor light.
“Of course it has no mind!” Vizier Attiker shouted from the back. “It's an animal! Animals can't speak! He's the one, kill him!”
“It's too soon to tell!” Yuliana retorted. “There has to be a way we can make sure!”
“And how would you propose to do that?”
“Can't we take him alive?”
“If he's the one,” Miragrave said, “it will slaughter us all if we let him too close. That is a risk I will not take, whatever he is.”
The commander nodded to the archers. “Fire.”
“No!”
Regardless of Yuliana's solitary opposition, five archers immediately released their arrows, the rest ready to follow through if they missed.
There was no need.
The shafts all pierced the approaching man's chest right at the center with commendable accuracy. Upon contact, the runes engraved upon each arrowhead activated, and Lord Eisley's form burst into flames. Furious, slightly green fire hungrily devoured his coat and spread to cover his whole body in a matter of seconds.
Now a terrible, inhuman yowl of agony escaped him, as the human torch slowly succumbed to his knees and burned, burned, burned without mercy.
The princess looked away. She covered her ears as well. But that wasn't enough to help her endure the horrifying scene. Giving one last, respectful look of farewell to the hideous pyre, and immediately regretting it, Yuliana turned and hurried away.
Without exhibiting an ounce of similar innocence, only a cold light burning in her eyes, Miragrave ordered the corpse to be examined as soon as the flames died out. Not letting anyone in the formation relax yet, she waited restlessly while two knights went to investigate Gregory Eisley's charred earthly remains.
Not much was left. The rune’s fire was intense.
However, one of the knights soon reported something.
“Well, I'll be,” he exclaimed, looking into the corpse’s gaping mouth under the light of his torch. “No wonder he said nothing. The bastard has no tongue!”
“There you have it, Daemonslayer Marafel,” Vizier Attiker said, touching the Colonel’s shoulder. “I take it our business here is concluded?”
Without answering, not looking relieved or happy in the least, Miragrave ordered the remains to be beheaded and buried.
“Captain,” she then turned to her assistant.
“Ma'am!”
“Earlier, you let an armed civilian in my tent.”
“I have no excuse!” The knight straightened up and tensed.
Eyeing him for a moment, the Colonel then said,
“Now brew us another pot of coffee. Tomorrow we march to Felorn.”