1
At the time Izumi was living out her personal dream of becoming a genuine magic knight, a dream of a more earthly variety was spread out before princess Yuliana’s eyes. In her tower chamber, various colorful costumes had been brought in tall racks, for her to try out. Fluffy ball gowns, elegant dresses, cute petticoats, fabulous skirts, corsets, bodices, shoes, scarves, veils, hats, gloves, and so on, so much of them, each more elaborate and extravagant than the last, that the sight got hard on the eyes after a while.
The princess, however, wasn’t a stranger to such views, and neither did the samples of the Imperial wardrobe impress her all that much. She tried out a number of outfits, more to the pleasure of the excited handmaids than herself, all the while lost in apathetic contemplation.
What frivolity, at a time like this...
From among these clothes, she was to choose herself a presentable attire to wear to tomorrow’s party, as the Emperor’s companion.
The occasion wasn’t especially appealing to Yuliana.
The positivity she had felt in the morning had become all but replaced by dejection over the long idle hours of the seemingly endless day.
She couldn’t bring herself to believe that the Emperor had had a sudden change of heart. Most likely, this was only another scheme, another contrived technique to win her trust and support. After the effectiveness of blackmail had failed through the loss of the hostages, he would most likely resort to bribes and flattery next.
Before his goals, the main question was, for how long would the ruler of the Empire continue to play his game under the guise of diplomacy, seeking her willing co-operation, before deeming it altogether fruitless, tiring of her resistance, and resorting to the application of direct force?
Could any better be expected of him? She didn’t dare to.
Nevertheless, even at the risk of making her own future worse, Yuliana couldn’t even consider giving in anymore. She was determined to oppose his majesty’s ambitions to the bitter end. It was her friends and family, her people, that she treasured; the thought of their pain was unbearable for her. But when it came to her own self, the princess was confident she could face pain and death unfalteringly.
From the beginning, her quest had been one where she didn’t expect to return home.
Considering all this, the whole party business was only a massive waste of time.
Regardless of what sweet words and beautiful visions the Emperor would try to woo her with, it would be useless. After yesterday, at heart, she had more or less given up on trying to convert him to her side as well. They were clearly both too stubborn and prideful to give up on their respective views. Moreover, no matter how she rationalized it to herself, the idea of working alongside such an unscrupulous villain was loathsome.
Yuliana would play along with his whims for one last time, but was certain that the conclusion of tomorrow would bring no changes to the bleak future ahead of them. If she did harbor hope, it was only bound to be followed by another disappointment.
Just let it end.
The princess sighed for the hundredth time.
“Could you please lift your arms, your highness?” A maid timidly requested, and Yuliana did as asked, to allow a shirt made of costly Phoyean white silk to be fitted on her.
“Ah,” the maid let out a sound of open admiration. “I hope you won’t mind me voicing my opinion, but I believe this looks absolutely charming on you. What do you think, your highness? Would you like to wear this to the party? It is guaranteed to turn heads.”
“Whatever pleases you,” Yuliana absentmindedly replied. She didn’t care if she wore a potato sack, if only it meant freedom from being treated as a mannequin. After the years she had served as a knight, after the weeks spent on the road, in the wilderness, such fanciful outfits felt awkward and alien to her. What her body missed was the weight of an armor, her muscles were begging to be used.
“Oh, but I see it is a little too tight around the chest,” the maid noted. “The Divines have been most merciful on your highness. Rest assured, our tailor should be able to adjust it in no time. Isolé, please take the measurements and deliver it, so that we may try it on again.”
“Very well.” Another maid stepped forward, measured the princess’s form, and left to take the shirt to the tailor. Yuliana pitied the girl, thinking of all the stairs she had to run along the way.
Hearing the sound of the door closing behind her, the other maid turned back to Yuliana—and immediately sank to a knee before her, head bowed deep.
“Your highness,” the maid exclaimed, her previously light voice suddenly full of emotion. “Please, help him!”
“What...?” Confused by the sudden request, Yuliana looked back at the maid and frowned. Had the servant used the shirt only as an excuse to send her companion away, so that their conversation couldn’t be overheard? As if what she asked was something downright criminal.
“You have to help him,” the maid quickly pleaded. “You’re the only one who can. He’s all alone, his life hanging by a thread each day. I fear he’ll be killed when it’s over, if not before. Surely he will! But I—it breaks my heart to watch it happen. Just to watch, unable to do anything! I can’t bear it any longer! What can I do? I am powerless, a nobody! But someone has to help him, by the Divines…!”
“Calm down,” Yuliana crouched before the maid and touched her shoulders, as if hoping that contact would restore a sense of consistency in the maid’s panicking mind. “Who are you talking about? I don’t understand...”
“I cannot say,” the woman replied. “I’m not allowed, we were all made—AaAgh!”
As if struck by a sudden fit of pain, the maid winced and clutched her head.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” the princess asked.
“Don’t...mind me. I’m not important. But he...Please, you have to save him. He’s a kind man, he did nothing to deserve this. All the things they’ve done to him...Even now, they’re making—AAAAAAHH!”
As if the pain had intensified, the maid fell on the floor, writhing in agony. Yuliana tried to hold her still, with growing unease. That pain couldn’t be a simple migraine. A supernatural force of sorts appeared to be keeping the maid from talking.
“A geas…?” she guessed. “But why…?”
“I don’t care...what happens to me...” the maid gasped. “Just don’t let them...kill him...please...please...please...”
“Don’t say anything else,” Yuliana hurriedly told the struggling maid. “I understand. I will do everything in my power, I promise you. So please, you have to stop speaking. Your life is in danger!”
“I...I’m sorry...” the maid kept repeating. “I’m so sorry...I’m sorry...”
The door of the chamber suddenly opened, and a guard looked in.
“I heard noises,” he said, a suspicious look on his harsh face, as he looked at the princess with the hurting maid in her arms. “What’s wrong with her?”
“She...started to feel unwell all of a sudden,” Yuliana nervously forced an answer. “I—I think she’s getting better now. Must have been exhaustion, from overworking, no doubt...She’ll be fine, I’m sure. Just give us a moment...and...”
The guard didn’t look convinced. He had to have inferred the true reason for the servant’s abrupt collapse. He glanced at someone else outside in the hallway and nodded towards the women. Then, he entered the chamber with another guard in tow. Without a word, they strode across the room, picked up the dazed maid by the arms, and half carried, half dragged her out, ignoring the princess.
In shock over the sudden turn of events, too confused to think of anything to say to them, to stop them, Yuliana watched them go. In no time, the door was slammed back shut again, as if nothing had ever happened.
What had the maid wanted her to do, exactly?
Who was she talking about, who was “he”?
What did it all mean?
Would she ever know?
As the princess sat there, in shock at the mysterious incident, the other maid eventually returned from her trip to the tailor.
“I have it fixed now,” the girl said, stepping in. Then, she saw the princess in her unnatural position, and that her colleague was missing, and stopped. “Huh? Where’s Miria?”
“She...started to feel unwell,” was all Yuliana managed to answer her. “The...the guards took her...”
As innocent as she had tried to make it sound, the maid inferred too much from her tone and dropped the cloth on her hands.
“No,” she gasped. Covering her mouth, the maid turned around and ran out with a pitiful wail. “Nooo!”
And by her reaction, Yuliana knew she wouldn’t see the maid called Miria again.
What was this deadly game being played at the Imperial Palace of Bhastifal, and by whose will was it carried out? There was only one way to learn the truth.
Perhaps she had a reason to attend the coming party, after all.
2
In the darkening evening, on the other side of the palace from Yuliana’s tower, perfectly out of sight and reach, Izumi’s training session reached its conclusion.
The final rune, Tauhirn.
Rather than a singular rune, it was a compound of two unique words of power, Tau and Hiran. In their search for a quick and efficient personal defense, the cirelo arcaenarians had come up with this particular spell not two hundred years in the past.
Its name localized as “Iron Hide” by the few informed human scholars, this rune combination generated a protective energy coating around the caster, tightly conforming to their forms, like an additional layer of skin. Powerful enough to withstand indirect arrow hits, Tauhirn could even guard against weaker blows and slashes from melee weaponry. It was an excellent base defense against the unpredictable perils of conventional warfare—but also had its downsides. It impeded mobility too much to be used with heavy armor, yet was entirely inadequate against the raw strength of the many-faced daemons by itself.
Still, for Izumi, who normally wore no armor and lacked defenses of any kind, Tauhirn was no doubt going to be an invaluable asset, especially with the deft archers of the Imperial Guard in mind.
However, the activation of the spell left her instructor in a state of open dismay once again.
Izumi herself didn’t feel that different from the usual.
Only, somewhat “firmer” than before. And perhaps a bit heavier. Like dressed in a well-fitting costume with light weights attached. It was a comforting, secure feeling, all in all, and it looked like the rune worked as promoted.
But, seeing the sorceress’s astounded look, Izumi’s confidence soon faltered.
“Um, what’s wrong?” Izumi asked, nervously examining herself.
Carmelia didn’t reply.
“...Oh.”
As Izumi looked down at her open palms, she saw that an unsettling change had indeed taken place. Her hands had changed color, to a color a great deal darker. She hadn’t turned brown or brown-black, as if she’d taken on a good tan, but more like, dark gray. Gunmetal gray. She soon discovered it wasn’t just her hands either. Her upper arms, feet—she pulled down her collar and saw that the effect even reached her chest—probably her face too.
In other words, Izumi’s skin now literally resembled unpolished iron. Her natural color scheme in its entirety had been altered in an instant.
“Iron Hide” was only supposed to be a name, not a description of the spell’s effect. The coating itself should not have been visible to the naked eye. Knowing this by a prior explanation, Izumi could understand her teacher’s reaction.
True, the same unpleasant association had occurred to herself as well, the moment she had seen her darkened fingers. Didn’t that lifeless, morbid hue bear an uncanny resemblance to—Izumi had to feel her face, to confirm that she still had her nose, eyes, and hair. That her head hadn’t—sighing in relief, Izumi noted that the change of skin tone appeared to be the only difference to the usual.
“...I’m still me, so can you stop looking like I’m going to eat you, okay?” she told the sorceress.
Carmelia slowly recovered and examined the woman closer with a deep frown.
“How could such a thing be…?”
“Well, you tell me, doc.”
Even without being asked, the sorceress’s mind was at work.
But the theories that came to her offered no relief. On the contrary.
Perhaps it was a coincidental after-effect of the elven elixir and the Cithardia sap? Perhaps it was because of silen devehra. Perhaps the curse had managed to corrupt the woman’s spirit to a degree, which was then reflected by the spell? Or perhaps the cause was the woman’s alien origin? The unknown source of her magical ability? Perhaps it was the combined result of all these various, anomalous variables together?
Was there any way to tell for certain?
It couldn’t be that the curse is still in effect, that the serum simply allowed her to overcome the symptoms? And that any day soon, she might still turn into—
Carmelia shuddered.
Perhaps the woman should have been killed, after all? Had the sorceress made a tragic mistake in trying to cure her? Had her pity, her momentary emotion, doomed centuries’ work? No, the more likely culprit was her own greed and ambition, in thinking she could shape this stranger from another world into a tool of her vengeance?
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
Was there still time to correct this miscalculation?
Killing Izumi would have been simple, but how would it affect the plan?
Wasn’t it already too late?
Is this our fate?
As she stared at the woman’s darkened features, a sudden sense of enlightenment came over Carmelia.
For over six thousand years, she had eluded death.
But that didn’t mean her life was free of fear.
For as long as she could remember, she had feared the unseen destiny before her.
She had fought that destiny with everything she had.
All her skills and wisdom, everyone she came across, her every waking hour, had become a tool to keep the monstrous future at bay.
Yet today, Carmelia looked at the face of stellar forces that so easily overwhelmed even her greatly expanded understanding. In the scale of the primal elements behind these events, her life or death were surely of no consequence, not worthy of a passing mention. The struggle she had taken so much pride in now only looked like the tumbling of a child.
Indeed, what was her ambition, her creed, all her people and their history, in the grand cosmic scheme, but equal to strands of oat swaying in the spring breeze? No greater was the gravity of her best efforts. Still, as powerless as it made her feel, that impression was also strangely soothing.
There, among everything else, she saw the size of her hatred, the burning grudge that had burdened her over the centuries, reduced as no more fierce than a lonely spark in the night. What use was there, in holding onto such a petty thing, cradling it as if it were precious? Was she made any stronger or wiser for it?
No. For no reason had she looked down on humans; as they stood side by side under the sun’s immense brilliance, who could tell the difference between them? Who was there to measure specks of dust, to tell one was superior to the other?
Lost in reflection, Carmelia reached forward and held Izumi’s face.
Through the woman, she felt like embracing her enemy, the destiny she had resisted.
This woman whom she had taken for a mere fool—perhaps she was blessed, after all? The line she drew through life was short and simple, but with a distinct course. There was beauty in its unrepenting candor. Next to it, the extensive path Carmelia had traveled across the cycles looked only shamefully confused and convoluted.
What awaited at the end of it, she didn’t dare dream about.
Either way, hers was a path too long to be turned away from.
However...
Perhaps there is no need to drag this person with me?
Itaka Izumi—whatever was her destiny, she should walk the full distance of her road, to its unknown end, on her own terms. Live or fall by her own potential. So the sorceress judged.
“W-what is it?” Izumi asked, canceling the rune. Unable to see anything that went through the Court Wizard’s mind, she was getting rather flustered. “Call me socially inept, but whether you’re going to kiss me or pluck my head off, I seriously can’t tell anymore!”
Carmelia ended up doing neither.
Slowly retracting her hands, she turned away from the woman.
“I will not prohibit you from using Tauhirn, nor limit its functionality,” she said. “But, do keep it only as a last resort. Lest you make all the world your enemy.”
3
Following a good night’s sleep—which was a lot shorter than Izumi would have liked after the previous day’s crash course into magecraft—the woman from Earth was called for yet another strategy meeting. By now, those had almost become part of the daily routine.
In the library’s spacious hall, the three chief conspirators plotting against the Imperial Throne gathered once again to plan their next move in this deadly Chess game.
The long desk in the middle of the hall had been cleared of unneeded obstacles and distractions, leaving only the documents relevant for the coming day’s agenda. Izumi gave those documents a superficial glance, but they appeared too disconnected on the surface to give her a clue to her companions’ intentions.
All she could do was quietly wait for it to be explained to her.
“This could be big,” the young man who shared Izumi’s fate as an interplanetary traveler, Benjamin Watts, opened the meeting with a report. “The chubby old fellow whose portrait you see over there on the table is called Marquess Magnoise De la Cartá. And he would be one of the richest, most influential men at the capital outside the Imperial Court. Hailing from the Dukedom of Ludgwert to the east, a resident of the Empire for the past thirty years, he owns the press, owns baths, hotels, armories, a private army of two hundred mercenaries, and is also the Archbishop of the Cathedral of Divine Worship.”
“Another busy guy, I see,” Izumi remarked.
In Tratovia, there was no organization like the Christian Church on Earth, or Judaism, or Islam, no one true God above all, no common doctrine, no concept of salvation through faith, and so there should have been no archbishops either. But that was the way the equivalent rank was translated by her unconscious mind. All it told Izumi was that the man in question liked to pose as a figure of spiritual authority, on top of his many enterprises for earthly profit. Reputation as a person above the common mortals probably suited De la Cartá’s purposes. It seemed that none of the locals saw any ethical or religious conflict in the matter. Or, even if they did, they were in no position to voice it.
“Today, De la Cartá will be celebrating his 60th birthday,” Benjamin continued. “A big, pleasantly round number. To commemorate it, a massive celebration is planned to be held at the grand Tenessia Cathedral later tonight. Six hundred noble guests have been invited, all la cremé de la cremé—it’s going to be one heck of a feast. And, the best for the last, according to the intel from our associates in the Circle, his majesty, the Emperor, will be gracing the event with his presence. Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
There was no way Izumi didn’t see as much.
“This is our chance to skip straight to the last boss, huh?”
“Precisely,” the man nodded. “An uncouth brute like Waramoti would only spoil the festive mood, so we have a good reason to assume he’s not on the guest list. Two of the other heroes are dead, and neither is there enough room for a hoard of knights within the Cathedral. Add in six hundred human shields instead—in other words, his majesty will be practically unguarded, blind and deaf and stupid while he’s there. Risky or not, we’d be equally stupid to miss this chance.”
The Court Wizard picked up on the main point,
“We will have you infiltrate the Cathedral and assassinate the Emperor. Make use of your new abilities and the distraction provided by the guests to land the killing blow. With that, we will have achieved our objective, without having to take more risks fighting the remaining heroes of the Guild.”
Izumi nodded. Such was her preference as well.
She looked over the papers before her again and, with the given context, they made a great deal more sense to her. The layout of the enormous cathedral building, with the entry points circled with red. The Marquess’s profile. The guest list. The spies of the Circle had done a thorough job, as always. There was even a list of the wines to be served. What a fearsome organization.
But as effective as the plan looked, as close to reach as the conclusion hovered, Izumi couldn’t bring herself to get hyped up on the inside.
“It can never be this easy, can it...?” she muttered.
It all looked too good to feel real. Too convenient.
Something was inexplicably off about it all.
Why would the Emperor attend a simple birthday party at a time like this?
“Yes, no plan is perfect,” Benjamin shrugged, “but it’s worth a try, no? The news about us trying to off his majesty is starting to spread. On one hand, this puts a strain on us—we must act quickly now, before they come cracking on us for real. On the other hand, it also applies pressure on his majesty. It’s at uncertain times like this that he must appear a strong leader in the eyes of the public and hide his weaknesses. After all, in Tratovia, strength is everything. He’ll lose face, if he keeps hiding behind his walls all day long. Which means, he’ll be pushed to take unreasonable risks to show off his valor, to prove he’s unaffected by the gossip. And the one time he sticks his neck too far out will be it for him.”
“Well, I do agree with the theory,” Izumi said, “but this is usually the part of the movie, where the protagonist is betrayed and walks into a trap, so I’d rather rethink it twice over.”
“W-what are you talking about?” Benjamin replied with a forced laugh. “Why would we betray our only tool—I mean savior? When we’ll be the ones to pay for it, should you fail, remember?”
“The word ‘friend’ never crossed your mind, did it?”
“If you help me hook up with the princess, I’ll be your best friend for life. I swear.”
“I’m fine with keeping this as a business relationship.”
The elven magician between the two had remained unusually quiet for all this time, staring into the distance, a thoughtful look on her dignified features.
“What’s up, Lia?” Izumi leaned forward and asked her. “What do you think we should do?”
Remaining quiet for a brief moment longer, the cirelo finally looked up at her with an air of indifference.
“I understand your concerns,” she said. “The possibility that the Circle has been fed false information cannot be dismissed. They could be baiting us—but what of it? To us, this is do or die. Whether simple or difficult, whether impossible or unlikely, where the Emperor goes, we must follow. Even should you walk into a trap, all it means is that you will have to destroy the trap and your adversaries along with it. Whether openly malicious or good-intending, anyone who stands on your way is to be crushed underfoot. I have taught you the means, do not say I wasted my time.”
Benjamin wondered if the sorceress hadn’t gone too far. At times like this, wouldn’t one need encouragement instead of a whipping?
Yet, at Carmelia’s harsh words, a wide smile spread across Izumi’s face.
“Hm! You sure know how to get a girl fired up!” she exclaimed. “Yes, that’s right! It’s fine if I just kill everybody, isn’t it? An assassin and an enemy of the state, aren’t I already bottom of the barrel material in this land? What do I have left to worry about? It shouldn’t matter if I let loose for real!”
“If it comes down to that,” Carmelia replied with a faint smile. “So long as you get results, I care not how you do it.”
“Just to be sure,” Benjamin quietly spoke, “we’re still the good guys, aren’t we?”
“Well, I admit I’d like to avoid any extra hassle, if possible. I have my age to mind, after all.” Izumi calmed down. “So, how were you planning on getting me in there? Let me guess, you’ll edit me onto the guest list, I dress up, and walk in straight through the front?”
“What? We couldn’t possibly be that stupid!” Benjamin rejected her idea outright. “How many parties do you think these people hold every year? It may be a big city, but the circles of the elite are small. Even if we had powerful contacts who could forge you an invitation card—which we do not—De la Cartá’s servants know anyone who’s anyone. No way you’re cheating your way in like that.”
“Well, worked just fine the last time...” Izumi pouted.
“Besides, no offense, but you don’t exactly look like a noblewoman. They’re not the type to tan much. Or lift swords on a daily basis. Or cut their hair with rusty scythes, or whatever you’ve done to yours...”
“Well, fooled everyone the laaaaast time...”
“How long would it take to teach you local etiquette, anyway? I can’t even picture you bobbing a curtsy, lifting your skirt hems elegantly, all lady-like, saying, ‘how do you do, your lordship?’ No, somehow, the mere thought makes me shudder...”
The man actually shuddered, looking abhorred.
“Yeah, you can shut up now.” Izumi was starting to get upset.
“As you have seen,” Carmelia took the chance to interrupt the exchange and explained, “there is an extensive network of ancient tunnels and catacombs coursing underneath the city. I have studied some of the older maps they have here in the archives, and located a few such channels that lead directly under the Cathedral. Our spies have already investigated them, and confirmed that some of those underground tunnels are connected to the lower basement floors, allowing entry.”
“So I’m going to sneak in...through the sewers?” Izumi’s excitement levels continued to drop. “What if somebody poops on me? They’re going to discover me by the smell.”
“As far older, the tunnels serve no function in the city’s sewer system,” Carmelia patiently answered Izumi’s half-joking question. “And, in regard to your prior proposal, a part of the plan does expect you to pose as a guest. While we cannot create a credible fake identity or an invitation card for you, leaving a fitting disguise near the planned entry point should be within our power. No one should expect intruders to appear out of nowhere. Once inside, you should be able to blend in easily enough and look for an opening.”
“Let me guess, I can’t bring the sword?”
“It should go without saying. This plan relies on discretion, after all. You cannot be found with any weapons on you, in case the Marquess’s guards carry out checks at random in the crowd. But you have the secula sonatea I will craft for you. In your hands, the runes of the arc should be deadly enough...with only a mortal as your opponent.”
“Right.”
“Get inside, disguise yourself, and find your way into the main hall. Blend among the guests, and whatever you do, avoid raising suspicion. Quietly bide your time. When the Emperor arrives, locate him, and make note of his guards. Approach undetected...and slay him.”
“Strike in the open, is that it?” Izumi nodded. “I do like the idea of cool, high-profile maneuvers, but how am I to get away then? Or will getting caught be part of the plan?”
“Ideally,” the sorceress continued, “you should plan the kill in a way that gives you time to distance yourself from the target. Make use of the crowds and the ensuing commotion, and return the way you entered. In the event that you are discovered, it should be possible to use the guests and the Cathedral architecture for cover, to evade and dispatch your pursuers, where necessary. Heavy weaponry and bows will not be allowed inside. The security will not be able to easily engage you, giving you enough leeway to make your escape. Simply memorize the entry point and leave by the same tunnel that takes you in. Block the path to ensure you are not followed. Once you have reached outside, signal me as before, and I will open a gate to extract you. It does not need to be more complicated than that.”
“I think it’s plenty complicated already, but maybe I can handle it.”
“Don’t forget,” the elven woman stressed, “the Emperor is your top priority. Under no circumstances can you let him escape with his life. Even if it means turning the celebration into a bloodbath, you must take him down. We may not get another opportunity like this. Should you fail and be captured, every knight at the capital will be out for us, and it will be our turn to be the hunted. We cannot hide here forever. The longer this plot takes us to execute, the sooner it will be exposed. One way or the other, his majesty must die. The future of our world depends on it.”
“I get it, all right,” Izumi nodded. “I’m not much of a revolutionary, and I don’t know about saving the world either, but I promised I’d do it, so that’s that.”
“So long as you understand.”
“Will you really be all right?” Benjamin asked, not quite as convinced. “I mean, you’ve pulled off some fabulous stunts before, but this is...maybe not something you can mindlessly punch your way out of. I’m sure we could have other, safer options, such as ambushing the Emperor en route to the cathedral, or when he leaves? Or poisoning his wine, or, well, anything that doesn’t involve somehow deceiving the eyes of hundreds of people.”
“Well, we don’t know which route he will take, do we?” Izumi pondered, looking at the district map. “I’m sure they’ve taken the chance of an ambush into account. And this city is like a maze. There are multiple gates out of the palace, and a bunch of bridges across the river too. Even if I have a speed hack now, I can’t be everywhere at once.”
“True, that.”
“And I don’t know about poison either. If I’m going to have to kill the guy, I’d rather do it upfront. Not like it’d be that much more fun, but I feel I have to face him head on. I kind of owe him that much. It would just leave a poor aftertaste otherwise.”
“...Eh, right?” Benjamin failed to understand her meaning.
“There are also more pressing reasons to favor the location,” Carmelia spoke. “As he travels, the Emperor will be guarded by an elite platoon, which is to remain on standby outside the Cathedral through the night. Naturally, his majesty will not sample any foods or drinks without someone to test them for poison, either. Additionally, while Heaven’s Hand is removed from the picture, there is one more hero we must be wary of.”
The Court Wizard took one of the documents on the table and placed it above the rest.
“Bramms of the Grand Shield. One of the most upstanding warriors of the Guild, perhaps the one most worthy of being revered as a ‘hero’. It is highly likely that this man will be in charge of his majesty’s safety at the party. Which means, he will be somewhere near the Emperor at all times. I would like to avoid an open confrontation with him to the last, which means that an ambush along the way is out of the question.”
“I knew there was going to be trouble,” Izumi sighed.
“However,” Carmelia continued, “Bramms is also an inexperienced man of the country, unaccustomed to large masses of people, colorful festivities, dance, drink, and such like. Therefore, it is in the party, that your chances of fooling his keen senses will be greatest. Snatch the target from under his nose and leave him in the dust as you escape.”
“I’ll try. Geez, the difficulty rating for this mission is definitely S. I’d like to grind a little more before even trying...but that’s not an option, is it?”
“The party will begin at sundown, today,” Benjamin informed her. “I suggest you try and relax until then. Make sure you’re in the best possible shape you can be. State, I mean, not talking about your—”
“Everybody understood, Einstein.”
“Er, I’ll be keeping my ears open meanwhile, if any new intel comes in.”
Having done his part, the young man left the library.
With only the two of them remaining behind, Carmelia turned to Izumi,
“Now, if you have a moment free, come with me and I will bestow the arc on you.”
Nervously swallowing, feeling like a child on Christmas eve, Izumi obediently nodded and followed after the magician.