1
A change came early in the morning, as the first rays of the rising sun crawled over the western horizon, sweeping across the expansive meadows of Bareilion. They bathed the rooftops of the tall manors and humble shacks, before coming to rest on the uncontested bulwarks of Selenoreion, up on the hill of Meuvelie. Silent and stoic stood the tall towers of the Imperial Palace before dawn, reflecting the first light without shame, like pillars tasked to uphold the heavens themselves.
As that pallid sunlight shifted in through the windows of her quarters high up on one of those towers, princess Yuliana Da Via Brannan was woken up by a voice speaking within her mind. A voice she hadn’t heard in a long while.
“Rise, my beloved vessel,” the voice told her with warm pride. “A new day dawns bright and beautiful, and your spirit, tempered through hardship, has grown bold. Verily, you have become a chalice most suited to house my lofty might. Rise now, my child, and call my hallowed name once more. For the time has come for us to go to war.”
2
Izumi couldn’t recall having ever felt as tired in her life. Almost as tired as on the first morning of her recent internship. Fortunately, the first morning had been the last of that sort. Since her move into the world of Ortho, she had often had to wake up even earlier and work even harder, but it didn’t matter here. She was in another world, living her dream, early wake-ups were a cheap price to pay for it.
That morning, Izumi had planned to sleep her fill, but against her firm intentions, she was woken up in the middle of the sweetest, deepest dream.
Not by an alarm clock, or a servant, but by a sudden quake, which shook the entire capital, including the Imperial Palace and her small, secluded room therein. It was as if the city were merely a big table, upon which a displeased God had slammed his palm. It gave her quite a start. Tensing, Izumi remained lying under the covers, feeling the aftershock gently rock her bed. She could hear glasses tinkling somewhere in another room. The shelves made noise, knocking against the walls. Somewhere in the library, a big pile of books fell over.
While light earthquakes were fairly frequent in Izumi’s land of origin, this was her first time experiencing one in the other world. It was far more unsettling than any other she had been through, albeit also much briefer.
The trembling soon ended, so soon that she had to doubt if it even qualified as a genuine earthquake. Had she only dreamed it? In a matter of seconds, everything was back to normal again. Listening quietly for a moment, lying on her back in the bed, Izumi’s curiosity eventually got the better of her. Going back to sleep after such a surprise was impossible, so she lifted herself with effort and looked at the window.
Instead of the window, the first thing her eyes met was the Court Wizard. Carmelia sat on the window sill, gazing outside. Her profile, still and quiet like that, was like one from a painting. Were it a real painting, it would have surely been hailed as a masterpiece.
“Morning,” Izumi greeted the sorceress, rubbing the corner of her eye. “What’s up?”
Without looking at her, Carmelia answered,
“The great temple has fallen. The Three are no more.”
“Huh?”
“Together with the Lords, the Empire of old has come to an end,” the cirelo continued. “You humans are no longer guided and protected by the blessings of your elders, but have become orphaned on the doorstep of an unknown, strange age.”
“…”
Izumi scratched her head, unsure of where this was coming.
“Rest well,” the sorceress told her and stood. “Your body is still exhausted, for straining yourself and overusing the runes, but you should recover, given time. Rest this day. I wish I could afford you a greater respite, but our last trial is soon upon us. The Grand Shield has fallen, and with the Three gone, our greatest obstacle has ceased to be one. This means—tonight, the Emperor of men must fall. Tonight, it will be decided whether our last days in this world will be those of hope and courage. Or those of despair and decay.”
Having said all this, Carmelia walked quietly out of the room.
“Come to the library at noon and we shall discuss our plan of action.”
After the sorceress had left, Izumi fell limply back on the bed and sighed.
“Yeah. I’m gonna want some coffee.”
3
The noon finally came around, and as stiff as her limbs felt, Izumi dragged herself up from the bed, had a late breakfast that would have been better labeled as lunch, and joined her conspiring companions in the library hall. For one last time.
The three figures seeking to steer the fate of the Empire stood around the lengthy table once again, and for a good while after the initial greetings, none of them could speak.
Finally, Benjamin Watts, the young man magically transported to Ortho, spoke,
“Well...uh, damn. Where to even begin?” he stammered. “Things have escalated, to say the least. So much happened in such a short time, my head is still spinning. Did anybody read the news today? The headlines sure were something. Early this morning, the dome of the Great Temple collapsed in a sudden earthquake. The historical documents make that the first in the capital in over four centuries. There were no services on at the time, so the casualties were fortunately few, but...you have to wonder about the timing. More importantly, statements from the temple’s priests support Carmelia’s claim that the three Lords we’ve come to know and love have all disappeared without a trace. Like, they just up and vanished. They didn’t decide on a sudden vacation, did they? Early retirement? I wonder if there’s any correlation between their disappearance today and our highly unexpected encounter with them last night? Any causality to be observed? I don’t know.”
Waving his hands in a helpless gesture, Benjamin looked at the sorceress for comment. However, Carmelia offered no direct answers.
“The Three’s blessings have been withdrawn from the Empire’s territory,” the sorceress said. “Tratovia is now a spiritual no man’s land. This could only be possible through the simultaneous demise of all three Lords. Without hard evidence to show for it, anything beyond this simple observation of reality would only be baseless conjecture. I do not know what has become of the Divines and any hypotheses I can come up with offer very little substance to our plans for tonight.”
“Er, right,” the young man nodded with obvious reluctance. “If the Empire’s chief occult advisor says so, then I suppose we’re just going to have to set this highly suspicious matter aside for now and move on to business. And some business that is.”
“Hm,” Izumi made a sound. She had a vague feeling the matter with the Divines wasn’t entirely unrelated to her, but she didn’t feel energetic enough to pursue the topic further either.
Benjamin shortly resumed,
“Maybe it’s best to start with a debriefing first? Our mission last night—well, it wasn’t exactly a success story. The Emperor, our primary target, is still very much alive and kicking. Meanwhile, Marquess De la Cartá—quite dead. You did well to smash the vile trap they’d set up, but, speaking of smashing things, you kind of left your mark on the Cathedral building as well. The repair expenses are estimated to reach up to eighteen million strata. Whoever handles De la Cartá’s estate matters isn’t going to be very happy. But, you did take down Bramms and eluded capture, so props for that. Should we call it fifty-fifty in terms of success? Forty-sixty? Twenty-eighty? Is the glass half full or half empty? Either way, in one neat maneuver, we’ve sent the local elite into a downright frenzy. And it’s spreading, fast.”
“It wasn’t all my fault...” Izumi protested.
“Due to the past week’s events,” Carmelia continued, “culminating in these high-profile deaths and the collapse of the temple, his majesty has declared martial law. A curfew has been imposed on Selenoreion, starting at dusk, banning all traffic in the streets. The Imperial Guard will be carrying out extensive patrols everywhere in the district. The Palace grounds are already under a strict lockdown, with all the gates and passages sealed and heavily guarded.”
“No one goes in, nothing comes out,” Benjamin summed up. “The Imperial Guard is in the highest state of alert, all holidays canceled, special permits voided, state visits postponed, calendars cleared, and so forth. This is the first time in a very, very long while since anyone’s depended on them, so they’re taking the situation quite seriously. Fortunately for us, the army’s still anticipating an attack from outside. They don’t know that their chief enemy is already within the palace.”
“How convenient for us,” Izumi commented with some irony.
“Not for long,” Carmelia told her. “Emergency summons have been dispatched to all the remaining heroes of the Guild. They will hasten their return, meaning that our time is quickly running out. Once here, the champions will tear the city apart, piece by piece, if that is what it takes to find us.”
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Izumi grimaced.
“...After yesterday, I’m really not looking forward to meeting any more of those guys.”
“No fear,” Benjamin said, rolling out a map of the palace. “We’re not finished just yet. With the Three gone, we can actually return to our original ‘Plan A’ now! That’s right, dead or alive, the Divines’ blessings are gone, Waramoti is powerless, and Bramms is dead, which means, our chief obstacles are gone. We are free to pursue our primary goal with greatly heightened ease.”
“We must act tonight—and not leave the job unfinished,” Carmelia said. “By this point, I shouldn’t need to remind you of the consequences of failure.”
“I get it, I get it,” Izumi said.
“Well, after everything so far, this mission will probably be the easiest of them all,” the young man went on to explain, pointing at the map. “Have a look here. There’s a route that takes you directly from Carmelia’s keep to the main building, avoiding most of the guard patrols and gates. We have the keys. You’ll enter through the Azure Hall and it’s a straight path to the Throne Room from there. His majesty has been holed up in there since daybreak, as if anticipating some kind of divine punishment. Guess you freaked him out real good? Avoid unnecessary combat the best you can, but if anyone gets in your way...we can’t afford to pull our punches now, can we? The future of the world is at stake. And our dear lives. My apologies to all the knights’ families.”
“I know that,” Izumi sourly mumbled.
“To be frank, there shouldn’t be that many guards inside the palace, seeing as they’re mostly patrolling the streets and manning the walls. Which leaves us with but one little, tiny, famous, legendary-level problem to face...”
“Heaven’s Hand,” Carmelia picked up. “The last remaining hero of the Guild has been assigned directly in charge of the Throne Room’s protection. He will guard it with his life. After the fall of the Three, he has presumably lost the blessings, but do not underestimate the man. Even if reduced to a mere mortal, he is still a warrior of outstanding skill.”
“A cornered lion bites the hardest, or however did it go again?” Benjamin added.
“I know that too,” Izumi breathed an apathetic sigh.
“You must eliminate Waramoti before you engage the Emperor,” Carmelia advised her. “Use whatever means available to you, and take down the threats one by one. Do not risk a scenario where you end up facing the two of them at the same time.”
“I know, I know.”
“After that, the Throne Room,” Benjamin pointed at the room at the heart of the building complex on the map. “Just you and the big guy. The ruler of the greatest nation in the continent he may be, but deprived of his servants, he’s still only a man. Not a hero or a trained knight. There may be some guards in the Throne Room with him, but after all the obstacles you’ve overcome until this point, I wouldn’t even mention them. As usual, cut down anyone on your path, and then, his majesty. After he’s down, return here by the same way you took in. Without pursuers, preferably. Your job will then be done. We’ll have a transport ready to deliver you safely out of the capital. Leave the rest to the Circle. Carmelia will see to your reward—which I’m sure will be something—after which you’re free to go.”
A deafening silence followed all the talking.
This was it.
The end of this long week’s efforts was finally in sight. Just one last push and it would be over.
With the Emperor’s death, the greatest threat to the peace in Noertia would be removed. There would be no war with Langoria. Yuliana would be safe. Humans and elves would be able to further improve their co-operation, and form a united front against the threat of the daemons. And Izumi herself would be free to pursue life as a hero of the sword, probably without having to worry about money ever again in her life.
Ideally.
And yet, thinking about all this, Izumi felt rather empty inside.
Not the least bit joyful, hopeful, or accomplished.
Would it really be so simple?
Not like she had a choice.
Izumi glanced at the elven sorceress beside her. She owed her life to Carmelia, and that debt had only been multiplied over the course of the week. Without the Red Serum, Izumi would have succumbed to the daemon plague. Without the runes, Bramms would have killed her. Without the sorceress’s timely rescue three days ago, Miragrave as well would have died.
Whatever the cirelo would ask of her, she would do without question.
Even if it meant throwing herself into fire. That was the only option she saw.
Therefore, casting her misgivings aside, Izumi only gave a firm nod.
“I’ve got this.”
“Ah, yes!” Benjamin suddenly exclaimed. “Almost forgot. You’re going to need this tonight.”
He went on to pick up a large parcel that had been resting on the chairs behind the table and, with visible effort, lifted it up.
“Phew, a lot heavier than it looks!”
He removed the purple cloth hiding the object in the case and unveiled Izumi’s greatsword, the legendary Amygla, resting in it. Struck speechless for a moment, Izumi was overcome with emotion, as if reunited with an old friend.
“I took the liberty of having it properly cleaned and maintained,” the young man reported. “As well as it could be, at any rate. The tools of the palace blacksmiths could do nothing to it. Whatever the sword is made of, its hardness exceeds even diamonds. Cut my finger just fine, so I suppose it’ll get the job done.”
—“This is…?”
The one to let out the sudden gasp wasn’t Izumi, but the sorceress standing beside her. Carmelia stared at the weapon eyes wide, with a look expressing uncharacteristic emotion.
“Where...did you get this...?” she quietly asked.
“I picked it up lying in the ditch—or not,” Izumi answered. “Yule brought it with her from home. She said something about it being an heirloom of her family, or along those lines. Something old and super special, by the sound of it.”
Not that Izumi had paid close enough attention to the story to recall it any better.
Saying nothing else, turning away, as if to hide her expression, Carmelia marched out of the library.
“Hm?” Izumi looked after her in confusion. “Did I say something weird...?”
“Wait, it couldn’t be...” Benjamin mumbled with a sudden frown, staring at the sword.
“What?”
“Ah, I suppose you wouldn’t know,” he hurried to say. “Even by local standards that story is only a myth. I saw it in a collection of old tales once. The Langorian hero king Machilon, and the battle of the Thornhill pass...”
“You sure memorize the strangest things. Do you do anything but read all day? Nerd.”
“I don’t need to try; I’ll have you know my memory is absolute!” the young man bragged. “It’s pretty much my only strong point, anyway. Other than my good looks, of course. And besides, knowledge is power, didn’t I tell you that?”
“Yeah, yeah. What’s the story about then?”
“Ahem,” he cleared his throat. “Roughly seven hundred years ago, give or take, after the daemons drove the elves out of Amarno, the last ship to leave belonged to High King Elenglen himself. However, the elves’ bad luck didn’t end in genocide and exile. Elenglen’s ship was hit by a storm just south of Noertia, causing them to make an emergency landing on the coast of Langoria. They sent out some scouts to confirm their whereabouts, who then ran into Langorian border patrols. The word of these inhuman intruders soon reached the court, and the King of Langoria, thinking the elves had come to invade his land, marched out with a host of knights to drive them back. Some unfortunate misunderstandings took place due to the cultural differences and nobody speaking the other side’s language, resulting in...a fight. Predictably. Though the Langorians suffered heavy losses, the elves were severely outnumbered and ultimately killed, down to the last...not-man. Including the High King himself. That regrettable tragedy is probably the number one cause to the humans and elves’ poor relations, and why we weren’t invited to the alliance two centuries ago. The elves aren’t the type to forget, you know? Longevity and all.”
“Wow, talk about bad luck,” Izumi commented. “But what’s it got to do with Lia and the sword?”
“I’m getting there, don’t rush me! If I’m right, which Lady Carmelia’s reaction pretty much confirms, this sword is actually the one that belonged to Elenglen, the High King himself. It was a pretty famous sword at the time, forged of meteorite ore harder than any other metal in the world. Sound familiar? Whole new technologies of metallurgy had to be invented to process it, and it came to play a part in many songs and bedtime stories. Truly, it’s a masterwork if there ever was one. The sword was taken as spoils of war by King Machilon of Langoria, which probably explains why the princess could have it. Unbelievable as it seems, the sword has to have been in Langoria for no less than eight hundred years without anyone knowing what happened to it, until she took it out. In the meantime, its existence was reduced to a myth.”
“That’s...something, all right,” Izumi mumbled, staring at the blade on the table.
“Right? As for the connection to Lady Carmelia...” Benjamin made a troubled face. “Ah, there’s no way she wouldn’t recognize the thing, is there? How careless of me! After all, Elenglen was her father.”
“Ha—?” Izumi’s jaw dropped.
“Yes. Once upon a time, Lady Carmelia was a princess of the elves. Indeed, with both her parents deceased now, she should’ve become the High Queen.”
“EEEEEHHH!?” Izumi couldn’t hold her surprise. “Lia is? A Queen? That’s—I, why? What do you mean? Why’s she here, playing a simple mage then, if that’s the case? I can’t believe it!”
“It’s all hypothetical, theoretical,” Benjamin hurried to explain. “Carmelia is a cirelo, remember? One of the cursed Oathmakers. At the time of the great divide, she abandoned her birthright and royal privileges in order to join the war effort against the daemons. Whereas the rest of the elves just wanted to forget. In other words, she no longer has any claim to the Alderian throne. The elves have another King now, from a lesser dynasty, and the factions are not on the best of terms with one another. The mainland elves consider all cirelo tainted by malice and despise them, regardless of their shared origins. Even if they’ve family on the other side.”
“I see...That’s pretty messed up.”
Izumi and Benjamin both stared at the sword, which showed no visible signs of its long history, or the hands that once held it.
“Seeing the thing must have reminded her of the past,” Benjamin speculated. “Of all the lost opportunities. What she could’ve been, what she could’ve had. The countless sacrifices made along the way.”
“...Or the father she lost because of us humans,” Izumi muttered. “We took her family. Even the memory of him.”
Did the sorceress have any real motive to aid people, after all?
Didn’t she have every reason to want them all to perish, to suffer, for revenge?
If she did, Izumi couldn’t blame her. Even the woman felt bitter and frustrated over the injustice of the past, although it had nothing to do with her.
Exactly what is the ending we’re headed for?