1

In the late afternoon, everyone gathered once again in Isa’s spacious kitchen. Around the long table was a catalog of grim expressions, and though they all likely had things to say, no one had the courage to interrupt the silence of this fateful hour. The purpose of this gathering was to go over the plan to escape the island of Alderia, thereby to avoid certain death. Was such a thing even possible? The architect of the plan assured them so. She offered no surprises for the listeners, but had picked the simplest and therefore the most dependable method.

“My carriage is kept in the stables in the central district, south of the Palace,” Carmelia explained. “Your task is to retrieve the carriage and use it to escape by the highway. Head through the Gate, and then across the marsh. My horses know the way and following the road will save you from months of needless hiking.”

“Sounds good to me,” Alexander commented, eager to get started. “How do we get the carriage then?”

“You will get it,” the sorceress answered him.

“A...” The boy fell silent.

“Using Erekhigan’s cloak and its stealth enchantment, you will infiltrate the stables, prepare the carriage, and ride it out. As the son of a prosperous family, you should be familiar with such transports, and by prior experience, I can tell that sneaking into places is a particular strong point of yours.”

“That’s...”

It didn’t sound like a compliment and neither did Alexander look very proud.

Carmelia already carried on,

“Meanwhile, the rest of you will head to the designated rendezvous point in the northern outskirts of the city, avoiding unnecessary attention to the best of your ability. Isa will escort you to the location, as she possesses most up to date knowledge of the city and will know the easiest way.”

“I don’t get a say, do I?” Isa sighed.

“After the young man brings the carriage over to the meeting point, you will proceed to cross the bridge and out of the island. There are no other access points to the mainland. It is your only choice.”

“Can we really make it through?” Millanueve asked. “The Gate is heavily guarded, isn’t it?”

“Outbound traffic should not be actively hindered, unless there is an alarm in place, which we are to avoid raising. Seeing the carriage, the watchers will naturally assume I am the one riding it, and will rather be happy to see you go. I have also installed a certain emergency system in the transport, just in case. Activate it, if need be, and you should be able to break through a rudimentary blockade. The guards may give chase, but you will have to fend off pursuers by yourselves. You have a famous warrior, my former maid, and a certain capable idiot with you. If you can’t manage trouble of this level, then there was never any hope.”

“Speaking of which, where is the idiot?” Izumi asked.

“Weren’t you the idiot?” Isa asked.

“I was the warrior, wasn’t I?”

“You’re both idiots,” Carmelia answered. “The larger one is resting in the back room. His body is presently in...an unstable condition. But I am confident he will recover in time for your departure. Fresh berries are rather less harmful on the human physique than the dated sap of a primordial tree.”

“Good for him,” Izumi remarked with some resentment.

“If you actually do get us out of here alive, you’ll all be heroes, that’s for sure,” Stefan noted.

“Certainly, this sounds difficult,” Millanueve commented on the plan. “To begin with, the stables will also be guarded, won’t they? Even in the event that Alex can get to the carriage, they will raise an alarm as soon as he takes it out, won’t they? We will be pursued from the start and the bridge closed.”

“This is no human kingdom,” Carmelia told her. “Not every shed and storehouse is guarded for no particular reason. Also, I mean to give our hosts other things to think about meanwhile. You should not be their top priority. If for whatever reason the bridge is shut down, use the carriage's emergency function that I described before, and you will be able to reach across.”

“It’s like the red button in the cars of Men in Bl***, isn’t it?” Izumi commented. And went ignored.

“Fear not, for I will not allow anyone to die,” Naliya announced, a look of unwavering, though somewhat naive conviction in her bright eyes.

“Are there any questions?” the Court Wizard asked, closing her eyes, looking like a burdened parent in the company of rowdy children.

As the rest remained quiet, Millanueve unexpectedly stood.

An unusually serious look in her eyes, the girl questioned the sorceress,

“I believe I speak on everyone’s behalf when I say this, but will you not tell us what you plan to do, and why you have excluded yourself from our number? We appreciate all the help you have given us. It is a great debt we have made to you, starting from the very beginning, and we have only added to it further since. I’m sure I’m not the only one willing to return the favor, by any means possible. Is there truly nothing we can do for you?”

“The sentiment alone is enough,” Carmelia answered. “I’m afraid you are too far out of your league here. The forces that stand against us have turned out far more sinister and cunning than anything I had envisioned. Had I known the full extent of the situation, I would never have brought you here. I would not have come here myself either. Pardon me for not telling you more, but knowing will only work against you under the circumstances. Your safe return to the human lands is all you should concern yourselves with. Go home. And tell what you have seen here to your lords, sparing no detail. Warn all of the evil that brews in Alderia and urge men to prepare against it. For should I fail tonight, this darkness will eventually be unleashed upon your lands. Grant me this favor, and I will consider any debt you owe me paid in full.”

“But—” Millanueve’s expression made it clear she wasn’t satisfied with such an ambiguous answer.

“Sis,” Alexander interrupted her. “We should listen to what she says. We have our hands full just saving ourselves. You should thank your luck you’ve made it this far in one piece, and stop looking for more trouble. The things I saw at the Palace—men couldn’t comprehend such things, let alone oppose whosoever makes them!”

“Maybe, but still...”

Not knowing what else to say, Millanueve fell in involuntary, dejected silence.

“Itaka Izumi,” Carmelia addressed the earthling next. “I impart to you a duty of utmost significance. In case I do not make it, I count on you to take word to her majesty in Bhastifal. Tell her what transpired here, so that she may know what to do. Swear to me that you will, in the name of the friendship you’ve declared between us.”

“...”

Even if Izumi had any arguments, she could only swallow them now. Entrusted with the Court Wizard’s last will, there was but one possible answer she could produce in exchange. Anything else would have been an insult and a disgrace. Looking back at Carmelia, her face hardening, Izumi slowly nodded.

“...I will.”

At that moment, the gathering became interrupted by someone banging at the front door.

The rapid fist strikes echoed in the living room, startling the people inside. The human guests already feared the worst—had the guards learned of their hiding place? Were they about to be arrested and taken away? Was the entire plan ruined before it could even be started?

Carmelia didn’t seem to think so.

The Court Wizard stood and strode to the front door, opening it without hesitation. Outside stood no platoon of soldiers in their brass armors, but only a solitary figure in a black cloak. Due to his apparent agitation and the house’s excellent acoustics, everyone could catch pieces of the heated conversation that ensued.

“Malevalá!” the guest quickly spoke. “Tesuen tai ptoleanne, ni manire sacárast!”

“Tesó?” she replied. “Segue nierté?”

“Taharan! Isé suvulan é oharas! Tieste vane misira wahala! Suerte saco ha lina hiestré, maneranne! Hirhó isura ni taeste sinuerest! Taalastani wahe co ni oharast! Sul testuen!”

Saying no more, having delivered his message, the shady character departed in a great hurry. Carmelia slowly turned back in, closing the door without a word.

“What happened?” Millanueve asked.

The sorceress wouldn’t answer.

“The ptoleans have been captured,” Isa translated on the sorceress’s behalf.

No one missed the meaning of this portentous revelation.

“T-they know Naliya isn’t with them!” Stefan exclaimed, turning pale.

“And will comb the city to find us next,” Alexander added.

“It’s time,” Carmelia told them. “Gather your things. You must leave at once.”

2

Everyone vacated the kitchen, hurrying to retrieve their gear and belongings. Missing any tension or a sense of urgency, Izumi sluggishly climbed upstairs to pick up her light backpack. Having quickly gathered what little she owned, she then helped Millanueve with her luggage. The girl sure had brought a lot of clothes on such a journey.

“I...” Millanueve’s hands abruptly stopped mid-packing. “I still don’t think this is right.”

“Come now, it's not the first plan she's ever made,” Izumi told her. “We’re going to be fine, don’t worry.”

“But what about Lady Carmelia herself?” the knight maiden faced Izumi and asked, her voice full of anxious concern. “She’s sacrificing herself for us. I can’t—I just can’t watch it happen!”

“She’ll think of something,” Izumi said. “I’m sure Lia’s been through worse in the thousands of years she’s lived.”

“Has she?” Millanueve retorted, the fear in her eyes not lessened in the least. “Can there be anything ‘worse’?”

“...” Izumi wouldn’t reply. While she remained silent, the girl frantically continued,

“That book, the journal we found in Ambron, I finished reading it last night. The town of Tradden—it was the deserted town we found in the marsh! The very same! The elves didn’t destroy it; they helped build it! The Sage, Erekhigan, helped them, supported them! But in the end, the whole town fell victim to a strange disease, which caused the people to change, transform, into...those horrifying things we saw, which lived in the pit! Don’t you find that too weird for a coincidence? What if it was the same disease that hit the elven settlements? Was Erekhigan truly looking to cure the plague? Or did he make the plague, as a weapon? Lady Carmelia knows the truth, doesn’t she? Then why won’t she tell us!? Why won’t she let us help her! You know why—because she thinks we’re not going to win this!”

Izumi still said nothing.

There was no way she hadn’t made the connection. She wasn’t quite as dense. But then what?

What could she do? What was she supposed to think about it all?

The answer she kept avoiding—Millanueve now put in plain words.

“You’ve got to help her, Izumi. You’re the only one of us who can!”

Biting her lip, Izumi turned away from Millanueve’s bright, demanding gaze.

“Lia’s smarter than I am,” she said. “Stronger than I am. And if she says I can’t help her, then she probably means it.”

“You won't know that! You’re making excuses.”

“I’m making the rational choice. Between the two of you, it’s clear who needs my help more.”

“Are you saying that for my sake now, or for your own sake?”

“It’s for everyone’s sake.”

“Why are you hiding behind us? Are you that scared?”

“—Damn straight I’m scared!” Izumi shouted, facing the attic window.

"I..." Surprised by the woman's unusual outburst, Millanueve fell quiet.

“...I’m only human too,” Izumi continued. “I finally got my wish. I finally found a world where I can be free, where I can live out my one and only dream. I found a way to get stronger, a way to survive. How many times have I almost died by now? I overcame so much to reach this point. I lost...so much. And you’re asking me to throw what little I achieved away in a fight that’s so far above my pay grade it’s not even funny? What do you expect me to say to that? ‘Yes, of course, leave it all to me’! ‘I can do anything, since I’m the protagonist!’ The power of friendship, and all that! Give me a break! I know better than anyone how stupid that is!”

Izumi quieted, gritting her teeth in regret.

It is easy to defy death when one has nothing left to lose.

Conversely, the more she gains, the harder it becomes to let go.

And she, who wants everything, will surely lose it all.

“I’m sorry,” Millanueve hung her head and apologized. “I was...asking too much. Of course, it is as you say. You’re right. You should come with us. That’s the safest way.”

Millanueve hurriedly closed her backback and lifted it over her shoulder with effort, while Izumi continued to stand unmoving, staring at the backyard garden outside the window.

“But...” As she was about to head out, Millanueve paused once more. “Back there, in the jungle...When you saved me, I was just so—I was beyond happy. I saw a genuine miracle. You made impossible possible. You didn’t let the fear of defeat stop you, even as I despaired, but stared it down. I saw a hero there, Izumi. A fairy tale come true. Maybe—maybe it was only my imagination, after all?”

“…”

Saying no more, Millanueve departed downstairs.

Not following, Izumi remained behind in the attic, staring down at her empty palm.

That’s right. It was only your own misunderstanding. Don’t force your dreams on me! It was a calculated risk, nothing more. I knew my chances, the conditions. Thought I did. Even then, I nearly got myself killed. And this is something else...

She thought about Carmelia. Didn’t the Court Wizard have even more to lose? So many depended on her. Yet, she faced her apparent demise without even thinking of running, in order to save the rest of them. Without fear. No, surely she was just as scared as anyone? She just wouldn’t let the fear make her choices.

So what? She’s not even human. It’s easy to throw your life away when you’re six thousand years old. I wouldn’t care much by that point either! But I’m not even forty yet, I haven’t even found my true love! This is ridiculous!

Izumi thought about Yuliana. Even without trying to imagine it, it was obvious what the Empress of Tratovia would do in her shoes. Though she was barely half of Izumi’s age, though she had no particular talent for warfare, no magical skills, no legendary weapons, she would never accept abandoning a comrade as an option.

That’s not bravery, it’s idiocy. Naivety. You don't win wars with beautiful ideals. Because she's like that, I never should’ve left her side...! No matter what I do or try, people are going to die. Is there no better choice, at all…!?

“Damn it…!” Izumi grunted, seized her luggage and went downstairs.

3

On the street outside Isa’s house, the group swiftly split into three.

Group one was Carmelia alone.

“Goodbye.” The sorceress conjured a Gate of Shadows, and disappeared through it without wasting words. She had said her farewells. Every moment was precious, there was no meaning in prolonging things. In the blink of an eye, her tall, elegant figure was gone, perhaps forever. Izumi was left staring at the spot in the ground where the sorceress had stood, dazed.

Group two was another one-person-party: Alexander de Guillon.

“Stay safe, I’ll see you soon,” he told Naliya, kissing the girl on the cheek, before hurrying off. “Be careful, sister!”

The youth donned Erekhigan’s cloak and turned into a transparent, ghastly shape, which soon melted into the sunset street, sliding in the Palace’s direction.

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

“Kind of gross how dependable he’s become,” Millanueve remarked, waving after the youth.

“He always was,” Stefan said. “He just didn’t like to show it.”

“Well, we’d best do our part too.”

The third group, consisting of the remaining cast, Izumi, Millanueve, Naliya, Stefan, and Isa, left via a different route, towards the agreed meeting spot in the northern limits of the metropolis. Waramoti was apparently not yet done with his preparations but would follow shortly behind, according to the message he had asked Carmelia to relay.

Isa led the way while the others jogged after her, like a group of school kids with their teacher. They passed through the less populated suburbs, avoiding the larger avenues and major buildings. They were seen by random pedestrians, and people in the house yards, but none of them made any effort to stop them or question their purposes. One glance at Isa and they immediately lost interest in the odd group of walkers.

The elven kingdom had no active law enforcement, no police, no guard patrols roaming the streets. There were no criminals, after all. No thieves. No drunkards. No random violence, no crimes of passion.

As believers of cold logic above emotion, the emiri experienced no impulse for such behavior.

As a culture seeking to reunite with nature and the divine, they placed no particular value to material things.

And as beings who rated honor and dignity above personal gain, they adhered to common principles without any particular outer force of compulsion.

Nevertheless, their solemn kingdom had just lost its ruler through an individual act of violence. The peace they had, the society they’d built and sustained for so long, was about to be torn apart from within.

For who knows how long, a terrible discord had grown in their midst, finally about to break through to the surface.

What had changed the fundamental nature of this ageless species so?

Was it the tragedy of eight hundreds years ago, the mindless violence that had stolen their land?

Was it the division of two hundred years ago, the breaking of their already crippled society?

Who could tell?

Exactly what would follow from here? What would be left after the upheaval about to come? And how would it change the rest of the world?

No one in the group of adventurers wanted to stay behind to find out.

Roughly five mile’s walkabout took the travelers to the rendezvous point.

The place was a detached plaza in the woods, along a simple, cobbled footpath. The magical highway curved near the clearing, some fifteen feet above the ground level. A short distance away beside it stood simplistic metal ladders, that could be used to climb up to the road, likely installed for maintenance purposes.

Following the elevated glass path north with their gazes, the travelers could see the wide Sepris channel spread ahead. And beyond the water, in the scenic light of the descending sun, they saw Alderia’s gate, the settlement’s outer limits veiled in the rising evening mist.

There were no houses nearby on this side of the channel, the view back to the city blocked by woods and wild clumps of shrubs. It appeared every bit the ideal location for a discreet meeting.

“I don’t know what kind of a distraction Lady Carmelia has in mind,” Stefan spoke, setting down his backpack, “but I do hope it keeps the elves off Alex for long enough.”

“We’d be trapped without the carriage,” Millanueve agreed. “The channel is too wide and fierce to swim across. And trying to get over the bridge on foot would be madness. Even if we somehow made it through the Gate and the watchers, we wouldn’t survive the marsh with so few supplies.”

The travelers had gathered food and water for the trip back, but only to last the time it would take by the highway. Not for months.

“Then again,” Stefan said as he sat down to wait, “no matter how good the distraction, there’s no guarantee Alex can actually bring the carriage all the way here. We’ll just have to wait and see, I guess. And believe.”

“Yes,” Millanueve replied, giving the two other women in the party a look. “Better believe extra hard. Because some of us are running a little short on faith.”

Neither Izumi nor Isa commented.

Although they were on foot, with a much greater distance to cover, the third party ended up having to wait quite a while for the ride to come. Minutes appeared to pass almost painfully slow, as they sat and waited, tortured by impatience and worry. Trying to avoid thinking about the worst case scenario, they followed the reddening sun’s unhindered drift across the sky, towards the eastern horizon.

“You know, in my world, it goes the other way.”

Isa stood a short distance apart from the group, staring over the channel. Izumi now came to stand by the elven lady and spoke.

“There’s also only one moon,” she said. “But it’s bigger.”

The emiri listened without reaction.

“Have you decided what you’re going to do after you leave the island?” Izumi asked her. “Are you going to join up with the other team, help them battle the daemons? Take back your old home? Or will you travel around, be a tourist, enjoy sightseeing? The sky’s the limit, eh?”

“...”

“Me, I have no idea, really. Then again, not knowing is kind of nice too. If I hadn’t played it by ear, I wouldn’t be here, looking at this view now. Awful things happened too, but in the end, it makes moments like this feel only that much more special. Don’t you think?”

“...”

“By the way—”

“—Stop it!” Isa suddenly exclaimed, interrupting the woman.

“Eh...?”

The elven lady turned to face the travelers. The look on her face startled them. Her expression was twisted and pained, as though she struggled to hold back a multitude of conflicting emotions, anger and regret topmost.

“Life isn’t a fairy tale,” she growled, gritting her teeth. “We’re never free. And no one will be leaving.”

“W-what are you talking about?” Millanueve stood up, disturbed.

As if to answer her—emiri knights emerged out of hiding.

Two to block the south side exit. Two to block the north side exit. Up on the hill bordering the plaza in the east appeared a line of knights with great spears, eight of them. Four more bounced up from the undergrowth in the highway’s shadow. Archers emerged in the forest line to back up the infantry, two pairs of them.

In short, the companions were surrounded on all sides.

Trapped, like rats. Without weapons, with no way to fight back.

“H-how...?” Millanueve’s frail question captured everyone’s thoughts at the moment. “How could they know...?”

The weight of twenty-eight thousand years on her shoulders, her expression terribly dark, Isa Natilí Na Di Odian glumly answered her,

“I had no choice.”

4

A wide glade spread in the woods bordering the eastern city. Knee-high grass grew there in a clean, uniform field, with nary a rock to spot it. The clearing was a thing of beauty in its natural state, especially in those early days of summer when flowers bloomed, but also in those temperate days of autumn, when the grass was dyed gold and deep bronze for the duration of the winter months.

Tonight, the glade was far from its natural state, though.

It had been made the stage to a particularly eerie performance.

The grass had been trampled flat by numerous metal-plated boots. Tall stakes had been raised in two lengthy lines, a bit short of thirty of them in all. Upon those stakes, high above the ground, inhuman figures were bound. Those dark beings were ptoleans, members of the mythical race which had gone borderline extinct in the world of today. The prisoners were watched over by the First Battalion of Alderia, or roughly a hundred and sixty emiri knights, commanded by Jordith, the Commander of the Royal Guard.

No one questioned the fairness of the prisoners’ treatment. Everyone felt it was more or less justified by the charges against them.

What a list it was.

The defamation and assassination of the King of Alderia.

The kidnapping of Naliya, the Dawnstar, the firstborn of Alderia in eight centuries.

The planning of a mass murder of Alderian citizens and the destruction of the Royal Palace.

In fact, the charges were heavy enough that the trial was skipped altogether. Without exceptions, the prisoners faced the capital punishment for their deeds. And whether the verdict was just or not, no one was sure to miss them.

Still, while no one expected or asked for it, a solitary soul appeared to speak on the ptoleans’ behalf in this desperate hour.

An eerie black oval appeared in the field, oozing dark mist, and startling the nearby knights. Before their stunned eyes, a woman in a black dress stepped out of the darkness, which dissipated as soon as she had fully emerged.

Everyone present could identify that figure as the former First Princess of the united Emiri Dominion of Amarno, the daughter of the legendary High King Elenglen.

Yet, her arrival was not met with exaltation or cheers.

Two hundred years ago, that princess had called her followers into a rebellion, dividing her own nation in two, thus extinguishing her family dynasty with her own two hands. She had demanded unrestricted access rights to the Platinum Fleet, and when denied by the Senate, forcibly commandeered eight ships, taking with her eighteen thousand warriors and their willing relatives.

From that day on, Caalan Litha Nid Vi Vaniphelia had ceased to be royalty. She was no longer counted among the noble emiri, but became the loathed co-leader of the wretched, warmongering cirelo of Ledarnia.

Her past actions were openly condemned. But it was not so simple to condemn the person herself.

Due to her complex background, many of the knights were rather unsure of how they should treat the sorceress. Point their weapons at her, or bow their heads? Just a few days ago, she had been the King’s guest. Now the King was dead.

One person had a clear opinion, though.

“What want you now, stormcrow?” Commander Jordith approached the sorceress. “Should you not be far from our land by now? We will not answer your demands and your presence here is not wanted!”

“I am here only to see justice done,” Carmelia answered him with a scowl. “Let them go, Jordith.”

“Let them go?” the knight stood confused by the unexpected demand, glancing at the ptolean captives. “Why?”

“They are innocent to whatever crime you accuse them for, that is why.”

“They are hardly innocent. They are ptoleans.”

“Yet they did not kill the King. Nor did they take Naliya. Slay them here, and you will have committed mass murder without any right or justification. Who is the warmonger then?”

“And how do you know anything of their guilt or lack thereof?” Jordith asked her. "You appeared quite clueless the last time."

“Because they are here at my behest.”

Carmelia’s surprising announcement caused confused chatter to break out here and there among the surrounding knights.

“Your grace called these beasts to the island?” Jordith asked in dismay. “Why would you ever do such a thing...?”

“To create a diversion,” Carmelia explained. “To pressure Quaran, to extort him, to make it easier to bend him to my will. Us killing him would therefore make no sense. Because I needed him to give us a ship. His death ruined all my plans.”

“Hear the things that you say!” the knight commander exclaimed. “Why would you align yourself with the likes of these hounds to conspire against our King? Does your evil know no limit!?”

“The Circle of Pale Ashes sets no requirements regarding one’s ethnicity or character,” Carmelia patiently answered him. “We will use whatever hand we must, to achieve that which we seek, at whatever cost. Only loyalty to the cause matters—possession of an ideal. All of which your people gave up as they hid in the shadows of this island. Look close, Jordith, son of Claim! The loyalty of these people you scorn goes beyond anything you’ve known.”

“Still you dare mock me, traitor!” the knight yelled at her in anger.

“Let them go,” Carmelia answered his insulted fury with calmness. “Do as I tell you, and we shall be away, never to come back. I will return Naliya to you. This dispute will end, and you can continue to sort out your problems on your own. This I swear.”

“Do you take me for a fool!?” the knight raved. “Is there a soul left in the world, who would still believe you, after all that has transpired? Where is your proof? You make one outrageous claim after another, yet I have not seen one shred of evidence!”

“I will tell you who killed the King and how. I will tell you what I should have told you two days ago, and I have the proof now. I know what that villain hides, right under your feet. I know all of it. Give me a chance, and I will show you, Jordith.”

“No,” Jordith shook his head, distorting his face. “I refuse. I can’t believe you! You told me so yourself—you lot will do anything for your vile creed! Nothing is sacred to you! You will say anything, do anything, turn water into wine and earth into sky, if that’s what it takes to advance your machinations! Your sorcery will corrupt us all, if given the chance, the way it corrupted even my brothers, Amallen and Essaiar—Divines rest their souls! No, it will end tonight! All your sins will be laid bare, together with theirs. Seize her!”

Stirred from their confusion by direct orders, the nearby knights moved to arrest the sorceress

Carmelia watched their approach with pity and remorse.

“Then you leave me no choice.”

The cirelo opened the front of her dress, to bare her upper chest. Under her pale neck, drawn on her skin, glowed an elaborate, red pattern of light, violent sparkles dancing around it. That unsettling display made the knights stop in their tracks.

“What is the meaning of this?” Jordith questioned the vision with a deep frown.

“Who do you think revived the secrets of ptolean blood magic?” Carmelia asked in return. “As you can see, I do not fear death, Jordith. Do you? Know that my soul mass is sufficient to level half of the city, even from where we stand. You doubt my words, but do you doubt my power? Make the rational choice. Let them go.”

Great unrest spread throughout the field.

One wrong move and they would all die in an instant—the knowledge was highly difficult to swallow. Jordith looked from side to side, as if hoping for someone else to make the decision on his behalf. None of his bewildered subordinates dared to do so.

The extreme gambit left them with little room to argue, in any event.

By refusing, the Kingdom of Alderia would lose a massive portion of its fighting capability, and an untold number of innocent civilians. It would have been madness to resist.

Carmelia was certain that the conditions were in her favor.

But as firm as this trump card made her position, a nagging doubt continued to eat at her heart and confidence.

The ptoleans possessed crystal rituals no less potent than the sorcery she had cast on herself. It didn’t matter by whose hand death came or how; in the event that dying in battle was not possible, they could commit suicide, unleashing immediate destruction to everyone and everything around. Even one such sacrifice would start an unstoppable chain reaction, where cowardice had no place.

So then——how were the emiri able to capture them all?

How could the entire ptolean entourage be rounded up without a fight, without even one of them taking the dagger? No amount of planning could allow for such perfection of execution. Had fear crippled them all? Had all their hearts faltered at the face of death, with not one exception? These people, who were virtually gone from the face of the earth and had nothing left to lose?

It didn’t seem likely.

There was another possibility.

Mayhap the same power that had been used to defeat the emissaries within the Palace had been employed here to capture their kindred?

It seemed no less unthinkable.

Carmelia never thought it could happen.

After all, such a scenario would expect the mastermind behind it all to come clean and reveal themselves to the regime of their own accord, which was naught but an open admission of all their crimes. The Senate and the Royal Guard would never side with such a monster, not after the King's death and everything.

It wouldn’t happen, not so soon, not so easily—Carmelia was certain of that.

Yet, she was outmaneuvered by her nemesis once more.

“——!”

The enemy came from directly behind her.

It was an impeccable ambush. She hadn’t noticed a thing.

Where first had been nothing, a figure in a light-colored robe emerged, directly at her six o’clock. A deep hood pulled overhead to conceal his features, that person walked towards the sorceress with brisk, long strides. Sensing his approach, Carmelia spun around—tried to—but it was already much too late.

The enemy swung his hand in the air, and a vast, irresistible pressure hit the cirelo from above, slamming her face first into the ground. Completely immobilized, the flow of mana in her stilled, Carmelia was pulled back up and forced on her knees by the invisible, overwhelming force. At the same time, the veiled magician came up to her, slammed his palm against her chest, and wiped off the blood magic, tore it out of her by the roots, leaving not a trace of the eidos behind. In an instant, Carmelia’s ace had been negated in its entirety.

“...Finally acting in the open?” she grunted, spitting blood and dirt.

Not answering, the robed person stepped past her, facing the captured ptoleans instead. Pausing briefly, he raised his left hand, as if in a casual greeting. Simultaneously, red lights ignited into a bright blaze within the bodies of all the prisoners. Carmelia couldn’t believe her eyes. So easily, that magician had stolen control of her spell, made it his own, to play with however he pleased.

Then, with a snap of his fingers, the mage made one of the ptoleans explode. A stake in the far left erupted in a fierce blast, making the nearby crowd of knights wince and stumble out of shock. But the destruction was hardly on the level it was supposed to be. The victim was contained within a spherical barrier, firm enough to absorb the explosion and force it back inward.

Death was supposed to be the activation condition of the curse, yet the robed magician had found a way to trigger it at will, like lightly poking down a line of domino pieces. The ultimate counter spell was made into a tool of execution.

BOOM! Before the onlookers could recover from the first vicious bomb, another stake exploded, in the middle of the second line.

BOOM! Then another.

BOOM! And another.

BOOM! BOOM!

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

One by one, in a completely random order, the ptoleans were catching fire, torn apart by the intolerable outbursts of heat and pressure. The once peaceful glade was transformed into an orchard of fire, brought to bloom by the deaths of the foreign emissaries.

Carmelia strained herself to look up.

On the stake directly facing her, on the front row, was Koolon, the leader of the ptoleans.

“From ashes comes life,” Koolon calmly pronounced, facing his end with the stoicism of a priest. “We shall meet again in the void.”

“No...” Carmelia whispered, a powerless plea.

BOOM!

Koolon’s figure was veiled in another merciless globe of raging, blinding flame that tore through his flesh. The sorceress had to look away. Even through the indomitable barrier, the light of it burned her eyes.

In but a few seconds more, the explosions ceased, as abruptly as they had started, leaving the spectators disoriented, their ears ringing. Although they were convinced of the ptoleans’ guilt, more than a few among the knights had started to bring the procedure’s fairness to question. In their minds, anyway.

Aloud, no one dared to speak a word.

The sole exception being the hooded man, who now turned to Jordith, exhibiting fatherly composure even after the slaughter he had committed.

“Well done, commander,” he patted the knight’s pouldron. “We have avenged his majesty and lured out the ringleader of the conspiracy. Soon enough, the Dawnstar will be returned to us, and we shall have peace. Just as I told you.”

“Your excellency...” Jordith’s features were clouded, speaking of his conflicted feelings. Then, he turned to look at Carmelia. “...What should we do with her?”

“Why, do as you please,” the mage replied. “I shall leave the Princess’s fate up to your discretion. Oh, but she is a Princess no more, is she? Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have other matters to attend to.”

Done with his part, the veiled figure proceeded to walk past Jordith, and in the next moment he was gone. The power gripping Carmelia wouldn’t vanish, however, and so she remained kneeling on the trampled earth, a prisoner surrounded by spears on all sides. Not that she had ever believed in the possibility of escape.

Neither had she imagined she could actually free the ptoleans, regardless of her earnest efforts. Not even the ptoleans themselves had believed in their own survival. They had come here knowing they would die. For the cause. Because there was simply no meaning in living, in the event of failure.

Still, even whilst aware of the futility of her actions, Carmelia had tried. She had done everything she could for one purpose; to allow her friend from another world to escape in her place, and tell the world of the tragedy of Alderia.

Though even this hope, she had to admit, had ever been faint.