SIEGE

Day 4

1

A guard opened the door for Izumi. Her own hands were full with a wide silver tray, and on the tray was a breakfast more fit for a convicted criminal than the Sovereign of the Western Continent. She stepped into the late queen’s solar and couldn’t help but feel instinctive reluctance in doing so.

There was one window in the room, faced north, and through it carried indirectly the fragile light of early morning, which cast a lulling, milky veil over the faintly blue interior. This had perhaps been a comfortable private chamber once, in the livelier past, where the royalty could forget the hustle and bustle of down below for a moment. But now it bore the same air of death and passing that filled all of the building and the city around it, even denser, the emptiness almost corporeal.

Yuliana sat at a small, round table by the window and gazed out with a blank look. She had dined with the others in the earlier days, but requested her meal delivered upstairs this morning, saying she felt unwell. The maids were with her and no one was supposed to be left alone, not even for a moment, so Izumi, about to start her watch, had taken the job on the way. She walked quietly to the window and set the tray onto the table.

“There you go,” she spoke up. “One less than regal breakfast set. What will this do to the reputation of the Continental!? Eat up while it’s hot.”

“Thank you,” Yuliana muttered without sparing even a smile at the nonsense, not moving her gaze from the twilight scenery.

“Did you get any sleep?” Izumi asked her.

“Yes.”

She probably lied.

Izumi heaved a sigh. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“I know.”

“Do you now?”

Her majesty said nothing.

“It was the right thing to do, letting them go,” the woman went on. “A necessary, calculated risk. We’re not going to pull through a pinch like this without taking some damage. We knew that. I know you know that. It was a hard hit, but it wasn’t for nothing. They bought us a little more hope. We’ll bounce back from this. For their sakes too. It’s not—”

“—Izumi,” Yuliana now interrupted her.

“Yes?”

“You really are terrible at cheering people up.”

Izumi chewed her lip. “Not working?”

“Not working.”

“Okay.”

Yuliana leaned on the edge of the window sill and sighed.

“We are not doing anything,” she bitterly said. “The bravery of those about to die carries us from day to day, while I, whom they look on to lead them, have nothing but hollow, meaningless words to thank them with. It’s not me taking all the damage. It’s not me buying us crumbs of hope at the cost of my life. Here I sit, safer than any of them. So tell me, how am I supposed to show my face before those who now fight for our lives, tooth and claw?”

“I don’t think they expect you to do any fighting…” Izumi began.

“—That’s a pretty lie,” Yuliana retorted. “They expect me to do something, even if they can’t tell what that is. Human beings want fairness and answers, not rationality. No, you probably feel the same way, don’t you? That’s why you came back to me. So that I would tell you what you don’t know. Achieve what you can’t. The same as all the rest of them. Even though I don’t know any better!”

“Well, that’s not exactly it, I think…”

“It’s not?”

“Rather than you telling me what is just, I wanted to help you reach what you thought was just. I didn’t think my own opinion mattered. I’d like to think of it as a team effort.”

Yuliana faintly snorted. “Funny to hear you speak of ‘team effort’. Since when did you start to care about what other people want?”

The woman frowned. “That’s awful.”

“That’s awful? But it’s true, isn’t it? Isn’t that why you left me in Bhastifal? Because you knew I’d only get in the way of what you want? Because the only worth of princesses is in their title—so what good are they in places where the titles mean nothing? If they can’t even fight their own battles?”

“Come on!” Izumi raised her voice, disturbed. “That’s about enough of this variety. It’s too early in the day to be losing it. And I didn’t leave back then because I didn’t need you, but because you didn’t seem to need me. Simple as that.”

“Well, you were wrong!” Yuliana exclaimed. “To the surprise of none.”

“How was I supposed to know that?”

“You could’ve asked!”

“It’s not always so simple…” Izumi muttered and looked away.

“And what makes it so terribly complicated?”

“People do.”

“So I’m not a person, for disagreeing with you?”

“That’s—not what I said! At all! You’re twisting my words! Snap out of it already! Or I’m going to get angry for real—”

“—Oh you are?” Yuliana got up and took a step closer to the woman. “Regretting that oath now, are we? Not what you expected, is it? Being a knight, a servant? Well, I’m sorry for not being the perfect master you wanted! Too bad! But I’m not going to free you from your pledge either. Not even if you begged! You’re going to have to break your word all by yourself, and bear the consequences! Show everyone here that even champions are only human! That even heroes can fall! What do you think that will do for their hard-earned hope? Now do you see how our hands are bound? It doesn’t matter what we personally feel is fair, or just, or what we want, for ourselves or others! Order is a ship you either sink with, or you sink it yourself. There is no compromise! No middle ground!”

Izumi looked at the floor in insulted silence, clenching her fists.

“Well, now I don’t need you,” Yuliana told the woman, sat back down, and turned her gaze to the morning sky. “I don’t need anything anymore. Go make yourself useful somewhere else.”

2

There were four names less on the muster roll that morning. The Luctretzian knights weren’t the only casualties since yesterday: in the dark of the night, two knights had bribed the keeper of the postern to let them through and had attempted to escape the castle by the path the Prince and his retainers had taken.

Alas, they found little success on the way. One fell while scaling the cliffs in the dark. A guardsman in the corner tower heard his scream, which revealed the affair. The fallen deserter’s corpse could be seen from the wall in the morning, stretched at the bottom of the ravine, a mangled heap of black and red. Nothing could be learned about the other man, but seeing how poorly prepared the adventurers had been for their trip, there was no reason to hold faith in his survival. The bribed guardsman was publicly flogged for his crime, and locked up in the castle dungeon.

Finding good news in such a situation was a struggle, but having more food qualified as one, by all means. Breakfast fit to be called breakfast—even if a modest one—served to lift the defenders’ spirits somewhat, and they long sang praises to the man who had brought this blessing for them. Although that man showed no sign of himself, keeping in the confines of the main building.

Yet, as much as it had cost, it couldn’t be denied the trip had been a success. Neither the looting nor the nightly misadventure provoked any retaliation from the strange enemy. The daemons made no attempt to take the castle, or showed themselves in the open, but remained hidden in the conquered city.

The balance of terror was preserved.

But for how long?

Izumi sat back on a leather couch in a long hall crammed full of bookshelves and stared at the ceiling.

Knowledge was power, the search for it the luxury of the rich and powerful. In all lands and cultures across time, the ruling classes had made it their secondary duty to hoard information, and the royal dynasties of Langoria were not an exception.

Their centuried collection was gathered in a series of halls on the third floor of the main building. Instead of raw memories in crystals, they had preserved words of ink, and the bound tomes took quite a bit of more room than bars stone in their holders.

The library was taller than the one in Carmelia’s keep, with great windows in the north side wall to give it light. Hefty shelves of old walnut climbed close to the ceiling, bearing innumerable books of varying types and ages. Their irregularly arranged ranks converted most of the hall into a shadowy maze, intimidating to even approach. But one could get used to it.

A handful of Imperials were searching the library under Margitte’s supervision and had set lanterns here and there to improve visibility. But the summoned champion took no part in their efforts.

“I thought her majesty told you to make yourself useful,” Waramoti remarked, seated on the couch with Izumi, writing his journal. “And yet, what you are doing right now appears to me the very opposite of the word.”

“What can I actually do?” Izumi listlessly replied. “I’m an adventurer. This knight thing is still new to me. Don’t we have enough people just keeping watch?”

“How about you go and fetch us another bagful of food from the city?” he suggested. “I find myself sorely missing the persimmon marmalade of Bhastifal’s kitchen. Do it all alone and show them what a real hero is made of! You don’t want to be one-upped by a pirate, do you?”

“Are you kidding me?” she said. “I’m not going out there, even if all the cute girls in the world made kitty ears and begged! I don’t think my plot armor is that good, and I haven’t completely given up on living either. At least, not yet.”

“I must have,” the bard mumbled with a heavy sigh, “writing about such a person…”

Izumi continued to gaze up, where faint lines of cobalt blue crossed over plates of gray marble.

“I can feel them,” she said. “And they can feel me. There’s nowhere I can hide from them.”

Waramoti raised a brow. “Like in Eylia? Do you actually believe there is some manner of a connection between these creatures and you? How could that be explained? You come from altogether different worlds.”

She shrugged. “Who knows? Because I was almost swallowed up by the curse? Or because those things and my magic come from the same source…?”

“Meaning…?”

—“Izumi! Sir Waramoti!”

The two were interrupted by Millanueve, going past their spot with a short pillar of old books in her arms.

“This is no time to be lazing around!” the girl scolded them. “Give us a hand if you’re free!”

“What are you doing?” Izumi asked her.

“We’re looking for information on what happened to the city. This disaster can’t have come completely out of nowhere. Some of them had to have seen the signs, realized something was wrong. Or so the Imperials seem to think. The locals may have left us messages in the archives. If we find any, we might be able to learn more about the enemy and what they’re here for.”

“I already know more about the bogeys than I care to,” Izumi said, making no effort to move. “There’s such a thing as knowing too much.”

Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

“Then, what is their one critical weakness?” Millanueve asked.

“They don’t have any?”

“And what do they want from us?”

“A yakiniku party?”

“You could’ve just admitted you don’t know!”

“Well, good luck with the search. Let me know if you find anything ground-breaking. Till then, I’m taking a power nap.”

Izumi burrowed deeper in the corner of the couch and lifted her boots on the glass table in front of it.

“Don’t be so lazy!” Millanueve berated her. “You’re one of Tratovia’s great heroes, aren’t you? Her majesty’s number one knight! You have a big title to live up to. Why don’t you act a little more like it?”

“Everybody’s got their affinity, right?” Izumi answered. “You wouldn’t solve crossword puzzles with a tank, or assemble figurines with pliers. It’s that kind of thing. I’ll be ready when a real emergency comes up, but before it does, I’m restoring my MP.”

—“Leave the sloths be.”

The young Court Wizard of Tratovia happened to pass by and gave the crew a haughty look. “We’re not so short-handed that I’d enlist the aid of a washed-out brawler and some brat with a banjo.”

“I am not—”

“—Did you get all the books I asked for?” Margitte asked Millanueve, ignoring the bard’s reflexive protest.

“Eh, almost,” Millanueve answered, having to lean sideways to see the girl past the book tower in her hands. “There were three I couldn’t spot, but there’s still a lot of room left to look. I’ll go back after I take these to the reception.”

“Did you check the titles properly?” The mage asked and poked at one of the books in the pile. “Are you sure this is one of them?”

“I did check them…I’m not illiterate!”

“Then take care of it.”

“Hm? What are you up to?” Izumi asked the mage, unable to not overhear the conversation from the side. “I thought you were looking for notes, not old loans?”

“This list is for my personal work,” Margitte nonchalantly replied. “I keep a list of works that are banned in the Empire. Now that we have the chance, I want to see if the Langorians have them.”

“That doesn’t sound so critical to our survival…”

“It is critical to the advancement of science! What else is there to do while under a lockdown? Not that you’d understand anything of such matters. Don’t waste my time with dumb questions.”

The little Court Wizard continued on in the front desk’s direction. Millanueve took a step to follow after her, but then paused and turned partway back.

“Izumi,” she called the woman.

“Hm?” Izumi made a sound, but didn’t move.

Slight color appeared on top of the girl’s cheeks and, as if delivering a vital piece of secret information, she brought her voice down and said,

“...You’re not going to make a good wife to someone if you stay like that.”

Izumi made no sound and didn’t move, but seated close by, Waramoti could tell she had tensed. Then, in exaggeratedly fluid motions, the woman rolled up and stretched her arms like a cat woken up from an afternoon nap.

“...You’ve got the list at hand?” she asked in a forcefully ambivalent tone.

“Huh?”

“Those missing books—I can help look for them. That much should be in my power. But just this once, okay?”

“Who died and made you King?” Waramoti commented, but Millanueve thought nothing of the woman’s attitude. With only a happy smile on her lips, she handed over the list.

“Here!”

3

The knight maiden took the books she’d already found to the front desk, where Margitte and her assistants were going through the findings. Then, with the summoned champion in tow, she set out to locate the missing titles. They stepped idly between the towering shelves, browsed the spines with their eyes and didn’t speak, and time didn’t seem to pass at all.

But an hour into the search, an unexpected interruption arrived. A small group of knights in chain mail and blue surcoats marched into the library, three of them, led by Colonel Foulton of Langoria. It didn’t seem they had come in search of learning, or even a way to kill time. Instead of the shelves, or the Imperials, the Colonel sought out Izumi with his stern gaze and turned his course straight for her. With an altogether furtive air about them, the trio of knights came to stand before the confused woman, giving no greetings.

“Yes?” Izumi asked them with some suspicion.

“By what I understand, you’re something of a champion to these people,” Foulton spoke, his gaze full of doubt. “Is this right?”

“I think it’s an amazing misunderstanding,” Izumi replied, “but I can’t deny they think that. So the answer is yes, I suppose.”

“Then come with me.” The Colonel turned back towards the entrance, gesturing with his chin at the champion to follow. “I want a word with you, in private.”

A champion or not, or anyone of importance, he clearly saw her primarily as a maid subservient to the male population, and expected her to obey as a matter of course. But in a person bred among 21st century values of equality and individuality, his attitude couldn’t have inspired a worse opinion. Izumi remained still.

“I think this is about as private as I go with strong-bodied gentlemen,” she told the officer, humor fading from her voice. “What is it? Nothing that stands the light of day, I take it?”

Foulton took a moment to process the unexpected reply. He glanced at the reception’s way. While directly in view, the Imperials were a decent distance away, occupied with their own business. Prioritizing the importance of his message over discretion, he turned back to Izumi and begrudgingly spoke.

“With all due respect, I do not share your leaders’ views on the situation. They may be content with sitting this out, but we’re not. By what I can tell, your alleged mission of peace is history now, and I have the duty to my own people to mind. That being said, in the very nearby future, we’re going to quit this place and rejoin our countrymen in the nearest garrison.”

“That’s mutiny you’re talking about!” Millanueve interjected from the side.

“I didn’t ask you to put a name on it, lass!” the Colonel snapped at her, before turning back to Izumi. “You’ve fought these things before, by what I hear. You handled that beast in the markets too. I was impressed by what I saw. Come with us. The more of us there are, the better our chances of getting through. You serve your liege better by putting that sword to use, rather than loitering here, ransacking the library of our King. Or do you disagree?”

Izumi answered with a subdued sigh,

“If you want my opinion, I think what you have in mind is a very, very bad idea.”

“So you’re a coward like the rest of them?” Foulton replied.

“Why, you’re going too far now, Colonel!” Millanueve interrupted again, insulted on behalf of the champion.

“Have you fought the monsters before?” the Langorian turned to ask the girl.

“Well, no. I haven’t. But—”

“—But you’ll blindly believe everything they tell you? With no intention to see the truth for yourself? That, you see, is the essence of cowardice. Complacency. Conformity. Not that I expected any better from a bunch of imps.”

“I’m not even an Imperial…” Millanueve began to say, but the soldier was listening no more.

He looked at Izumi.

“The Prince of Luctretz went out there and came back in one piece; if one pampered noble can outwit these ‘daemons’ of yours, I’ll be damned if trained soldiers can do no better. Disagree—that’s your own shame. I don’t give a damn if you tell this to the princess either. One way or the other, we’re out of here. I won’t ask you twice. Give it some thought.”

Without further ado, the Langorian Colonel spun around and strode out of the library with his escort. The two women remained still, staring after them for a time in uneasy silence. Then, Millanueve turned to Izumi and asked,

“What are you going to do?”

“About what?” Izumi replied, as if her mind had been entirely elsewhere.

“Don’t play dumb with me! I’m talking about what the Colonel just said! They’re planning open rebellion in front of our noses! We’re going to stop them, aren’t we?”

Izumi turned back to the bookshelves. “Why? No one’s ordered me to stop them.”

“What…?”

“I swore an oath, you know? Always act for the good of all life. Speak no evil, see no evil, and so on. In short, I can’t hurt a fly unless it’s the will of her majesty. Our friends looked pretty set on going. I don’t think anyone could stop them without force. And the boss probably wouldn’t appreciate me cutting up any more of her compatriots, even if it was for the greater good. What then? If we tell Mira-rin about this, it’s guaranteed to turn into a brawl anyway. Well, if it comes to that, then I’ll brawl. The bottom line is, I won’t be the one who starts the fire this time. I’m not even bringing the matches. So that’s that.”

“That’s...that?” Millanueve repeated with a disoriented look.

“Besides,” Izumi turned back to the girl with a cynical smile and continued, “instead of looking to stop them, shouldn’t a real hero go with them? Wouldn’t you like that better? Me riding out there, swinging my sword like Aragorn? Mow down the monsters, conquer the impossible. Clear us a path to safety. Wouldn’t that be the height of romance? Too bad, I can’t. Not just because I’d be breaking my oath, but because it’s literally impossible. If they go out there, they’re only going to die in a really ugly way. In other words, whether I stop them or help them, the final result will be the same. The only thing that changes is the hand of the killer. Then what point is there in doing anything at all?”

Millanueve listened to the woman’s reasoning with a disturbed frown. “Izumi…?”

“Disappointed?” Izumi asked her. “That’s right. I’m a coward. As the man said. Always was. In Alderia, now. Moving from one world to another didn’t change who I am on the inside. I spent the better part of my life looking up to fictional characters and ignoring everything real. I took made-up ideals as my own and burned my days acting out far-fetched dreams written by like-minded recluses, to the point that I started to believe that was me. I’ve done a pretty good job just faking it so far, haven’t I? But everything has its limit. True courage isn’t a fantasy like that. It’s not some copied mechanism, or so much self-deception, but comes from the genuine emotion and resolve a person has in her. And there’s nothing of the sort in me. That’s the whole icky truth.”

She concluded her speech, feeling she had dealt her brand an effective, finishing blow. And, as expected, Millanueve could only stare at her, frozen with a surprised look on her face. Expecting no constructive arguments to follow, only expressions of disgust and loathing, Izumi turned to resume the search for the wanted books.

Have I convinced you yet?

“Okay,” Millanueve then spoke and nodded. “I’m going with the Langorians.”

“What——!?” Izumi nearly tripped out of shock and spun back.

“I’m a coward too, hiding here with you,” the girl continued. “Aren’t I? Depending only on you and her majesty to save us...I should be doing more for our survival. I don’t know much about books—but with my sword, I can help them. Improve their chances, if only by a little. If you think that’s the right thing to do.”

“Hey, hey, were you even listening!?” Izumi seized the girl’s shoulders in dread. How thin those shoulders felt under her palms. “I told you, it’s impossible! If you go out there, you’ll only die with the rest of them! Don’t even think about it!”

“We don’t know that for sure, do we?” Millanueve argued back. “In Alderia, I thought we were guaranteed to die too, so many times. But somehow, you always saved us. You and Master Carmelia made the impossible possible. I’m never going to forget that. There’s always a way, isn’t there?”

“That was—that was nothing like this! Alderia was a walk in the park compared to this!”

“So? Whether we go or stay, neither option is safe, is it? Waiting and dying, or trying and dying, isn’t it clear which is the better choice?”

“No! There might still be a better way. If only we do our best and hold out for as long as we can, maybe Mai-chan can get here in time and save us. She’s crazy strong, you know? We might be able to work something out together when the time comes. That’s where our best hope is. All we need to do is play it safe and hold until then.”

“Then Izumi can stay here and wait.”

“You’re not going anywhere!”

“So you’re going to stop me? Even though no one has ordered you to stop me?”

“I—Give me a break! This and that are completely different!”

“How are they so different?”

Millanueve continued to stare at the woman, unflinching, waiting for an answer.

Izumi shook her head in frustration. “Those guys are grown adults, trained professionals. They know what they’re in for, or at least they should. If they don’t believe what they’ve been told, that’s their own problem. But you’re—you’re just a…”

“Just what?” Millanueve interrupted. “I’m of age too, and a trained knight, the same as everyone else. The same as you. So what makes me different?”

“Aah, this is stupid!” Izumi let go of the girl and turned away. “You’re just messing with me now.”

“I’m asking you a simple question!” Millanueve insisted. “It’s because you can’t trust me?”

Don’t make me say it...

“Forget it,” Izumi muttered and forced her tone harsh. “If anything happens to me, it’ll be up to you to look after the boss. I won’t let you skip out on your job for such a dumb reason. You get along better with her than I do, anyway…”

“What is that supposed to mean? Now you’re being rude to Yuliana too!”

“You know what I mean! I can’t deal with people. Team play was never my thing. Getting too close to me doesn’t end well for anybody. You should know that much by personal experience…”

“—Izumi!” Millanueve raised her voice and took a step forward. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while now, but it’s almost as if you’re trying to make yourself look bad on purpose! You said you admired fictional characters and wanted to be like them? What is wrong with that? I understand that feeling well! I also have someone I admire! A person I’ve chased in dreams and awake, a person I wanted to become even a little more like! But she’s not made-up! She’s real and is standing right in front of me! And I don’t want to hear the person I respect so be bad-mouthed, even by herself! Calling yourself a coward, and stupid, and acting like you’re something vile—the Izumi I know wouldn’t say such terrible things without a reason. I don’t know what that reason is, but I should tell you now, it’s a mistake! So stop it, before you start to believe your own lies!”

“Ha——?”

Izumi wavered, as though punched.

She wanted to voice a firm denial, but the words wouldn’t come. She had already said too much. She had blabbered herself promptly into a corner and was left without a rational response, too entangled in her pretenses. How could she get so carried away? Like a clueless schoolgirl, she had let her emotions get the better of her, though she ought to have known better.

Why don’t you get it...?

As if she could just tell the truth.

That would be her last mistake.

So she sullenly turned her back and escaped.

“Enough about this conversation already. I won’t let you do anything stupid and needless now. Only look at what’s in front of you and keep your head down. And let others take care of their own problems.”

At times when she found herself unsure of what do, she ended up unwittingly imitating her own mother. Brushing off another person like that—it really felt awful. How could the real adults do it and with such apparent ease? Just how thoroughly did you have to kill your own heart and humanity?

Not waiting for counter-arguments, not looking back, she strode off into the shadows between the shelves, and silently questioned her absent parent if she had finally become a full-fledged adult on her own, balancing between that which you want and that which is worse than death.

Like this, our hands are bound.