The cold wind didn't bring any response. Soon after Vasili, whom Constanz referred to as Anganas, left, a figure emitting a soft light arrived at the extinguished campfire.
It was Sandra, the Regent Virgin who acompanied the army. At this moment, she wasn't wearing the silver armor with exorcism properties. As far as her identity was concerned, the pure white silk toga she wore was even more formal attire. Constanz finally understood the reason why Vasili left so suddenly. It was like the rising sun would inevitably make the stars and moon dim. The son of shadow and mist had never gotten along with the fire virgin, and the latter was well aware of this fact. So when Sandra sat down by the campfire, there was a trace of indelible regret hidden deep in her wise eyes.
"Did I come early? Or am I late? Or does the opportunity to know that young and promising warrior simply not exist for me?"
"No such thing, dear virgin. Your every visit is always timely. The legion always operates with your actions, even if it doesn't always appear so," Constanz seated himself by the dying campfire and, in an old-fashioned language style that had long since died in the world beyond the divine fire, skillfully flattered the virgin, even though it was out of place.
"After peace reigns in the world, where do you plan to seat Anganas at the round table?" The virgin folded her skirts and sat beside him.
"Based on his spirit, there is only one outcome waiting for him," Constanz raised his cup, his beard as dry and thirsty as tree roots in a desert. Even though the large iron cup hid his face, his momentary hesitation could not escape the perceptive gaze of her olive-colored eyes.
"Drink, good general," Sandra picked up a water jug from beside her and poured water for Constanz. " For the hundred years of war and sacrifice, and also for the virtue of sharing the divine fire."
With trembling old hands, Constanz took the fountain of youth given by the forever young hand under the pure white toga and brought the cup to his lips, but did not drink.
"In my eyes, you are still the young virgin in the carriage, which always makes me think I am still that teenager. And I am always surprised by my old age," Constanz gazed into those two olive-colored mirrors. "Perhaps my arms are no longer as strong as they once were, and perhaps the divine fire will no longer favor me one day, but my heartbeat has not aged. I know I am one suited for the crown. Under my throne - and only under my throne - will the shattered world temporarily not crumble into dust."
"Every daytime has its sunset, and we must prepare the candles for the arrival of the night," Sandra sat beside him, placing her right hand on his left, like a young girl in a myth, connecting the blind king and the world with the hand of youth. "As with countless precedents: a virgin can demand loyalty from anyone at any time. But don't we know that a forced pledge is no more secure than the peace treaty between Etna and Devora?" She lowered her gaze sadly and powerlessly, "Now, I can only rely on your loyalty and wisdom."
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The two fell into a brief silence, and finally, it was Constanz who reopened the topic of the "torch":
"About the other child, Capillata."
Even though his attitude was humble and his wording restrained, it immediately touched the virgin's defenses. Sandra even showed an improper alertness, searching for any spying ears in the dark. "I don't understand why he needs to be mentioned specifically," she squinted her eyes, and the latter part of her sentence merged into an angry tone.
"Because I am a layman, not a virgin," Constanz replied indifferently - he only accepted coercion from virgins, not threats from any woman. "I don't know if that child stands out among the mixed crowds for a virgin, but I'm just expressing worldly concerns with worldly emotions." He handed out the empty cup again and reached out to Sandra for water. "Something has loosened under your calm surface, which makes you care about the whereabouts of the divine flame."
"How audacious, the commander of the legion dares to question the virgin," this time, Sandra did not pour water for the wise but doubtful warrior, but only gave him a freezing look.
"I didn't question the virgin, I questioned the woman named Sandra," Constanz' tone became cold because of this, but he did not tremble.
Knowing that she couldn't hide it from her escort who had gone through life and death together for a century, Sandra held the double-eared bottle with both hands and looked up, "I thought I wouldn't have worldly emotions, but I was wrong." Even though she gathered up her courage, her voice still trembled uncontrollably in the end, "I was wrong from the beginning."
In response to the woman's confession, Constanz, who was prepared for it, should not have been surprised, but he still couldn't help but feel a heavy sensation in his throat, as if it had dropped into his stomach, because the world's purest existence - the last Regent Virgin with pure bloodline - had just admitted her own fall in front of him. At this moment, everything was silent, even the cold wind stopped blowing, as if everything mourned for the embodiment of "purity" that had left this vast and profound nothingness forever.
However, it was also Sandra's voice, belonging to a woman rather than a virgin, that pulled Constanz back from the vast and endless darkness to the extinguished campfire.
"At first, I just wanted to give him freedom and hoped to gain my own freedom from it. But how could fate allow the existence of free people?" Sandra hooked her lips helplessly and tiredly, "That child found his way back to the Legion, but it made me lost."
"What kind of expectations do you have for him?" Constanz looked at the gradually dimming charcoal fire indifferently.
"I hope he is safe, I hope he succeeds, and I hope he can get everything he wants," As if possessed by a wandering ghost in the forest, Sandra poured out one selfish wish after another, "But virgins shouldn't have these expectations." She then closed her eyes, adjusted her breathing, and her pale face bloomed with a soft light again, "This time, fate should decide what belongs to fate." She opened her eyes again and reflected Constanz in the icy-clear olivine mirror, "And on the battlefield, an individual's fate is in the hands of the commander."
"If you allow me, I can make the judgment on that child's fate on your behalf." Constanz lowered his head, accepting the virgin's orders.
Sandra nodded and, before ensuring that she would not interfere this time, made the only heartfelt condition:
"As long as you hold onto loyalty and wisdom, good commander."