Roah carried a talisman along with him as he walked, although he had no intentions of using it at the moment. Right now, their forces should be fighting hard against the Stroba, and he expected no crucial updates for at least the next couple of hours. He just let it hang from his waist and hoped it wouldn’t disturb him.
It was strange, staying behind in this peaceful city while knowing he was responsible for bloody war at another place entirely. Yet he pushed these thoughts out of his mind and focused on his secret mission instead.
“Are you excited?” asked Seele from nearby. This question was not directed at Roah, but at the small fairy walking hand in hand with Seele—Orin.
“…Dunno,” they responded, their large amber eyes darting all around.
At long last, Roah arranged this meeting between parent and child. He had to wait for an opportunity where Gen and Aisbroom wouldn’t be present and for Niu to be preoccupied. He did feel bad about it, but just for once he had to take advantage of her mental state. Roah knew that Niu felt uneasy about this whole operation, despite being the one who’d advocated the most for it.
Being a queen was hard. He was the one who elevated her to that station, so perhaps he knew it more than most.
The door behind them was closed by the guards as they were led down and down further into the dungeon. After passing through some corridors, they finally reached the solitary section of Acrus’s cell. The moment they did, Orin snuck behind Seele.
“Come on, don’t be shy… that’s your progenitor, you know,” Seele said softly. The moment they did, there as a soft gasp from behind the bars.
“Ah! My child,” Acrus said, their voice slightly shaking. Roah really found it weird seeing this cold, cruel Ruler act so emotional when faced with their own child.
Well, perhaps Roah too was like that, sometimes.
“Um,” mumbled Orin, eyes wide as they peeked from behind Seele, “hi.”
“Please, come over,” said Acrus, beckoning them.
Urged by Seele, Orin took a very hesitant step forward. They turned to look at Seele again, who then nodded and smiled. Orin gingerly came in front of the bars, their large eyes gazing within.
Acrus smiled. “Yes, you do look exactly like me. If only I could hold you…”
Roah still couldn’t quite get used to the idea that fairies’ children were their exact clones, but apparently even some of the fairies found that fact fascinating. This also led him to wonder in turn if inside that timid child also lay the disposition of a tyrant.
“My… progen,” mumbled Orin. “Can I… ask you something?”
“Of course. I will gladly answer anything you want,” replied Acrus, smiling.
“My… you…” Orin still sounded unsure, swallowing their words. Then finally spoke. “Everyone says that… you’re bad. Are you?”
Roah furrowed his brows, and he was pretty sure he could also hear Seele leak a small sigh. He wasn’t expecting Orin to be so forthright about that right on their first meeting. Then again, they must have heard many things of the sort back at the nursery. Seele told him they were pretty sure that Orin wasn’t getting bullied or anything like that, but it must have been very tough regardless.
As expected, Acrus’s smile faded. They seemed unsure how to answer that question.
“I have made some mistakes,” said Acrus, glancing for an instant at Roah with sharp eyes. “What I did wasn’t wrong, but I have lost. Some people would say that means I am bad. Do you understand what I mean?”
Orin shook their head sideways.
“That is fine,” Acrus said, smile returning to their face, “one day you will understand. One day we will be united. I promise you this.”
Orin didn’t look quite convinced—or perhaps this sort of talk was too difficult for them—but they said nothing further. Following this was an ordinary exchange where Acrus merely inquired about Orin’s wellbeing and environment, to which the child replied only curtly and vaguely. Even so Acrus seemed pleased at this.
At length the conversation was over. Acrus motioned over to Roah, which he took to understand he was dismissing them—as if they even had the authority.
“Why don’t you make some nice drawing and show it to Acrus the next time you’re here?” Seele suggested cheerfully, patting Orin’s head. The child mumbled something in response, but Roah’s attention was taken elsewhere.
“Roah.” The ex-Ruler stopped him just as he was about to join the other two. Acrus beckoned him and Roah approached. “Thank you.”
He couldn’t sense any sort of warmth or sincerity from that smile and Acrus’s eyes were as sharp as ever.
“No need to. I can’t guarantee when and if it’ll happen next, anyway.”
“I am aware,” said Acrus.
The conversation seemed to end at this, so Roah once again turned, seeing that Seele was waiting for him. As he walked, though, Acrus inserted another hushed comment.
“Take care of that foolish girl of yours, now that the war’s about to be over. Supposed peace will have its own price to pay.”
Only grunting as a response and not even turning back to face him, Roah hurried along with the others to the surface. There was no use wondering how Acrus even got the news when they all made sure Acrus would be completely isolated. Now that Roah’s sneaky business was over, it was time to inquire about the latest tidings of the ongoing operation.
When had Zade truly noticed that something was wrong? Technically, from the very beginning, but other than that, he wasn’t quite sure.
Ever since arriving at the place that seemed to be Fairland, his sense of time (to say nothing of other senses) was extremely muddled. He might have spent only a few weeks there, or it might have been a couple of years, or even dozens of years, for all he knew.
Zade found that he had two consciousnesses: one that saw things for how they were, and the other that saw things how the people taking care of him wanted. His beloved wife Alima had been killed during the attack that led to him being whisked off to another world, and then stayed with him to support him during this foreign experience, soothing and protecting him.
These two contradictory realities existed at the same time, mixing together.
The part of him that realized what was going on understood, with time, that this was caused by the strange drugs that they were giving him. But most of the time he was powerless to fight against it, mostly because he couldn’t deal with the sadness and pain of admitting everything was a lie.
Anger bubbled within him. These fairies were taking advantage of him. Even worse, his own countrymen, fellow humans from Plainland that found themselves in similar circumstances, hadn’t come to his rescue.
He felt disgust. Fear. Loathing. His mind and heart breaking down. He fought against the mind-altering drugs and fought against himself fighting against the drugs. He was a complete mess.
But with time he found that was changing. There were times when he awoke at night and his mind was crystal-clear. That was always temporary, though. Was he developing a resistance to the drugs they were feeding him, perhaps? Regardless of the explanation, it allowed him some time—after he was done panicking—to start thinking. Thinking for real.
And he came to the conclusion that he needed to wait for a chance. A chance to escape this wretched place, and, if possible, get back at the ones who tortured him.
Finally, the opportunity came. There was war outside and he was to be taken to be evacuated. Literally the perfect opportunity. He gathered his will and threatened his caretaker, the horrible person who pretended to be his wife.
Now he was walking with her—well, he could understand that Monan wasn’t actually a “her”, but still—in an attempt to escape this hellish battlefield.
He was of course scared, but much more fueled by his still-sizzling anger, at least for the moment.
“…How long?” he mumbled, brandishing his knife.
“Huh?”
“Until we get out,” he clarified, not realizing that this still wasn’t clear.
After thinking for a while, Alima—no, Monan replied. “We’ll soon reach the wild territory,” they explained. “From there, we’ll, er… try to go toward the Makin territories, I guess…”
Looking at Monan’s petite figure, Zade was filled with complex emotions. They were at once his lover and his jailer. He could never forgive them… but also felt his heart aching every time he looked at them.
They were anxious and scared, to be sure, but why did they also seem so accepting of their fate? Zade almost felt as if he wouldn’t be satisfied if Monan didn’t start crying and begging to be spared.
“…Why are you so calm?” he found himself saying.
Monan raised their brows, seemingly surprised at this question. “W-what do you mean? I’m really, really, not.”
“But you’re helping me,” Zade tried to elaborate unsuccessfully.
“Oh. Isn’t that obvious?” Monan wore a sad smile, giggling. That expression brought him such conflicted emotions he nearly fell from the thick branch they were walking on.
“…No.”
“I’m helping you,” they said, “because I love you.”
Love. They dared to claim this emotion in front of him after doing all that? This almost made him punch Monan in the face, but his residual love for Alima stopped him. This almost made him punch himself in the face, but his need to escape stopped him.
Gods dammit, he thought, no, screamed in his mind. What am I even doing?
“Did you hear me, Mallew?”
“What? O-oh, sorry, Professor… I was just thinking about something.”
Mallew felt some embarrassment when she heard Salom’s sigh following her reply. Lately, she’d been finding herself spacing out more and more. It wasn’t her fault, really; it was those two persistent young men…
She found herself bumping into both Callun and Revol a few times these last few days. Or more precisely, they were the ones who bumped into her. But why her? Sure, she was in a unique position in the military and a confidant of the Queen’s secret proceedings, but even so it felt a bit too much.
“As I was saying,” Salom stressed, once again pulling her back into reality, “I have the sneaking suspicion that this configuration is Lastian. At the very least, I find it unlikely to have come from either Rumdon or Sacrona.”
The pair was gathered around a few small rock fragments assembled together like a jigsaw puzzle. These were found among the wreckage of the Queen’s bedroom following the attack last night. When it was noticed that there were faint marks resembling icons on them, Salom had immediately been called to examine them, and in turn he called Mallew over as well.
The problem was that the rock was almost completely shattered. It was ingenious, really—icons were usually inscribed on more durable materials since they were meant for consistent usage, but using them like that for an attack would erase all evidence. They only managed to gather an estimated 50% of the so-called assassination weapon, and even that was barely readable.
“Really? How can you tell?” Mallew mumbled, glancing at the faint icons. At their current state it was hard to even judge what their function tried to be.
“Look here.” Salom pointed at a certain squiggly line on the rock’s surface. “Proper icons don’t use these sorts of confused symbols… so my first thought went to Lastia. I might be mistaken, though.”
Mallew leaned forward, brows furrowed, trying to decipher it as well. What Salom said was true, but she noticed something different entirely.
“Say, doesn’t this line connect to the shape on the opposite side?”
“What…? Wait, you’re right.” Salom turned the fragment. “I’m surprised you remembered.”
“Oh, because that seemed like a nonfunctional icon,” Mallew explained, “so I thought it was just damaged. But if we connect the two…”
“Then it becomes… yes, I see what you’re getting at. Amazing.”
To an outsider it would probably sound like they were talking about nothing at all. Mallew felt slightly happy that she was able to have such conversations with the Professor she’d admired for so long.
“So it’s something to do with the weight channel, then. But that sort of usage is completely non-orthodox,” Mallew concluded, still thinking. “Let’s see… one side accumulates weight and the other side unleashes it?”
“That explains what happened, then,” Salom nodded in satisfaction. “What a peculiar weapon this is. We are extremely lucky that even so many fragments remained. Otherwise, we would have never gotten it.”
Weight channel was not often used. It was possibly even rarer than the growth channel which was poorly understood. Although weight channeling sounded easy in principle, it could have all sorts of devastating effects. Technically less dangerous than the volatile movement or heat channels, but less useful as well.
“Come to think of it,” Salom added, “Revol spoke about the assailant hitting much harder than their appearance would suggest. An expert in weight channeling, then?”
Revol? Mallew felt her heart flutter in surprise and confusion. What did he have to do with all of this? However, she didn’t want to think about it right now, so she hurriedly kept talking.
“T-those are rare. I can’t even tell if this iconography is amateurish or just beyond our knowledge.”
After considering a few possibilities, they came to the conclusion that the attack was meant to kill the Queen by crushing her to death, whether by the rock’s enhanced weight or the entire room collapsing on her. Well, this much was already apparent by witness accounts and the damage incurred, but still.
One of the mysteries was the fact that the assassin leapt out of the window after failing in their attack. They had considered the possibility that they were a disposable pawn, committing suicide in order to hide their tracks, but no such corpse had been found anywhere on the mountain for now. With these new findings, it was highly likely that the assassin purposely jumped out, somehow survived using their channeling and was still out and about.
Now they were finally starting to figure out how it was done. Which, in turn, could lead them to the culprit, or at least allow them to be prepared for another attempt.
“Is it really someone from Lastia, though?” wondered Mallew aloud. “It could just be imported technology to fool us.”
Salom sighed. “The problem is we can’t say for sure, right? But never mind that, Mallew. That part is not your job.” He sounded somewhat tired and bitter, speaking those last words. “…Well, if you’d like to, you can take this rock and see if you find more clues, or something.”
“C-can I? Really?” she asked excitedly.
“I’d love to keep doing this, but unfortunately… since we seem to have reached a conclusion, I have some other matters I must attend to.” Once again, his smiled turned bitter.
“Understood,” said Mallew, nodding. “Good luck, Professor. I’ll try looking into it for a bit longer.” As he greeted her back and left, she added in her thoughts, at least I’ll be able to avoid my stalkers for a bit longer like this.
Shaya coughed violently as she regained consciousness.
She felt the cold, hard ground under her, and a giant shape was looming over her. The surroundings were mostly dark and her body ached all over. It took her a few moments to recall where she was.
“I’m… what…?”
“Ah, you’re awake,” said a familiar voice. She blinked, seeing a figure approach from the side. It belonged to Aisbroom. She was surprised; she hadn’t expected to see them anytime soon, considering all of them were fighting in different places. “Are you feeling fine?”
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She coughed again. “…Not really… what happened?” She then noticed that her voice was strangely muffled.
“You were poisoned.” This time it was an unfamiliar voice. “You are recovering, but you should not, move too much.”
Only then she noticed that her mouth and nose were covered by something, and realized that it was a laborer’s hand, or rather a strange appendage that seemed to cup over her face.
“It’s those sneaky Stroba,” Aisbroom mumbled. “They spread some sort of toxin in the air… luckily, we found you at the right time and we can take care of that, more or less. The one treating you is called ToX; it’s a robot especially made for that purpose.”
There were still many questions in Shaya’s mind, but now that she fully recalled the circumstances, she nearly panicked.
“G-Gen?! What about Gen?”
Aisbroom seemed to pause for a moment, but then wore a smile. “Gen is doing fine, don’t worry. He woke up before you.”
She thought to try moving her head, but ToX was holding her too firmly.
“Gen?” she spoke, trying to move her eyes to the sides. She could barely see that other figures were lying nearby, but not much else.
“Not here,” said Aisbroom. “Gone to help the others.”
“T-to fight? Then I too—”
“Relax. There is no more fighting. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here,” Aisbroom told her. Thinking about it, it made sense. But if so, what was Gen doing? As if reading her mind, Aisbroom continued. “Well, there is still some fighting. Gen just went with a few units to check the area. Make sure there aren’t any ambushes or secret cells, things like that.”
“But he—”
“Yes, they got hit pretty badly too. I told them to wait, but they just told me to keep an eye over you…” Aisbroom sighed. “I should be doing that job, not Gen.”
Then why did you let him go? Shaya desperately sought inside her mind.
“Both of you were incredible today,” Aisbroom continued. Shaya never really was sure how to decipher Aisbroom’s feelings. They seemed cold, most of the time, but even so they sounded genuine. She knew that despite Gen complaining about them a lot, he too learned to appreciate Aisbroom. And was perhaps being appreciated in turn.
“…We lost,” she responded weakly.
“No. No, you did not. Both of you managed to stay alive… and if not for the Stroba’s cowardly strategies, I’m sure you would have held out much, much longer. I have to admit that you surprised me as well, Shaya.”
She was unsure how to respond to that. Right now, she simply felt sick and dejected. And, most of all, she felt weak.
“All of you have changed since you came here… but your change was perhaps the most surprising,” Aisbroom mused. “You still have a long way to go, but you’re a true warrior. Perhaps I should start training you as well.”
Shaya’s eyes widened. Although she didn’t care about it at the current situation, it was still shocking for her to hear. Her goal had been, after all, to catch up with Gen and stand at his side. For a moment she thought such a thing was truly possible—and it led her to this place.
Even so, her conflicting emotions of this recent failure and the need to make up for it weighed on her mind.
“So…” she tried taking her mind off of the less important worries, “is it really over?”
“…Most of our enemies are either dead or have surrendered,” said Aisbroom. “Unfortunately, we have been unable to find our target. Gen was quite angry about that fact as well, which is why they went off like that, I think. The Stroba might have hidden or evacuated their captive somewhere… or worse.”
Shaya scowled. Their entire reason for coming here wasn’t to fight. She didn’t like that fact at all, although she knew that it was sometimes necessary. Still, their goal had been to save a fellow human from a horrible fate.
If that wasn’t accomplished, was this entire thing even worth it?
The girl opened her eyes and found that everything around her was bright. The surroundings shone with brilliant colors even more vivid than the most expensive of jewels.
“The girl opened her, eyes and found that, everything around her, was bright. The surroundings, shone with brilliant, colors even more, vivid than the most, expensive of jewels.”
Niu’s hand holding the brush stopped. She was just adding that faint sparkle she had narrated to the canvas, but once again found the result unsatisfactory. She glanced at the small laborer that sat on her lap while she painted.
“I am sorry to, upset you again,” said NiU.
You don’t need to be sorry, she transmitted to it. This is my problem.
Despite starting apprehensive to the idea, there was no doubt that having NiU with her was useful. She always imagined how it would be if she could actually speak, and now her wish came true… well, partly. Never mind the slight lag between thought and speech, but the laborer’s characteristic stilted way of speaking bothered her quite a bit.
She wanted to imagine herself speaking, and NiU’s voice itself was actually quite feminine and nice, but the fantasy was broken whenever it said more than a couple of words at a time.
Even so, Niu couldn’t be mad at the laborer itself. It was created especially for her and was striving hard to work with her. It wasn’t its fault.
How typical of her that, when she tried doing some paintings to take her mind off of current events, she still ended up being troubled by something else entirely. Things were apparently quite hectic over at Plainland as well, based on recent communications. Everyone had their own share of trouble.
She turned her gaze back to the canvas. She tried recreating one of her favorite fairytales from memory, but decided she would continue that project another time instead. Perhaps she could instead paint some nice scenery, or—
A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts. “Queen?”
“Yes,” she said through NiU after hearing Roah’s voice from the other door. It was promptly opened and the young man stepped inside.
“I have come to report, but is that fine?”
“Do it,” said Niu, returning to face the canvas. She didn’t feel like looking at his face while he reported this sort of thing. It was perhaps quite rude of her, but she didn’t think Roah was going to complain.
She relegated nearly all military matters to Roah and Aisbroom, but still insisted to hear each and every report. This was her duty. She hated fighting and she hated pain, but she was the Queen. Niu didn’t know about Queen Levia-O—the only other royalty she knew—but she took her job very seriously.
She wasn’t very smart or resourceful and definitely had no leadership qualities, but on that day two years ago she’d decided on taking this role on herself, and so became the Ruler of Kalden.
She did it for her friends and for Kalden, and often wondered if it was the right decision, but couldn’t allow herself to doubt it too much, after coming this far. Anyway, she felt that she was getting better and better at her job, at least in recent times. While she took some hard decisions, she believed that the most important part was that she took them.
“Minutes ago,” Roah began, “I have received news that the fight against Stroba is over.”
“…Is it?” Niu was surprised. She knew that Kalden had every possible advantage, but still expected the operation to go for at least a couple of days.
“Well, mostly. We have taken control of most valuable positions both below ground and above it, though some resistance still remains. —There are, however, some troubles.”
“Which are?” Niu asked. She almost felt like he was this doing this on purpose.
“The main one is that we have failed to secure the Stroba’s Ruler,” Roah explained. “They are either still hiding somewhere or have run away… well, it’s too early to say since the situation is still evolving even as we speak. However, the same goes for our target.”
“You mean the human.”
“Yes. He is currently missing as well, and we find it unlikely that the Stroba eliminated him. If that was the case, they would have probably tried to threaten us with that possibility before doing that.”
They were afraid of that, and in fact didn’t have a great plan to prevent it—but judged that it would probably not come down to that.
“They might be hiding, along with the Ruler.”
“Yes, that is true. They are currently looking for them with that in mind. I will keep you updated, of course,” said Roah.
“What about…” Niu hesitated for a second, “our forces?”
She hoped that he would understand what she was getting it even without her explaining it directly. In all truth, that was the question she was most afraid of: how much had this operation cost in lives?
Niu had sent all of them to a fight when she knew not all of them would make it back. That was quite a heavy responsibility. Especially when Gen and Shaya were among them—something they had insisted upon.
How would she feel if Roah was going to inform her that either one of them or both were dead? She nearly burst into tears just thinking about it.
She had actually been against sending them, but they were the ones who decided to participate out of their own will. With Gen, she knew would be stubborn, but Shaya really surprised her there. Well, they wouldn’t have listened to her regardless, and their relationship was pretty shaky anyway nowadays.
One day she would patch up things with them—so she swore, vague a vow as it was, and hoped against hope that Roah’s report wouldn’t dash that wish.
After a second that seemed like an eternity while trapped in her thoughts, Roah finally replied.
“There were casualties, of course—but I haven’t heard any specific names,” he said.
That was way too ambiguous for her liking. She almost felt like he was teasing her on purpose.
“Relax,” Roah said next. “They should be fine. That stupid boy won’t go down so easily, and he won’t let that silly girl get hurt either. Aisbroom will also keep watch on them.”
Niu forced herself to smile. It was almost funny how childish he sounded with the way he referred to them, when they were all more-or-less adults already.
“Thanks,” she said to no particular reply.
A few seconds passed. Roah cleared his throat, saying, “Well?”
“Well, what?”
“Your orders,” Roah clarified.
Oh, thought Niu. She wasn’t even really handling the operation, but Roah always seemed to be strangely formal in these sorts of contexts.
“Fortify our position at, Marmony, while looking for, the targets. After that, we should get the, majority of our forces, back here. Well, you can adjust that, plan as you see fit.” She simply told him what she thought made sense.
“Understood,” said Roah. “I will be back for another report if anything happens.”
He probably bowed, but Niu still wasn’t looking at him. She merely heard him closing the door behind him, and then realized that she was very tense. She loosened up, lowering her long since dry brush.
This is such a mess, she thought glumly as she tried getting back to work. Not unlike me.
Linza stifled a yawn as she paced around town. There were a few guards roaming around, but none of them seemed like they even glanced at her. Eventually she settled down, sitting with her back to a tree in a more natural part of the town.
She never quite liked the fact she looked so young, but at least it helped her in situations like this. No one would even imagine a petite girl walking brazenly outside would be the one behind the assassination attempt the other night.
On the other hand, they did see her general figure, and one of the guards even tried grabbing her… still, she wasn’t terribly afraid at this stage.
Linza herself wasn’t quite sure how to act from here on. She had tried subterfuge and a direct attack, so what else was left for her to satisfy her client? Back when the request came—through a middleman, of course; almost none of her clients actually met her—she found it somewhat strange, but who was she to argue with a job that brought her so much money?
The client’s orders were simple: she was to try to assassinate the Queen but not make too much of an effort. She had been expressly told that her highest priority was to not get caught, regardless of what happened to the Queen. She was also instructed to vary her methods with each attempt, but stop after the third one.
That request was nothing short of baffling. If her client wanted the Queen dead, why choose this bizarre method? And if the client didn’t want her dead, why hire an assassin? She kept those doubts in her mind, but just acted like she was told. It wasn’t her place to question a paying customer.
Truth be told, Linza would be glad to get rid of the job without killing anyone. She felt like killing someone so high up was far more trouble than it was worth.
First, she tried the less flashy way—poison. She was slightly shocked to have found out that a similar incident had occurred elsewhere before. She wasn’t sure if that was good or bad for her, and was also pretty sure this wasn’t a coincidence, but wasn’t about to ask. The less she knew, she better. The faster she finished this job, the better.
Following that she went for a direct assault, but they were obviously prepared with so much guards around, so instead of risking it she simply unleashed a few attacks and ran. Judging from how things were in town, she was unsuccessful.
This left her with only one more attempt. Whether she failed or succeeded, that would be the end of this job.
What should she try this time, then?
“Hey, you.” Linza heard a voice behind her and froze, body tensing up all over. Had she been already found? “Stop avoiding me.”
“Um.” Linza turned around and saw a young man with light brown hair smiling flippantly. His expression then grew confused as he saw her face.
“Oh, sorry, I mistook you for another person,” the man said. Accepting this in relief, Linza merely nodded and turned back, except that the man called to her again. “Wait, you’re actually kinda cute, too. How about you come to get a drink with me?”
Linza frowned. It happened from time to time, but she never liked men hitting on her like that. “I’ll have to decline,” she said, then rose to her legs and started walking away. She rested enough for now.
“Aww, don’t be that way,” the man’s grating voice still approached her from behind. “You look like you’re not from around here… I’ll show you to some nice place. Just one drink, come on.”
Linza stopped. The man was making an awful lot of noise and some people were glancing their way. She suppressed her Lastian accent as best as she could, but just like he said she didn’t look local, and didn’t want any undue attention.
“Oh, alright,” she finally said surly. “Just one drink though.”
“Excellent,” said the youth, flashing her a haughty smile. “I’m Callun Qumisson. Let’s have a nice time.”
Gen started feeling faint and dizzy again, a fact that did not escape the attention of the other members of his unit even when their surroundings were mostly dark.
“You should go back,” told him one.
Gen wasn’t doing much or anything important; just a general sweep of the caverns. Traps had already been triggered or disabled, the dead gathered and the Stroba that stopped resisting apprehended. There would be a lot to do with this place moving on, and Gen was glad that he would probably not have to be a major part of it.
“I…” Gen hesitated. “Ugh, all right, I’ll do it.”
Just an hour an ago he’d been woken up by Aisbroom. He really thought he was a goner, but Aisbroom had explained that they’d concocted a certain antidote that should have worked on most Stroban poisons, and so administered it to Gen upon reaching the scene at just the right time.
Relieved at his own survival, Gen had nonetheless been dreading the condition of Shaya, who was still in a bad state and unconscious. One of the laborers apparently made expressly for this purpose was treating her and Aisbroom claimed she would be fine, but Gen was still horrified. He knew he had to do something so he wouldn’t just stay there worried, and so he’d volunteered to check the aftermath of the battle.
Of course, he still ended up thinking about it a lot. It was quite obvious that he and Shaya both bit off more than they could chew. They thought this operation would be a rescue mission and a strike of justice, but it was simply war. Even after having fought a bit before this, Gen had never been through such a hell.
He couldn’t even count how many people he’d killed, and it was weighing greatly on his mind. Not to mention the fact that he’d nearly gotten Shaya killed, too.
He regretted agreeing for her to come, then was also mad at himself for rejecting her heartfelt wishes. But how could anyone blame him?
At first, they seemed like some sort of invincible duo, the stuff of legends. With his formless compensation and her amazing channeling, they could defeat any enemy—or so he thought, but even strict power alone couldn’t beat quantity, traps and tricks.
Gen was far too conceited with his power. Not to mention that they failed to achieve any of their goals. Other than conquering Marmony, maybe, but that didn’t interest him.
It was both a victory and a loss. He knew he had to get to Shaya and apologize for involving her in this mess, but he couldn’t face her like this.
He was also scared of making his way there and finding out that she was…
“Ah, here you are,” said a nearby voice.
Slightly panting, Gen turned to see Aisbroom. Had they come there looking for him? If so, it possibly meant something happened with—
“Go to them,” Aisbroom simply told him.
“…What?”
“I mean Shaya.” Since the fairies’ native language was gender-neutral, it was still a bit confusing at times. “They’re fine. Or they will be. They need you.”
“I…”
“Go. I’ll take care of things here; you still need to recover.”
Gen was conflicted. Seeing Aisbroom like this in front of him felt complex—they were the one who managed to save him while he himself had collapsed. Gen foolishly thought he was closing the gap to both Molton and Aisbroom, but that was wrong. Deadly wrong, almost.
“I’ll do it,” he mumbled, nodding slightly. Aisbroom nodded back, and the two of them crossed paths, walking in different directions. Aisbroom started conversing with the others around as Gen distanced himself.
There were still many things he was unsure about, things he hesitated about, and things that he knew he must come to a decision about. Now that he truly realized how fleeting his life was, he couldn’t wait much longer.
Gen’s body, mind and heart ached.
The library of Copius Castle was not large—at least not when compared to such places as the University’s Research and Knowledge Hub or to the famous Northern Archives in Lastia—but it still contained a vast repertoire on many varied subjects, starting from medicine to biology to channeling to theology, fairy tales and even some fiction.
Not many people were granted access and usage of the facility, obviously; outside the royal family only select nobles or people with special privileges were allowed to peruse the many dusty bookshelves.
Naturally one of them was Lord Qumisson, allowing him to sit in the peace and quiet and read a book. As he heard incoming steps, he raised his face from page 255 of “Country and State Vol II-2” and saw none other than Queen Levia-O herself.
“My, that is quite the door stopper you are reading there,” said Levia, smiling elegantly. To him it sounded very mocking, even if she hadn’t intended it to be.
“Your Majesty.” Qumisson half-rose from his seat to bow politely despite seething from the inside. “Are you here for some reading, as well?”
“Actually,” she said, “I was looking for you. Someone told me you were seen here.”
Qumisson managed to stop himself from frowning. Why exactly was she looking for him? Could she have found some direct evidence to his involvement? No, that would be completely impossible. Even if she could read his mind, she would never find any physical proof.
“You could have summoned me, Your Majesty. No need to go out of your way like this.”
“Nonsense. Actually, this is quite urgent and I require your help.”
His brows raised ever so slightly. “My help… Your Majesty?”
Levia widened her smile. “Yes. You see, I plan on holding a public speech.”
The surprises just kept coming, but now Qumisson managed to compose himself—not that it would stop the vile woman from prying it from his mind, but still.
“For what purpose?” he merely asked.
“Morale.” The Queen stepped further, putting one hand on the table. “Our people are scared, Lord Qumisson. And rightly so. There is possible war coming right around the corner, the attack by the Gods that vanished as readily as it appeared, with slight hints of it resurfacing… and, of course, the recent attempts on my life. Try to suppress the news as I might, it still spreads around, causing worry and unrest.”
“And so you intend to sooth them with words? I am doubtful that would work as you intend it to. Furthermore,” he added, only slightly hesitating, “would it not make any further assassination attempts easier?”
There was no way she hadn’t realized this, after all, which is why he paused only very briefly, but still cursed himself afterward. She definitely tried fishing for his response, just like always.
“There is no need to worry,” the Queen said calmly, “I am obviously aware of that, and will be prepared accordingly.”
She was planning something for sure—but currently Qumisson couldn’t tell what. While pondering this, he instead raised his second doubt.
“So why do you require my help, then, Your Majesty?”
“Is it not obvious, Lord Qumisson?” she asked with that fake charming smile of hers which he so hated. “You are a much better fit than me for handling those kinds of events. Was I not dull to the extreme, back at the funeral? I was hoping to borrow your expertise.”
“I will not make a speech for you.”
“Oh, of course not, I did not mean that. I was hoping more for you to give me some advice and logistical management, that sort of thing.”
“If so, then find someone else to—”
“Were you under the impression you can refuse me, Lord Qumisson?” she asked, her smile slightly faltering. “No… you are free to decline this offer. I will not order you in my capacity as a Queen or otherwise. However, as longtime friends and family, I insist.”
Was she trying to set some sort of trap? Even if he decided to act during the event, he obviously wouldn’t do anything himself. But perhaps she wanted to keep a watching eye on him anyway. Or perhaps it was insurance in case anything did happen, where she could blame him for it.
It was risky, to be sure, but there were also many things to gain from it. Even if he wouldn’t go as far as to sabotage this public address, perhaps he could manipulate it to inflict a devastating blow to her reputation among the populace. What if, for example, her assassination coincided with this event?
…And she was also reading his emotions from directly inside his mind as he was considering all this. Damn her to Blissland and back.
“I will do as you wish, Your Majesty,” he finally relented.
She put her hands together. “Most splendid. Let us arrange a meeting later this afternoon at your earliest convenience, then. Goodbye for now.”
“Wait, Your Majesty.” Qumisson called out just as the Queen turned to leave. She looked back at him. “While you are here. I would like to apologize on the behalf on my unruly son. I heard he has been bothering your staff as of late.”
“Ah, right. I did hear about young Callun stirring up something,” said Levia, the smile not leaving her lips. “It is fine. All of us were once young and unruly, and no harm was done. I will not meddle in your family business; if you feel the need, you may discipline him.”
“Oh, I will.” For threatening my plans, that is. “Please do not hold it against him.”
“Not to worry. I will see you later, then.”
With the Queen’s steps distancing themselves, Qumisson sank back into deep thought. He closed the book in his hands—he didn’t even notice that he’d been holding it open this entire time—and ran through the information in his mind.
A golden opportunity for assassination, manipulation, or both. Possibly even more. The Queen was likely holding a bait in front of him, but this didn’t mean that this bait couldn’t be used. He could outmaneuver her. And it was possible that this really wasn’t some plan of hers; he might have been needlessly paranoid.
All he needed to do was think of how to integrate this into his plans. How to get the Queen caught in her own trap.
How to finally get rid of her.
Whenever I see her, I see red.
The red of her lips. At times, the red of her dress or jewelry. But most of the time, the red of my own rage. An insolent and utterly despicable woman.
Despite being a defect and a scoundrel, she took it all.
Status, wealth, position. There was nothing she was missing. That red only grew brighter with each passing day. As did the red of my love.
Up until her very last day.