Monan Moanin yawned, greeting the start of another day.
The human body really was mysterious. Although they spent almost all of their time underground, their body still roughly remembered when the sun rose and sank. Since both the sun and them were created by the same beings, were they simply made this way? Seeing as these same Demons cast them away, though, perhaps this was not something positive.
Turning to the side, Monan could see Zade’s sleeping face, his chest rising and falling with every breath. It really stunned them, the first time seeing him, how faeries were both like and unlike humans. There was the facial hair, for one. Zade usually kept a thin beard that was fuzzy to the touch and tingling when they kissed.
Monan simply lay there, watching their beloved float in the realm of dreams. Before long, he too would wake. He would probably ache and hurt, so Monan would have to give him the regular potion to drink.
This gave them many complex feelings.
They knew it was wrong to keep him here like that, obviously. It was wrong to obfuscate the situation he found himself in. They secluded him and shackled his body, his memories and his emotions. However, it was the only way to keep him relatively happy and safe. Monan knew that, too. They didn’t want him to hurt. Even if they were tricking them, as long as it was for his sake… it was fine, right?
At the very least, their progenitor, Moanin, had told them so.
They needed Zade. The Stroba needed him. He was the legendary faerie, their savior who was going to free them from the banishment inflicted to them by the Demons—or so it was supposed to be, but then Kalden managed to get some faeries of their own.
It wasn’t fair. Kalden always had everything more. After losing in the war between the tribes, the Stroba had been exiled from the city around the Evergreen Solar, needing to fend for themselves in the less fertile parts of the land.
Oh, they managed it well enough. In fact, the underground area they had founded for themselves was much more suitable for growing all sorts of unique fungus and herbs, but it just wasn’t the same.
All of them yearned for the Great Tree Kalden their entire lives.
That was why they needed Zane. That was why Monan had to keep him safe. Filled with guilt, happiness, pain, and love, they watched him until he woke up. As they did, they recalled how this all started.
It was a humid day and Moanin Anomia wore a wide, full smile from ear to ear.
Right, of course their progenitor would be happy, Monan thought glumly to themselves. After the miracle that befell them, it was obvious. It was just a few days ago that they were attacked by mysterious monsters sent by the Demons, but then also found someone unexpected, one of the legendary faeries.
The news was a bit soured by all the losses and the intel that even Kalden found some faeries of their own, but not all hope was yet lost.
“My lovely Monan, it is time for you to prove yourself worthy,” Moanin prefaced. Huh? What? Monan had a bad feeling about this, but let nothing show on their face. “I want you to be in charge of the faerie.”
They had expected something troublesome, but definitely not this.
“R-really? Me?”
At a mere 230 years old, Monan was still very young and inexperienced. Being the scion of the Stroban Ruler, Moanin, they always felt that a great responsibility was lurking somewhere behind them, or perhaps pressing down on them, but never quite thought of how to prove themselves worthy for it. Apparently, their progenitor was about to give them that opportunity now.
“Yes. You will be with them at all times… you see, they have apparently gone through the trauma of losing a loved one. A replacement will be necessary to stabilize their heart and… encourage them to help us.”
“A replacement?” Monan mumbled in response, not yet realizing the implications.
“We will use a mixture of Mi-150 and Cf-233. It should make them mistake you for their loved one and adequately fill the gaps in their memories,” Moanin explained, fingers interlaced.
“Wha… you mean, we will use potions on them…?”
“It is for their own good, my dear. They are currently traumatized and broken. We need their power, so we have to fix them. It is as simple as that.”
How was it that, despite them being the scion of Moanin, the two of them were so different? Moanin was large and portly, so that every movement, every word of theirs was always overbearing and overwhelming. The small, slender and meek Monan could never disagree or go against them.
This time was no different.
“…Understood, Ruler,” Monan finally mumbled. “But… how will we communicate? We speak different languages, after all…”
“Ah, that is also simple. You will be getting lessons, of course. Boum is currently in Kalden, but I believe Samer should still be around. Oh, and both you and the faerie will be administered Le-909. That should do the trick.”
I hope Boum comes back soon, they thought for a second, but then returned to the main topic at hand.
Monan had never really dabbled in potion-making, so they didn’t know what any of those, including the ones mentioned before, did. However, they knew that the Stroba mixtures could accomplish pretty much anything. It was probably some potion meant to aid study, based on the name.
“Got it.” They nodded weakly.
“Excellent, my flower.” Moanin rubbed their hands, seemingly pleased. “Now, there is another matter. We are going to get all the faeries, of course, but…” Moanin leaned forward, widening their smile further still. “Have you heard about how faeries reproduce? It is said that two people are required, and instead of their child being a copy, they are a mix between the two.”
“Is that so? How odd,” Monan said. They had a bad feeling about what Moanin was getting at.
“Since we wish to harness the power of the faeries, well… I shall be blunt. Monan, I want you to bear that faerie’s child.”
From what Salom heard, Doctor Jinbel was normally a calm man, able to fulfill his duty professionally even under immense pressure and personal danger—he had served in the army, long ago—but even he apparently found himself jittery and anxious in the current circumstances.
He was, after all, being investigated for a possible connection to the murder of a noble.
“So you were called to his household on the 10th, right? This was the first time Lord Shammings complained about being sick,” Salom asked, not a hint of emotion in his voice. A notebook was laid out in front of him and he would jot down some words from time to time.
“Yes, that is right,” the older man responded, licking his lips nervously.
“When have you started poisoning him, then?” Salom asked with a completely straight face.
“…I beg your pardon, Professor?”
Judging by the fact that his expression and reply seemed genuinely confused, Salom came to the conclusion he wasn’t related to the case. Well, it was a really cheap trick and would never work most of the time, but it was worth a try. If nothing else, it would allow him to gauge the man’s reactions.
“I am sorry, you’re the most obvious suspect, so I’m simply making sure I have everything covered,” Salom told him, smiling apologetically. “I don’t really suspect you, though. No offense was intended.” Also, if he actually was the culprit, then this pressure might possibly cause him to slip up, further down the line.
Jinbel blinked once as he processed Salom’s words. “Hrrm… good,” he finally said, scratching at his thin beard. “I would like to add that I have been doing some research on what happened. I hope that doesn’t make me sound more suspicious, but I obviously wanted to know what caused this catastrophic failure of mine.”
Salom nodded. He needed all the information he could have. “What have you found?”
“There is a certain herb that, when consumed over a long span of time, may cause similar symptoms to what Lord Shammings suffered from,” Jinbel explained. “High fever, diarrhea, vomiting, weakness, paralysis, and finally, the breakdown of body systems… the man has suffered from most of these. Of course, I am not saying this randomly, since traces of that herb were indeed found in the man’s pantry.”
“Oh?” Salom hadn’t heard about that. Well, since his investigation started with the doctor, he had yet to reach out to Lord Shammings’ servants and other related people. “And what is that herb, exactly?”
“A leaf known colloquially as bittergrass. Apparently, it can be used for seasoning in very small quantities, but is usually used as a deterrent for wild animals or such… well, the study of herbs is not quite my forte… the truly interesting thing, however, is that this herb cannot be naturally found anywhere in all of Rumdon.” He leaned forward, a determined expression on his face. “Almost all of it comes from Sacrona.”
Salom showed no agitation at this revelation. Since the man was not yet cleared of all suspicions, it was possible that he was trying to mislead him—well, Salom was perhaps being a tad too paranoid, but still. Even so, he also knew from Levia that Lord Shammings himself had suspected something like this as well.
Later, Salom would have to conduct some research about this herb himself. If it wasn’t Jinbel’s forte, then perhaps there was another expert somewhere in Copius.
“An interesting piece of information indeed,” he said. “I do thank you for your time, and—“
“Y-you don’t suspect me still, right?” the doctor interjected.
Of course I do. “No, of course not. You have been most helpful. I am unsure if I will require questioning you again, so tell me just this—were you the one to find this herb?” That would also add suspicion onto him, after all.
“Oh, no. It was one of the maids who showed it to me, when we were trying to figure out the source of his Lordship’s illness,” Jinbel replied.
A new line of investigation, then. “I see. Then will you be able to point me to her, Doctor?”
“Gladly, Professor.”
The man rose from his chair and Salom rolled to escort him. Later, Salom would also ask Levia, who was currently waiting in a nearby room, if she found something interesting from the man’s mind as well.
“Your hair…” mumbled Zade one day. It was probably about five or six years since the Stroba had first taken him.
“Hmm? W-what about it?” Monan asked nervously. That morning Monan sat in front of a mirror and brushed their long, silky hair. They hadn’t even noticed Zade getting out of bed until they saw him in the mirror just as they were about to put their favorite orange flower in their hair.
Was he starting to realize the truth again? Should they give him another dose of the potion?
“I forgot it smelled so good.” Saying this, he grabbed a handful of Monan’s hair and brought it to his nose. Monan blushed. They hadn’t expected him to do something so brazen. “And that flower is so pretty… yes, it really fits you…”
“I-I… t-thank you,” they mumbled hurriedly in response.
It was true that Monan took good care of their hair. And since they lived in this moldy, musty cavern their entire life, they made good use of various perfumes and oils as a matter of course.
The other surprising thing was Zade’s demeanor—usually upon waking up he would be groggy and anxious, and then become mostly meek but prone to anger and violence upon consuming the potion as a side effect. His eyes did look somewhat glazed, but he also wore a radiant smile.
“What are we doing today?” Zade asked, putting his chin on Monan’s shoulder.
“W-we… I do not believe we have any particular plans.”
“Then we should train,” he mumbled softly.
“Train? Oh, you mean for the… yeah.” It took Monan a few seconds to recall that, back in the world of light, Zade had been a performer. He was part of a travelling troupe along with his partner.
The partner which they were now impersonating.
“I’m sorry, I still can’t quite…” Monan said awkwardly, averting their gaze. They had the (quite poor, to honest) excuse that their magic ability was currently inactive. A complete lie, of course, but one that Zade shouldn’t doubt due to all the potions. It was made because Monan themselves couldn’t use magic.
“That is a pity,” Zade breathed next to their ear. “Then you can watch me. I wish we could show it to all those fairies, though…”
“Maybe they’ll allow us, one day,” said Monan. Moanin heavily forbade any interaction with the other Strobans, even their guards and other servants. Despite this, Monan could see that some sympathized with Zade while doing their jobs. But Moanin wanted Zade to be completely reliant on Monan. “Eep.” That last sound was made because the man suddenly wrapped his arms around Monan’s lithe form, embracing them. They could feel his body heat.
“Are you in the mood?”
Monan felt their face heat up. “U-uh, y-yeah,” they replied with a choked voice, to which Zade laughed then simply lifted them in both arms. “Ah!” Monan shrieked as they both fell on the bed.
What went after that was something that remained very mysterious for Monan even after all these years. They never quite imagined that faerie reproduction would be quite like… well, that. It involved many strange things, and despite some initial hurdles and issues, it was actually quite enjoyable.
On the other hand, it also brought Monan immense guilt and pain.
The concepts of love and intimacy seemed to somewhat differ between the two worlds. Based on what they learned from Zade, Monan was pretty sure that only people who were extremely close and comfortable with each other would do something like that, most of the time.
This meant that Zade’s actions came from his deepest, strongest feelings for Alima. Alima, his partner, who had most likely been killed during the first wave. Even if she was being replaced by Monan, Monan themselves still knew the truth, and it hurt. They felt that they were taking something important away from Zade.
Also, the plan failed regardless. Monan remained unseeded.
Lord Shammings’ funeral was held a full five days following his death.
Many people were gathered in the large chapel located at the outskirts of Copius. Although Rumdon normally wasn’t quite that religious, at least the nobles liked playing with formal ceremonies like that.
Levia lazily scanned the attendees’ minds. Some felt grief and shock, but many were indifferent, and some twisted few were even happy. A normal person would have probably been disgusted, but Levia wasn’t one.
Right, there was Lady Farrenback, saddened on the outside but simply bored on the inside. And Lord Sacrum was both seeming and feeling quite shocked, as if he was surprised that someone like Shammings could even die. Him being there without his wife was also surprising.
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Wearing a black, modest dress for mourning, Levia stood on top of the podium that also held Lord Shammings’ coffin on it. As she kept glancing at the crowd, trying to pick an errant mind here and there, she found a certain prominent absence: that of Lord Qumisson.
Even without the delay allowing for most people to reach the Capital in time for the ceremony, Levia knew that Qumisson was already in town since a while ago. It was rather strange of him not to attend this funeral. Suspicious, even.
“Your Majesty, you may begin,” a whisper from a man nearby, the priest in charge of the chapel, cut off her line of thought. Apparently, they were done waiting for any more people. She nodded and stepped ahead, her heels clacking on the podium, loud even among the chatter of the huge crowd.
“We are all gathered here,” Levia started speaking loudly, pausing just enough to allow the background noise to settle down once they noticed her starting, “to mourn for our beloved friend, partner, fellow noble, and, for a few of you, parent or grandparent. For me, he was like an uncle, although unrelated by blood. Most of those here should remember the turbulent times that preceded my coronation, but perhaps I am the only one to have truly seen how much he supported me when I had almost no one to turn to…”
She did spend a couple of hours writing that speech, and felt that it turned out nicely. At the very least, the emotional responses of the crowd were as she expected. Swen was already crying again, the poor man.
Allowing a hint of tears to rise up to her eyes as well, she wrapped up the speech and stepped away from the podium.
“Splendid, Your Majesty, thank you. I am sure that Lord Shammings, wherever he is, is happy,” the priest said, his chubby face grim. “Now then, let us carry him to his final resting place. From radiant light to blissful darkness.”
The back of the chapel spread into the city’s biggest graveyard, usually preserved for the high-class citizens. It was surrounded by a neat, tranquil garden that was often compared to the one up in the castle.
As they made their way to this graveyard, Levia noticed something, or rather someone, surprising. When had he arrived there? During her speech? Had he perhaps been there since the start and she simply missed him?
Perhaps somewhat annoying her guards, she made her way to Lord Qumisson.
“Lord Qumisson! I must have missed you in the crowd. I was sure you hadn’t been here, for whatever reason.”
Outwardly he was unperturbed, but she could sense he didn’t want to talk to her. That was the normal state of affairs, though.
“Your Majesty,” he mumbled, bowing slightly. “I would of course attend the funeral of a dear old friend, blessed be his soul. I do admit, however, of arriving later than I anticipated. I regret it deeply.”
“A pity, but being late is better than not being at all.” She made a small smile, then erased it as if only now recalling the circumstances of their meeting. “It really was a shock, was it not? Hearing Lord Shammings had been poisoned.”
She was obviously fishing for a response. She wanted to do this for a while now, and this was a good excuse for it. Although even Shammings himself and various other sources of information seemed to find it likely that it was interference from their enemies, she couldn’t help but suspect Qumisson. She could feel he was very anxious and distraught—however, there was no guilt to be found.
Of course, that by itself meant nothing. She was sure that he could be a remorseless killer if the need called for it.
Qumisson sighed painfully, and she felt that some part of him was indeed pained at this. “It was a shock and a sad day. I do hope we will be able to find the one responsible for this and conduct proper justice. Moreso if it comes from Sacrona or thereabouts.”
He didn’t seem to believe what he just said—but, once again, that could be interpreted any number of different ways.
Levia was always quite convinced that Qumisson knew about her compensation for a long, long time, although he never uttered a word about it. She could read his feelings, but there were still plenty of possible ways for him to conceal information and even mislead her. Not to mention that she couldn’t use his feelings as proof to indict him, either way.
“I have my best men on the case,” Levia said. Thinking of it, Saburn hadn’t come there either; she could use the downtime after the funeral to contact him. “Rest assured we will deal both with them and with the current threat on our country.”
“Good luck, Your Majesty,” said Qumisson, although his emotions were pretty much screaming the equivalent of die, wench. He bowed again and mixed among the crowd going outside, which Levia obviously avoided while surrounded by guards.
Levia sighed softly. She gained no valuable information whatsoever. A part of her also wondered if there would be some attempt on her life during the funeral, but she’d sense it instantly and they probably wouldn’t dare try anything in this big of a crowd.
She entered the graveyard, wondering when she was going to be buried there as well.
Mallew sighed as she exited the University, feeling gloomy. Lately she was feeling herself getting in a rut. None of her plans or schematics were coming together at all. It was all because of that stupid transporter… no, she couldn’t even call it that, there weren’t even any proper designs or anything, it was nothing more than theoretical drivel—
“Good afternoon,” a sudden voice cut off her spiral of depression. It sounded somewhat familiar, but when she turned around and saw a handsome, young man, she couldn’t help but be surprised.
“Ah? L-Lord Qumisson, good afternoon to you as well.” She attempted to wear a shaky smile, and flinched a bit as she noticed him scowl.
“If you will, Lord Qumisson is my father,” he said bitterly, “You may simply call me Lord Callun. Or even just Callun, yeah, that’d be much better.” He wore his haughty smile again.
“Understood,” she said, and only then noticed that the young man was gradually getting closer and closer to her. Almost as if he was aiming to corner her against the University wall at the exit. “So, u-umm… what brings you here, Lord Callun?”
To those who knew Mallew, it would seem utterly ridiculous how anxiously she was acting in front of Callun, considering she was usually a chatterbox. Even with those in a higher position than her, such as Saburn, Molton or the Queen she wasn’t quite as nervous as that.
The reason for that was simple: she simply hadn’t had much experience with men around her age.
“Actually,” said Callun, widening his smile, “I’ve been hoping to speak with you, Mallew.”
With me…? she wondered as her heart skipped a beat. What would the son of one of the most influential Lords this side of Rumdon ever want with her? But she soon realized. Actually, based on Saburn’s reactions toward this man, she could guess. He was probably after intel. Her mind was simply a bit overwhelmed, and so this conclusion was delayed.
As easily excitable as she was, Mallew still knew the importance of secret-keeping. If she wasn’t able to keep sensitive information secured, they wouldn’t let her work on anything interesting at all.
“I-I can’t!” she asserted. “I can’t tell you anything about the Queen’s projects!”
When Callun chuckled, she felt extremely stupid. He hadn’t said anything about that, after all. She’d inadvertently revealed that she knew something important. She hurriedly covered her mouth but it was too late. How could this have happened to her?
“The Queen’s projects, you say? My, how interesting. I’d heard you were a smart girl, but what exactly are you doing?”
“L-like I said, I… meep?!” That last part she leaked involuntarily due to Callun having taken such a large step ahead that their heads were nearly touching. He was slightly taller than her and his eyes were gazing directly into hers and—she tried retreating but there was only a solid wall behind her.
“No need to be shy. I’m not asking you for intimate details, you know? I’m just interested in everything going on in this country of ours, for its betterment. Why don’t we just go for a nice walk, then? Or I could take you to a fancy restaurant. My treat, of course.”
“I-I… I…” Mallew could practically feel her brain fry, as if she just activated some heat icons. Was there no one around who could help her? She did leave the University somewhat early, but there should be some people around. She knew what he was trying to do, but was powerless to stand against him.
“—Leave her alone.”
An unexpected but wished for savior appeared. His voice sounded somewhat familiar, but she couldn’t see his figure due to Callun blocking almost her entire view. The young Lord’s head turned around to the newcomer.
“And you are?” he spat.
“Just a lowly soldier, sir,” the other man said. “But I cannot have you harass a colleague. You’re in public space, you know.”
“…Do you have any idea who you’re talking to?” His voice growing angry, Callun separated from Mallew, finally allowing her to see the one that came to her rescue. “And who are you, anyway?”
The young man was clad in the uniform of Rumdon’s army just like her, although his insignia indicated a slightly inferior rank—however, unlike her, he was a combatant.
“I know you perfectly well, Lord Callun Qumisson, sir,” said the youth, his sharp eyes focused on his opponent. “And I am Sergeant Revol Hydeen, nice to meet you.”
The two brown-haired men were similar yet completely different as they faced each other in front of the University. Watching them somewhat nervously, Mallew couldn’t help but think something quite silly.
Oh no, could it be? Is this the start of my romance, just like in all those stories?!
“I can’t live like this anymore…!”
Not all days with his beloved were full of bliss and affection. That morning was a rough one. Zade woke up with an immense headache, not to mention the anger and sadness welling inside him in a painful vortex. He wanted to find a sharp object and jab it as far inside him as possible.
Everything overwhelmed him. Alima was at his side, but he had lost Alima. He was stranded in a strange, foreign world with no one at his side except for Alima. Even fellow humans didn’t want him. He wanted to die, just like Alima died but she lived.
“What’s wrong, love…?” asked him the bewildered Alima-not-Alima.
“Everything!” he screamed. “It’s all wrong!”
“C-calm down,” she continued, going to the nearest table and lifting a cup of sweet-smelling liquid, “here, h-have a sip and it’ll make you feel be—“
“I’ve had enough of that, too!” he raged, swinging his arm. Alima cried in pain and the cup fell and shattered, spreading liquid sweetness all over the floor. The moment he saw her fall, though, something inside him broke and his rage melted away as if it hadn’t been there in the first place. He started crying instead.
“This is who I really am… I can only hurt and destroy…” His voice turned lower, he grabbed his head and began wailing.
Various memories and visions swam in his head, mixing incoherently. He couldn’t tell what was real and wasn’t real anymore. Perhaps it was all a nightmare. Or perhaps it was a good dream, and reality itself was the nightmare.
He started getting dizzy as felt soft arms wrapping around him. “P-please calm down…” Alima’s voice whispered to him. No, it wasn’t her voice. It wasn’t her voice, but it was her voice. Wasn’t it?
“Do I have to…?” he asked weakly, still half-sobbing.
“…War is coming,” Alima whispered to him, her face twisted in pain. “We might be able to defeat them, b-but we need you to… to…”
Zade shook his head violently, hands trembling. “I don’t want this anymore… I don’t want to fight. I don’t want to live. I don’t want to die… what do I even want…?”
“You want to… stay with me, right?” she asked, her eyes sparkling with tears.
Stay with Alima? Yes, that was his wish. He desperately wanted to live with her forever. Performing together, travelling together… one day, perhaps, they would settle down and start a family. That was the plan. At least, until everything changed.
Zade’s head exploded.
“Ye…es…” he heard himself say through the pain.
“I will never, ever leave you.” The thin arms hugged him even tighter. “I promise you that whatever happens, I won’t leave you. In fact, if you wish for it, the two of us—“
There was a knock on the door and the startled Alima let go of him. He watched her, dazed.
“Yes?” she called to the door.
A fairy entered the room. They briefly scanned the room and furrowed their brows, probably at the mess around and the state of the pair, but then spoke. “The Ruler wants to see you as soon as possible.”
“…We’ll be coming shortly,” said Alima. The messenger nodded and left. Alima turned back to Zade, tears still in her eyes. “Have you calmed down?”
“Dunno…” he mumbled. He was already too tired and he wanted to sleep again. Not to mention how his head felt like a hammer crushed his skull. However, it seemed like they were summoned. He wanted to shout again, but simply lacked the power. The scent from the spilled drink tickled his nose. “Give me, something to drink…”
“Oh, of course!” Alima rushed to the nearby cabinet, procuring another bottle of drink. He actually wasn’t sure about the function of this medicine and for some reason never thought to ask, but it made him feel good. So he drank it.
While waiting for the pair in their usual meeting room carved of stone, Moanin glared at the table expressionlessly.
Everyone knew their penchant for wide smiles; creepily wide smiles, in fact. However, Moanin never smiled when alone. What was the use of it? Smiles existed only to be shown to other people. To influence them. To manipulate them. There was no need for them, otherwise.
There was no doubt that a confrontation against Kalden was approaching, in one form or another. It could be a skirmish, an operation, or an all-out war. Kalden wasn’t relenting to their demands.
Well, of course they wouldn’t. Ashwok and Acrus both weren’t stupid, and doubtlessly the new Ruler wasn’t, either, despite being inexperienced. Still, Moanin hoped that the faerie in their custody would have some effect on the other side.
That hope proved to be false. Not to mention their hopes about the legends of yore. Moanin, especially, was a true believer.
Meaning, they believed they could manipulate them for their own benefit.
At first the faerie seemed promising—he even possessed the power of magic. However, his soul was mostly broken, and to add dirt to wound, Kalden managed to acquire not just one, but four faeries.
Even using potions to manipulate the man’s memories and feelings didn’t bring a satisfactory result. Not to mention that Moanin’s own scion hadn’t managed to accomplish anything, either.
Was the time for sneaky plans over? Would they just have to fight and win? But how? If push came to shove, perhaps they would have to form an alliance with the Makin as well. Sure, they were technically the Stroba’s enemies since they allied with Kalden in the past, but desperate times called for desperate measures.
The pair of faerie and human finally arrived while Moanin was still deep in thought. The very moment they entered, Moanin’s face naturally distorted into their familiar, well-used smile. A smile that looked like it was supposed to be welcoming yet was purposely off-putting.
“Good morning, you two.” From what Moanin could judge of the pair’s complexion and expressions, their morning was the complete opposite, though.
“…Is there some new development?” Monan asked timidly.
“Not as such, no,” Moanin replied, trying to keep their smile going, “but things are tense. We keep going back and forth with Kalden, but they will not accede to us.”
“Why do they not want me…?” mumbled Zade, scrunching up his face. He looked even more haggard than usual.
“It’s not you,” Monan hurriedly said. “They are simply… too comfortable in their position, and they think that we’re their enemies. Like I explained to you, we—“
“Enough,” Zade hissed. “I’ve heard enough of that.” Monan bit their lips and fell silent.
Moanin took this opportunity to resume speaking. “Unfortunately, this situation is quite complex. We have no real way of making them agree to our deals, nor can we fight against them. We are greatly disadvantaged… We have very few plans of actual attacks against them, so we have only two hopes. Either the Demon or you.”
Zade’s glazed over eyes indicated that he couldn’t understand what they were talking about. Well, that was no matter.
“We can either try and take over the Demon,” Moanin explained, “or we can send you to Kalden.”
“Wha—“ Monan was, perhaps understandably, shocked. “You mean, just surrender?”
Of course, Moanin didn’t like that option at all, either. However, since they’d thoroughly brainwashed Zade, not even Kalden should be able to lift the potion’s effects… meaning, he’d still be the Stroba’s pawn.
“No, not surrender. But by giving him up, we might be able to use him to manipulate them from the inside.” They found their smile lessening, evidence of how shaky they knew this idea was.
“Going… to those who abandoned me?” Zade asked, mouth hanging open and then closing as he clenched his teeth. “Those pieces of shit… I will never surrender to them!”
Moanin had the feeling he would say that. “That leaves us with the other option, then… as expected,” they said.
“Will the Dem…God really help us?” wondered Monan. “If there was a way to control it, wouldn’t have Kalden already done something with it?”
Monan was right. Even Moanin had no clue about this. However, they had the feeling that there was something they were all missing. They were sure that Kalden was still investigating the matter and that they knew a lot more about the Demon, but even so they couldn’t help but feel that they were closer to solving it, for some reason. Nothing more than an intuition, but Moanin tended to trust their gut.
“…We will leave that aside for now. Even approaching the Demon is much too dangerous as of present,” said Moanin. “Perhaps when Kalden starts something, their attention in that direction will dull.”
“What are you saying, then?!” Zade said, on the verge of tears, shouting, and perhaps violence. Monan even had to hold his shaking arm. “That we’re going to do nothing… but wait?”
Moanin found their smile diminishing further still, a fact which annoyed them, so they hurriedly widened it. “Yes, my dear. We will have to trust in our fate… and in your powers as our savior.”
How silly. Niu noticed that she was so out of it that she had been holding her brush in front of an empty canvas without moving for at least a few minutes. This happened to her from time to time, perhaps more so lately. She glanced at the laborers around as if surprised they hadn’t said anything to her. But they obviously wouldn’t.
Perhaps it was natural for her mind to wander like that, with everything going on. There had been absolutely no solid progress on anything in this complex web of circumstances, and it always felt as if a single overly-taut thread was about to snap off at any given moment, breaking the whole thing apart.
Would it be war with the Stroba or with the Makin? The Goddess making some move? Would the waves resume? Perhaps other disasters were also lurking under the surface, unseen, ready to burst and strike when they least expected it.
There were simply too many moving parts. Even now when she wasn’t just a dumb girl but the Queen, she still couldn’t quite control anything.
Even so, she did her best to think.
The blank canvas in front of her was the world. All she had to do was reach a decision, wield the paintbrush, and dye everything in her own colors. Thinking in that metaphor actually made her smile. As well as gave her an idea.
Roah had advised her against taking any hasty actions, but she couldn’t wait forever. If she had to prioritize something… that would have to be the other human, for sure. The Goddess was also of immense interest to her, but that one seemed unreachable, for now. She definitely was the more important one, as she likely held clues about the waves. The problem was that they found no way to control her or hold a true conversation with her no matter what they tried.
I wish we could understand you, thought Niu to herself as she pictured the distant Goddess—and found herself inadvertently activating her ability.
This sort of thing happened to her, from time to time. Although she had already felt like she mastered her compensation in these two years, the fact that she used it to “speak” all of the time meant that sometimes the lines between her own thoughts and the thoughts she sent out were blurred.
“Danger!/Calamity!/Ruin!” Alsa’s so-called voice echoed in Niu’s head. It wasn’t as intense as usual, but still felt as if something alien was forcing its way into her mind. “The obstacles that lie ahead/The annihilation often wished for/Enemies and friends, engaged in tedium.”
Niu grimaced, shaking off Alsa’s response. She obviously knew she could contact her from afar, but she never expected the Goddess to be actually able to reply to her like this, when no one else could. Not that it really helped her. What did she mean, anyway? Obstacles, annihilation, enemies… she always spoke as if there was some incoming danger, which was perhaps the most obvious thing in the world.
Niu needed to clear all these obstacles one by one. She would apply the first stroke to make her strike. A silly little wordplay that made her smile again.
Moving her hand, she drew a brown line on the canvas and grinned at it. Yes, exactly so. She finally reached a decision.
Recalling that this was actually Acrus’s plan before being overthrown, Niu felt both amused and bitter. How ironic that she would end up following their plan so easily just because of a small change in circumstances.
But that was fine. There was no need to hesitate anymore. She couldn’t play around with the Stroba any longer.
She would attack and regain what was theirs in the first place.
The soil’s scent was always overbearing.
Even so, having spent all of our lives there, we grew used to it.
What we couldn’t grow used to, however, where the circumstances of our lives. Why did it have to be this way? Our history was already buried in the ground. Although we knew the reasons for it, did we really understand them?
Instead of doing anything meaningful, we were simply stuck in this prison, no, tomb made of brown. The earth gave us life, but it also gave us death.
We wished to see the sun among the green, but evil drove us into the abyss.
So we have no choice but take it all back. No matter what it takes.