“You really do need to relax, Swen. Everything is fine. I am alive, am I not?”

The Queen’s voice was as calm as a spring breeze. Although her life was in danger, she was as unperturbed and collected as always, just as he came to expect from her over the years. Nevertheless, even if she herself was unworried, his job was to worry in her stead, after all.

“I cannot, Your Majesty. You were one meal away from being poisoned,” he noted.

An hour passed since the food tasting incident. They apparently acted fast enough so that the tasters’ lives weren’t in any immediate danger, but that did nothing to change the fundamental issue. Somehow, poison had found itself into the food. No, that was an overly indirect way of putting it—someone had poisoned the food.

Someone had tried to kill the Queen.

“And yet I was not poisoned. Mostly due to your excellent work, of course,” Levia added. There was no sense of gloating in her voice. She also didn’t sound to be thrilled at her survival, either. It was a colder side of the Queen, one that she exhibited more when in private.

Swen still paced around the room nervously. Investigation was underway and the entire inventory of the castle was undergoing a thorough check. That also meant that, of course, Levia had nothing for breakfast yet, but she made no complaints about that.

“We must fire the entire staff,” he mumbled, shaking his head and swinging an arm. “No, we need to interrogate them first, and then—“

“Swen.” Levia’s interjecting voice was nearly a bark. “Listen to yourself. Who will run and maintain the place if we do that? If nothing else, it will give the assassin another opening. In fact, this might as well be their aim.”

Swen knew that he was being unreasonable. However, it had been a long time since the Queen was in real danger. Years passed since any genuine assassination attempt. There was the first wave of the black monsters, to be sure, but that was almost over before it began, and they had been adequately prepared and secured for the next ones.

But now it was different. With the way poor old Shammings died, it almost seemed like an indiscriminate attack—but of course it wasn’t. The circumstances were probably the most complicated they’d been ever since Levia’s ascension to the throne.

There was at least an entire country against them, a dubious and extremely distant ally, an otherworldly threat that could appear at any given moment after a long lull, and even within Rumdon itself, about half of the nobles were not on their side.

Yes, they were surrounded by enemies on all sides. The only one that Swen could trust was himself. Oh, and Queen Levia-O, obviously. Probably even Molton. Definitely not Saburn, though.

There had to be something he could do. He had to find the culprit no matter what.

Saburn was supposedly doing some investigation of his own, but never mind that Swen couldn’t trust his sly ways, he wasn’t even getting any results. Swen had offered his help many times, yet Saburn refused him, claiming that while he’d appreciate any relevant information, Swen should focus on his own duties.

But his duty was to serve the Queen! Therefore, he had to ensure her safety.

No, now that things were so dire, he definitely couldn’t let that man handle everything. Even if he did not gain his cooperation, there were still things he could do that Saburn could not. Yes, he was in a unique position in many ways.

Swen turned toward Levia. “Your Majesty,” he opened solemnly, “I have to check on something. Please stay safe here.”

Levia blinked at him and then sighed. “I can tell you are thinking of something quite foolish… but I trust you.” She wore a brilliant, dazzling smile. “Do whatever you believe the best.”

At times she was a baffling ruler, but even so Swen wanted to do everything he could for her. He believed that no other person would be able to lead Rumdon on the right path. That was why he had to keep Levia safe, at any price possible.

If he were to tell his past self that he would come to respect this woman so much, he probably would have scoffed at himself. And yet this was the present, and he wanted to preserve it.

Levia had heard that she barely cried since she was born. This made sense to her; a baby would have some physical needs, to be sure, but she was probably quite the piece of work even as a toddler.

To put it simply, Levia didn’t know what emotions were.

No, she did know what they were—people showed them to her all of the time, after all. It would perhaps be more precise to say that she possessed none of them. With time, however, she learned to act as if she did have those emotions, little by little. If she wasn’t born into the royal line, perhaps she could have pursued a career as an actress.

It took her a great deal of effort, of course. The only guideline she had was other people, and so she worked hard to elicit any and all sorts of emotions from them.

She didn’t know this at the time, but she was blessed with the phenomenon called compensation. A supernatural ability that made up for her missing parts, and in this case allowed her to know how other people were feeling since she couldn’t.

She found no joy in behaving the part of a problem child, but she also found no sorrow in it. Whether people praised her or scolded her made no difference. She wished it had—no, she thought that she should feel like that. However, even that was out of her grasp.

“One day,” her father, King Mekuriel-N, told her, out of nowhere, “you will be Queen. You will support your future husband and maintain the kingdom. It is a heavy duty.”

“Must I?” she asked with a calculated mischievous smile. She sensed her father growing frustrated even before he frowned.

“Yes. Like I said, that is your duty, one you were born with. But never fear. There is still time for you to prepare for this, Levia. You will not forever stay a naughty child.”

“I’m sorry,” she apologized, inserting just the slightest bit of shame in her voice. That, too, brought the result she had anticipated.

“It is fine. No matter what happens, we will always be parent and child.” He smiled under his moustache. Having lost her mother during childbirth, Levia knew no mother other than her maids and caretakers—but even for her, her father’s existence was an irreplaceable one. “I love you, my dear daughter.”

Love. What a clichéd word and a puzzling emotion, that one was.

Levia spent quite a lot of time thinking about it and trying to decipher it to no success. She liked sweets, seafood and nuts, to name some examples, but that was merely her taste. If she likened it to love, people would probably laugh at her.

“I love you too,” she mumbled.

Did she love her father? The answer was a definite no. She told him that she did, but didn’t actually feel it. She liked his hugs, but that was again just due to the enveloping warm sensation; it just felt good. Of course, he stopped doing that sort of thing a long time ago already.

“I will try and do my best, daddy,” Levia added, already feeling his very slight agitation at the last word.

“It is Father, for you.”

“Right.”

This stately but kind father that always loved her but was never loved by her would leave the world but fifteen years after this exchange. The demise of Levia’s father would prove to be quite a shocking development in her life, but before that came another different event that completely changed her world.

As Levia grew up, there were of course countless suitors for her from all over the country. All young (and many old) noble men earnestly sought to win the delightful combo—of her as a beautiful wife as well as the future crown.

Levia couldn’t understand love, but she soon realized that no love was involved in the matter anyway. It didn’t mean it was pleasant, however; instead of love there was lust, whether it was a lust for power or for the flesh, and it was oftentimes both.

She also knew that she had no choice. Women were slowly making progress in the world, but at least in Rumdon’s high society, they were still mostly tools. It was all about power.

Levia couldn’t say she was happy about it, but she wasn’t happy about anything in the first place. She always lived with this contradiction in her heart, although she managed to fool most people.

She knew a day would come when she’d be forced to finally have a partner. Because of that, she wasn’t surprised when she turned seventeen and was told the following by her father.

“Levia, you will meet your fiancé today.”

Levia’s expression turned to complete surprise, although it was actually a farce. She had already known about Mekuriel’s attempts to arrange for her a political marriage for years now. What she hadn’t known about was its success, though.

Long gone were the days where she would have replied to this announcement with some flippant or mischievous statement designed to annoy him; once she had mastered her act, there was no need to rile up people’s emotions for no reason. And those people merely thought that she had finally matured.

“Of course, Father,” she replied with a smile.

That being said, she hoped her father had at least chosen someone decent. Gods forbid it was someone like her relative Lord Qumisson, for example.

“You will meet him tonight. Dress well,” he asked, then wore a thin smile. “I do not hand over my troublesome daughter with great pleasure, but I think the two of you will get along fine.”

Now this got her wondering. Although Levia was pretty certain her father hadn’t fully deciphered her true nature, he still knew she was, for lack of a batter word, unique. She had concealed her compensation but allowed him to know of her ability to channel. Judging by his feelings, he felt slight anxiety coupled with hope, so she could probably trust him.

“I look forward to it,” she said, only half-lying.

Later that evening she had been waiting at the parlor, dressed in clothes that weren’t too revealing but still accentuated her figure to be attractive enough. Men’s lustful stares (or rather the burst of emotions she felt from them at those moments) would tingle unpleasantly in her mind, like most powerful emotions, but weren’t so big of a bother.

Prince Mayer Ashkerton—that was her fiancé’s name. She had obviously not intended on meeting him without knowing anything at all, so she gathered some intelligence. He was supposedly the fourth in line of the royal family of Lastia.

She knew well that Father’s plan was to make an alliance with Lastia, which, ever since the legendary Rebellion, had taken a more neutral role. Of course, it was a move that could lead to renewed war against Sacrona, but she trusted that Father was willing to take this risk and took it into his calculations. Levia herself had no particular feelings on the matter. Let there be war, or let there be peace. She would rather not die if it could be helped at all, though. Death could be messy and painful.

She was pondering the nature of this new man about to enter her life when a few servants opened the door.

“Announcing the arrival of His Highness Prince Mayer Ashkerton, Lord of Northern Lastia and Duke of Singardia,” they called as a young man, only a few years her senior, stepped inside. He was dressed smartly, his dirty brown hair somewhat long but his face fully shaved. He wore an elegant, jovial smile. Noticing the princess, his fiancée, his face lightened up and he hastened his pace.

Then, he tripped on the edge of the colorful rug covering the floor, falling on his face.

There was a suffocating silence.

No one dared say a thing and even Levia found herself completely dumbfounded by this course of events, not to mention the flood of confusion and embarrassment that erupted from the room’s occupants at that moment. Time seemed to pass excruciatingly slow as the prince rose up from the floor, helped by his flustered attendant, a tall man who looked to be about his age.

“I… err, it is nice to meet you, f-fair Princess Levia,” Mayer muttered and cleared his throat, extending a hand. His hair was disheveled, his nose slightly red and some lint stuck to his black suit. Even so his smile was unabashed and sincere.

Without missing a beat, Levia said, “It is a pleasure to meet you as well, Prince Mayer.” She offered up her gloved hand and let him plant a kiss there.

His emotions were obviously laid bare in front of her. However, there were less embarrassment and regret than she expected, especially when compared to his shocked and distraught attendant standing behind him. How odd.

He was attracted to her for sure, but there was also something… different hidden inside there. And it would take her far even beyond Mayer’s death to truly understand what it was.

“You have been quite disappointing as of late, Lord Saburn.”

Salom frowned. As far as her lack of emotions went, he wasn’t sure if disappointment counted as one, but even supposing that it did, he knew she only said it to annoy him. And even more annoying was the fact it worked a little.

As always, they sat in the meeting room for him to give his report. Unfortunately, that report yet again consisted of a whole lot of nothing, which led to the Queen’s exasperated response.

“I apologize for not meeting your expectations,” he said in a voice dripping with sarcasm in front of her smile. “There is something devious going on here, and it will not be easy to find.”

“Will you say the same after I die?” Her smile was gone now.

“This won’t happen,” Salom tried to sound confident, but couldn’t. It was quite hard arguing against a prophecy, and his investigation wasn’t going well, either.

Levia sighed. “Both you and Swen are so alike. A pity that you don’t get along.” Salom ignored her pointless comment (it was Swen who didn’t get along with him, while Salom had no issue with the other man).

Right now, his only hope seemed to be that this newer incident, thankfully solved without any victims, would perhaps bring to light some new hints. If the culprit was the same, then their mode of action should be similar. Also, the more they acted, the more trails they should leave behind… theoretically.

Of course, Salom wasn’t just investigating the possible origins of the poisons, but also considered the possible masterminds behind it. At the moment it seemed like external enemies were the most likely, but he didn’t cross out the involvement of local dissenters such as Lord Qumisson.

Salom also deeply tried considering Roah’s suggestions. He claimed that if he was after the Queen’s life, he would have tried to set attacks on her from within… but how actually likely was that? Not at all. Never mind the fact that people like Molton or Swen would never be persuaded to do such a thing, Levia would sense their betrayal and ill intentions long before they even acted.

Well, Roah couldn’t have known about that last part, so perhaps his thoughts did have some merit to them. However, it was much more likely that the enemy was using some untraceable or disposable pawns.

“You think too much,” Levia suddenly said.

“Excuse me?” He knew she was riling him up yet again, but that specific comment still rubbed him the wrong way. “Is that not why I am here? To think how to save you?”

Levia widened her smile. “You are here to solve my problems, not ponder endlessly.”

“But how am I supposed to solve them without—“

“What I mean,” Levia interjected, “is that you might be ironically limiting yourself by not limiting your options. Whether or not it’s someone like Lord Qumisson after me, it doesn’t mean their plan would necessarily be something earth-shattering. Think simpler.”

Did she really think that sort of thinking was enough? Of course, there were countless ways to induce the result that happened. There were many suppliers and exporters of the poison administered to Shammings, and there were many servants or other visitors that could have placed yet another round of poison in the castle’s cabinets. The fact that there were so many options was the reason it was so complicated—

Huh, or was it, actually? There were seemingly endless options, but what if there was a way to limit them after all?

“You’re right,” Salom suddenly said with such intensity that made even Levia raise an eyebrow. His mind was already bubbling with ideas. “If you will excuse me, Your Majesty, I have to go do some thinking.”

Without even waiting for her response, he steered his chair to turn around.

“Haven’t I just told you not to think too much…?” Levia mumbled, sighing. “However, I can sense that you are determined and that you seem to have hit on some idea… well, good luck, Saburn.”

“Thank you. I will probably require your cooperation as well, so be prepared,” he left these words behind as he rolled out of the room.

“Do you not find it interesting, how Rumdon differs in wedding customs from other countries?”

Levia raised a brow at this question. “Hmm? Well, I suppose so.”

Considering the present state, where she and Mayer were alone just an hour before they were to set out for their wedding, it was perhaps natural for him to ponder this. However, she had the distinct feeling—based on his feelings—that he wasn’t just presenting it as mere curious trivia.

“If this were Sacrona, we wouldn’t have seen each other the entire day before, only meeting at the venue itself,” Mayer started explaining. “They would have viewed us being together like this as quite obscene.”

“What about Lastia, then?” she asked. Even without the slight movements of his eyes, she could feel a faint sadness emanate from him at the mention of his hometown, but he kept talking cordially.

“Depends on the region. Some travel together to the wedding, some come separately. They tend to be more like Rumdon in that regard, on average. There are also some rather strange customs in other lands… well, all of us are different. Just like you and I are different.”

“Yes,” she said curtly and dryly, watching him. It appeared that he was finally getting to the point.

He smiled at her. “We are from different countries, different cultures—as well as different lives, and different makeups. However, you don’t need to worry. I have already accepted you.”

“…I beg your pardon?”

Mayer’s so-called courting had been going for two years now. He took her for walks, to restaurants, to the theatre, on carriage-rides and to parties. And she, of course, acted the part of the perfect princess, charming and elegant.

Mayer did suspect something, though. That much was apparent from their very first meeting. Yet he’d said nothing until now.

He was a strange man; she soon realized that the only reason Lastia agreed to the deal was more or less to get rid of him. Their new political ties to Rumdon were merely a bonus. Mayer was clumsy but kind. He was outwardly jolly but held a deep sadness within his heart. He had been denied by his surroundings and finally thrown away—where he seemed to find a place to his liking, for some reason.

This much Levia realized within a few months of knowing him. She perfectly sensed any and all of his emotions. It stunned her how much he seemed like a dolt, but was sharp on the inside. He was possibly the first person who saw through her acting. Then why had he stayed silent, then? Perhaps she was about to find out.

“These two years… were special to me,” Mayer said, looking into her eyes. “I will not lie. I had my doubts about you, at first.” She knew this, obviously. “But the more we spent time together, the more I grew to understand you. To like you.” Levia knew this as well. “You and I are completely different as human beings, but we are similar in a certain aspect.”

“No,” said Levia. Her usual dazzling smile was completely gone. Only the cold neutrality of her expression remained.

Mayer chuckled. “I didn’t even say what it was yet!”

“I am a defect,” she stated plainly. “And you are… just a person. A prince, that is true, but even princes are human. You love, you hate, you fear and you smile, while I do not. —There is nothing in common between us.”

“You are wrong.” He was, of course, not surprised to know this about Levia. Just like he implied, he already knew it.

“I am not. What are trying to say? That both of us are outcasts, different from our environment? That doesn’t quite work, because—“

“No,” Mayer interjected. She could feel him laughing at her in his heart—no, his expression was like that as well. “You said I was human? Well, you too, then. Sorry, but that’s a biological fact.”

“What?”

It was a completely banal and stupid answer. One that she wouldn’t even have considered in the first place. She never thought of herself as smart, but she also wouldn’t stoop down to such simple nonsense.

“You are an idiot,” she said flatly and conclusively.

“I might be.” He wore a smug smile as if he’d devised some genius riddle and made Levia fall for it. She couldn’t feel anger, but it was a bit tiring. “But even so… I love you.”

Mayer leaned over and kissed Levia.

She stood there bedazzled. It was an action that she had never experienced. Yes, not even during these two years, a day before their wedding. Mayer really was an old-fashioned gentleman, in that respect.

It truly a moment out of a fairy tale. Now would be the time for Levia’s heart of ice to melt down and for her body to be flooded with newfound emotions of happiness and love—as if. She knew nothing of the sort would ever come true, and indeed it didn’t. Even so, Mayer was radiating these feelings at her.

But why…? Levia thought. Why does he love someone like me?

She simply couldn’t understand him. She could act out the emotions expected from her by the surroundings, but no matter how much she tried, she couldn’t emulate the logic of a playful, clumsy idiot like him.

“Don’t think too hard about it,” Mayer told her as he pulled his face back. He wore a satisfied smile. “You’re nothing like any other woman… no, person I’ve ever met. Is it really that weird I fell in love with you?”

Yes it is, she wanted to say. No sane man would have.

Was he a sane man, though? Levia, who had already felt through hundreds of people’s minds, no longer knew the real difference. Many people were twisted while appearing normal, and many people were quite banal while appearing odd. What was sanity, anyway, if all people other than her were capable of any emotion depending on their circumstances?

Finally, she couldn’t bear to consider this foolishness anymore. She couldn’t call it so far as being annoyed, but sometimes interacting with that fool sapped her energy.

“I will never understand you,” she mumbled, shrugging in resignation.

There was a knock on the door just as Mayer opened his mouth to reply.

“Come in,” he said loudly, still smiling at Levia.

Mayer’s attendant stepped inside. Levia wasn’t quite certain why, but the man never liked her, while being extremely loyal to his master. From what she understood both of them were practically exiled from Lastia together.

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“Everything is ready, Milord, Your Highness,” he announced. “Please come to the hall.”

Levia grabbed Mayer’s hand. “Let us head out, future husband of mine.”

“We shall, my love.”

She could feel the other man growing annoyed as she smiled gently and got off the couch, walking hand in hand with Mayer.

Perhaps one day she would be able to understand him. Spending their future together, becoming King and Queen at some point, raising children… Levia had no particular desire for any of that, but it could have been much worse.

If she couldn’t choose anyway, then at least it was with a silly yet kind man who accepted her for who she was.

Since she could feel the happiness and excitement radiating from him, she could also tell that she felt none of it. For her, even this important day was just another day, only busier than most.

The couple entered the hall. Faced with the hundreds of guests, including King Mekuriel-N himself, always conspicuous in his formal, royal attire, Levia felt overwhelmed at the deluge of emotions now directed at her. Even so she withstood it and walked toward the main stage slowly but surely.

And then Mayer slipped on the rug and planted his face into the floor.

Linza sat in the shade of a short tree, relaxing under the clear weather and watching the orange-tinted clouds above. It was already seven o’clock so the sun was starting to set. No one approached her this entire day, so her connection to the incident most likely remained undiscovered.

Also, the Queen was still alive, but that was to be expected. Linza hadn’t seriously thought that plan would work; she was just following her orders. Poisoning wasn’t really her expertise, either.

If the Queen was dead, her mission was done. If not, then she had to move to the next phase. Poor woman, she thought to herself, lightly juggling the cloth ball in her hands.

Linza herself bore no ill will toward the Queen. She didn’t even think of this assassination mission as revenge or anything like that. Some in Lastia would like to see the death of the one they perceived to be the killer of late Prince Mayer, but that had nothing to do with Linza herself.

Why would she? It wasn’t like she was a real part of the country as well, living her life in the shadows like this.

Also, who even cared about the Lastian royal family anyway? Ever since the Rebellion all those years ago they merely played around, trying to appease both sides, gather minor countries as their allies and survive on the cusp of neutrality. Since they would benefit from both sides if Sacrona and Rumdon went to war, they didn’t really care what happened to them.

Lastia was at once both a free and a constrained country. They believed themselves to be unfettered, but that very belief served as kind of a shackle. They alternated between worshipping the Gods or working hard with their human power, always settling somewhere in between.

Allegedly free from all worldly constraints, they spent much time ignoring the harsh reality and thinking up philosophy and science. That also led them to develop “interesting” tools of all sorts.

One of which was Linza.

She was raised to be a weapon and someone who used channeling in an innovative, unique way. Sacrona supported the divinity of pure talent and power, Rumdon worked on technique and versatility, and just like always, Lastia was stuck between these two.

Oh well. At least I can still take my time and enjoy this city, she thought to herself.

She, too, was stuck in the contradictory world between freedom and restraint. She was on a mission, and yet she was enjoying the local scenery. She even gave some crackers to a cute squirrel earlier.

Poison for the Queen and snacks for the animals. That was how the world went.

Even now her surroundings were growing darker and darker. Once the sun completely set, it would be time for the next phase of the plan. It would be something her target would both fear and yet not expect in the least—perhaps fitting as a plan coming from someone hailing from Lastia, land of contradictions.

After their grand wedding, an event that was going to be remembered for many years to come, Levia and Mayer’s life as newlyweds began.

Although they wedded, they were obviously only Prince and Princess of Rumdon, for King Mekuriel-N still inhabited the throne. There were also some disquieting movements and threats from Sacrona, as expected, but war did not yet seem to loom in the horizon. Lastia themselves took this half-heartedly, claiming that they simply exiled an errant prince and took pity on the declining Rumdon. As part of their agreement, Prince Mayer had relinquished any claim he had on the Lastian lands or throne alike, although he did bring some riches with him.

Levia found that the circumstances were surprisingly unchanged from what she was used to. Now that she was married, there was some pressure on her to produce an heir, but Mayer made no move.

Sex meant nothing to Levia, as she mentioned to him again and again. Even so he still hesitated to pursue it any further, so might it have been out of a reason altogether different than consideration for her? It made her wonder some things about Mayer. Either way, it led to her father being displeased. It wasn’t her fault, for a change… not that he would look at it this way.

Unfortunately, it took only a few months for another great change to rock Levia’s world.

“Father!” Levia cried in her best imitation of worry and distraught. “I-I just heard… what is going on, are you fine?”

It took only a glance at the pallid man lying on the bed to tell that he wasn’t. He wasn’t quite that old, yet, but despite his age he always looked so imposing. Not now, though. Other than his ghastly white and gaunt face, he wore a look of constant anguish and his whole body was covered in sweat.

“We heard you have collapsed, Your Majesty,” said Mayer, holding his hat under his arm, his face looking tense but composed. Both of them came as soon as they could, or rather as soon as a messenger was sent to them to inform them of this event.

“The physicians say… they are not certain what is wrong,” Mekuriel barely managed to utter even this sentence before he started coughing. “I might not be long for this world.”

“Do not speak like that!” Levia reprimanded him, tears in her eyes. These might have not been entirely fake; the vast amounts of pain, sadness and distress he was transmitting to her were enough to cause her a sharp headache.

“This is horrible,” mumbled Mayer, and unlike her, his feelings were genuine. Levia never got the sense that her husband particularly liked her father, but still had plenty of respect for him. Mayer didn’t want to see him suffer like this.

“Thank you, Mayer. I really appreciate you being here,” Mekuriel said meekly. It was an uncharacteristic tone for him, another sign that he was really sick.

Of course, the question that stayed on everyone’s minds was—had he really been inflicted with a sudden illness, or had he been poisoned? Levia knew that this was being investigated, but no answer was found yet, obviously.

“Could you… leave me alone with my daughter, for a minute?” the king asked.

“Of course, Your Majesty.” Mayer lightly bowed, then turned to Levia as if seeking her affirmation. She merely nodded with glistening eyes. The physicians and other attendants have also already stepped out upon hearing this request.

“…What is it, daddy?” Levia whispered as they were left alone in the room.

“I already told you what I think, right?” he asked weakly.

“What do you mean?”

“About you. And about Mayer. And the future of the kingdom…”

Levia’s face, by now, regained its completely neutral expression. There was no longer any audience she had to perform to.

“You have told me a great many things, dad.”

Mekuriel coughed. “I love you, Levia.” This she already heard as well, many times. “If I die… there’s a place I need you to go to…”

Levia raised her brows. This was something new. She could sense that he was trying to reveal something very sensitive to her. Like a secret. Using her compensation, Levia could tell, most of the time, when people were lying and if they were hiding anything, but not what the truth actually was. She couldn’t always spy on her father.

She leaned forward, listening to her father’s dying words—not quite, since it would actually be a bit longer before he succumbed to his illness, but still. And she was astonished about what he told her.

“I should have told Mayer, since he will be King, but you are…” Mekuriel muttered, barely audible. He reached out a cold hand and stroked her cheek. She shuddered at his touch but said nothing.

She realized that her father was dying right in front of her eyes. Would this finally be the moment, then? She almost felt a certain… eagerness. But only almost.

Levia already knew the answer. Even when her father, possibly the most important guidepost in her life thus far, died, she would still feel nothing. She would still be an empty husk only able to crudely mimic what she could feel from others.

Instead of dwelling on that, however, she listened to her father’s secrets. She learned about the hidden history of Rumdon, and the way to carve a new path into the future.

“I understand, Father. Do not worry. I shall take care of everything.”

A couple of days after this exchange, King Mekuriel-N passed away.

“What a surprising visit, my friend. Come, do sit down.”

Led through the lavish halls of the Marsten mansion located in the middle of the city, Swen was finally taken to meet his quarry—none other than Lord Qumisson. The tall, solemn man greeted him surprisingly warmly, and that made Swen all the more apprehensive.

Well, if he was so receptive to his visit there, perhaps that would help what he had in mind. Swen and Qumisson sat down in a small parlor and were served tea. Swen hesitated only for a brief moment and then drank it.

“I do thank you for agreeing to meet me, Lord Qumisson,” Swen spoke humbly after wetting his throat.

“As long as you are not accompanied by that wretched woman you serve, I will always welcome you.”

“Interesting that you should mention that. On danger of seeming rude, I will be brief and cut straight to the chase,” he said. “I wish to help you overthrow Queen Levia-O.”

Time almost seemed to go still. Even when faced with this preposterous declaration, not even a muscle twitched on Qumisson’s face.

How old he looks now, Swen found himself thinking while waiting for a reply. He remembered first meeting this man, when he’d come to this distant, foreign land, and thinking how impressive he looked. Yet the years were rough on Qumisson. He was not a young man, that was true, but bitterness and regret seemed to age him much beyond his years. He feigned calmness, but underneath that mask he looked pale and weak.

Presently, the older, refined Lord finally replied. “Are you making a jest, my friend?” Qumisson asked coldly.

“Can you think of any reason I would joke in such circumstances?” Swen asked, his face an empty mask.

Finally, he made Qumisson narrow his eyes. “A decade ago, I came to you with the same offer. You have refused.”

“Time changes people.”

“Indeed. Just like you. When you first came here, you loathed that woman… especially when dear Mayer-G died,” said Qumisson, “but then you suddenly began to take her side. And you rose all the way to become a lord chamberlain.”

Swen grimaced. Just as Qumisson probably attempted to induce, a wave of unpleasant memories rose to the surface of his mind. Even after all this time, he obviously couldn’t forget the death of his former master.

“Now, my most excellent friend, what are you playing at here?” Qumisson pressed.

“Like I said, time changes people. And people change the times as well,” Swen explained. “We are in troubling times, and you are attempting to throw us into chaos.”

Qumisson’s face slightly stiffened, an almost imperceptible change. “Are you blaming me of something?”

“It is quite clear that you are involved in current events. And by that, I mean the poisoning incidents, of course.”

The two men stared at each other for a few moments. Again, not a single muscle twitched in their expressions. They barely even blinked. Of course, Swen wasn’t expecting to get a confession out of Qumisson. He wasn’t even expecting the man to show any signs of recognition. In fact, it wouldn’t be strange for Swen to get thrown out, if not worse, for that outrageous remark. That was also just the beginning of his attack, though.

“All I want to do is give you suggestions—for there are ways to get Levia off the throne without killing her.”

“Hmph. You seem to me underestimating me, friend,” said Qumisson. At this a sudden glint of hostility crossed his eyes. “Do you think I am not fully aware this is just a silly attempt at misdirection and information-gathering?”

“And what if it is not?” Swen posited. “You might be missing out on an incredibly useful ally.”

Swen was used to not being taken seriously. He had been entrusted to take care of the clumsy Fourth Prince out of spite—once, Swen’s family had angered the royal family of Lastia. He’d been effectively exiled along with him when Mayer had been sent to marry Levia.

He couldn’t be said to be a cunning man or a particularly skilled steward. But even so he had been acknowledged and put into the job of the lord chamberlain. He had learnt some of the secrets of the Kingdom of Rumdon.

In response to Swen’s words, Qumisson rose from his seat. “Our talk is over.”

Swen expected this. Without arguing against it, he rose from his seat as well. He knew it would be impossible to make someone as shrewd as Qumisson blurt out his plans out of anger or anything like that. And he knew it would be even harder to try and convince him that he would be really working with him. But that was fine.

“I am sorry for taking your time, Lord Qumisson,” said Swen, bowing. “If you change your mind, please do send me a discreet message.”

He turned and walked away. Qumisson said nothing and only watched his distancing back. Swen wasn’t upset; he didn’t even feel any sense of failure.

After all, this diversion was in fact a complete success.

Some minutes later, Swen stood waiting near one of the Marsten Mansion’s walls. Lord Qumisson would definitely not expect him to still be lurking there, so he was probably safe. He hadn’t even sent someone to accompany him out of the estate, as far as Swen could tell.

After a few minutes, another figure appeared there. It was a robust man with an even more robust mustache. As he noticed Swen there, he sighed in a mix of relief and indignation and walked over to him with a fast gait.

“He will hear about this at some point,” the stern man warned him.

“I know. But it was needed. Thank you, Lord Stangir,” Swen said, lightly bowing. He was one of the minor lords, and one who hadn’t particularly wanted to involve himself in the political struggle between the two main factions—but even so, he owed Levia a favor.

Lord Stangir pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his sweaty, balding brow. “The man really is meticulous about everything. I couldn’t believe my eyes.”

He was referring not to Lord Qumisson, but rather to Lord Marsten, the former’s supporter who always gave him residence during Qumisson’s visits to Copius. Lord Marsten was known to hold rather overly detailed lists and ledgers at his estate. Of people coming and going, of inventory, of business—anything.

“But were you suspected?” asked Swen.

Lord Stangir shook his head. “For being so meticulous as he is, the man has some rather lax security. I told the record keeper that I’m there to consult Marsten’s ledgers—which was, in fact, agreed upon with the man himself—and they let me have a free reign.”

That was just as Swen expected. In fact, it wasn’t even the first time he employed this strategy; Qumisson was going to be furious and insist that his host change this system of his, and Lord Marsten would do so, but only for perhaps a few months before going back to his old ways.

Presently, Lord Stangir took a few slightly crumpled papers from his pocket and handed them to Swen. “Have a good day,” the man greeted him and then scuttled away, constantly looking around him.

Well, Swen would have liked to ask a few more questions, but he could understand the other party being apprehensive about being seen like that, so he let him go. Swen, however, stayed right there in that secluded corner and began scanning the documents. These were obviously not Lord Marsten’s own copies but a summary made by Lord Stangir.

During Qumisson’s stay there, many nobles came to visit him. Dates and names were written down. Yes, Qumisson’s entire faction arrived there. Did that mean they were, indeed, planning something? Not necessarily. But it was good to know.

Possibly more important than that, however, was the trade of goods. House Marsten had a monopoly on the city’s textile industry and wineries, so he asked Lord Stangir to exclude those. He was looking for anything peculiar, but mostly herbs.

Of course, it wasn’t like he expected to find a record plainly stating that Lord Marsten had obtained the poison to use on Lord Shammings, but he hoped to at least obtain some clues.

Swen raised a brow. Lord Marsten had gifted Lord Shammings with a new hound puppy about a week before his death? Rather odd, but probably irrelevant. He did receive some herbs from Lady Maclone, but none of those seemed suspicious at a glance. And since when did Lord Sacrum start dealing in fish, for him to send so many of them? The bouquet of flowers sent by Lord Marsten’s daughter seemed like no more than a sweet gesture.

Swen sighed. He would later scrutinize these notes in greater detail, but they were probably not as useful as he’d hoped. Although this was Lord Marsten’s estate, if Lord Qumisson planned anything he would surely do it from another location.

He held his head. He really thought this was a good plan, didn’t he?

I just don’t want her to end like Master Mayer, he thought bitterly. But what can I do to stop them? I’m grasping in the darkness.

He clenched his fists, stuck the papers into his pocket and started walking away. He would probably have to speak with that dreadful man again. It pained Swen that he didn’t have the power to do it alone, but Salom unfortunately had the superior mind. It was possible that he would be able to find some connection or clue that Swen wouldn’t.

However, Her Majesty still trusts me more, he told himself, feeling proud at that.

It was a hectic time after King Mekuriel’s death. There was the state funeral, the constant readiness against any Sacronian activity in the wake of this news, and of course many official royal businesses to take care of.

Levia was therefore thankful (in her own way) that Mayer was right there with her. And he was technically the King, after all. Clumsy as he was, he wasn’t incompetent in most courtly matters. At least to the public he seemed reliable and trustworthy, despite his reputation. Perhaps much like Levia herself. Qumisson and the other nobles also cooperated to make sure that everything worked smoothly.

Now the royal pair was riding a fanciful carriage down the looping road of the mountain, dressed in their finest garments. There was their festive wedding, followed by Mekuriel’s grim funeral, and now it was time for the latest event…

“So, how are you feeling about this coronation?” Mayer asked her.

Raising a brow, Levia said, “Am I supposed to feel something?”

The carriage was too large and luxurious to be holding only two people, not including the drivers sitting outside, but even so Mayer insisted on sitting next to his wife and soon-to-be Queen.

“Hmm, yeah, that was the wrong question,” Mayer said, scratching a smooth cheek. “Not because of you know what, but because nothing’s going to change for you.”

“Only when I spawn the next heir.”

Mayer groaned. “That again? That can wait.”

“Well, I don’t mind it either way,” Levia said. She could feel how stressed and exasperated he was, but couldn’t understand why.

“You know, I have considered letting Lord Qumisson have the crown instead,” Mayer mentioned matter-of-factly out of the blue.

“What? Him?” asked Levia. “Why would you want to let that pompous tyrant take over?”

“Oh, come on, Levia. He does care about the kingdom and our subjects. He’s just—“

“No,” she interjected, “he cares about them because he considers them inferior. Almost like how a fisherman cares about fish. Listen to me, Mayer. I’m surprised he’s allowing you to take over for Father in the first place. He must be planning something.”

“Sure, I won’t deny that he’s an ambitious and cunning man, but Levia, you can’t be suspicious of people all the time. And you can’t be too judgmental, either. —There’s no person without darkness in their heart.”

That was true. Even if Levia herself had no darkness but merely an absence of light, it amounted to the same thing. But was Mayer trying to tell her something? She couldn’t quite catch it from his feelings.

Although she could read a person’s emotions, she couldn’t always fully understand what lay beneath them. This was one such case.

“Mayer, what are you—“

That question of hers was never completed. At that moment the ground started to rumble and the carriage just fell.

Even without proper feelings, Levia could still experience pure fear. Such was the moment of completely uncertainty that passed as the world seemed to be turned literally upside down.

Levia found herself lying on the floor—no, on the wall of the carriage. She was half buried in debris made of wood and rocks and had the taste of blood in her mouth. She could also feel the pained and shocked minds of people around her, including the one nearest to her, Mayer.

“Levia… are you, all right?” he asked her, coughing from all the dust around.

She tried raising her body, but her legs hurt and she only now felt that there was something heavy pressing on her. She felt dizzy and hurt and faint.

“Not quite, no,” she said dryly. “What happened?” Although he was in the exact same situation, she found herself seeking answers; when had she started relying on him to this extent, anyway?

“I think the… ground collapsed under us.” Now that she looked at him, she saw a small stream of blood run down his face from his head. “I’m not sure where we are now, but we might be separated from everyone…”

Levia focused for a moment. She couldn’t feel any other person immediately nearby, so it was very possible that the driver was unconscious or worse. Some of their other entourage she could feel, but they were seemingly above them.

“Well, this is bad,” she mumbled, “we should hold on here and wait for—“

The moment she said this, there was a loud crack and the sound of something crumbling and her body slid backwards. In this frozen moment of time, she was sure she was doomed, but then a strong hand grabbed onto hers and pulled her.

Mayer grunted with effort as he held her. She could now feel that there was nothing but air under her feet.

The view slightly opened up and she could see that the wreckage of the carriage was strewn on an unstable-looking piece of rock. She was currently hanging from its very edge, with small pebbles and grains spilling next to her and half-blinding her.

“Well, that was close,” said Mayer with a strained voice. She couldn’t see his face, from her position, but some blood trickled down on her as well. Now that she was free, she also felt various parts of her body aching and bleeding, although seemingly nothing truly pressing.

“Can you bring me up?” she asked calmly. Her heart rate was increasing and she was sweating, but that was purely a physical reaction.

“I’m… trying,” he grunted. She was pulled just a bit higher. “I think something’s wrong with my arms… and this rock’s not terribly stable, either.”

Levia thought of the situation and quickly reached a conclusion. “Let go of me,” she said.

It took a few moments of shocked silence before he answered. “No.”

“Why? You’re just risking both of us like that. I mean, if you—“

“No.”

She was about to explain everything. First of all, it would make Mayer much safer. It could mean nothing if this was some sort of assassination attempt and not a natural disaster, but he had more chances to survive if he didn’t have to burden himself with her. Also, he needed to become a King because otherwise Qumisson would take the throne.

As for a future Queen and future heir, that was no problem either. Qumisson might even decide to wed his daughter to him, so the royal lineage would not be completely lost. There was simply no reason for him to save her.

No logical, utilitarian reason, anyhow.

“Why?” she simply asked, although she already knew his answer even before he opened his mouth.

“Because I love you.” She sensed both his love, pain and desperation.

“That’s not enough. You have to think of the future,” she told him.

“I do. I’m thinking about my future with you.”

“…Stop. I do not matter in the least.”

It made no difference whether or not Levia lived. She was a defect. She didn’t feel bad about it; she merely accepted the facts. She wasn’t scared of death. At the same time, she also didn’t care about hurting Mayer’s feeling, so she was blunt.

That was just how she was. And exactly why she ordered him to let her go.

“You matter to me, you stupid blithering idiot. Now shut up and let me pull you up!”

Levia currently lacked the strength to argue. She couldn’t even try to grab onto the edge to make things easier for Mayer.

“I will not… give up on you! Ever!”

Seeing his heartfelt efforts, it was, perhaps, another chance—another possibly momentous occasion for her feelings to finally blossom and awaken for the first time.

Nothing like that happened, obviously.

Instead, Mayer gathered all of his strength, shouted with effort and somehow managed to pull Levia onto the surface in one go. He started coughing and panting, his entire body shaking.

“Got you,” he said, a smile plastered over his dirty face. Levia’s whole body convulsed with effort as well. “Can you stand up?”

“I am unsure,” she replied. “We should just sit down somewhere around and wait for help.” She found it hard to believe he managed to rescue her like this. He was still bleeding all over, but would probably be fine after receiving some medical care. She, too, sustained no small damage.

“Yes, but we’re directly on the wreckage. Now stand up carefully.”

Grabbing his hand once more, Levia barely managed to stand on her shaking legs. It went without saying that her magnificent dress was ruined, not that she cared about it. Her ripped stockings also felt like they were hindering her, but both mind and body were too tired to do anything else other than let Mayer guide her.

The next moment there was a small quake.

Levia noticed another small deluge of ground and rocks that fell from overhead only too late, unlike Mayer, who immediately leapt to shield her. However, while being pelted by this his legs wobbled, he lost his balance, and—fell.

Levia couldn’t have done anything. Her own body seemed to slightly sink into the messed ground as she fell, while Mayer was swept away. She could feel everything: the horror, the anger, the fear, the sadness, the regret—and the love he felt for her.

Finally, he vanished over the edge.

Levia just sat there, dazed. She felt his presence only for a moment before it was completely gone. It felt unreal. Levia only rarely experienced any dreams when she slept, but it was a similar sensation of something that couldn’t happen in reality.

She sat there for a long while, unable to even try and scream for help, feeling faint from all the pain and blood loss. She thought of herself and what just happened. Of Mayer’s death.

And of the fact that she felt nothing about it. Once again, she was completely devoid of any feelings.

Revol found it surprising that the castle was so quiet that night.

Of course, it was only the second time he’d been there, but somehow he’d imagined this grand place to remain tumultuous and full of activity at all times. Especially when considering the small incident that occurred there only very recently. In reality, the Queen was sleeping peacefully and guards quietly roamed the hallways. The only new difference was that they now paid more attention to the kitchen and the cellars as well.

Although used to late-night work, Revol still found himself growing sleepy as he walked through the long corridors, hearing only his boots lightly tapping the floor.

Revol was only there because he’d been asked for a favor. “I want you to join the castle guards tonight,” Molton had told him. “Try to check every nook and cranny. Be thorough but more importantly, be alert.”

It was an understatement to say that he’d been confused by being summoned by Molton, let alone being handed this important mission. “I will do my best, sir,” he had said after recovering a bit, “but why?”

“Because I believe you’re capable,” was all that Molton had said at the time and then discharged him. When Revol had reported to the guard barracks that evening he hadn’t even been questioned, so Molton had apparently organized the entire thing very swiftly.

And so Revol was patrolling the silent, dark castle. He couldn’t even begin to think why Molton had chosen him for the job, but he was going to do his best at it. Perhaps it was a nice place to gain experience for a junior officer like him.

It was an easy job anyway, since no one would be stupid enough to attack the place.

Revol’s feet stopped as he heard a soft rustle nearby. He grew tense, although immediately relaxed; it was probably just one of the other guards on patrol. Then again, it didn’t quite sound like their rhythmical footsteps that he grew used to, these last few hours.

Just to be safe, he walked ahead carefully. It might also just be one of the servants going for a midnight stroll, so they should be reprimanded. He was rather close to the royal bedchambers, though…

And then he saw it. A dark shape was rushing through the corridor, almost invisible in the darkness and their steps very light in sound.

“Wha…” Revol mumbled quietly as he then noticed something small whizzing ahead, accompanied by the heavy sound of crumbling. “Stop right there!” Weapon drawn, he too rushed ahead, cursing himself for that momentary hesitation.

There was another crash and he could see dust rising ahead—from the direction of the bedchambers.

“RAISE THE ALARM!” he screamed as he ran after the assailant.

He still couldn’t understand what was happening at all. The wall in front of him seemed to have been actually broken down as if struck by great hammers. Now all the guards around swarmed to the place of destruction, but he could see a figure rushing toward him.

“S-stop!” he barely shouted as he drew and threw his knife, giving it a push with the movement channel. He was still quite new with this technique, and indeed he missed his target, though he seemed to have at least grazed the figure. Then, something hard and small hit his chest. Revol did wear some protective clothing, but that blow still knocked him down on his back and expelled the air out of his lungs.

A small figure approached him then passed above—or at least attempted to, because Revol somehow managed to recover enough to grab their leg.

The assassin was surprisingly light. No, abnormally light, so he was able to grab them easily.

Even so, a moment later a kick was aimed at his face and blew him away with much more force than expected. He barely managed to get up, cringing at his bleeding nose, as he saw the assassin run to a window—and jump outside.

“Stop!” Revol shouted for some reason, as if that ineffectual request would really do something, and ran to the window. It opened up above the mountain, so it was almost a direct fall as though from a sheer cliff. He thought he saw a fluttering robe in the darkness, but wasn’t quite sure.

There was no sign of anyone climbing down the walls or anything like that. He stood there, completely stumped with a hand clamped over his nose. Did this assassin just commit suicide?

“Are they gone?” One of the guards came running to that window, perhaps having seen the same scene from away.

“I… believe so,” mumbled Revol in response, shuddering at the taste of blood in his mouth. “Wait, what about Her Majesty?!” Clicking his tongue and ignoring his aches and blood-stained clothes, he separated from the wall and dashed toward the collapsed bedroom, where already there was a gathering of other guards in order to ascertain the situation.

Even if it was foolish, he would never forgive himself—Molton would never forgive him—if he allowed the Queen to die under his watch.

That night, Levia had an unpleasant dream.

She had had similar ones throughout the years. She was walking on some sort of surface—whether it was a corridor, a bridge or a cliff—and it would suddenly crumble down beneath her. Strangely, Mayer never was a part of those dreams.

This time, however, the dream turned into reality halfway through. Just as the ground under Levia collapsed, there was an actual, physical sound accompanying it, which caused her to wake up.

She was a rather light sleeper; if anyone approached while governed by some strong emotion, such as the hostility of the occasional assassin, it was enough to wake her up, so this great noise obviously did the same.

There was great clamor around her, and to her utter surprise she saw that the wall and door directly in front of her bedroom were demolished. This was no mere assassination attempt. As she quickly rose from her bed, something shot near her, stuck into the wall and destroyed it as well.

“Guards!” she shouted despite knowing that they were already running around and that it was probably too late. Immediately a few came into the room. The attacker wasn’t among them, although she could sense a person fleeing from nearby.

“Your Majesty! Are you hurt?”

“I am startled, but otherwise unharmed,” she answered calmly, slightly squinting at the light of the lanterns carried by some of the guards. “Some of you stay with me just in case. The others, catch the perpetrator.”

Perhaps assured by the Queen’s calm demeanor, everything was soon settled. It was actually a great shock, thinking about it; what sort of assassin could wreck her room like this? It had to have been someone on the level of Molton, at the very least. And if it was, wouldn’t they just kill the guards and her almost immediately?

Levia sighed. She quite enjoyed sleeping, an activity that required no effort on her part, but had the feeling that she was going to have to spend the remainder of the night without any sleep. Even so, she was alive. Unlike her father, unlike her husband, and unlike her father’s old friend—she still remained alive.

And she had to find a way to thwart every possible disaster so she could keep it that way.

Some say that crowns should be gold, but I rather think that silver is better.

A glint of silver might not be as luxurious, yet it somehow feels more… reliable. Well, it is still pricy, so I suppose my life as royalty has dulled my senses in regards to such matters. Nevertheless.

Perhaps I just seek its mirror-like surface. To remind me who I am. To remind me what I am feeling. Or rather, to reflect others’ feelings.

A silver queen on a silver throne, cold yet bright. Yes, that fits me best.