1

The changed tone of the horses’ galloping startled Izumi from her daze. The world around had gone from pitch black to lighter blue by now, allowing for better visibility. The lighting conditions weren’t the only subject to change; the environment itself had undergone a surprising transformation. The riders had departed from the densely grown marshland with its hillocks, shrubs, and puddles, and rode out onto level flatland.

Coarse, bare gravel covered the terrain as far as the eye could see, vast stretches of it buried in water. At first, it seemed they were facing a great lake. It could have forced them to circle far around, adding numerous days to the already long journey, but the horses rode straight ahead without slowing, revealing that the water was actually quite shallow. Even at its deepest, it only reached about two or three feet in depth, with lone batches of land here and there to mark where it was safe to pass. Clouds hung low. The air was both chilling and humid, but also rather refreshing, missing the characteristic smell of the swamp and its flora.

Nothing appeared to grow in this area, not even grass or moss. The water was clear. This odd region was marked in no map and so none of the travelers could have known to expect such a view. Perhaps volcanic activity had brought up sulfur and acidity from the depths, turning the water unfit for any organic life forms. Or perhaps there was a sea connection somewhere and too high concentrations of salt had mixed in for the inland species to endure. Regardless of explanations, the travelers gladly welcomed the change. The less obstacles there were, the safer and steadier the wayfaring became, not to mention faster.

With the sunrise well on its way and no sight of enemies thus far, the travelers began to regain their shaken courage. Maybe it was safe for them to finally stop and assess the damage.

“Sir Waramoti!” Alexander slowed his horse and brought it closer to the cart. “Perhaps we should—”

The youth interrupted his sentence, suddenly looking up, towards east. Alerted by his stunned expression, Waramoti looked to the side also—and jumped.

In hindsight, it might have been selfish of him, but do try to understand his reaction. The man called “Heaven’s Hand” couldn’t possibly have acted otherwise. His life as a warrior had polished his survival instinct to the level where it easily overpowered his conscious will. In one fragment of a second, the man was up on his feet on the driver’s perch, spun around on his heels, and leaped off the moving ride.

And thus was his life saved.

In the next moment, the cart under Waramoti was no more. Together with Yukimura the horse, it was blown off the ground and cast to the side, lightly like a rabbit picked off by a falcon. The cart couldn’t endure the rough treatment, but fell apart, spinning wildly, its unfortunate passengers thrown off like ragdolls. They became scattered together with the luggage and were left lying among the broken cart parts over a lengthy distance.

The others turned their horses around to go help, but were forced to stop short.

The culprit behind this random assault yet remained on the scene.

A creature of quite intimidating proportions gripped poor Yukimura, long talons sunken deep into the horse’s sides. It was an enormous, blue-gray saurian with a thick body, a long, bulky head, and scaly, powerful legs akin to those of a bird of prey. Wings it also had, like those of a bat, prodigiously wide, and it used them in place of the forearms that it missed to balance its form on the ground. The beast was roughly eighteen feet long from head to tail, its body twice the volume of the horse it clung onto. With a pair of round, unfeeling reptile eyes, the monster stared back at the knights, as if to question whether they had the gall to try and steal back its prey.

“Oh look, it’s a dragon,” Izumi remarked.

“A bludryn,” Waramoti corrected, standing slowly up from the water. “A type of a wyvern.”

“Whatever, nerd.”

“We should go,” Alexander said, turning his anxious steed. “There’s nothing we can do to help them now. Let’s run while it’s busy.”

“Brother!” Millanueve scolded him, abhorred. She looked at Magnus, who lied face-down in the water. Every second was precious to his survival, if indeed he was even alive anymore.

“We wouldn’t make it,” the bard replied to Alexander, seriously considering the young knight’s heartless proposal. “We’re covered in the blood of that fiend. The stench is probably what lured the bludryn here, and it can smell us from up to forty miles away. Even if we could somehow get away now, it’s sure to come back for a late night snack. Or then it’s predatory instincts will make it chase us as soon as we turn our backs.”

“We have to help them!” Millanueve pleaded.

“I get it,” Izumi sighed, climbing off Millanueve’s horse. “So it’s my turn again? No rest for the righteous. Yeah, you guys just sit back quietly and let the hero take care of...”

Izumi reached for her sword, which should have been attached to the magnetite vest on her back, but her hand found nothing but air. Swiftly recalling the weapon’s user history, she turned her accusing gaze to the bard.

“You know, you really suck at returning the things that you borrow!”

The Amygla, formerly aboard the cart, now laid discarded nearly a hundred feet from where they stood.

“My spare notebook’s somewhere in there,” Waramoti told her. “Get it back.”

“Not even sorry, are you!?”

Giving up on arguing, Izumi went walking towards the wyvern.

“Hey, w-what is she doing?” Stefan questioned her actions, astounded.

“Wait!” Millanueve called after the woman. “Get back here! What are you doing!? You’re going to get yourself killed!”

Izumi waved casually back at them.

“Sorry guys, but mind looking the other way for a bit? I might have to use that.”

Picking up the pace, Izumi strode on, heading for the sword lying in the sand, which inadvertently took her towards the wreckage and the beast. The wyvern followed her approach with an intent, hungry stare, cautiously raising its wings.

“Yeah, that’s right, I’m your prom date, you beautiful thing,” Izumi said. “Tauhirn.”

Activating the runic protection of Iron Hide, Izumi’s appearance swiftly changed. Her skin became veiled by a charcoal-black film of magical energy, and her hair was drained of its warm brown tone, fluttering ashen in the breeze.

Alerted by the surge of mana, the wyvern let out a challenging roar. Pushing off the horse’s corpse, it leaped in the air, gliding low at the woman. Izumi sprinted into run. The distance was still much too long, it was clear that she wouldn’t reach the blade in time. Lifting its hips, the wyvern reached for the woman with its hindlegs and the dreadful, arcing talons, which were each like a farmer’s scythe.

“Sifl.”

Activating the Rune of Displacement, Izumi ducked and wove past the monster’s claws, right under its wide belly. Out of the wyvern’s shadow, she dashed for the sword up ahead, while the beast, realizing its failure, let out a frustrated shriek. It kicked off the ground and took straight up to the sky. Shortly, its gray form blended into the dense mist hovering all about the twilight wetland. Only the low, smooth flapping of its enormous wings indicated that the threat was not removed.

Picking up the Amygla, Izumi stood still and waited, looking around, listening.

If the wyvern went after the rest of the group, she couldn’t stop it. And no matter how he was a famous hero, there was precious little Waramoti could do without a proper weapon and the Divines’ blessings. Then again, even if she were to regroup with the rest, trying to defend them all against such an enormous foe was too much asked. She could only hope to lure it back to her, somehow.

Before Izumi could come up with a proper plan of action, she heard splashing and coughing from nearby. Some dozen feet away, Benedict turned and groaned. It seemed the old soldier had only passed out after falling off the wrecked cart, and was now coming to, struggling to get to his feet. He didn’t seem too badly injured either, save for a bleeding bruise on his forehead.

Izumi hurried over to help the man.

“Hey, are you alright?” She seized his arm and pulled him up from the water. Looking back at her, not recognizing what he saw, Benedict recoiled in terror and brushed off Izumi’s hand.

“Get the Hel away from me, daemon!” he cried and staggered back.

In the next moment, the wyvern dropped down on the two of them from above. Picking the moving target, its enormous jaws pinned Benedict against the ground. Biting down, the beast lifted the man up again, and shook him rapidly from side to side, as a dog playing with a toy. His spine couldn’t endure the treatment. Benedict had not the time for even a single cry of terror.

“Why, you...!”

Too late to save him, Izumi lifted her sword and cut down at the wyvern’s neck. But its hide was thicker and tougher than she had expected, and her hurried swing barely nicked it. In retaliation, the wyvern roared and flicked its wings, knocking her back. The hit threw her a good eight yards across the air. The water buffered her landing, and the rune protected her, but she certainly felt the impact. The Iron Hide made her body also heavier than normal, and getting back up from the chilling, waist-high water took quite a bit of real effort.

Meanwhile the wyvern dropped Benedict and let out a furious roar. It stepped on its prey and began to tear bite-sized chunks off his back, the padded coat being no different from a candy wrapper before its dreadful teeth. Needless to say, Benedict Vondeholm was long beyond saving.

“Alright. Let’s try this again...” Izumi managed to stand up again and lifted her blade. “Gram.”

2

Five miserable figures sat on a small, detached streak of gravel, around a bonfire made of the shattered pieces of the cart. All five were soaked from head to toe. The morning dawned pallid and misty, and shortly after sunrise it started to rain yet again. It was a scene highly reminiscent of their first meeting three nights ago, but even more bleak, if possible.

A short distance away, two makeshift graves had been dug.

Besides Benedict, Magnus was gone. The cause of death was either drowning, shock from the broken legs, or how his already crippled body had been further mauled by the cart when it got thrown over. Yukimura the horse was obviously dead as well, but no one had the strength or the will left to dig a grave big enough for a horse, and carnivores were bound to unearth it soon anyway. After gathering what little supplies were left unspoiled by water, the travelers started a fire, and did their best to recover from the grievous setback.

No one spoke a word for a long while.

“So that’s how they treat party crashers at Ugwunda,” Izumi then said.

“Now you decide to quip about it!?” Waramoti retorted.

“How about some respect, mates?” Stefan yelled at them, on the verge of tears. “We just lost two people who meant a lot to us, okay. So save it!”

“They don’t care,” Alexander spitefully mumbled. “Monsters.”

“Alexander...” Millanueve warned her brother.

“What?” the young man jumped up to his feet, aggravated. “I’m not going to just sit here and pretend nothing happened! You saw it. And back at the village. I don’t know who the fuck those two are, but they sure as Hel aren’t people like us! Pox on it!”

“And we’d be all dead without them!” Millanueve stood likewise and confronted her brother. “I thought you wanted to go home? Then stop picking a fight with the only ones who have any way of helping us!”

“...Shit.” Alexander turned away and swore.

Millanueve sat back down, her knees lacking the strength to carry her.

“He’s...he’s just shaken,” she said. “Forgive him...”

But Izumi couldn’t help but note that the girl carefully avoided looking at both her and the bard.

“This is all my fault,” Millanueve continued to mutter, staring down at her lap. “I bring bad luck everywhere I go. All the people around me, everyone I care about, they keep on...”

Her voice trailed off and a depressed silence took over the campsite once more.

No one could offer Millanueve words of consolation. In their bleak situation, any encouragement would have rang hollow, never mind the plausibility of the concept of “luck”.

“I’ll be frank,” Waramoti finally spoke up. “We are only human beings, and whatever you think of us, there is not a whole lot we can do at this point, for you, or even ourselves. We’ve lost practically all our supplies. Three horses are left, five of us. At least ninety more miles left until Alderia, provided our map was ever accurate. More than that back home. Even if the terrain remains favorable, we’re looking at a ride of a week if not more. And I don’t see a whole lot of edible rocks around here.”

His bleak summary of the situation was met with continued silence.

Despair was palpable in the air. Stefan hid his face in his hands. Alexander stepped away from the others to sulk. Millanueve made no sound but continued to stare into the fire, a hollow look in her eyes.

“So, how’s it going to be?” Waramoti suddenly looked at Izumi. “Do you still mean to carry on with your quest, even after everything that has happened?”

“Eh…?”

“Let’s say we turn around here and now,” the man continued. “We have three horses. We go as far as our remaining supplies last us, then kill one for its meat. Then keep going until we can bear with the hunger no more and butcher the second. And so on, until we either get out of Henglog, or perish. That way, there is still a one-in-a-million chance that we may live through this.”

“That is unacceptable!” Millanueve stood up, outraged. Being from a land where horses were not simple steeds, but comrades, colleagues, and even friends, the very thought of devouring them was abominable. Only a little short of cannibalism.

“You have better ideas then?” the ex-warrior retorted.

“I...” Of course, there was no alternative menu.

“Do you want to live or do you want to die, which is it?” Waramoti pressed without mercy.

“Of course, I want to live, but that price is too high!” the girl told him.

“Are dragons edible?” Izumi pondered aloud.

“Wyverns,” Waramoti corrected her.

“Wyverns. Can you eat them?”

“Don’t know, never tried one.”

“What’s the difference, anyway? A wyvern or a dragon? How can you tell which one’s which?”

“You don’t even know that?” the bard replied. “Listen. Dragons have four legs and two wings. Wyverns have two legs and two wings. Drakes have four legs and no wings. Amphitheres have two wings and no legs. Lindworms have two legs and no—”

“Okay, okay, I get it. Anyway, should we try it?”

“Well, I’d rather start with the horse if I had to take a pick.”

“You’d eat Yukimura? Well, I’ve had mettwurst before, so can’t claim I have moral superiority in this.”

“Well, if you boil leather shoes for long enough, they can be edible too. The boys tried that in the army.”

“Quit looking for things to eat!” Millanueve yelled at them. “We’re not out of supplies yet!”

“But we’re going to be, won’t we?” Stefan interjected. “I’d say we’ve got a day or two at best. Whether we keep going or turn back, it makes no difference, does it? We’re fucked either way.”

Though a human being could survive for nearly a month without food, the theory didn’t take into account the massive amount of calories that navigating the marshland burned each day. The horses wouldn’t run on holy water either. No matter how Izumi thought, she couldn’t deny that the scenario was extreme.

Alexander, who had stood a short distance away, now turned back and approached Waramoti.

“Look,” he said. “Can you be honest with me? If we do exactly as you say, what are our chances of getting out of this mess?”

“We’re not eating the horses!” Millanueve insisted.

“Shut up, sis,” Alexander brushed her off. “Well?”

“As you insist, I’ll be frank,” Waramoti replied. “Our chances are—abysmal. Beyond the shortage of food, there’s the problem of us reeking of rotten fiend. It’s not something we can simply wash off in a puddle. Even if greatly diluted, the stench of spoiled meat will draw every predator near and far to us. We’ll never make it back across the marsh. It’s impossible.”

“What about the elves then?” Izumi asked. Everyone turned to look at the woman with questioning eyes. Unnerved by their silent stares, she continued,

“If we can reach to Alderia, there’s a good chance that they’ll help us. Right?”

“It’s a fantasy,” Waramoti told her. “You know this. The elves care not for humans. Even if they found us starving and half-dead, they wouldn’t spare us the time of day. If anything, they’d finish us off. There’s no rescue to be found down south, that’s for certain.”

“Hel,” Alexander added, kicking the gravel, “for a while now, I’ve had this nagging feeling the whole fantasy island doesn’t even exist!”

“Same,” Stefan wryly nodded. “Even if the elves are real, I bet there’s no great kingdom, and they’re only like savages skulking in the woods.”

All three men appeared to share the belief that no hope awaited in Alderia.

But the party was not entirely united in this faith.

“Well, I do believe they are there,” Millanueve unexpectedly declared, going against the flow. She looked at the dejected faces around her with newfound determination in her tone and gaze. “What those witnesses saw was real. I am with Lady Izumi on this. Seeking Alderia is our best chance. The way ahead is clear, it’s far easier to ride in this terrain, than to turn back and hike across the marshland again. Also, even in the event that we’re pursued by beasts, it’ll be easier to fend them off out here in the open.”

“That is true,” Waramoti reluctantly admitted.

“And then what?” Alexander asked. “We’ll ride on to the forbidden island, where we’ll be treated to a fine banquet in the Immortal King’s halls, our wounds will be healed and they’ll sing songs for us, and all will be right again? Is that what you’re thinking?”

“No! I’m not stupid!” Millanueve exclaimed. “I know it won’t be that easy. But like I said, it’s the best we’ve got!”

“And what if we don’t find the way?” her brother continued to ask. “What if we can’t make it onto the island? Then what? We’ll face the southern seas alone, lost, without food, hundreds of miles between us and the nearest inhabited land...It’s insane, sister. Why can’t you see that?”

“Then we’ll simply have to part ways here.”

“Eh...huh?” Alexander fell quiet, stunned by his sibling’s abrupt declaration.

“I will go on, even by myself, if I have to,” Millanueve said. “You can all turn back and go home by yourselves. You can take all the supplies too, while you’re at it. With lesser numbers, you should have a better chance at making them last. Logical, yes? Oh, even eat the horses, if you feel like it! Take them and make a fine soup for yourselves! A bloody feast! Eat your shoes, shoe laces and all! Yes, it’s better this way, isn’t it? I was only ever useless baggage to you, so you’ll have that much easier time without me to bring you down! Am I wrong? Then why don’t you just come right out and say it!”

Somehow, her speech turned into an angry rant over the course of it.

Concluding with a “hmph!” Millanueve turned around and proceeded to march away from the bonfire, toward where she assumed south was.

“I...That was not—Come on!” Alexander was left stammering, watching her go. "Milla!"

“That’s east you’re going to,” Waramoti pointed out, checking his compass.

Millanueve stopped short, but wouldn’t turn back, to keep the others from seeing her face.

“Maybe we should have a vote?” Stefan suggested. “If it’s a decision by majority rule, then no one can complain, right? So all in favor of turning back, raise your hands—”

“—Goodness me, I think that’s enough for a break,” Izumi suddenly interrupted, standing up.

Under everyone’s confused stares, she picked up her sword and backpack, faced the actual south, and departed.

“Did you hear a word we just said?” Waramoti called after her.

Without answering, feeling like she had heard and used enough words for the day, Izumi continued to march on along the strip of gravel across the waters.

“W-wait for me!” Millanueve exclaimed, hurrying to pick up her belongings, and chased after the woman.

“...Well, destiny has spoken,” Waramoti shrugged, lifted the heavy supply sack over his wide shoulder and went after the two.

“Sister!” Alexander called after Millanueve, who didn’t reply or look back. “...What is she thinking!? Gods damn it!”

Seeing no other choice, he retrieved their horses and rode after the distancing figures.

“I...I suppose the vote was unanimous then,” Stefan noted, before hurrying along.

2

For no less than two days, the diminished fellowship journeyed through the lake land. The weather cleared up together with sunrise, and the travelers rode on for many untold miles under the scorching sun. The evaporating water turned the air humid and suffocating. Facing the vibrating horizon line, with only sparse breaks along the way, they kept going with little hope, unable to believe in any reward at the destination.

Waramoti knew a basic spell to purify water, an essential skill for a warrior, so that they didn’t have to suffer thirst. But nobody could conjure food into existence, if such a thing was indeed even possible, and their remaining supplies were soon used up. Horses weren’t tireless either and their travel speed grew slower mile after mile.

Once night fell, the temperature became downright freezing and the sleepers struggled in their damp clothes, forced to huddle closely together to keep warm. Not even a fire could they make to improve the situation, as the small quantity of wood they could carry was quickly consumed, the rest better saved for an emergency. The companions were only relieved when another day dawned and they could warm up by keeping on the move.

No monsters showed up to trouble them in the barren watery flatland, but no rescue came either. The water was too shallow for any fish to live in, and any flocks of birds they came across sprang up and flew away as soon as anyone came within a stone’s throw. Waramoti caught odd bugs, crustacean, and worms, which he sampled out of curiosity, but the others weren’t quite as willing to add such to their diet.

On the fourth day, the growing hunger made killing one of the mounts for sustenance look inescapable. They had crossed hardly fifty miles by Waramoti’s estimate, traveling at barely walking speed, with close to the same distance still left. And they weren’t getting faster, the strength of the people and the beasts alike close to depleted.

Promising to discuss the matter with more seriousness in the following morning, the travelers crawled into their tents for another night of shivering and agony. The only upside was that they were all exhausted to the point that merely being wet, cold, and starving didn’t keep them from immediately passing out. Even as the rejuvenating qualities were robbed from their rest.

Though she wouldn’t speak of it, one of the adventurers had concerns different from the others.

Izumi didn’t feel hungry or cold.

In fact, she didn’t feel particularly “alive” to begin with. Though she hardly ate, her body showed no signs of malnutrition. Though she was constantly weary, she didn’t feel particularly sleepy either.

Of course.

Izumi’s unchanging body wasn’t immortal.

Without glucose to feed her cells, they stopped working all the same, falling in a state of dormancy, where they would not deliver oxygen either. The innate systems that normally signaled a person of her basic needs were in a total disarray in the woman. Her senses were gradually fading, and she began to feel only like a hollow shell that her will remotely operated. Little by little, her body would cease to function altogether, starting from the more delicate operations, like the sense of taste or the sense of touch, only saving the heartbeat last. It was probable that she wouldn’t die even after not eating for several months, but what would be left of her by that point was not going to resemble a human either.

“I’m practically a zombie, aren’t I?” Izumi muttered with a shudder, while searching for her blanket in the dark with numbed hands. “This isn’t the kind of an anti-hero I wanted to become...”

Millanueve slept on the right side of the cramped tent, with only a bit of hair visible from under the pile of clothes she had gathered to preserve heat. The girl hadn’t made a sound in a long while. It was clear that the impending slaughter of one of the horses weighed heavily on her, but she did her best to hide her grief.

“...Why did you cover for me?” Izumi asked the mound of blankets.

There came no response.

“You would’ve rather gone back home, right? Yet you pretended to take my side and brought everybody along, as poor as our chances are. I wouldn’t have minded going on by myself, if I had to. There was no need for you to tag along.”

“I really do believe they’re there,” Millanueve suddenly sat up and answered. Her eyes were red, as expected, but her answer clear. “The elves. The kingdom. I believe we’re going to find there and that they’ll help us. I have faith that your path is the correct one. That’s all. I’m not going with you to die. We’re going to live.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes.” The girl laid back down, disappearing from view.

“Well, I sure hope you’re right,” Izumi told her.

“I know I am. That’s the way I feel.”

“That’s not very scientific.”

“Yet you feel the same way, don’t you?”

“...”

Izumi didn’t reply.

Easy for you to say.

She laid without sleeping, perceiving everything around her, fully conscious of every moment, unable to rest, unable to detach herself from the present, unable to find refuge even in another haunting recollection of the past.

But even then, Izumi had no regret in her heart.

Indeed, somewhere deep within, even without any proof, Izumi remained yet convinced that this was the only correct path. Not only regarding her search for Alderia, but her life in the otherworld in general.

Even on the verge of death, as an undead, she was free, not tied by anyone else’s will. And no matter how tired or numbed, she could still taste the deliciousness of liberty, of being the master of one’s own will. That’s why, when thinking about what tomorrow should bring, Izumi could only smile with excitement.

3

In the early hours of the following morning, Stefan came to wake Izumi up by yanking her foot. An unnecessary measure, seeing as she hadn’t slept a wink.

“G’morning,” he quietly greeted her from the tent opening. “Sorry to disturb, but it’s your shift, ma’am.”

Though nothing had happened after they quit the marshland, the travelers kept watch each night, just to be on the safe side. A group of scavenging animals could sneak into the camp otherwise, and even a wolf or two could make short work of the defenseless sleepers.

Izumi crawled stiffly out of the tent, while Stefan returned to the next for a few more hours of rest. Izumi stretched her limbs and did quick squats to get her blood running. Gradually adjusting to the chilling early morning air, she surveyed the land around with Sifl, and, spotting no obvious threats, took a seat on a nearby rock. Her shift was the last one, and it would soon be morning. Yet another day in the wild.

“Captain’s log, day XXX. I lost count of the days. Looks like we’re going to have clear skies today, with about plus fifteen degrees centigrade before sunrise. Everyone’s hungry and there’s no hope. The end.”

Sitting still and keeping watch had never been one of Izumi’s strong points. To make time pass quicker, she thought about the distant lands she had seen, the vast plains of Luctretz, the woods of Felorn, and the city in the Empire.

“My, I bet not even that early riser is awake yet,” she muttered aloud. “Wonder what’s it like, being an Empress? Can’t even picture it. I sure hope she’s staying out of trouble. My, is Mira-rin gonna have her hands full with that.”

Covering a wide yawn, Izumi pulled her coat front closer.

“That colonel’s probably awake, huh? Wonder if she’s retired yet? If I had a phone, I could call her—except, she doesn’t have one either. What a world.”

Smartphone was one of the few things Izumi missed about her home world. Save for the clothes she wore at the time, none of Izumi’s other belongings were brought to Ortho with her. Then again, without very convenient magic, her phone would only be a costly paperweight after running out of battery.

“I wonder, could Ai-chan summon my phone for me? But if she did, would my phone become a prophesied doomsday device? That would be bad, I suppose.”

She yawned again, too tired to even smile at her own nonsense.

“Not like I was looking for outrageous cheat abilities, but don’t you think Lady Luck could throw me a bone every once in a while? Hey, maybe Lia could develop a magic phone for me, if I asked? One with 4K video, at least 80-mega pixel camera, infinite battery, and cross-dimensional 5G connectivity. Then, after I retire from adventuring, I could play Grand Or*** all day long, fufufu...”

Closing her eyes, Izumi inhaled deep of the crystal clear air, feeling the wind on her face.

“Geez. For real. I wonder what she’s doing right now, that magician?”

——“If you insist to know, I am looking at the greatest fool I have known in six thousand years,” a voice behind Izumi answered the question.

“Eh...?” Izumi turned her head.

A short distance away, on the coarse batch of land before the tents, she saw a tall, prestigious lady standing. The vision was clad in a long, black dress matching the blackness of her silky hair, which was meticulously braided and gathered in an iconic bun. From among her hair stood out elongated, sharp-ended ears, that looked temptingly smooth to touch.

In short, the mysterious appartion looked like a schoolbook sorceress.

Moreover, one Izumi knew well.

Carmelia’s golden, cat-like eyes watched the human woman with a characteristic lack of emotion, a stoic look on her beautiful, timeless features.

“Gods, I’m seeing things now,” Izumi remarked.

It was impossible.

Clearly, glaringly impossible.

At the moment, the Court Wizard of Tratovia should have been several hundreds of miles away in the north. Even had she followed directly after Izumi, there should have been no way for the two to catch up in such a place. Neither did Carmelia look like someone who had ridden for weeks through the deadly marshland, but stood without a spot on her dress, wearing high-heeled boots, as if directly removed from the polished marble courts of the Empire. It had to have been an illusion. Or worse.

Nevertheless, no matter how Izumi stared at her, blinking, the image of the cirelo wouldn’t vanish or waver.

“I do think it is quite unsavory to refer to people as ‘things’,” Carmelia pointed out.

“I don’t believe it.” Izumi cautiously stood. “Prove that it’s you.”

“And how should I do so?” the sorceress asked.

“I know. Hold your paws up like a kitty and say, ‘I’m the real deal, nyan~!’ and I’ll believe you.”

“How about I turn you into a frog and barbecue your legs instead?” Carmelia suggested.

“The Lia I know wouldn’t say such heartless things!”

“You’re making me want to do things yet more heartless if you keep up with this nonsense any longer. And I am beginning to wonder if that is indeed only a nickname and you haven’t forgotten my actual name.”

“Ah...” Izumi’s jaw fell. “That’s—it’s really you?”

“Yes, it is me,” Carmelia nodded.

“For real?”

“Yes.”

“Really, really, really?”

“Yes.”

“You, as in yourself?”

“Yes.”

“The real you, and not a doppelganger, an illusion, or a magic spell?”

“Yes.”

“Will you...really not do the kitty-act for me?”

“No.”

“WHY, I WAS SO CLOSE!”

The others had awoken at the sound of the senseless conversation and now struggled out of their tents to behold the scene, no less astonished than Izumi had been, if not five times so. The Ludgwertans failed to produce a sound in their dismay, staring at the elven woman in black, eyes rounded.

“How in the blazes did you get in here…?” Waramoti, who recognized the sorceress, was the first one to regain his voice, though he couldn’t believe his eyes any better.

“By the highway, of course,” Carmelia answered him. “How else?”

“High...way?” the man repeated, clueless.

“Indeed,” the cirelo spoke, as if the matter were obvious. “Surely you did not imagine that the emiri would hike for weeks through the marsh, risking death and injury, each and every time they had affairs in the mainland? No, roads were built for that purpose. Of course, these pathways take certain privileges to access, so seek no fault in yourself for not knowing.”

“But, why are you here?” Izumi asked. “Not that I mind, but it’s a little sudden...”

“I came to pick you up, is that not clear?” Carmelia told her. “Though it would not be the whole story. So if you are quite done with your little outdoors excursion, come with me and I shall tell you the rest.”

The magician turned to leave.

Carmelia extended her slim arm to point directly ahead of her, and at once, a black, elliptic shape was torn in mid-air, a portal oozing dark vapor. The Gate of Shadows. Instead of immediately following, Izumi glanced back at the rest of the group, who remained still dumbstruck by the unannounced visitor.

“Um, just to be sure, but does the invitation apply to the whole party?” she asked.

Carmelia halted at the portal’s edge to look back.

“Considering where we are headed, it might be more merciful to leave them.”

“That’s a little...”

“Do not make such a face,” Carmelia told the woman with a sigh. “I already knew how it was going to be. They may come, if they so choose. But I should warn you all not to count too much on my power to protect you where we’re headed. In the kingdom of the elder folk.”