1

“I still can’t believe we’re actually here,” Millanueve spoke, sitting on the edge of a nearby bed, looking overwhelmed.

At least, they assumed it was a bed.

Their chamber had the universal layout of an inn room, a space stripped of excess furniture or any extraneous compartments, with two oval-shaped, bronze-framed platforms by the wall on the left. There were no bedclothes, but the surface of those platforms was covered with a soft, flexible material, and they were large enough for a person to lie down on, at waist-level height above the floor. They were made by the elves’ size standards, and quite large for the human guests. Izumi felt that before beds, they were like operating tables where extraterrestrials would probe abducted humans, but decided to keep the impression to herself.

The ceiling curved upward without corners or edges, small lamps embedded into it. The floor was of gray, warm stone, with minimalist floral patterns running across. The room also had a small, round window with a view to a glazed atrium on the other side. It was certainly far more pleasant than an average prison cell.

“Yeah,” Izumi commented, laying down on her bed, folding her arms behind her head. “This is something, all right.”

Izumi had never traveled abroad before being brought to Ortho. This was her first time as a tourist in a genuinely foreign civilization, where both the people and the language were incomprehensible to her. She failed to see why so many enjoyed that experience of being a fish out of water, surrounded by unknown elements and dangers. After all, in the Earth that she knew, there were hardly any tangible benefits or heroic achievements to be gained for visiting distant cultures, only enormous expenses.

It’s about growing as a person, huh? Am I doing that now? Can’t say I'm feeling it.

“What will become of us now?” Millanueve asked, sitting on her bed, staring down at her knees.

“I wonder,” Izumi muttered.

“They gave us a place to stay. So they wouldn’t outright kill us, would they?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you think Lady Carmelia will look after us, as she said? No matter what happens?”

“I don’t know.”

“She wouldn’t abandon us without a warning, would she? Is it all right for us to trust in her?”

“Maybe?”

“...You could stand to be a little more assertive, you know?” Millanueve pointed out with an offended scowl.

“I don’t know what I don’t know,” Izumi replied. “Want me to lie to make you feel better? It’ll only hurt more if things go awry then.”

“How can you say that? Weren’t you supposed to be close with her? Didn’t she tell you anything about what’s going to happen? Why did Lady Carmelia even bring us along, if she had no intention of seeing things through?”

Izumi replied with a yawn,

“Lia won’t tell me half of anything. And I don’t expect her to. She’ll help us as long as she can, and it doesn’t get in the way of her job. But she’s got bigger things to worry about than us. We’re all expendable in the grand scheme of things.”

“That doesn’t make me feel one bit better!” Millanueve cried.

“Sorry. It’s the best I can do.”

“But, if we can’t count on anyone to help us, what can we do?”

“Getting some sleep could be a start. I’m dead tired.” Izumi rolled to her side.

“I can’t believe you,” Millanueve sighed. “How can you even think about sleeping in a place like this? At a time like this? It feels like the walls themselves are watching me.”

“It’s all in your head. Sleep.”

“I wonder how the men are doing?” the girl pondered.

“Dunno. Sleeping?” Izumi suggested.

“Is it wise to be in separate rooms? Maybe we should go to theirs? Discuss things, try to come up with a plan?”

“Suit yourself.”

“Won’t you...come with me?” Millanueve timidly requested.

“No,” Izumi answered without opening her eyes. “I’m trying to sleep.”

“But I don’t feel safe going alone!”

“It’s the next door. Like, ten feet away.”

“That’s not what I meant. What if I run into someone on the way?”

“Then say hello?”

“You’re...” the knight maiden groaned in frustration. “I can’t even say what!”

“Tired?” Izumi proposed. “Aware of my age?”

“Careless. Irresponsible,” Millanueve revised.

“Charming?” Izumi ignored her and continued. “Irresistible?”

“Who is!” the girl shrieked, her cheeks reddening. “Women don’t say such things!”

“Hey, I know,” Izumi sat up. “Try say, ‘please come with me, nya~n!’ while crawling on all fours like a kitty, and I’ll go with you.”

The woman emphasized her words by mimicking a beckoning cat with her hands.

“Shut up! This is no time to be horsing around!” Red up to her ears, Millanueve got off her bed and marched stiffly to the door. “I’m going by myself!”

Izumi laid back down, with no intention to follow. Millanueve paused before the exit and cautiously peered over her shoulder.

“...Are you sure you don’t want to come with me?”

“Yes, I’m positive,” Izumi muttered.

“Aren’t you worried about Sir Waramoti? He’s your friend, isn’t he?”

“Who’s friends with a guy like that? He can die off-screen, for all I care.”

“You’re terrible!” the girl yelled at her.

“He and I were enemies, you know? We were trying to kill each other.”

“Really?” the girl looked surprised. “Then how did you become friends?”

“We’re not friends. And why are we talking about this again?”

“Then what are you, if not friends?”

“...Ex-enemies?”

“Is it such an embarrassing story? That you can’t even tell me?”

“What makes you so special that I’d tell only you and nobody else?”

“Nothing, apparently!”

Getting angry again, Millanueve marched to the door. The door opened at her approach, and she stepped out into the hallway. Then, the girl seemingly changed her mind and turned back again, but the door slid close on its own, leaving her outside.

“Eh?” Millanueve’s startled voice carried from the hallway. “W-what happened? O-open up! Where’s—there’s no handle on this door! How do I get it to open? Help me! Izumi!”

“Good grief...”

Exhaling deep, Izumi fixed her posture and tried to go back to sleep.

2

The King of Alderia awaited ahead. In the middle of a round, pearl-white chamber stood a magnificent seat resembling the bloom of a pale tulip, an abundance of space around and above it. The room was well lit and devoid of obstacles. The guards were also few in number, with only about fifteen knights of the Royal Guard and two arcanists in his majesty’s defense. Carmelia didn’t know the mages. They were of a considerably younger generation.

Despite the six centuries she had spent on the island, Carmelia had never been able to call it home. Alderia had ever only been something temporary for her, and easily left behind. Still, seeing how estranged she had become to her own people, a sense of remorse and envy briefly surfaced in her. Then, with the rehearsed mannerisms of a magician, she severed the unnecessary emotions off her consciousness.

At least the Alderians weren’t openly hostile, or particularly wary of her, which was indeed far better a starting premise than Carmelia had dared to hope for. Of course, there was still quite a wide gap to overcome before the negotiations could be concluded, or even started, but at least basic dialogue was possible.

Everything would begin from there.

The sorceress paused at precisely fifteen steps from the throne.

The emiri King was in every respect an exemplary representative of his kind, if his generic appearance didn’t in fact become a demerit. His long, beige hair was held back by a modest orichalcum wreath, fully baring his beardless face, which no one could call old, regardless of his real age. The King’s slim frame was clad in a light blue, kimono-like silk robe embroidered full of gorgeous, starry patterns that flashed and glittered at the slightest move. From under snowy brows, a pair of green-blue eyes gave Carmelia a glance, before being turned away, the loathing in them undisguised. True enough, everyone in the room avoided looking directly at the cirelo.

A far cry he was from the might and valor of the late High King Elenglen, or the other historical rulers of Amarno, but Quaran Deni Ayea Qimoron was still the undisputed leader of Alderia.

Jordith, the commander of the Royal Guard, announced Carmelia’s arrival. With no humans present at the time, let us follow their conversation unhindered by the language barrier.

“Your majesty,” Jordith spoke with a bow, “the witch of the fallen is come.”

King Quaran made no response. He sat with a poor posture, leaning on the left arm of the throne, resting his head on his clenched fist, reluctant and irritable. Untroubled by the offensive introduction, or the less than dignified reception, Carmelia greeted the King, slightly lowering her head.

“Your majesty. It has been a while.”

It was here that the King ended his silence.

“Never would I have expected you to acknowledge my rank with your own tongue, First Princess,” King Quaran said. “And I doubt I am too far off when I assume this is only false courtesy on your part, empty flattery to render me more agreeable to your cause. So call me not by titles. It is disturbing for me as well, coming from the daughter of Elenglen. For you and the rest of your blood-soaked rebellion, I am no more than a regent, if not an outright usurper. Or am I wrong?”

“Certainly,” Carmelia responded, raising her head, “you misunderstand us if you think we dispute your rule in Alderia. Such is not in our interests. But as you wish, Quaran, son of Fanaran, I shall address you by the name you gave me in your father’s house in Qimoron twenty-three centuries and twenty-two years back. Divines rest his soul.”

“Be direct with me, witch,” the King waved his hand. “Though I speak with you here, do not think that I, nor any one of us, has forgotten what you did to our people. Your people. Fond memories will not erase that. What is it that you want of us now? What is the will of the fallen ones? Have we not already given you much, more than we could afford? Yet doubtless you are here to demand yet more, after nary two centuries have passed? The audacity of your arrival has left me and my people in dismay. Speak quickly then and let our business be concluded, so that we may again part ways, and have a break much greater until another reunion.”

It was indeed going better than Carmelia had expected.

Maintaining her neutral facade, she went on to comply.

“If directness is what you wish of me, then I shall meet your expectations. I have come to your land, Quaran, not only out of a personal desire, or the desire of my people—but on behalf of all the free races left in the world. For what we seek only you may grant. Once we have received it, I shall take my leave, and disturb your solitary rule nevermore.”

“The condition is tempting enough, though I cannot bear to trust it,” Quaran replied. “You presume yours to be the voice of the world now? Even after leading the sons of the seven races to their deaths? I see your arrogance has reached all new heights. Do tell me, then, at long last. What is it that you want?”

“A vessel.”

Carmelia’s response was met with a heavy silence. Delays were not going to make the topic any easier, so why beat around the bush?

“A vessel,” she repeated without relenting. “A barque, a corvette, a frigate, it matters not. But a ship is required, a true component of the Sihlruén, at least one, if not more. That is what I seek of you.”

The King stood up.

The fury in his gaze burned fierce, even causing his own guards to shift in discomfort. Making no sound for a long time, he went through an intense struggle within, no doubt trying to find a suitably effective way to convey his answer, ultimately distilling it to its bare essence:

“No.”

The sorceress, having already expected such a reaction, was not affected.

“All will end,” Carmelia told the King. “The rule of men, of elves. All life shall be swept off the face of the earth, leaving only death and ashes, as happened in Amarno. Unless we restore the system once more. Unless you give us the means.”

“I will rather cast myself head-first into oblivion than give you any one of our ships!” King Quaran exclaimed. “How many vessels did you accursed Oathmakers take with you as you stabbed us in the back? How many, only to be thrown away!? Oh, I have not forgotten that night! Even now, I see the flames in the jungle, behind my closed eyelids! Even now, the wailing of the women haunt my ears, after their husbands and fathers stole away into the dark, swords dripping with the blood of their brothers! And what became of those ships, the spearhead of our proud fleet, which you took! How many foolish souls did they deliver to their deaths, in vain? How many families did they tear apart, forever? Those ships were made to carry dreams; they became caskets instead! Graves for our finest! How much more must be sacrificed for your wretched ‘war’? Until there is nothing left? Do you know no shame?”

“Your majesty—” the sorceress began.

“—You should be on this chair!” Quaran interrupted her, hollering in rage. “Yet you threw away your birthright. You reduced yourself below the vilest renegades that prowl the earth, for the sake of blind vengeance! Vengeance on what? Shadows and dust! And now I must stand here, and rule over the scattered remains of what you left me! You left me with no choice! And now you dare come here to preach me of hope!”

“Quaran,” Carmelia calmly called him. “I did not choose this path. Destiny did.”

Calming down slightly, the King sat back down.

“The Enemy will come,” Carmelia continued. “Sooner or later, they will be here. We need to reach the Heaven’s Pillar before that happens. And we need Sihlruén to get there. It is the only way. Should we miss the Night of the Ritual, it will be too late to stop it.”

“Let them come,” the King defiantly replied. “They will never cross the sea. They cannot. We shall be safe on this island. If the Enemy was made to wipe out mistaken life from this world, then so be it. You should have learned your lesson two hundred years ago. One cannot escape their sins by fighting the accuser. Swords and speeches of miracles will not save a single soul. Only genuine repentance will.”

“So you would live on in a dead world, content with only your own survival?”

“If we survive, it means we did something right, whereas the others failed. Such is natural selection, is it not? The law of life. Who am I to deny it? Neither is it my role to decide the fates of other life forms for them. Unlike you, I recognize the madness, the sheer arrogance of it.”

“And have you never dreamed otherwise?” Carmelia asked. “If all life on Ortho joined hands, the emiri alongside the rest, surely there would be no limits to what we could achieve.”

“Were not those the very words with which you tore our people apart?” Quaran retorted. “And what happened after that? Is that why you have brought the humans? To sway me? To remind us how much we have in common with those apes? That even pigs have feelings? Spare me! Each species must find their way in the world—depending on no other but their own strength and wisdom. So the Gods ordained as they made us. And with that purpose they left us.”

“Has your wisdom found the way then, Quaran? Depending on no other?”

At Carmelia’s loaded question, the King furrowed his brows.

With her usual, indecipherable facade, she continued,

“The humans in my company come from a land on the far side of the marsh. They claim your people have taken an unusual liking to theirs, even going as far as to steal them from their homes. Perhaps isolation was not the path Alderia chose, after all? Or was this not done according to your will, King?”

“The humans lie!” Quaran bounced up from his seat again. “We do not meddle with their kind! We have no cause to! They keep to their lands and we keep to ours! Though they are far inferior to us, we have left them be, even in our plight, seeking not one corner of that which is not ours! Whosoever accuses my people of such transgressions does so at their peril! Even if it be you, daughter of the King Most High!”

“They risked their lives for the lie,” Carmelia replied. “Humans are weak, indeed. But they overcame horror and death to seek answers from you, King. Will you tell them it was only a fantasy that pushed them so?”

“I will not speak one word onto your wretched pets,” the King replied. “If that is all you came here to say, then you may begin your journey back at once. We are through.”

“Very well. But you have yet to hear what I have to offer in exchange for the ship.”

“Exchange?” The King frowned. “You did not merely come here to issue demands on behalf of your corrupted heritage? By all means, amuse me, your grace. What have you left that any one of us could want or deem to be of worth?”

Looking at the King in the eye, the sorceress answered,

“Tomorrow.”

King Quaran’s scowl deepened.

Faced with a deafening silence, Carmelia continued,

“No new life has born of emiri blood in eight hundred years. No matter how we treasure them, our numbers continue to dwindle, for the world we live in is fraught with danger. But I have found a solution. A way to rekindle that which is faded. Yes, Quaran—as the token of this, I can give you a new High King, of royal blood. A ruler from the house of Elenglen, of undisputed legitimacy, who can reunite us and bring end to the feud, after I am no more.”

Her proposition was nothing short of groundbreaking, if true.

Revolutionary.

If there was anything more valuable to the emiri than their Fleet, the vestiges of their supremacy, it was surely this; the continuation of their species, otherwise doomed to fade out of existence. For it was true that all the survivors had turned infertile following the exodus, as if out of a crippling, collective trauma. Preyed upon by the hazards of everyday existence, with no means to give birth to new, their population was doomed to slow but unavoidable decline.

Even if the daemons were defeated today, there would be no way to reclaim and repopulate the lost lands. The glorious days of the past would never return.

Unless—

Unless Carmelia’s proclamation was true.

The sorceress had bet everything on this card, difficult as it was to offer. There was only one way a ruler from the High King’s house could come into the world now, and it was through her body, her own flesh and blood. To achieve the impossible, she had subjected her very being to loathsome, merciless study, violating the sanctity of life, and all the principles the elvenkind held dear—true black magic.

But if ever delivered, her offspring could become more than just a king.

A symbol of a new age, a new beginning.

The only possible way to overcome the vast rift between the two factions.

This offer alone was undoubtedly worth anything she could ask for and more.

And surely it would have been accepted, at any other point in Alderia’s history.

Alas, Carmelia’s offer had come slightly too late.

All of a sudden, a mischievous grin made its way to King Quaran’s lips.

“You offer me much, daughter of Elenglen,” he told the cirelo. “But I fear it is no longer enough to make us bow at your feet. For I see your knowledge is out of date.”

Carmelia narrowed her gaze at the unexpected response.

There was only one possible explanation to such a reaction, and it was the occurrence of something even unlikelier than the fruits of the sorceress's study.

“Indeed, it is as you have guessed,” the King continued, leaning back on the throne with great confidence. “We are forsaken by hope no more. A new day has dawned on our people, and we are blessed once again by the light of a brand new star. We require your tainted blood no more.”

The sorceress looked around with a frown. In vain. None of the scornful looks directed her way would explain the King’s cryptic words.

3

Sleeping indoors after all those long weeks in the wilderness was nothing short of a heavenly experience. Then, together with a new day, came the return to earth.

Izumi’s deep and peaceful slumber was interrupted by a bewildering sense of weightlessness. Less than a second after, she plunged back-first into deep water, and hurried to struggle up to the surface, kicking and splashing like a drowning cat.

Above the water, bright lights and batches of green and gold blinded her unaccustomed eyes. The shock and frustration escaped from her lips in an enraged howl.

“WHAT THE HEEEEEEEEEEEEEELL—!”

Shortly, Izumi discovered that her feet could actually reach the bottom and she stood up in what appeared to be an indoors pool full of azure water. Around her was a cylindrical hall, with a large pillar at its center, which the pool circled. On the edge of the pool, a short distance ahead, towered the dark figure of Carmelia, and beside the sorceress stood Millanueve, with a face unsure of if she should laugh or be sorry.

“Good morning,” the Court Wizard said to Izumi, not looking very apologetic for one throwing people into pools. “It is well past the start of the third period and the time for any decent people to get up.”

“What’s the big idea!?” Izumi asked, wiping her face, her wet hair and clothes clinging to her shivering body.

“We did our best to awaken you, but to no effect,” the sorceress explained. “You stank and were in dire need of a bath, so I graciously decided to lend you a helping hand. Now be swift and wash yourself. The others are already waiting. And throw me the rags that you wear. I have obtained a garb better fit for an ambassador.”

“I don’t recall having become such a thing…!”

Izumi had a lot of complaints and she spared no effort in presenting them either. Of course, the effort all went to waste, as Carmelia paid her no heed. After begrudgingly undressing and washing herself, Izumi climbed out of the stairless pool.

“Mind looking the other way?” she requested.

Instead of obeying, Carmelia slapped her shoulder to instantly evaporate all the water still clinging to the woman's body. Continuing to swear under her breath, Izumi got dressed, in a plain, light-colored tunic with mid-length sleeves, black breeches, and plain cloth shoes. The sorceress hadn’t neglected to prepare undergarments either, though it was a little unsettling how well they fit.

Though she hadn’t been asked to do so, Millanueve had faced the other way, and continued to stare at the wall.

“It’s fine now,” Izumi told the girl. “Shall we go?”

Millanueve turned around without a word, timidly meeting Izumi’s eyes. She still wore her own clothes, a white blouse with little buttons, and black riding pants, which she had apparently cleaned herself at one point or another. Izumi thought the girl looked like a standard elf child herself with her wheat-gold hair and sky-blue eyes. Only, she was much too short and soft-looking to actually pass for one. Izumi hadn’t seen any elves with freckles around either.

Millanueve fidgeted and looked away under Izumi’s evaluating stare.

“Hm? What’s up?” Izumi asked her.

“Nothing!” the girl quickly replied. “Let’s go already.”

“Ah, right,” Izumi turned to ask Carmelia. “Did you see the King? How did it go?”

“I saw his majesty, yes,” the Court Wizard answered, “but it was merely a simple exchange of greetings. The negotiations are likely to last for several days, involving a great many private meetings and dealings, so try make yourselves at home meanwhile.”

“They’re...not going to do anything to us, are they?” Millanueve asked the sorceress.

“I perceive no danger for the time being,” Carmelia patiently assured her. “Indeed, our hosts seem more indifferent to your presence than I had initially assumed. So long as you continue to behave yourselves and do not cause any trouble, they have no reason to harm you either.”

“I see...” Millanueve didn’t look particularly relieved by the news.

“So. When do I get to see the magic master?” Izumi asked.

“I know not Erekhigan’s current whereabouts,” Carmelia answered her. “I will need to ask around. One needs to establish connections and gather information, before jumping into action. Which is why it would be best for you to keep to your room for the time being. Take this as a vital lesson on the virtue of patience. I shall let you know as soon as I find out more.”

Giving them very little additional instructions, the sorceress escorted the two women back to the hallway with their room, and then left to carry on with her own business. Sitting still and waiting wasn’t in anyone’s preference, but the human guests had little other choice under the circumstances.

Or, so you would expect.

However, one of them was not quite as concerned for his personal well-being.

Nearing their room, Izumi and Millanueve witnessed the wide frame of Waramoti step out of the second room. The expression on his harsh face puzzled them. It was no doubt the stern look of one about to head off into a decisive battle, reflecting appropriate courage and resolve, as well as a distinct hint of nervousness.

“Where are you off to?” Izumi asked him.

“To sing,” the man announced.

“Sing?” Millanueve echoed, lifting her brows.

“That’s right,” he nodded. “Ladies, as I’m sure you have realized, we are in the land of the elves now. The elves, who have tens of thousands of years of culture behind them. The refinement of their art is unlike anything else in this wide world of ours, and I would be stupid to miss this chance. Therefore, I shall now go and have them teach me everything they know about music, songwriting, composition, and intonation, even if it’s the last thing I’ll ever do. Aye, this must be the very purpose for which Divine providence has delivered me to this freakish land, through so many perils.”

“It was Lia, who delivered you here, though,” Izumi pointed out.

“Why, destiny merely chose the witch as its instrument. The details don’t matter.”

“But, how will you get them to teach you? You don’t speak the language, do you?”

“All professionals speak the same language,” Waramoti told Izumi. “First off, I will seek a suitably populated plaza where to perform some of my select ballads. Once the word of my unusual talent reaches the local masters, I am certain they will trip over one another in the bid to make me their apprentice. Then, I will merely have to choose the most qualified teacher to initiate me in the mysteries of local musical lore. Farewell, my friends. Wish me luck, though I need it not. And do not look for me.”

With those words and a casual wave of hand, Waramoti turned and strode off in the exit’s direction.

“Was he that kind of a guy?” Izumi commented, watching him go.

Their long journey across Henglog had tested even Waramoti’s convictions, but now that they had actually made it to the destination, against all odds, the man’s previously bloated self-esteem had turned into something fierce. Certainly, he saw himself as nothing short of a mouthpiece of Destiny now, and believed no harm could ever come to him.

Not that anyone else could see it the same way.

“He’s going to get himself killed,” Millanueve shook her head, hiding her face with her palm.

4

Morning hours passed in Alderia’s Royal Palace, though time there appeared to have no real meaning. The guests sparsely saw a glimpse of their hosts, save for at around midday, when a manservant visited the two rooms, carrying strange white boxes with him. Saying not a word, the elf left the boxes to the guests before returning the way he had come, and the guests discovered them to be containers for food.

The portions were quite peculiar. There were round discs made of some kind of fiber, like thick oat crackers; colorful cubes resembling vegetable terrine; thin, evenly cut sticks that tasted like half-cooked sweet potatoes; and also mysterious white balls, like cooked eggwhites in texture, but perfectly circular and missing any yolk. It was impossible to tell how the goods were made, or what were the actual ingredients. The guests’ hunger made them soon overcome any ethical concerns regarding the speculated origins of said foods. And in spite of the small portions, the meal was far more effective at removing hunger than anything else they’d had in weeks.

There were also metal cylinders in the boxes, like thermos bottles, containing cool liquid that resembled apple juice, but tasted like slightly sweet, nonalcoholic ale, and completed the meal, leaving everyone sated and refreshed.

The travelers then spent time chatting together and speculating about their uncertain future. They also recalled their fallen comrades and silently prayed to the Divines in their memory. As the afternoon hours dragged on without noteworthy events, they started to find themselves as short on topics to discuss.

“Think they’re praying for us back home?” Alexander wondered, sitting on the floor by the window, leaning his back on the wall.

“That’s right. They probably think we’re all dead by now,” Stefan said with an apathetic chuckle. “Poor missus, she’ll be beside herself with worry. And Jon and Trissie...”

“Don’t think about such depressing things,” Millanueve berated them. “We’ll make it back home. Believe it. And there will be no limit to laughter and celebration when we do.”

“If you say so, sis,” her brother replied, the irony clear in his tone. “But it’s not going to happen if we just sit here and wait for a wonder.”

“Then what do you suppose we should do?” she asked him.

“I don’t know,” Alexander shrugged. “Sneak out? Steal horses? Gather supplies and ride home?”

“Yes, I’m sure that’s going to work out. How will you get across the channel? The bridge is guarded on the other side, you saw it yourself. They wouldn’t just let us ride out of here unchecked.”

“Then we’ll steal a boat,” he suggested. “A fishing boat. There’s got to be some, we just have to look for the harbor. We’ll sail downstream over a safe distance, before landing, and go around the Gate.”

“What about the marsh?” Stefan asked. “It’s one long trip back. And I didn’t see a lot of horses in the city. Hel, even if we could somehow gather enough supplies, it’s gonna be a real challenge. You don’t suppose we could sail around the continent on that fish boat? How many weeks would that even take?”

“There’s the magic light road,” Alexander said. “We’ll follow it for the most direct path across.”

“How?” Millanueve asked. “Lady Carmelia said only elves can access the highway, and the last I checked, you weren’t one.”

“And you wish you were?” her brother asked in annoyance.

“Why, I never said that!” the girl exclaimed, turning agitated.

“Well, you don’t seem all that sorry to be here. Almost sounds like you don’t even want to leave.”

“We only just got here! All I’m saying is that we shouldn’t rush into things without a real plan! Is that too much asked of you?”

“Whatever. Just don’t forget who got us here.”

“Gh...” Millanueve bit her lip and looked down. “Yes. That’s right. It was all my fault! All those people died because of me! Because I’m the idiot who wanted to come! That’s what you want to say, isn’t it? If blaming me will make you feel better, then by all means do! I don’t mind that!”

“Hey, he didn’t mean it like that,” Stefan tried to soothe the girl, but only achieved the opposite effect.

“It sure sounded that way to me!” Millanueve retorted, got up, and stormed out of the room before anyone could stop her.

“Good graces,” Izumi yawned, seated on one of the beds. “You really should treat your sister better, young man.”

“Mind your own business,” Alexander told her. “She’s too dumb to get how bad things are, unless you spell it out for her.”

“And you then?” Stefan suddenly asked Izumi. “What do you think we should do?”

“Me?”

“Yeah. You wanna look for a way out? Or do you think we should stay put and wait for your elf friend to take us back? What’s she here for, anyway?”

“That’s an Imperial state secret,” Izumi answered, bringing a finger to her lips. “If I told you, I’d have to kill you. And I’ll leave when I need to, but I have my own quest to clear before I can. So could you guys play nice for a bit?”

“News to me,” Alexander remarked. “Now that I recall, you sure were extra stubborn about getting in here. What was so important, that you’d throw away everything to see these freaks? Or is that an ‘Imperial secret’ too?”

“No, it’s something a lot more important—a lady’s secret,” Izumi replied. “Try not to get too nosy, kid. You won’t impress girls with that attitude.”

“Like I care!” Alexander exclaimed and faced away.

“Oops, I’d better go after goldilocks, since her bro can’t take the hint.”

“Give it a rest! Milla’s the one who needs a reality check!”

Ignoring the youth, Izumi got up and stepped out into the hallway. She returned to the chamber next door, but soon discovered that her initial assumption had been sorely mistaken.

The other room was empty—Millanueve had gone elsewhere.

“My, my. So this is where it starts tumbling down,” Izumi stood in the doorway of the vacant room for a minute. “I sure would’ve liked to laze around a little longer.”

Waiting for the girl to come back on her own would have been the easiest option—but there was naturally no way to tell if she would actually ever come back, after wandering off by herself in such a place. Carmelia had warned against doing so multiple times, and Millanueve was—to put it nicely—not a very dependable person.

It was highly likely that she was up to her ears in trouble at this very moment.

Just thinking about it made Izumi intolerably restless. Abandoning a cute, young girl to her fate was not among the things she could do.

Really. Why am I like this?

The best tracker of the team, Waramoti, was absent, leaving Izumi with no other choice but to try and look for Millanueve by herself.

“Okay, time to do the witcher thing.”

Izumi looked around the hallway.

There was no dust on the stone floor to display any footprints, not a speck of dirt, or anything else to indicate which direction the missing person had taken. Izumi even tried Ocil, but the rune merely amplified sensitivity to visible light, rendering the already well-lit hallway blindingly bright.

“Aah. If I were in her shoes, where would I go?”

Running deeper into the building came with the risk of getting lost in areas that were strictly off-limits, thereby angering the hosts. At the same time, going outside wasn’t too safe either. There were only bad options. Yet, a direction had to be taken.

Thinking she could use some fresh air herself, Izumi ended up heading for the entrance. She followed the same path they had come last night, to the floor below and then westward, until she came back to the front gate.

As before, the exit was wide open, with two knights on standby on both sides of it.

Intimidatingly tall, clad in the heavy brass armors, it was hard to believe the sentries were even real. Nevertheless, they were breathing, their eyes attentively following the traffic in front of the Palace. The very thought of approaching the guards was unsettling, but it was quite possible Millanueve had walked out past them in her agitated state. Encouraging herself, Izumi tried to think of the watchmen only as particularly tall humans, and walked on.

“Hello there?” she greeted the guards. “Speak not-English? Have you seen a girl run through here? A bit shorter than me, big boobs, blue eyes, probably on the verge of tears? Just a minute ago. No?”

Izumi enlivened her speech with appropriate gestures, but without desired effects. The elven guards ignored her completely and continued to stand still, as if they were indeed nothing but statues.

“Ehh...Talk about getting the cold shoulder,” she sighed, discouraged.

Since the knights did nothing to get in her way either, Izumi stepped past them and walked across the front yard.

From the wide plaza before the Palace, three major avenues extended radially outward. Izumi kept looking around but saw no trace of Millanueve anywhere among the numerous elves crossing the plaza, going here and there on whatever unknown business.

It would have been difficult for any outsiders to blend among them. The light, form-conforming clothes they all wore were more in style of spaceship passengers than naturalistic woodland dwellers, or medieval people.

There was not a lot of individuality or diversity among the population either. Men or women, they were all tall, white and blond, their frames tough, proudly upright, and devoid of excess fat, or peculiarities. All appeared to be roughly around the same age, without children or elderly among them. Their movements were unhurried but steady, their footsteps soundless yet determined. Their bright eyes stared ahead, mindful and alert, unclouded by private concerns, but also showing little hint of the underlying personality.

Izumi had thought Carmelia was tall, but saw now that the sorceress was actually closer to size S by elven standards. The emiri of Alderia were like giants in Izumi’s eyes, and an instinctive fear filled her as she watched them go. Running into someone by accident would have probably been no different from being knocked over by a horse.

It now seemed unlikely that Millanueve had come this way.

The girl should have been thrice as reluctant to approach the streets where those majestic beings roamed. Even if she had, she couldn’t have gone far enough to reach out of sight yet. Concluding that she had made the wrong choice, Izumi turned to return to the Palace.

However, a surprise awaited her at the entrance.

WHAM!

As she neared them, the guards suddenly took a simultaneous sidestep and blocked the way, their armors clanking. Izumi found herself staring at a tall wall formed by the enormous shields, now struck together.

“Eh? What’s up with that?” she asked the knights, stupefied. “You just saw me come out! I’m a guest here, not a trespasser, and I need to get back to my companions!”

“Wa noosé!” the guard on the right commanded. His booming voice made her reflexively back up a step.

“My, you’re loud! Guys, hey guys, you’re kidding me, right? You’re not gonna shut me out here, are you? That’s not very funny, even as a practical joke!”

The knights didn’t answer her, if indeed they could even understand what she said.

Still, there was very little room for a misunderstanding. For whatever reason, they weren’t going to let her back in, though they doubtless knew who she was.

Unable to believe the unfair treatment, Izumi took a step forward and tried to argue her case.

“Hey, why don’t you call—”

“—WA NOOSÉ!” both guards shouted in unison.

Unable to endure the force of their voice, Izumi staggered back, stunned.

“Fine, fine! I get it!” She had no choice but to admit defeat. “I’ll vote with my feet then. But don’t think this is over! I’ll leave a super salty review on your facebook page. Don’t blame me if you get fired for failing at customer service!”

The palace guards still showed no pity, but continued to block the entryway, gripping their spears. Reflected in their steel-colored eyes was not an ounce of mercy or humor.

There was no forcing or talking her way through them.

Izumi could only either wait for someone familiar to come and let her in, or else look for a different way. In this choice, her mind was quickly made up. Hostility hung dense in the air, and she didn’t feel like lingering in the fearsome knights’ company for one moment longer. Instead, she went walking down the stairs, away from the Palace, rattled and anxious.

Ahead spread the city of the emiri, like a different planet, alien and strange. No, for Izumi, it was quite literally another planet. Looking at the sheer enormity of it all, she could only exhale a helpless sigh, letting her shoulders droop.

“Now what am I going to do…?”