1

The human guests gradually got over their initial caution at Isa’s residence. Food at the emiri lady’s house was a lot less strange than at the Palace, mostly home-grown, and while rather taciturn and moody by character, Isa ultimately proved a hospitable host. She asked no difficult questions, demanded no explanations, but simply showed around the house, cooked dinner, and returned to minding her own business, tending to the backyard garden. After the eventful day, the humans were all too tired to question Isa’s history with the sorceress, assuming the knowledge would present itself in time. Instead, they seized the chance to rest their weary hearts and bodies. Out of a deep-rooted habit rather than any real concern, the men took the vacant guest room downstairs as their own, while the women made their quarters in the attic, and they all went to sleep without much exchange. The relief for getting away from the tense and forbidding Palace helped them quick into slumber, in which not even Waramoti’s snoring hindered them.

Early in the following morning, two guests got up well before the others. The first one was the eager bard apprentice, determined to return to persuade the unknown elven man to become his lyrical instructor. By this point, no one bothered to try and argue him out of this senseless plan. His fate was surely his own.

The second to rise was Izumi, who had her own quest line to pursue.

Recalling the landlady’s attitude last night, Izumi didn’t expect much in terms of care, and intended to head out as soon as she had washed her face. However, as she was on her way through the living room, Isa suddenly called out to the woman from the kitchen and urged her to take a seat at the wide, sturdy table therein.

“You should eat before you go,” the emiri told Izumi as she wordlessly put out the plates. “The human body is weak, yes? I don’t want to get accused of neglect, after I agreed to take you in.”

“You’re well informed,” Izumi commented, sitting down.

“You’re not the first humans I’ve ever seen,” Isa halfheartedly remarked, filling Izumi’s cup with a tea-like drink.

“We’re not?”

“Of course not. In fact, our peoples were fairly close once. A long time ago. When the High King still lived and the princess was even shorter than you are.”

“There was a time like that?” Izumi frowned. “I got the impression you people never wanted to deal with humans before?”

“Why do you think it got that way?” Isa asked in return. “Oh well. It’s ancient history now. Hardly anyone remembers those days, and no one longs for their return either. I keep forgetting how damned short your lives are.”

“Right,” Izumi became lost in thought, cautiously sipping the hot liquid in her cup. “Sometimes we forget that too.”

“You’re going to see the Sage now?” Isa asked the woman, taking a seat opposite of the woman, across the table. “What for, if I may ask?”

“I need him to teach me a rune,” Izumi answered, seeing no reason to hide her plans.

“Eh?” Isa stared at her for a few passing seconds, blinking, before suddenly cracking up with a chuckle.

“Hm?” Izumi was unsure of what was so funny.

“Teach you a rune, huh?” the elven woman repeated with an amused look.

“Yes...?”

“Oh, are you really this clueless?” The emiri continued to giggle.

“...Why? What is it?”

“Ahahaha!” At Izumi’s continued oblivious look, Isa burst into unrestrained chortle. “You’re going to see the Arch Arcanist? Have him teach you magic, like a child asking for candy? Just how foolish can you get? Haha! How you’ve lived for half as long as you have is a marvel to me! Ha!”

Isa looked like she was going to laugh herself under the table, just thinking about it.

“Really, what’s the matter?” Izumi asked with a frown, somewhat offended. “How else would you do it?”

“Well, do whatever you like,” Isa waved her hand. “What’s it to me?”

“That’s right. People tell me I look younger than my age, but I can look after myself as well as any other grown-up.”

“Sure, sure. What do you know about Erekhigan, anyway?”

“...That he’s old?” Izumi suggested.

“That’s something, all right. How old do you think he is?”

“...Even older than Lia?”

“Even I’m older than Caalan, as if that means anything!” Isa snorted, leaning on the table. “And Erekhigan was already a true legend when I was still a clueless, snot-nosed brat myself. Then do tell me, human, how do you think you’ll look in such a person’s eyes, being younger than the apple tree in my backyard?”

“It doesn’t matter how I look to him, so long as he can see me well enough to hold a conversation,” Izumi argued. “I’ve met folks a good deal bigger and badder by now. So long as we live on the same plane of reality, we can reach a deal. I mean, we’re managing, aren’t we? Despite our differences.”

“I’m just a blasted handmaid,” Isa sighed, leaning back and rubbing her forehead. “I could never bring myself to understand how the big people see the world. Erekhigan—or the King. Or the little princess. Not in a million years. And that’s why I’m stuck here, waiting for the end of time in this rundown hut, babysitting human children.”

“Can’t say I get you either,” Izumi told Isa, unable to hide the envy in her tone. “If I were as strong and pretty as you are, I would’ve conquered the world by now. Why won’t you just leave this gloomy island and have fun exploring, it makes no sense at all.”

For a moment, Isa was left speechless out of surprise. Then, with a troubled sigh, she looked away and mumbled,

“Kids say the darndest things…”

“Hm?”

“Well, Caalan seems to think you have a chance,” the emiri looked up again with a smirk. “Even if I told you to forget about it, you’d still do it, wouldn’t you?”

“It’s not like I have a choice,” Izumi replied with a shrug. “I can’t carry a dedicated healer around wherever I go. It would be against my brand as a solo player. And a bother.”

“You are a weird one, that’s for sure.”

Isa stood from the table and approached a drawer by the left wall, rummaging through its contents.

“For what it’s worth, give this to the Sage.” She brought back a medallion with a round, azure stone in a silvery chain. “It was a wedding gift he gave us. Isidro, my husband, had another one just like this. With the stones’ magic, we could meet each other in spirit whenever we wished, outside time and space, regardless of how far we were apart. Thanks to it, I could also learn of his passing—and not waste my days waiting for a miracle. Without the counterpart, it’s only a useless trinket now. But take it to Erekhigan with my regards, and he may be slightly more willing to receive you.”

“Thank you.” Izumi received the medallion. “But are you sure? Even if the magic’s gone, it’s got emotional value, doesn’t it?”

“Damn straight it does,” Isa sternly replied. “But do you think Erekhigan cares about cold stones? You want him to take you seriously or not?”

Finally seeing her purpose, Izumi gripped the medallion and stood.

“Thanks for the grub. I might be home late today, so don’t keep up waiting.”

2

For a living legend, the emiri Sage led a rather secluded lifestyle. Or maybe it was precisely because he was a master of the arcane arts, that he had chosen to distance himself from the everyday life of the common people, like those bearded, wise hermits of folklore. Thinking it fit the stereotype, Izumi hiked uphill past the last group of houses far on the western outskirts of the elven city, following a basic map Carmelia had given her.

It was no crude cave or a decrepit shanty the Sage lived in, however.

A narrow footpath wriggled through a grove of slim, bamboo-like trees, ultimately leading Izumi to a sizable villa, which would not have been a cause of shame for any retired nobleman.

Two stories tall, thrice as long as it was wide, the arcanist’s home stood atop a grassy hill overlooking the untouched jungle beyond, with a detached greenhouse and a little storage shed for company. The villa was oddly similar to man-made houses with its slanted roof, clapboard walls, and square windows, which were not common in the elven architecture. Only the peculiar angles of the house corners showed that its designer was probably not an average mortal. Dense stretches of hop and herbs climbed the sides of the building, as if it were in the nature’s literal embrace.

Otherwise, the villa stood unguarded and at peace.

No light showed through the windows, and no smoke rose from the absent chimney, making one question if the place was not in fact abandoned, even if in a good shape.

There were no gates or fences to bar the path, and so Izumi made her way directly to the front door. She found no doorbell, but cautiously knocked on the door. Surely the Sage wouldn’t accuse her of trespassing and turn her into a frog? The possibilities of magic were a bit too wide to the earthling’s liking.

After only a few heartbeats, the large door soundlessly opened.

Izumi took no step to enter, however.

She found herself staring at a bizarre object in the doorway.

It looked like a large, unpeeled onion, about the size of a basketball, with an elongated top part and a circular, glassy lens embedded in the middle, akin to a solitary eye. Unsure of whether it was part of the household, or a monster looking to be exterminated, Izumi tensed. If only she had a sword...

The mysterious object hovered closer, staring at her with the glassy eye, and then, before Izumi could do anything, it quietly turned around and floated back into the building.

Whatever it was, it didn’t seem to be hostile.

Taking the apparition’s retreat as a permission to enter, Izumi followed after it.

The door closed behind her, though there was no sign of any special mechanism to move it.

“Maybe I didn’t think this through, after all,” Izumi pondered with growing unease.

She walked through a little vestibule, coming to a larger hall after it.

The villa was quite dimly lit—or rather, the only light available was what came through the set of tall windows high up on the back wall. Otherwise, the place looked plain deserted. Izumi could sense no one’s presence, nor did she hear any sounds characteristic to everyday life.

No family, no servants, not even pets.

All was dead quiet.

The only sign of life was the floating onion bulb, which levitated on across the main hall, and up the imperial staircase in the back end. Steeling her nerves, Izumi unhurriedly chased after the device, trying to deduce what manner of a personality she was dealing with, based on his dwelling. The task proved quite difficult, seeing as it was among the most impersonal houses she had ever seen, terribly lacking in decor.

There were no paintings hung up on the walls, depicting ancient events or legendary characters, no trophies to commemorate past achievements, not even one dragon head, no fantasy weapons, no house plants, no book shelves with ancient tomes, no misplaced talismans, no scrolls containing forbidden spell formulas.

Nothing at all. Not even a carpet on the bare parquet flooring.

There were several rooms on both sides along the main hall, but they were all closed with doors that lacked windows or descriptions. Ignoring them, Izumi followed the flying onion up to the second floor, and then left along a walkway circling the hall, back towards the southern end.

Finally, the peculiar guide halted next to a larger double-door, and remained floating there, until Izumi caught up with it. The device faced her, as if to say, “here”, and then drifted over the walkway railing, disappearing back into the darkness downstairs.

Was the master of the house already aware of her presence?

Izumi raised her hand to knock on the door, but it opened on its own before she could follow through with the motion.

“….”

In front of Izumi stood a room so different from the rest of the villa, it was like cut from a different place altogether.

It appeared to be a study of sorts.

There was a wooden work desk by the back wall, under a large, pentagon window, and bookshelves covered the walls on both sides of the room, filled well over the capacity. If only things had stayed at that, it could have been still called a room fit for a magician.

However, these details alone wouldn’t even begin to describe Erekhigan’s office.

There were odd gadgets filling most of the floor space. Less civilized souls would have labeled those items quickly and simply as “junk”, useless garbage, and clutter that had no place in anyone’s dwelling. There were detached gears, screws, bolts, nails, planks, pots, wires, ropes, chains, glass containers, wooden stands, rusted iron holders, paper wrappings, cloth filters, astronomical models, hourglasses, paint buckets, torn-up canvases, unfinished contraptions—everywhere Izumi looked, her eyes met miscellaneous items that weren’t of particular interest or value even for a hobbyist.

The batches of floor still visible had been shamelessly doodled on with chalk or white paint, notes had been written on the walls between the bookshelves, even on the shelves themselves. The only good point in it all, if one had to be named, was perhaps the fact that the resident’s madness hadn’t spread to the rest of the building, but was all contained in this particular room.

Izumi looked up.

There was a man seated on the corner of the work desk—instead of the chair behind it—immersed in casual reading, a small hardcover book in his hands. He was dressed in a plain, beige robe with a light coat over it, reminding Izumi of an inn guest in a yukata. He even had casual slippers on his feet. The man had long hair, light as cotton in color and tidily combed back, but that was as far as his resemblance to a classical wizard went. His face was clean shaven, not wrinkled or scarred. Quite handsome, in fact. He certainly didn’t look thousands of years old, maybe around in his mid-forties at most, in human terms.

How long had he lived—did anyone actually know?

Did he even remember himself?

“Tune o sennen ni tarehta aran, immein,” the man spoke in a deep, resonant voice, without lifting his gaze from the book.

“Sorry, my language studies are still a work-in-progress,” Izumi replied with an apologetic gesture.

“To have come in a foreign land without bothering to learn the tongue of your hosts—don’t you find that as terribly poor manners?” Erekhigan asked in the common speech, briefly raising his gaze, deep blue as a winter night. He didn’t appear very indignant or accusing, though. Or at all surprised to see a human guest in his house.

“Got me there,” Izumi shrugged. “But you’ve done both our shares of homework, it seems. I appreciate it.”

The man lazily turned a page and resumed reading.

“I know all the languages they speak in the world today,” he claimed. “And a great many more that no longer have speakers.”

“Don’t mean to sound rude, but what’s the point?” Izumi asked. “I mean, why put in the time and effort to learn something you don’t actually need to get by, instead of more useful things?”

“The way I see it,” the Sage responded, “learning another language isn’t about memorizing sets of sounds and signs and corresponding meanings for the direct utility of it. It is about assuming a new way of thinking. A new way of looking at the world. One language gives you one window into existence, a fixed, limited point of view that leaves a great deal yet obfuscated. Learning two, learning three...Upon each added, overlapping perspective, the blind spots become gradually removed, opening up a broader look into the wonders of existence. I once felt this to be—a captivating thought.”

“I see.”

Erekhigan closed the book and unceremoniously tossed it onto the floor, adding to the mess.

“The language we emiri speak is supposedly the language the Gods themselves spoke at creation,” he continued. “Yet, speaking it doesn’t make us as Gods ourselves. What do you suppose it is that we are missing?”

“…Maybe you didn’t miss anything,” Izumi suggested after a brief moment of thought. “It’s just that the Gods didn’t tell you everything.”

“Precisely,” Erekhigan pointed at her. “There is no saying that the Gods didn’t create our language specifically as a cognitive shackle, to keep us from becoming their equals. Which is the reason why I once immersed myself in study, not even neglecting the tongues of beasts, in order to see through the veil of deception we call ‘words’. Excellent. I like you, human!”

“Eh, thanks?” Izumi tilted her head, feeling the praise was entirely unwarranted.

“But, it’s evidently not for languages or perspectives that you are here,” the man got off the table and started to organize the various documents covering its surface. “You didn’t stumble upon my house by mere accident—you sought me out in specific. You wouldn’t have come all this way, unless you already knew who I was, which means that there must be something that I alone, and no one else, can help you with? Am I correct in my reasoning?”

“You are,” Izumi answered.

“I assume there is also a good reason why you believe I am willing to help you, where no one else is able to, even though we are complete strangers to one another?”

“Eh, ah...Right.”

Izumi hurried to look through her coat pockets.

“I have here an introductory letter written by Li—I mean, the great Court Wizard of the Empire, and...wah!”

Izumi barely had the letter in her grip when it abruptly caught fire. Stunned, she dropped the quest item and watched it turn to ashes well before reaching the floor.

“Ah...”

“I have no interest in words written by the living,” Erekhigan commented. “As that child well knows. I am not quite as out of touch as the remoteness of my residence implies either, and already know you are an associate of my past pupil. Which—I should add—does not exactly endear you to me. My, is that all?”

“Errr...”

Having one card prove useless, Izumi next remembered about the medallion and hurried to dig it out of her other pocket.

“...Isa told me to give you this. With her regards.”

Izumi took a step to deliver the item, but Erekhigan was faster. Without turning around, he raised his left hand. Simultaneously, the medallion slipped through Izumi’s fingers, pulled by an invisible force, and darted across the room into the magician’s grip.

“Isa...And Isidro,” the Sage spoke, rubbing the stone with his thumb, and slowly turned around. “A maid and a botanist. Beautiful was their love, albeit brief. I blessed their bond with pleasure, and was saddened to see it end the way it did. Too soon. Or perhaps too late?”

“Hm?”

“Isa has served some of the greatest dynasties in our history, and she does not give her endorsement to just anyone. Neither is she a heartless witch, who exploits others and pursues only her own ambition and greed, but one of the most decent people I’ve had the pleasure of knowing. Very well, I accept it. I am willing to hear you out.”

Izumi had a hard time keeping up with the flow of the conversation. Instead of one actively presenting her business, she felt she was being pulled along and led to say whatever the opponent wanted her to say. Nevertheless, she was relieved to finally get to the heart of the matter.

“I was hoping you could teach me a rune,” Izumi explained. “A rune of healing, as effective as possible. Can you do that?”

“Is that all?” Erekhigan spread his hands, looking almost disappointed. “That is a rather modest plea for a human such as yourself. You journeyed all this way for mere healing? Is that what human women are after these days? Not to reach the heart of someone beyond you, a prince, a hero? No riches or fame? Not to rise above your lot in life, to become someone—someone special, to be revered and fawned upon? Not even to be blessed with a child you have yet to deliver? Not to claim justice, fairness by preternatural means, not to wish for divine vengeance, a curse, on another, for mistreating you? Truly?”

“No,” Izumi shook her head. “Not really my thing, that. Any of it.”

“Very well. Yes. Your fingers, your hands—I see they are accustomed to gripping steel instead of living flesh. You fancy yourself a warrior then? Yet you won’t wish for power instead? For the strength you lack due to your inferior body? To be equal—no, superior to males? Beyond that, superior to all competition, skilled to the extent so extraordinary that no one may hope to compare, be they men or beasts? Is that not what you desire? Many have come asking for such things of me, you see, over the ages.”

“No, thanks,” Izumi refused again. “I can handle myself just fine.”

“Indeed?” Erekhigan raised his brows. “I hope you’re not referring to the crude scribbles someone has degraded your soul with. Oh, I’m sure she tried her best. But I can do so much better, of that you can be certain.”

“...I believe I said no.” Izumi lowered her tone.

“Healing then? To preserve yourself as you are, not one bit better, not one bit worse? A mere word to restore your form, to keep you in the vicious cycle of violence, from which Hamaran graciously offered your kind a quick way out? Is that it?”

“That’s what I said? Life’s not very fun if a simple paper cut can be deadly. But I’m not some kind of a casual who needs an easy mode to get by, so I’ll pass up on any silly cheat skills. I just want to go on adventuring in peace, and that rune’s all I need to do so.”

“Huhuhuhuh...” Erekhigan let out a low laughter, which wasn’t particularly pleasant to listen. Soon, he straightened himself again and continued with a better composure. “You shall have it.”

“Really?” Izumi asked, surprised over the easy success.

The Sage continued,

“But in exchange, I have a request.”

“D’oh—!”

Looking outside the window with a solemn air of majesty, Erekhigan went on to explain.

“I want you to help me divert the last but perhaps the greatest crisis facing our civilization.”

“Crisis?” Izumi repeated.

“Correct,” he said. “What I am about to tell you is highly confidential. It is a topic of most sensitive nature for us emiri. To the point that some of us are willing to kill to keep it hidden. Knowing certain facts will likely put your life at risk, risk from which you won’t be freed until you leave the island, if indeed you are ever able to. Even so, are you willing to hear me out? The reward is life for life—stake your well-being, and in return, I will teach you a restorative rune of the highest tier, known only to me, the greatest surviving arcaenaria arusis of my people. You may also choose to leave here, which you will do empty-handed, but without compromising the present equilibrium of your fragile existence. The choice is yours.”

Izumi cracked her neck and sighed.

“There’s no future for me unless I take the deal, so that’s that. I’m listening.”

“Good. For a human, you are most reasonable,” Erekhigan turned back and complimented her. “Onto business then, as your kind tends to say.”

Falling quiet for a moment, as if to gather his thoughts, Erekhigan began his explanation.

“Our people are dying.”

“I heard,” Izumi said.

“But you don’t know the whole story.”

“I don’t?”

“It’s much worse than simply being rendered infertile over a collective trauma. Our kind isn’t as feeble as to be defeated by everyday life on the island either. But, nevertheless, there’s something out there that’s killing us, slowly but surely.”

Izumi refrained from commenting and Erekhigan continued,

“You must be wondering why we ever settled upon such a miserable batch of land? Eight hundreds years ago, forced from our dominion by the Enemy, we sought refuge overseas, on the continent of Noertia. There were certain complications to this. The land was already largely occupied—by you humans. Motions for a contained genocide were proposed, but most of us had already had more than our fill of killing and dying. And so we sought out a region a reasonable distance from the other races’ habitats, and this island appeared to be the ideal solution. We quickly named the colony as Alderia, and started over. But our new home was far from a paradise. Full of ferocious beasts, poisonous flora, and insects bearing contagious diseases, our first years here were not easy. However, thanks to our magic and technology, we were able to survive and adapt, and convert some of the land more hospitable to our way of life. And like this, some uneasy centuries passed.”

It was mostly a story Izumi already knew. A tragic story, perhaps, but there was no changing history anymore.

“However, not all the dangers were immediately obvious. Or even visible,” the Sage went on. “Just as we adapted to our environment, our environment adapted to us. Approximately one hundred and eighty years ago, we came across a peculiar pathogen which had an unusually strong reaction to our biosystems. A dire epidemic spread out, with the fatality rate of no less than ninety-two percent. In other words, nine out of ten to contract the disease perished within days. Using the finest medicine from our homeland, we were able to overcome the epidemic, but success was short-lived. We’d exhausted our medical supply, and lacked the resources or familiar ingredients to produce more. Neither were we able to track down the natural source of the pathogen, and it kept coming back in cycles, mutated, deadlier, and even harder to subdue. As one of the chief healers, I was the first to make the horrid discovery: we were losing this battle. Difficult decisions had to be made. We mapped the epidemic centers, and quarantined said regions, forcefully isolating several of our settlements from the rest of the colony. We were able to focus on the few individual cases elsewhere and save them—but at the cost of the poor souls left in the quarantined areas. A disaster on par with the great Divide. Though we say it was for the common good, you must see why this is a sore topic, even today.”

Erekhigan paused, as if to check if Izumi was still paying attention.

“Well, it couldn’t be helped, right?” she shrugged.

“This was a little more than forty years ago,” the Sage said. “Now, there are signs that a new outbreak is on its way. By the established pattern, it is likely that the newest strain of the plague will be deadlier than any we have seen before. Perhaps bad enough to desolate the entire city. We survived the daemons, but were undone by enemies too small to even perceive! Don’t you find that simply ironic? Almost offensively so.”

“Sounds like life to me,” Izumi remarked.

“Life. Yes, that is the word,” Erekhigan quietly mouthed, before resuming on a louder note. “However, I do not intend to surrender to life any more than I did to death. This time, I wish to take preemptive measures to contain the disease—and perhaps to permanently end it. And that is where your moment to shine comes, my new human friend.”

“I’m not a doctor and I hate germs with a passion, but I’ll do what I can,” Izumi said. “Since we have a deal.”

“Good,” the Sage nodded. “Naturally, I do not demand advanced medical expertise of you. What I have in mind is a task exceedingly simple, yet also a task that would be too much asked of my emiri brethren. A task you are, by circumstances—or should I say, ‘by destiny’?—the ideal person to carry out.”

“And it is?”

Posing like a politician, hands behind his back, Erekhigan told Izumi,

“I want you to enter the quarantine zone and retrieve samples for me.”

“Somehow, I saw that coming,” Izumi sighed.

“Of course, you did. As a member of a different species, with a different biology, you cannot contract our diseases. There will be no danger in it for you. Obtain tissue samples from the victims of the plague, and bring them back to me for closer study. I have prepared experimental methods for battling the infection, and all I need are live samples of the most recent strain, for the final round of testing. However, sending my servants on the job would risk an epidemic ahead of its time, as well as their lives, and there is only so much I can achieve with drones and familiars. Therefore, your arrival comes at an opportune moment.”

“Lucky me.”

The idea of traveling far away for such an unpleasant quest didn’t thrill Izumi much.

“Life for life,” Erekhigan reminded her. “You bring it to my people, and I will give it to you in exchange.”

“I haven’t forgotten,” Izumi answered. “But is it really going to be that simple? What if your experimental treatment doesn’t work? You know your way with magic, and you still couldn’t get rid of the disease before. What makes you confident you’ve got it this time?”

“Magic is hardly the be-all and end-all of things,” Erekhigan answered. “It can do anything, theoretically, but what it won’t do, it doesn’t. In other words, magic works only as well as its maker is able to define it. And the virus represents a great unknown to us, constantly evolving and changing. It is exceedingly difficult to craft a spell pattern that would eliminate such an elaborate organism with the necessary totality and accuracy. You can strengthen the body, empower the soul, but that can only take one so far when dealing with a natural enemy. Therefore, I believe our best bet at overcoming the epidemic is by using nature’s own methods. Turning our foe’s strengths into its weaknesses.”

“Meaning?”

“Oh, do leave the fine details to me,” the Sage told her. “Your job will be done by the time you bring me the samples. On that note, the sooner, the better. I would appreciate it if you could leave already tonight. I shall procure you a transport, as well as the means to find your destination. And enough supplies to keep you hale and whole for the duration of the trip. Will that be satisfactory?”

“I’m on it,” Izumi replied. “Not like I have any reason to dally either. I need that rune.”

“It will be waiting,” Erekhigan said with a smile.

It was a fatherly, charming smile.

Even if the look in his eyes was not particularly loving.

3

Carmelia’s absence continued through the day, and Izumi didn’t feel comfortable stalling her departure much longer. Therefore, she explained to the knights and Isa that she had a job to do, which would take her away from the city and keep her occupied for an unspecified period of time. Asking them to inform the sorceress, whenever she should return, Izumi packed a bag with base necessities and got ready to leave.

Later in the evening, Erekhigan’s transport came to retrieve the woman. It was an ordinary, dirty-brown horse, pulling a little, two-wheeled cart. There was no driver; the route to Isa’s house and from there on had been magically programmed into the animal’s brain, it seemed. In the back part of the cart was attached a sizable box with a bit of supplies, and some additional free space for the traveler’s select possessions.

From the box, Izumi also found a magical gadget, like a compass, which displayed the intended heading with a flickering dot of light. The Sage had thought of everything. Shoving the gadget in her pocket, Izumi returned to the house to say her farewells.

“You take care of yourself out there,” Stefan told the woman with a wry smile. “And do come back.”

“I will,” Izumi nodded.

“Good luck,” Alexander said to her. “Try not to keep us waiting for too long, all right?”

“You’re the hero while I’m gone, pretty boy,” Izumi answered him, playfully punching his shoulder. “Keep everybody alive for me, okay?”

“I shall try,” the youth replied with a bashful smirk.

“So you got the Sage to open up.” Isa stood further back, looking just a little impressed. “Many have tried, few have ever succeeded. I’d tell you not to get mixed up in something beyond you, but it seems much too late for that.”

“Ah. It was all thanks to your help,” Izumi said. “By the way, getting the rune was only half the reason I came to this island. The other reason was to see cool elf beauties. So, as far as I’m considered, this trip is half a success already.”

“What’s up with that?” Isa sighed with a helpless smile.

“And, speaking of beauties...”

Izumi looked around. It didn’t come as a surprise to anyone that the bard was absent. Had he been around, he probably would have insisted on joining the quest, to record the adventure in person, but he wasn’t, and Izumi didn’t feel like waiting for him either. But, oddly enough, Millanueve had also disappeared without a word, though she had been in the house only a moment ago.

“Geez, not even a goodbye?” Izumi sighed, a bit disappointed. “I might not come home anymore...”

“You just promised you would,” Alexander pointed out.

“Yeah, but the possibility is there.”

“If it’s my sister you’re missing, she’s probably in the bathroom. Said something about her stomach acting up.”

“Don’t bring up a lady’s periods, that’s not cool,” Izumi scolded him.

“I said nothing of the sort!” he retorted, flustered.

“You really are siblings, huh? The comebacks are just as snappy.”

“What are you even talking about...? Get going already!”

Giving one last look to Isa’s house, waving her friends goodbye, Izumi boarded the cart. The horse departed as soon as she had sat down, without a separate signal or a command, diligently pursuing the course its mysterious master had assigned it.

Even the horse knew the way, but she didn’t—Izumi was painfully aware that she had gotten herself involved in something well above her level, with too many unknowns involved. But it was the only road she knew to her goal. There was no choice but to walk it.

“Moreover, what I should I call you?” she asked the horse. “You’re pretty clever for a horse, huh? Hand-picked by the great Sage himself. What’s your name?”

The horse gave her no audible reply, but trotted on.

“I see. It can’t be helped then!” Izumi cheerfully exclaimed. “I’m going to have to name you, buddy! Lucky for you, I already happen to have a good one in mind! Yes, I’ve decided! From today on, you’re going to be Nobuhiro of the Sanada clan! How’s that! So cool, isn’t it?”

The horse ignored her.

“Full speed ahead, Nobuhiro! My glory days are soon here! After I master healing magic, we’re shifting genre from TRPG to musou! Hahaha!”

——“PFWUAAAAA!”

Izumi nearly fell off her seat, startled by the sudden noise from right beside her. The cause was someone springing up from the luggage container behind the driver’s perch.

“Good heavens, I need air!” Millanueve gasped as she climbed out of the supply box.

“…W-what are you doing?” Izumi asked, trying to get her agitated pulse to settle down.

“I’ve decided to come with you. Why, how does it look?” the knight girl replied. “Of course, you wouldn’t have taken me, had I asked normally, so I hid in the cart before you set out. ‘It’s too dangerous’, and whatever poor excuses! I saw it coming from a mile away. But now it’s too late to turn back, ha!”

Millanueve looked quite satisfied with herself as she sat down next to Izumi.

“Um, we haven’t even left the street with Isa’s house yet,” Izumi pointed out. “I could just throw you off? We’re not riding particularly fast, or anything.”

“No way!” Millanueve looked back and saw that Izumi was right. “I didn’t think I’d run out of air so soon! I should’ve made a hole before I got in!”

“No, you should’ve asked me, normally.”

“You mean to say, you would’ve taken me with you?”

“No. But then I wouldn’t have to feel bad about throwing you off the cart.”

“Don’t throw me off! I might twist my ankle!”

“You could die if you come with me,” Izumi told the girl. “Which is worse?”

“You’ll just have to protect me,” Millanueve explained. “And I’ll protect you. Thereby, we’ll both be safe.”

“Eeh,” Izumi struggled to hide her embarrassment. “Sometimes, I really can’t tell if you’re being romantic, or just a natural airhead.”

“It’s not romantic, it’s pragmatic!” Millanueve exclaimed, blushing. “Don’t get any weird ideas!”

“And that answered the question, thank you.”

Ignorant of the contents of their conversation, the horse Nobuhiro continued to head down the road, out of the suburban region, towards the damp, dark wilderness expanding southward without limit.

The sun had all but set and night was taking over the island of Alderia once more. But what befell was not the sort of unfriendly, all-encompassing darkness which blinded and intimidated, but merely the herald of rest for some, and the start of the day for the rest.

Even at night, the jungles of Alderia weren’t without light or life. Tiny fireflies, various fungi, flowers, and other exotic life forms kept the woods lit with their luminous presence. Nocturnal birds continued their passionate songs, and squirrels and ape-like animals climbed the trees, not frightened by the lone travelers’ presence. Gazing around as the city of the elves with its heavy air was gradually left behind, Izumi found herself feeling safe and at ease for the first time in many days.

“Hey. Thanks, Nue,” she said to the girl sitting beside her, finding joy in the company of another.

“Hm?” Millanueve turned her head. “Why are you saying it again?”

“No reason,” Izumi lied. “Just felt like saying it.”

“You’re weird,” the girl told her, yet there was a wide smile on her face.

“You don’t get to say that,” Izumi retorted. But she was smiling too.

4

All the while these seemingly innocent events unfolded, bearing long-reaching repercussions, an entirely different scene unfolded high up in the towering Royal Palace of Alderia.

There, the Immortal King of the island felt despair the likes of which he hadn’t known for a very long time. Under the pregnant silence of the gilded hall, Quaran approached the figure of the High Queen, as though to look for the fallen monarch’s counsel. Though Quaran loathed the air in the room, and dreaded the sight of the mutilated figure, his unceasing desire for aid and guidance often brought him to this eerie chamber.

Of course, the King would be given no answers.

Not a word, not one faint whisper of advice.

But the High Queen wouldn’t judge him either.

She wouldn’t condemn him for showing weakness, nor scold him for indecisiveness. Here, Quaran could be his own self, honest, and speak the things he dared not utter even in the presence of his closest servants.

That’s why, even as horrifying as it was—the golden chamber soothed him.

As greatly as he had feared and avoided Queen Lebennaum in the past, like plague itself, she had now become his sole source of solace in the world.

Koolon of the ptoleans had left the Palace and returned to the encampment his people had set up in the city’s outskirts. But he was the only one to take his leave. The other six ptoleans in his group had remained in the Palace, spread out on various levels. There they continued to sit, on the floor wherever, absorbed in silent meditation, like particularly ugly statues. All the while bearing the deadly traps within themselves.

If they were killed, the crystals would detonate, destroying the Palace.

If anyone attempted to remove them by force, they might kill themselves, with no less grievous consequences.

Not even magic could break the deadlock. According to Carmelia, unskilled tampering with the crystals risked detonating them ahead of time, and the master arcanists at the court appeared to agree with her analysis.

Therefore, the ptoleans could only be left where they were, unhindered.

Koolon had declared that he would return after another day to hear the answer to his outrageous demand. He was to be given Naliya, the future of Alderia, to take with him and be made a toy for the savages, the object of their collective vengeance. Or else widespread death and chaos would follow.

Both losing Naliya and the destruction of the Palace were intolerable options.

Was there truly no other choice?

“Is this how your King felt, your majesty?” Quaran asked the High Queen. “He could only either surrender the land he and his forefathers had stood on, his home, or else lose his people. The ones dearest to him in the world.”

The Queen remained silent, motionless, unresponsive.

As she had for eight long centuries. Truly, like a statue.

No, a corpse.

“To you, I am no King, am I?” Quaran continued to ask, embittered. “I know it! What should I have done to become worthy? What could I? No one was here to tell me how to rule! You all left us! Even your children forsook me! It was meaningless effort from the beginning! No one could be like Elenglen! By dying in battle, his memory was made too great for any alive to surpass! It is impossible! Unless you will tell me how, your majesty! Alas, you cannot!”

Defiant anger soon erupted within the King and, defying his terror, he raised his face to glare at the masked form.

“You have not the right to judge me, unable to even make your will known to us! In the absence of your wisdom, what can I do but depend on my own self! I decide the standards of kingship now! And no other!”

Calming himself, Quaran looked away.

Even without advice, the answer to the dilemma was already clear to him. The decision the High King had made eight hundred years ago, he would now repeat.

“I will have servants prepare you for removal. The loss of the flagship will be tragic—but Naliya is the key to our survival as a species. On my honor, the ptoleans will not get away with this.”

Quaran turned to leave.

But there, his feet immediately stopped.

He couldn’t quite tell when, but another person had appeared in the chamber.

That person faced the King of Alderia, hovering by the entrance, veiled in a loose, hooded cloth robe that fully hid his features.

Meaningless as the disguise was.

Emiri hardly depended on eyesight alone to perceive their surroundings. The visitor had masked his presence masterfully, to have come this close without detection, but one glance was sufficient to reveal his identity to the King.

Before his name, Quaran questioned the intruder’s intentions.

“What do you want?” he asked, shame fueling his anger. “I have not called for you.”

The other person said nothing. He merely raised his arm to point ahead, at something behind the King. Needless to say, there was only one thing behind the King, and Quaran was perfectly aware of what it was. His prior irritation was ignited into open wrath.

“You are not worthy of laying your eyes upon her! Get out of here, mis ó hé!”

The visitor lowered his hand, no retreating a step.

“I wonder, Quaran—which one of us is truly ‘unworthy’?”

The King’s scowl deepened.

Then, he sensed something strange. Something that shouldn’t have been possible. Movement. Unwilling, but forced by the circumstances, Quaran glanced over his shoulder, his anger soon to be entirely replaced by earnest astonishment.

At the same time, he heard the cloaked figure behind him speak,

“Hear out...the will of the Queen Most High.”

“But, this cannot be!” Quaran reflexively mouthed, overcome by profound, downright crippling disbelief.

It was the last time anyone heard the King of Alderia speak.