1

Yuliana made sure to double-check the locks each night. At the Prince’s request, she had been given the key to her own prison—as ironic as it was—and more ironically still, it was only in complete confinement that she could feel at ease. Even though her majesty’s dungeon, in this case, was not particularly formidable and barely kept the wind out.

A threat by a notorious criminal was nothing to scoff at. There was no foretelling what manner of mischief the pirate enchantress called Sai-Lin would cook up, but there could be no question that she would try something, and soon. All Yuliana could do to prepare, in the meanwhile, was keep her eyes peeled, remain in the safety of the town, and give up on her personal excursions.

Nevertheless, stirring trouble in this sanctuary of seafarers was such a taboo, that not even the worst of the rogues would openly defy the Code within the town limits. Whether the slave merchant was afraid of the Pirate King’s wrath, or his dragon, or simply saw no opening, nothing particularly dangerous happened over the next two days.

Over time, the menace gradually faded from the young Empress’s active thoughts, busy as she kept with other things.

In the forenoon of another sunny day, the women taught Yuliana how to handle fish in the large communal kitchen. One among the local ladies in particular—Sélle, she was called—had assumed the role of a supervisor to her majesty. She was the one who had handed Yuliana her laundry basket on the first morning on the island, and had in that place left a lasting impression. Sélle continued to take the initiative to assign Yuliana different tasks each day, and would then provide advice whenever the need arose. As it often did.

Yuliana was not used to underperforming and didn’t want to consider herself an archetypal aristocrat, entirely ignorant of the commoners’ life. Yet, it couldn’t be denied that she was one and woefully untrained at mundane chores. Still, while Sélle was a strict mentor, and Yuliana often wondered if the woman didn’t have a personal grudge against nobles, there was a faint hint of genuine care under the rough exterior. Sélle complained a lot and made many rude remarks, but she never truly lost her temper, nor dismissed her majesty as a lost cause, but continued to scold and correct her, until Yuliana finally did things right, however long it would take.

Most households in Harm’s Haven prepared their own meals, but there were also many who came to have lunch or dinner at the few taverns and inns around, seeing as food in these places was free of cost. Favors were paid with favors instead of coin; a beautiful practice by itself, but made less glamorous knowing it was supported not only by hard work and honest trade, but also crime, in however minor part.

Still, to earn her own lunch, Yuliana had to participate as well.

To start with, Sélle showed her how to fillet a zander.

“Look here,” the woman said, beginning the class with a demonstration. “Watch the spines, they’re sharp. So are the sides of the gills. And the teeth. Don’t cut your fingers. Nobody wants your noble blood on their plate. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

Yuliana didn’t particularly enjoy being spoken to as if she were a small, daft child, but her level of knowledge here was undeniably no better than that of a small, daft child. Therefore, she could only swallow her complaints and try to pay attention.

“You cut off the dorsal fins, front to back. Then the pectoral fins, on both sides. Then you remove the head. Don’t throw it away, the best flavor’s in there. We’ll make stock of ‘em later. Make a shallow cut along the base of the spine, like this. Then cut over the rib cage and remove the fillet. Here. See? This is what it’s supposed to look like.”

At the same time as she explained the steps, Sélle continued to work her knife, and the result was a clean zander fillet of pearly white meat on the cutting board. It had happened in a flash, at a pace equal to her words.

“The same on the other side,” the woman said and cut off the second fillet. “Got it? Easy, isn’t it?”

“Um...Can you show me one more time?” Yuliana requested. “A little slower, please?”

Sélle repeated the process, this time without commentary, and it didn’t look any slower than before. The show was over depressingly fast, but Yuliana didn’t dare to ask for a third showing. Sélle would doubtless have thought she was making a fool of her.

“There, it’s your turn now,” the woman said. “Use my knife but don’t drop it or cut yourself, or I’ll smack you.”

“I’ll do my best,” Yuliana modestly nodded, trying to ignore the threat.

She took the knife and did what she could to copy the teacher’s motions. Yet, as expected, reality proved far trickier than it had seemed. She removed the fins, not as cleanly as Sélle had, but well enough. Cutting off the head was the easiest part and Yuliana’s confidence started to rise there. But then, the difficulty curve took a needlessly dramatic rise when it came the time for the fillets themselves. Sélle’s knife had practically flown through the fish with no sign of friction or resistance, but when Yuliana tried the same, she found the zander’s skin both hard and flexible, resisting the blade with the effectiveness of ringmail. If she forgot to keep her hand relaxed, even just a little, the blade immediately became stuck, resulting in an ugly tear in the meat. The knife cut at times too deep, at times not deep enough, and the resulting fillet was uneven and ragged, full of hair-fine bones, and a lot of meat was left still attached on the backbone.

“Yup, it’s ruined,” Sélle unceremoniously declared, taking the finished product and holding it up in the air before the Empress’s eyes. “Dog food.”

“I do think it’s edible, even if not a pleasure to look at.” Her temper rising, Yuliana haughtily defended her handiwork, against better judgment.

“Oh, really?” Sélle asked her. “Would you eat this yourself then?”

“I—I would, yes.”

“Would you still accept it, if the cook at your big castle made it like this?”

“W-why, if I knew he was new and had tried his best, I would!”

“Well, I sure as Hel wouldn’t,” Sélle replied. “We may not be royalty around here, but we do have some semblance of standards. And I wouldn’t feed fish like this to a crulean. Do it again, and do it right this time!”

There was a lot of dog food made that day.

Hardly any of the fillets Yuliana made passed the uncompromising quality check, although she kept steadily improving upon each attempt. But by the time she finally produced a few slices that were good enough, the other cooks had taken care of the rest and the job was done. Fortunately for the diners, her majesty was much too slow to ruin a significant portion of the ingredients.

It was undoubtedly the sourest lunch she had ever eaten, Yuliana thought later to herself, although there was nothing wrong with the seasoning itself.

2

In the afternoon, Yuliana was sent away from the kitchen, and rarely had she felt as inadequate before in her life. Her next task was to go retrieve dry laundry from the hills. The difficulty level was rather dramatically lowered, and she wasn’t one bit happy about it, but did as instructed, hoping that speedy and exemplary performance would earn her more responsibility the next day.

“Oh, what am I thinking!” she cried aloud as a sudden bout of self-awareness hit her. “I didn’t come here to build a career! In fact, I didn’t mean to come here at all!”

Nevertheless, she retrieved the laundry. How much longer until the Prince would come back? What if something happened to him along the way and she really did have to stay for life?

On the way back to the lodge down the hill, Yuliana happened to run into Waramoti.

“Good afternoon, your majesty!” the young man cheerfully greeted her with a wave of his hand. “How are you on this lovely day? Do my eyes deceive me when they say you are the very image of good health? For indeed, you appear far firmer than I’ve seen of your radiance thus far.”

Healthy food, exercise, and the closeness of nature had removed from Yuliana the sickly paleness that the Imperial Court and her heavy burdens had inflicted upon her. Vitality filled her again and her body had regained some of its knightly strength. The pirate island hadn’t stripped her regal qualities either, but on the contrary, made them more pronounced. But while her corporeal form flourished, her heart was not without a shadow.

“I’m quite fine, thank you,” Yuliana stopped and told the bard, not as pleased by the compliment as she should have been.

In spite of his absence from the spotlight, the bard hadn’t forgotten about Yuliana, but would check up on her from time to time, to see she was safe, probing her state of mind with a few seemingly lighthearted words. But as Yuliana showed to be adapting to her new environment at a commendable rate, he spared her less and less concern, in favor of pursuing his personal calling. From the start, there had been great demand for Waramoti’s music at Harm’s Haven, and he got along swimmingly with the local musicians, it seemed. But as happy as Yuliana was for the bard’s success, as a friend, she couldn’t help but see him slipping into the same trap which had very nearly ensnared herself.

“All’s well then!” the bard said, missing her uneasy look. “Your success is ever my joy, your majesty. Ah, now that I have the chance, I’ll be performing at the Winker again tonight. There are two brand new songs included in the set, which not a soul has heard before. If it’s all right with you, would you be willing to grace the show with your noble presence? I’d be very happy if you could.”

“I’ll be there,” Yuliana promised. “But Waramoti...”

“Yes?” he paused, now noticing the concern in her eyes. “What is it?”

“Don’t you think we’re forgetting something?”

“Hm? What could it be? It’s not your birthday, is it?”

“No,” she replied. “I meant the fact that we’re not guests on a summer vacation here, to have fun and play—we’re prisoners, hostages, to be used as leverage against our dear friends. And they must be worried sick about us.”

“Oh?” The man looked surprised, as if he really had forgotten.

“We can’t simply sit here and wait to be rescued,” Yuliana told him. “We need to do something to save ourselves.”

Slowly nodding his head, a solemn look on his face, Waramoti reflected on her words for a moment.

“Ah. So this is how it feels like…” he mumbled.

“Hm? What?” Yuliana asked, unable to understand his reaction.

“When someone else is the voice of reason,” he answered with a smirk. “Indeed, I believe I owe Izumi an apology, the next time we meet.”

“You do?”

“Yes. Since it really is a terrible drag.”

With a shrug, the bard took a step to depart.

Yuliana quickly caught him by the collar.

“Must I remind you that piracy is a crime?” she told him, her voice chilling. “Don’t you think you’re getting a bit carried away? Whatever happened to the call of the Art, or whatever it was?”

“But it was the Art that brought me here!” he argued. “And can there be any question why? It is only here that I’ve had my first real taste of the acceptance, the appreciation, the respect, of which I’ve dreamed all my life! And just as I thought, it is sweeter than any nectar and more intoxicating than any liquor! The more you drink of it, the more your heart yearns for it. Can you look at me now and say this is not where I belong? Is this not the home my soul has sought since the day the Divines by accident put my newborn self in the wrong cradle? You shall ever have my friendship and sympathies, your majesty, but I believe my fate lies here henceforth.”

Hearing this, Yuliana withdrew her hand and stood back, watching him head down the footpath. Certainly, it seemed he had the right of it and she had no rational reason to try and talk him out of his decision. If life at Harm’s Haven made the bard genuinely happy, then shouldn’t she have been only happy for him in kind?

Yet, it was not happiness she felt, looking at his back.

Only, yes—disappointment.

“I thought you were meant to be the recorder of destiny?” she said.

“—!” Waramoti halted mid-step.

“I thought you didn’t care for earthly rewards or empty praise?” she continued. “I thought you wanted to leave your mark on human history? No, what am I saying? It's natural to desire recognition, of course. Rationally thinking, this is no doubt the best possible path for you. As you said, no one could deny that you belong here. Just, I got so captivated by the ideal in your stories. I believe I even admired you for it, a little. Eh, please forget I said anything. You shouldn’t pick your path for other people, obviously, but only because it’s what you desire yourself. I know.”

“No…” Waramoti spoke, watching the setting sun above the eastern canyon mouth, and his posture conveyed an unusual impression of melancholy. “Truthfully, I know what you say to be correct. Should I stay here, I’d never become the greatest storyteller of our time, but only another dime a dozen rhymester among the rest.”

“That’s…”

“Not that I hate the idea, per se,” he continued. “It is a lovely company here. But it’s not for me. The fate of the world won’t be decided on this tiny dot of jungle in the middle of the sea. I know that. I just wished to forget about it for a short while longer. It’s been such a long road. Maybe...maybe I was lying, when I said it didn't leave a mark.”

“Waramoti...?”

Drawing a deep breath, the man straightened his back and turned around, and the usual, confident smile was back on his face again.

“It is doubtless Destiny itself that chose to speak through you today!” he said. “What else can I do then, but confess my defeat? Very well, it is time we started thinking about how to wrap up our vacation.”

Yuliana answered his smile with her own.

“That’s more like it!” she said and nodded, and they continued together down the hill to the town. “The Prince will return in another three or four days with news from Luctretz. We’ll have a better understanding of the situation then. Either the pirates will take us home willingly, or we’ll need to look for another way.”

“Ah, that reminds me,” Waramoti said, “I overheard they’ve summoned the Council.”

“What’s that?” she asked.

“All the nine major captains of the Confederacy will gather here at Harm’s Haven. It's a pretty big deal for the locals, doesn't happen very often. The Council is set to take place in three days, probably as soon as his highness returns from Luctretz. I doubt I’d be too far off if I were to assume they’re going to talk about your situation.”

“All of them...?” Yuliana replied with a frown. “That doesn’t sound so good.”

Why would they hold such a meeting now? Hadn't the Prince already resolved to return her? He hadn't lied to her, had he? Or had there been other complications?

“Good or bad news, we’d best ready our hearts,” Waramoti said. “According to the gossip, whenever all the nine captains gather, life at sea will never be the same again. The last time they held Council was when Cartognam was chosen King, and we all know what happened after that.”

“That’s only superstition,” Yuliana told him with an incredulous smile.

“I should not underestimate the power of superstition!” Waramoti said. “Anyway, the real point worthy of note is that while the Confederates are all here, busy with their business, that might be our best chance to relocate elsewhere, if you catch my drift. A lot of ships and a lot more people, means more opportunities for general mischief, yes?”

“You might be right about that,” she replied. “But I fear it’s still easier said than done. We can’t commandeer a ship with our expertise. We’d need to find new allies. But no matter where I look or who I ask, no one seems to be willing to even think about leaving.”

“’Commandeer’, she says…”

“Oh, I’m not immune to influence!” Yuliana excused herself, turning pink. “Why, if only being in the company of sailors were enough to make you one! I’m afraid that as things stand, this island remains no less an inescapable prison for land dwellers like us. If only we could get Eryn on our side, it would make things a lot easier. But she listens to no one but the Prince.”

“Eryn?” the bard repeated. “You mean…”

“The dragon,” she nodded.

“Well, that is certainly a problem appropriately scaled to be called a problem,” Waramoti contemplated. “Even if we could outrun the pirates, we couldn’t hope to escape the wings, or the eyes of a—”

——“What, what, are ye talkin’ smack ‘bout Eryn now?”

Stunned, the two interrupted their talk and looked up, where the sudden voice had come from. Over the path some two to three fathoms above went a simple suspension bridge, and Erynmir was there, dangling dangerously upside down, holding onto the bridge bindings with only her feet.

“...Or, the ears of one,” Yuliana commented with a sigh.

“Eryn’ll hear Eryn’s name even ‘cross the seas!” the dragon girl snickered. “What’re ye gossipin’ scallywags up to? Conspirers we keelhaul, hee-yo-ho!”

“Well, well!” Waramoti said, executing a formal bow. “This is the first I’ve ever spoken with a grand wyrm! A true pleasure to make your acquaintance, young Miss! Say, are you a fan of music, by chance? I’d love to play a song for you, just to tell everyone I’ve done it. It’s not something any average human minstrel may boast about, you see! I’ve even played for the dead before, and now there’s a dragon!”

“Are ye tryin’ ta change the subject, shark bait!?” the girl retorted. “Eryn’s not a dunce, ‘lil boy!”

Despite her coarse manner of speech, Erynmir giggled lightly as she swung back and forth in the air, waving her hands, and the two below could only laugh at her comical appearance.

Then, thinking of something else, Yuliana grew more serious again.

“…Say, Eryn, do you love the Prince?”

“Love?” the girl paused, tilting her head.

“Why did you choose to follow him, and only him? I mean, he’s certainly a good man, by most measures, but I doubt he’s anything that impressive by dragon standards. Is it because he was the one to find and rescue you? Because you owe him a debt?”

“Eryn’s all at sea with yer hogwash!” the dragon replied. “Cap’n’s the Cap’n! As a sailor, a bucko like the rest, Eryn’ll follow the Cap’n to the ends o’ the earth ‘n’ back! As simple as dat!”

“As a sailor…?”

“Aye!” the girl laughed. “Eryn’s promptly earned her salt, believe it or don’t! Once, looong, long ago, Eryn had ‘nother home, beyond all the land ‘n the sea! But now, Eryn’s only home is the Tempest! An there ainnae home like it anywhere in the world, ye can lay to that!”

“I...see,” Yuliana replied with a slightly crooked smile.

Perhaps she’d been mistaken, after all.

Erynmir’s looks and rollicking nature had led Yuliana under the illusion that she was just as innocent as she appeared, her inexperience thereby exploited, misguided; perhaps with noble intentions, but ultimately leaving her without proper awareness of her own circumstances, or the consequences of her actions. It was difficult for Yuliana to imagine that a mythical being such as a dragon could find purpose and fulfillment in simply living among humans and hold onto this lifestyle of her own will.

But if that was truly the case, if Erynmir was the captain of her own soul, and beyond anyone’s control or coercion, then converting her into an ally was likewise unthinkable—and early escape from the island outside of reach.

“How’s this one?” Waramoti asked, taking up his lute. “I composed this melody to capture the mood over the Bay. Let’s see if dragons have any ear for Art.”

“So annoying!” Erynmir cried, covering her ears with her hands. “Avast ye! Eryn’s had more than an earful of yer terrible shanteys! No way not to, on this mini-mini islet! Even yer toy’s weepin’ at yer abuse of ‘er! Can ye not hear ‘er wailin’!? She’s been filled with salty water ‘n’ nuts ‘n’ whatnot! Have ye nae pity fer somethin’ so old!?”

“What?” the bard paused. “You can talk to my lute...?”

“Aye!” the dragon girl sneered at him. “Eryn can gab with nature itself! All that exists! Since Eryn’s a dragon! Nishishishi~!”

Nimbly swinging herself back up onto the bridge, Erynmir hopped onto the guard rope and leapt off. A blink of an eye later, the shadow of the dragon’s enormous wingspan eclipsed the afternoon sun, as it soared above their heads.

“Hihíen tal ninroit saé caél andruit, immein!” the dragon spoke, its deep voice resonating on the canyon walls.

The two humans watched the beast vanish beyond the jungle, struck momentarily speechless.

“...My heart can’t decide whether to sing out of awe, or simply stop out of terror,” Waramoti then said, feeling his chest. “But that was surely a show worth seeing.”

“I know how you feel,” Yuliana replied.

She wished to think of Erynmir as a friend, but at the same time, there lurked terrible unease in the back of her mind.

What if there should come a day when their respective aspirations led them on a crash course, and they would have to face the great wyrm as an enemy? No earthly might would avail them then, but only a genuine miracle. A miracle, the likes of which the Lord of Light had assured her didn’t exist for men. Were there truly hard set boundaries out there that humans simply couldn’t dream to overcome, regardless of the means?

Yuliana could only hope and pray such a day would never come.

3

Dusk fell and her majesty was freed from work alongside the other islanders. To keep her prior promise to Waramoti, more out of a sense of chivalry rather than genuine fondness for music, she headed over to the Winker, which she now could locate with ease. Someone once bound with a geas wouldn’t soon forget the weight of words, and even a casual agreement between friends was to her no less binding than any oath of honor.

The tavern management had adapted to their recurring guest star’s popularity and brought in new benches and tables to answer the growth in the customer base. This time, Yuliana too could easily get a seat for herself. But she couldn’t so easily leave her worries behind, nor wholeheartedly join in the merrymaking, but refrained from making contact with anyone.

What was happening in Luctretz? What were the Confederates planning? Yuliana had tried discreetly asking around, but no one would tell her more. Either because they deliberately kept her in the dark, or else, because the information was not common knowledge yet.

How had the Empire reacted to her disappearance? How would they answer the corsairs' demands? What terms would the Prince ask for, anyway? He hadn’t told her, saying he would decide only once he learned more about the situation.

Should he ask merely for gold, the Empire was likely to oblige. There was a historical precedent, from three centuries ago, when Emperor Efouses IV had been kidnapped on his tour to the far east. His kidnappers, the mysterious Chalavian cult, had demanded gold in ransom, the Emperor’s weight of it. Tratovians had delivered and the Emperor was safely returned. The story had a rather anticlimactic conclusion, but reality didn’t always come with surprising twists. Money was only money and it tended to come around.

Things would become more complicated, should the Prince demand political concessions. Terms benefiting Luctretz would have been natural for him, perhaps, but also quite dangerous, considering his identity. He shouldn’t ask for anything that might connect the Pirate King to the Principality. Then again, she knew he was the type to value his people more than his own life or rank.

Meanwhile, land was more valuable to the Empire than gold, power more important than peace. They wouldn’t give up any of their economic or military advantages, even if to retrieve their ruler. In that case, Yuliana would be on her own.

As the head of the armed forces, Miragrave was in the best position to negotiate for her majesty’s release. But the Marshal also knew their true mission. She would have to give up on Yuliana, if she could in so doing secure the route to Amarno before the Night of the Ritual. The fate of the world mattered more than any kings or queens. Yuliana was confident her old mentor wouldn’t fail to set aside her personal feelings for the greater good, and do the right thing. The strength of will to do so was what made her Yuliana’s ideal, after all.

“That would be for the best. But…”

At the same time, Yuliana secretly envied people like the Prince and Izumi.

People capable of pursuing what they personally felt was right, without letting prevalent rules, morality, or ideologies get in the way. She couldn’t help but wish she could live true to herself with similar, uncompromising resolve—even while she remained certain such a path would only bring one to ruin in the long run.

“I can't leave my wishes for other people to fulfill,” she thought with a sigh, looking around the tavern hall. “Nothing will happen, unless you make it happen yourself.”

Waramoti was getting ready for his performance, testing his lute. He had a violinist for an accompaniment, a redhead young lady slightly older than Yuliana, slim and perky. By their suave interactions, it appeared the two had reached exceptional understanding over the past week. Her majesty lost track of her thoughts, wondering if Waramoti hadn’t fancied leaving his calling behind for love. If so, she definitely regretted talking him out of it. He still had time to change his mind, give up on his loftier aspirations for happiness.

Too bad, that’s not an option for me.

What a fair story it would’ve made. An abducted noble finds love among rogues, gives up power, turns her back on the world, only to stay with her chosen one. A story completely nonsensical, as it was embarrassing—but also strangely beautiful, in a way.

Sadly, it was completely out of the question.

Though many things had happened along the way, Yuliana had never once forgotten about her own mission. Reaching the Tower of Destiny, completing the sacred ritual and preserving all life on the planet—was only the beginning of it. An achievement suited to be called heroic, perhaps, a trial of unmatched difficulty, but still only the prelude.

The myths also said this——whosoever reaches the summit of the Trophaeum at the turn of the millennium will gain godlike power, by which to make their dearest wish real. Yuliana had pinned all her hopes on this legend. The Tower existed, the prophecy was true, Lord Aiwesh herself had confirmed all this, then why not also the last part?

I will redo everything. I will turn my betrayal into salvation. I will make sure Langoria gets the true King they need and deserve. I will spare my father of his madness, his disappointment. I will bring my family honor. I will do it, no matter the cost, no matter what I have to give up for it.

Reminding herself of this oath once again, Yuliana left her seat to order a drink.

It may have been a pirate tavern, but the Winker did stock more than grog. The selection of alcoholic beverages was vast indeed, but there were also non-alcoholic cocktails, juices, teas—and even a new drink made of Estuan beans, which had in short time become a massive fad in the mainland. Coffee, it was called.

“Not here too!” Yuliana groaned, reading the list. “Izumi, what have you started…?”

She ordered a simple herbal tea. It was made to order and took a moment to brew, so Yuliana returned to the table, where a waiter soon delivered the cup.

Waramoti had started playing. He tended to open with an instrumental to warm up. As harshly as Erynmir had criticized his music, even Yuliana felt it was exceptionally pleasant to listen. A curious mix of traditional and modern influences, made all the more impressive by the sound of his foreign lute, which seemed to gain new qualities by need, pass through all obstacles, and resonate with the very soul of the listener.

Paying close attention to the melody, Yuliana brought the steel cup close to her nose. The sweet, aromatic scent of herbs warmed her nostrils. The tea was certainly in no way below royal standards. Unfortunately, the water was also still boiling hot. Sensing the heat on her lips, Yuliana set down the cup and patiently waited for it to cool.

That was when Sai-Lin sat down at the table opposite of her.

Seeing the blood-red kimono and the tattooed face up close again made Yuliana’s heart skip a beat and she immediately tensed.

“Oh, look who it is!” the pirate greeted Yuliana in a cheerful tone, a wide grin on her lips. “Fancy meeting you here, your majesty! Whatever brought your radiant self to such a lowly establishment on this splendid tropical night, I wonder? The much-anticipated show by your dear artist friend, perhaps? I see, I see! What a beautiful bond you share with such a scrawny commoner! I didn’t think you had it in you. Ohohoho~!”

Seated, Sai-Lin took out the lengthy wood pipe she carried in her sash, a bag of tobacco, and began to fill the pipe with accustomed mannerisms, using a worn, wooden tamper, looking right at home.

“I should be asking you the same,” Yuliana retorted, suspicious. “Somehow, I took you to be above such casual events. In fact, I heavily doubt it was the performance that drew you here tonight.”

“Oh, I’ve no emotional attachment to this place, that’s for sure,” Sai-Lin replied. “I came only because you were here, of course. See, I swore to myself I’d be there to witness your final moments, my dear. It is the privilege I reserve for those rare individuals who really get my blood boiling, as you do.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing much. For now, let’s set aside our personal grievances and drink as friends, for the first and last time in our lives.”

Done with preparing her pipe, Sai-Lin bit the end of it and lit the bowl with a snap of her fingers.

“You can use magic?” Yuliana observed.

“I use anything,” Sai-Lin replied. “Nothing is sacred to me, only the sky’s the limit. So long as a thing exists, it can be made to serve human need. Magic is only one such tool. Rather, the more taboo something is, the more useful it generally gets. Isn’t that right? Can you say you disagree? Are you not of the same mind? If you aren’t, then you shan’t be the Empress for long, I’m afraid.”

“It is where we draw the line that defines who we are,” Yuliana responded. “What we hold as sacred, what we consider taboo. A person who knows no limits has simply traded her identity for transient power. And lost sight of who she is in the effort.”

“Kuh—!” Sai-Lin cringed, contorting her brows in anger. “You really are intolerable! Wherever did your parents go so wrong, to raise such an empty-headed fool?”

“We humans are not merely the sum of our parents. They have given me many things, but while they have my love and respect, I haven’t always agreed with my mother and father. My path is my own.”

“Is that so? Then perhaps your parents are more agreeable than you are, and only guilty of neglect? What a shame.”

This remark stung Yuliana more than she would’ve liked to admit.

“If you detest me so, then why did you go out of your way to seek conversation with me?” she asked the woman. “I believe you already knew how it was going to go, even before we got started.”

“Aye, that I did,” Sai-Lin replied, exhaling a cloud of smoke that didn’t smell like standard tobacco and made Yuliana cough and wince. “I knew you were a hopeless case from the instant I first laid my eyes on you, only good for her meat. But what about you, my dear? Weren’t you supposed to be my anti-thesis?”

“Eh?” Yuliana frowned. “What do you mean by that?”

The woman leaned over the table, her smile even more unpleasant and said,

“As you so astutely pointed out, it was I, who sought conversation with you, not the other way round. There is special meaning in the arrangement, don’t you see? In other words, isn’t that to say you already gave up hope on myself? In your heart of hearts, you have declared me as a lost cause, the way I have dismissed yourself as such? Don’t you then agree with me that there are people in this world who simply cannot be agreed with, who are utterly beyond redemption, and better off simply removed from the face of the earth? Then, could it be—oh, we’re not so different, after all, you and I? Fellow humans, arrogant, selfish, and beautifully judgmental! Ahahaha!”

“Eh——?” Yuliana blinked her eyes, surprised.

“That’s right!” Sai-Lin chirped. “’This person is nothing like me!’—That’s the small but critical first step towards the dark side! Did you never even notice? Not that I blame you. No, of course not. It’s only natural to have sworn enemies and negatives. The most natural thing there is, I should say. All stories are about the villain! Recognizing who you can live with and who you can’t is the key to survival. But if you do understand this much—then you’d better wipe that starry-eyed vibe of moral superiority off your face, right this instant!”

Lowering her tone, the woman growled the last line with a hateful scowl, drew back and returned to quietly smoking.

Yuliana stared down into her tea cup, absorbed in remorseful reflection.

“You’re right,” she finally said. “It is exactly as you say, Sai-Lin. Before I realized, I had started to wish I would never have to see you again. But that was the fear and weakness in me talking. I sought to avoid that which inconvenienced me, because it was much easier that way. I was only thinking of my own comfort, forgetting that you were also a person with your own reasons and circumstances. I didn’t even notice I had grown so complacent. What a disgrace.”

Sai-Lin paused. “Are you screwing with me now?”

“When I left my homeland, I was determined to save as many people as I possibly could on the way,” Yuliana went on. “But when you start making such choices, when the quest for the ‘the people I can save’ devolves into picking out ‘the people I can’t save’, the ideal has become a nightmare. It is always easy to help those who wish to be helped, who are willing to help themselves. But aren’t they in far greater need who have given up even on their own selves? It may be natural for the average person to judge and avoid a criminal like you, but I am now a leader of millions. I can’t make my choices based on private preferences anymore, or avoid difficult situations when it suits me. The more difficult the task seems, the more important it is that I find the solution. It is my mistake to forget this. Will you forgive me, Sai-Lin?”

“WHY THE HEL ARE YOU APOLOGIZING TO ME!?” Sai-Lin snapped and smacked the table with her fist. “How big of an idiot can you be!?”

“I’m sorry,” Yuliana said, unfazed. “No, for pointing out my error, I should thank you instead. It seems I still have ways to go. Then, what was it that you wished to talk about?”

“Take the hint already!” the woman cried. “Are you fucking with me!? I didn’t come here to talk to you, I came to taunt you! I came to watch that beautiful face of yours distort in horror and loathing! There’s nothing for us to talk about! Moron! Dimwit! Aah, you really are incorrigible!”

With an angry snort, Sai-Lin faced away and continued to smoke.

“Be that as it may, I meant what I said,” Yuliana insisted. “Clearly enough, we stand at odds. Then what should I do to help us understand each other better? Will you tell me?”

“That’s impossible,” Sai-Lin answered.

“’Nothing is impossible, it’s only a question of methods’—a friend of mine once said so.”

“Then that friend was a fool too.”

“Yet, here we sit, face to face, exchanging words like civilized people. Shouldn’t that alone prove there is a way?”

“I don’t see any civility here. And the fact that you wish for an understanding where I don’t means our views really are of the opposite extremes of the spectrum, and utterly irreconcilable.”

“Then why did you come here tonight, to meet someone you find so disagreeable?”

“I’m here only because that horned watch dog of yours is not. Hurry up and realize it already, you airheaded fool of a girl. Just how naive can you get? It’s fast driving me out of my mind.”

“Hm?” Yuliana furrowed her brows. “What are you talking about?”

“I wonder, what could it be?” Sai-Lin replied with a wide smile, leaning her elbow on the table again. “How is it, your majesty? Do you feel any tingling in your palms? Does your throat seem parched? Getting goosebumps? Are you mysteriously thirsty, even though you just drank? Having difficulty breathing? Oh no, what could it be? Was it perhaps something in your tea? Could the leaves have gone bad? Why, maybe you should’ve ordered rum or ale, like everyone else in the house! If you were any less of a stereotypical noble, then maybe you’d still be breathing tomorrow! Ahahahahaha!”

“...But I haven’t even touched my tea yet,” Yuliana said.

“——Ha?” the older woman froze and her laughter stopped short.

“Yes?”

“You’re lying!” Sai-Lin yelled, smacking the table again. “I saw you take a sip, just a little while ago!”

“I meant to, but it was too hot,” Yuliana explained. “I was waiting for it to cool.”

“…….”

“……..”

“……..”

“………”

“...That just now…was but a jest! Ohohoho~!” Sai-Lin resumed to laugh with a rather forced pitch. “Did you actually believe me? A pathological liar like me? A remorseless villain like me? Again, that’s far too naive of you, my dear! As if I could’ve done anything, with all these eyes around us! There’s nothing at all wrong with your tea, so hurry up and drink it!”

“Nothing?” Yuliana asked, narrowing her tired eyes. “You mean, were I to let another person have a sample of this, they would not die and prove you immediately guilty of attempted murder?”

“O-of course not! Such a thing—!”

—“Oops, pardon me!”

At that moment, Waramoti stepped over.

Unscrupulously picking up Yuliana’s tea mug—now somewhat cooled over the course of the long talk—he went on to pour it all over his head with a quick splash, apparently in an effort to cool himself.

“That’s my tea!?” Yuliana exclaimed, stunned, watching the spiked drink spill down the bard’s hair and shoulders.

“Wait,” the bard paused, smelling the cup, “this isn’t ale? Oh, it’s you, your majesty? Pardon me, it’s so hot in here, I was beginning to lose focus! I’ll get you a refill, just wait—”

“—MY POISON!?” Sai-Lin shrieked, jumping up from her seat, slamming both her palms on the table.

For a moment, the three of them only stared at each other under mortified, confused silence.

Then, after a few slow heartbeats…

“Oh well,” Waramoti said and shrugged, “they’re calling for the next one, I should go. Listen to this! It’s a brand new one! I’m exceptionally happy with how it turned out!”

The bard left the two women behind, looking quite healthy insofar. Apparently, he’d already had a few servings of stronger drinks before and during his live show, and was not all that sharp anymore.

“...It doesn’t work externally, does it?” Yuliana inquired of the poisoner while observing the bard’s carefree gait.

“Ahem,” Sai-Lin cleared her throat and fixed her posture, restoring her standard composure and smile. “Remember this day well, your majesty. It was the day you came within a hair’s breadth of the underworld. This once you might’ve eluded the ferryman—but you may not be so lucky next time! Grr!”

Breaking into an angry scowl in the end, Sai-Lin turned and strode out of the tavern, leaving the song and laughter behind her. Watching the woman go, Yuliana breathed a deep, heavy sigh, rubbing her eyes.

“Oh, I can hardly wait.”