1

They rode on, past the occasional windmills and farmsteads and enclosures where sheep-like beasts indolently grazed. Unsuited by character to the mages’ dignified company and soon tired of sitting still, Izumi returned to horseback, and days flowed by the same as they had in the beginning of the trip. But the only thing constant in life is change and the end of their journey drew visibly closer.

In four days since Halmore, the cavalcade arrived in the town of Grelden, which the summoned champion and her companions had left in a great hurry in the early spring. The events that had changed so many lives for good had done little to change that small city behind its robust walls, which was almost something of a pity.

Was the bounty on their heads still up?

No wanted posters could be seen along the orderly, arrow-straight streets. The lethargic guard patrols viewed the coming caravan with the same eyes as the pedestrians, chiefly with curious awe, and they remembered nothing of the turmoils of the past.

All of the settlement lay languid like a wintering bear under the cold sky, and the citizens soon returned to minding their own business, moving as hay sways in the breeze, the same every day, whether the world around them was coming apart from the seams or not.

Grelden was one of the main stopping points for the company, not so much due to its personal significance to her majesty but its location, being so close to the range of Firras and the border to the Kingdom. It was their last proper opportunity to rest and stock up on supplies before their venture into potentially hostile territory.

The riders camped on a field east of the town, while Yuliana, the Prince, and the army leaders went out to meet the new Mayor and other local figureheads. The townspeople had to be briefed regarding the impending threat of a military offensive, as well as the motion to negotiate for peace. In the worst case scenario, Grelden and the other towns close to the Firras would have to be evacuated, and it wouldn’t be done in a day. The leaders were lost on this path for most part of the day, whereas the rest of the crew worked on the camp.

Or, most of them did.

A few of the number were otherwise occupied.

Waramoti wished to visit the places the summoned champion had seen during her previous stay, in order to make his secondhand narrative of those days as authentic as possible. Izumi would’ve preferred to lie down and sleep, but she begrudgingly took on the role of a guide.

“There’s the quest board I couldn’t read,” she pointed at the corner of the town square without much enthusiasm. “There’s the tavern where I was almost murdered in the bath. There’s the shop where we quarreled with the stingy blacksmith. Oh and there I was almost arrested, but they grabbed her majesty instead.”

“Never a boring day with you around, eh?” Waramoti commented. “Let’s go see the tavern. I want to see your room. And the baths.”

“What am I, Elvis?” Izumi sighed. “Well, I suppose it’s less effort going there, than trying to describe it.”

They left their horses at a hitching on a corner of the plaza, and went to see the tavern called The Tales on the west side. On the way there, Izumi glanced back over her shoulder.

“By the way, So-chan, is there a special reason why you’re following us?”

The young and glum Court Wizard stepped in their wake, a few feet away, scowling at the woman in answer.

“Is my being here a problem for you?” Margitte asked. “Why did you suddenly leave the camp? I can’t allow suspicious characters like yourselves go wherever you please unchecked. You might attempt to contact enemy spies while no one’s looking.”

“You’re still doubting me?” Izumi groaned. “Can’t you read my mind? There’s not one traitorous thought in there.”

“I can’t. Your thoughts, your behavior, everything about you is a mess to me. The ease with which you have won over her majesty and everyone else only makes you seem that much more suspicious. The same goes for the bard. Until the end of this mission, I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

“You sure take your job seriously. You’ll get a tummy ache if you don’t learn to cut loose every now and then.”

“Shut up. Just hurry up and take care of your business, so that we can go back. It’s not like I particularly enjoy wasting my time around unbecoming folk like you.”

“You’re weren’t just lonely, were you?”

“I’m not!”

They went to the tavern. Nothing at all had changed about the place, on the outside. The manager was the same man they had seen almost a year ago, maybe a few pounds heavier, but he showed no sign of remembering Izumi at all. Margitte’s staff and uniform hogged his attention more.

The room Izumi and Yuliana had stayed in was occupied, but they had a look in another one on the same floor, which was close to identical in layout and furnishings. They went to have a look at the baths in the basement too, and Izumi had to describe the technique she had used to subdue the assassin, and what was Jiu-Jitsu, the variations between the Brazilian school and the traditional Japanese Jujutsu.

It was past noon already, so they had a late lunch at the tavern too.

“The food’s gotten better,” Izumi observed. “Or then my standards have gone down.”

“It’s not half bad,” Waramoti agreed.

“It’s salty, overcooked, and plain, like all commoner food,” Margitte slammed the meal without hesitation.

“Ah, that’s exactly what I said back then. We sure are birdies of a feather, So-chan!”

“What are you talking about!? Don’t mess with me!”

The girl scowled at Izumi across the table while poking her stew with a spoon.

“Is it really true?” she then asked. “That you came here from another world?”

“It’s not a state secret, I suppose,” Izumi replied.

“How could anyone eat up such an outrageous story? It’s got to be a lie.”

“You think so?”

“Yes, I think so. You are lying and deceiving everyone. I don’t know your trick, but I’ll figure it out before long. I’ll open their eyes and make them see what a dangerous fraud you are.”

“Well, do your best,” Izumi said and continued to eat.

“You don’t think I can?”

“No, it would help me a lot if you could. If you could somehow prove I was a resident of this world all along, and just dreamed my past on Earth, it would be a major relief. Honestly. It would mean there’s no risk of ever having to go back there again.”

“What about you?” Margitte turned to Waramoti. “Do you actually believe the hogwash she says? Did you never once doubt she was something other than what she claimed to be?”

“Not at all,” the bard replied. “I am—or, used to be—a seasoned warrior myself. I’ve tested Izumi’s strength with these two hands, and there was no doubt left in me after that time. I am confident that the techniques she uses follow principles and methods of practice that do not exist—and could not have been conceived—under the conditions of our world.”

Margitte frowned at him. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Why, it is quite simple,” the bard sat back and elaborated. “Attempting to learn such reckless, convoluted maneuvers here, our friend would have died long before any of us heard her name. Yet, there is nary a scar on her. She was only able to master her skills under safe, systematic tutoring in a society far safer than ours. That is the only way her existence makes any sense. Then there is also her peculiar musculature, which lacks the generalized qualities typical of the dwellers of our laborious lands, and that bizarre fat distribution, which baffles anatomic understanding—”

“—Have you chosen this meal as your last one, brat!?” Izumi interrupted the minstrel, gripping his head.

“...Well, let’s leave it at that,” Waramoti dropped the topic to save his creaking skull. “Naturally, we also have several supportive testimonies by other people, including her majesty, which further lend credence to the tale. So I see little cause to doubt the lady is what she says she is.”

“No, you’re a liar too,” Margitte discarded his opinion outright. “In what world are you a ‘seasoned warrior’? You’re barely my age!”

“I’m not a kid…” Waramoti feebly whispered as he reached for his tankard.

“Neither am I, I’m seventeen!”

2

After the lunch break, the trio set out to visit the blacksmith’s shop, where the heroes had bought the sword for Yuliana. Despite the average quality of the weapon and its less than regal looks, her majesty had grown strangely fond of it and faithfully carried the blade to this day whenever needed.

Garlann’s Steel & Smithing. The three tourists went into the shop and greeted the man behind the counter, whose name was not Garlann. Like with the tavern manager, Izumi expected not to be remembered, but here she was mistaken.

“Blast me, not ye again!” the smith hollered as soon as he saw the woman, looking like a rabbit caught in a hunter’s crosshairs.

“Eh, hi?” Izumi replied with a pause. “How do you do?”

“What’re ye doing in here…?” he cautiously inquired, as if half ready to run away by the back door.

“Not buying anything, that’s for sure.”

“Then get out!”

Looking at that bear of a man, a figurative light bulb went off in Izumi’s head, an epiphany hit her, and she saw at once her past misunderstanding.

“Wait!” she exclaimed. “Now I get it! Back then, you sold the sword at a discount because I called you a relative of dwarves. But you’re actually a man of Dharva, aren’t you? Haha!”

The man ducked behind the counter and quickly peered around, as if he had heard gunshots. Fortunately, there were no other customers around at the time.

“SHHH!” he hissed at Izumi over the edge of the desk, his thick finger on his lips. “Do ye want the whole town to hear us!? What bad did I ever do to deserve this harassment!?”

Certainly, the blacksmith’s dark beard and strong frame were very typical among the people of the north. But it was unusual for Dharves to be found this far in the south, outside their land of origin.

“What’s wrong?” Izumi asked and went over to the counter. “I’m better informed now, and we’re all friends of Dharva here! It’s cool!”

“Shut it!” the man only snarled at her. “I told ye to pipe it down!”

Waramoti sided with the poor entrepreneur, seeing it wisest to educate the lady before any unintended tragedies could happen.

“Dharves have earned themselves reputation as stingy deal-makers abroad, as you may recall. It is a common stereotype in the south that you can’t get an honest deal with their kind. They are known to make quality, but also charge way more than is rightful for it, and won’t shy from deception to grow their profits. Customers might begin to avoid the shop, were the word to get out.”

“It goes deeper than that,” the blacksmith added. “I import my steel from Utenvik, through a friend’s company. The quality is worlds apart from the shoddy ore they mine in these parts, so my customers aren’t complainin’. But the state banned trade to Dharva during the war and they’ve yet to reopen relations officially. If the Union people find out I’ve made backside deals over the other vendors, they’ll chase me out of town. And I happen to like it here! So keep yer traps well shut!”

“Why did you move out here, anyway?” Izumi asked. “Too much competition at home?”

“Because I didn’t want to friggin’ die!” he told her. “Either I got sent to war like the rest of 'em, axe in hand, or else killed myself smithin’ such day in and out. I chose the third option and vanished. That made me forever a coward and a traitor to my people, the black sheep of the family, and they’re not going to miss me. But what’s wrong with wantin’ to live an honest life in peace and quiet? I haven’t hurt a soul in my life, nor do I mean to! Now, what d’ye want from me? Money? More swords? Name yer price and get on yer way!”

“Er, we’re not here to extort you, good sir,” Waramoti assured the blacksmith.

Izumi stood quiet.

“…We’re not here to extort him,” he repeated to her.

“I wonder, what did we come here for again…?” Izumi touched her chin with a sinister smirk.

“What are you, a beast!?” Margitte chided her. “We came for nothing! Let’s hurry up and go!”

The trio turned to leave the store the way they had come, not bothering to give the wares another look. None of them was in need of new weapons or armor.

“Oh, by the way,” Izumi paused at the door and turned back to the blacksmith. “Don’t be too surprised if you get royal guests later today. I’m sure Yule’s gonna want to say hi too.”

Then they were gone and the Dharvic blacksmith was left to stare after them in deep confusion.

“What the devil was that all about?”

From the hardware store, the sightseeing tour continued out of the town. The three returned to their horses and rode some miles west, to see the infamous Haywell villa.

They were unable to get a closer look at the premises, however, finding the way up the hill blocked. The town had repossessed the property after the death of the old Duke. There were guards at the gate and a sign saying, “no trespassing”. The guests had to content themselves with a ride around the hill, and look at what little was visible over the wall around the summit.

“And that’s where an imperial scumbag spy tried to marry and sodomize her majesty,” Izumi told the tale. “It’s also where I killed Lia’s little brother, though I didn’t know who it was at the time. But she said she doesn’t mind, so it’s okay.”

“Oww,” the bard grimaced.

“You must be joking,” Margitte said with a deeply suspicious look. “An Imperial?”

“Yeah. That really was one sleazy piggie. Ickiest guy I’ve ever met. He had the wizard magically disguise him as the mayor or whatever, which caused some mighty embarrassing moments which I’d rather not recall again. But my mind was sharp as a razor blade and I saw straight through the deception. So we created a diversion with Rise, quietly took out the douche and his guard, rescued her majesty, and then rode bravely off into the sunset. Wow, was that close or what?”

“…Your story differs somewhat from her majesty’s account,” Waramoti pointed out. “She said you came to rob the place, got drunk on wine, set the house on fire, and then massacred the guardsmen in a maniacal rampage. And ‘wore a most scandalous outfit,’ in her words.”

“I...wasn’t particularly drunk, or anything. I was pretty level-headed about it, really.”

“Right…”

The short Court Wizard’s stare on her back was painful.

“The more I hear about Ms Riswelze, the more interesting she sounds,” Waramoti contemplated as he gazed towards the sunset past the hill. “How I would’ve liked to meet her.”

Izumi nodded. “Ah, you would’ve gotten along swimmingly, no doubt.”

“Who…?” Margitte asked with a frown.

“A friend who was with us back then,” Izumi halfheartedly replied. “Not anyone an upright citizen like So-chan would get tight with, that’s a given.”

“Was? What happened to her?”

“She died. Killed, by the Imperials.”

“Imperials…?” The line between the girl’s eyebrows deepened.

All the woman’s stories seemed to reconnect to the Empire in most unpleasant ways. Didn’t she have more reasons to hate them than serve them?

“It was a lifetime ago,” Izumi said and turned Toyotomi around. “Come on, we should get back to the camp now. There’s nothing more for us here.”

The sun drew close to the dry, long since reaped fields. It cast a screen of magenta over the land and stretched the shadows tall. The air was getting cooler, cold enough to render one’s breath faintly visible. They rode back along the rough cartwheel path towards the square formation of tents in the distance. No contacts were made with foreign spies, no secret messages delivered, or else they had done it with masterful subtlety and skill. But the new Court Wizard’s worries weren’t banished, they simply changed shape.

“What is the Empire to you?” Margitte asked Izumi, riding close behind the woman.

“Is that one of those ‘are you now or have you ever been…’ questions?”

“Answer me.”

“Nothing in particular,” Izumi said and shrugged. “I’m only here for her majesty and her dream. Nothing more complex. I don’t think it’s a matter of nationalities.”

“Her dream? What is that? Are you talking about bringing peace to the human realms?”

“Something like that. Nothing you need to worry your pretty head with.”

“Tch. Don’t talk rubbish.”

“You called it her majesty’s dream,” Waramoti pointed out. “I can’t help but note you didn’t say you shared it. Was the distinction on purpose?”

Izumi rode on without answering, her gaze in the distance ahead. The continued silence made the bard resume with some alarm,

“Hey, hey, I hope I’m only reading too deep into this, but you haven’t actually given up on life altogether, have you? You still have dreams of your own too, don’t you? Because it’s starting to sound to me like you merely outsourced your aspirations to the Empress, pushed the burden of choice to her, too afraid to even pick your own goals? No, that would be silly of me, right?”

“I see your own aspirations as an agent of the yellow press are still going strong,” Izumi remarked. “Does it really matter whose dream you fight for? Not everybody can have one of their own. Knights aren’t paid to fantasize. They say, ‘yes, ma’am,’ and go out in a blaze of glory. That’s not so bad, is it? Romantic enough for a dream, wouldn’t you say?”

“That may be true and fine, for a knight. But you’re not just a standard trooper. You’re our chosen one from another world.”

“Only in your book, kid.”

3

The state representatives were treated to dinner at the house of Grelden’s new Mayor, who knew none of them and none of them knew him, and it was an awkward gathering all around. They returned to the camp afterwards and went each their own way. The march was scheduled to resume the day after tomorrow, followed by one of the most crucial milestones on the path—crossing of the border itself.

There, at the door of the Firras, the viability of their plans would be put to the test for the first time. Should the Langorians refuse to admit the diplomats and drive them back without heeding their message at all, their hopes would come to a miserable end, and war would be inevitable.

But the endeavor wasn’t based on wishful thinking alone. How could the Langorias turn their own crown princess away? Only her father would have the authority to decide whether she was welcome or not. Unless he had specifically given orders to deny her passage—while not even knowing whether she lived—the border guards would have to allow them to the capital, or at least partway there.

Regardless of chances, the first contact was going to be a nerve-wracking event. They had to be sharp and ready for it. But the closer they journeyed to her homeland, the more restless Yuliana grew inside. It was still too early in the evening to sleep and the thought of sitting quietly still, only waiting, felt like nothing short of torture. As soon as she got into her tent, she turned right around, and went back out. She told her maids to stand by, and pulled the hood of her cloak over her head, unwilling to deal with anyone.

With no particular goal in mind, she went wandering along the side of the field. She passed tent after tent and came to the edge of the camp, where she stopped and beheld the light of dusk.

A short distance away from the line of gray tarps on the meadow, she saw Izumi motioning strangely in the glow of the setting sun, by a narrow trench. The woman turned around and around and moved her arms in wide arcs, crouching and rising, like dancing, but very slowly, with deliberate care.

Yuliana watched the peculiar performance for a while, before her curiosity won over and she went closer.

“Hi.”

Izumi stopped and turned to face her. “What’s up? Can’t sleep?”

“Not really, no. What are you doing?”

“Training.”

“Training?” her majesty repeated and raised a brow. “That’s training? Some kind of magic training?”

“No, the regular kind,” Izumi answered. “Well, it’s not strictly training-training. It’s Tai chi. I’ve got to stretch and make sure my body moves like I want it to. Since I’m not a teenager anymore.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you do training of any kind before,” Yuliana pointed out. “It’s rare to see you be so serious about something.”

The woman shrugged with an air of nonchalance.

“I thought I could get by without ever getting serious. I hate to put effort into things, you know? But I can’t just hang back and relax when we’re on the way to a war zone, can I? Everyone’s doing their best, so I thought I should at least act the part.”

“The whole idea is to not let it become a war zone,” her majesty reminded Izumi with a bit of a pained smile.

“Well, you know, just in the worst case scenario…” Izumi muttered. “Anyway, did you need something? I hope you’re not asking for another tour. I had to do one with commentary before, so spare my legs.”

“I know,” Yuliana said. “The blacksmith told me.”

“Ah, I knew you’d go there.”

“Of course I would! I still owed the smith for the sword you swindled from him. I tried to give him gold for it, but he got so angry, saying I was insulting his professional pride, and agreed to barely twenty silver in the end. What a troublesome man. It’s good to be humble, but it makes me worry for his business.”

“Twenty silver…” Izumi reeled. “Even after all this time, you still have no clue about the value of money, do you?”

“Hm? What do you mean? Was it too little, after all?”

“Never mind...That guy really was a man of Dharva, huh?”

They stood quiet for a moment and admired the deepening red in the eastern sky, even as it promised rain. Town guards were lighting torches along the country road, and with each spot of light to appear in the landscape, the night seemed a step closer. But it wasn’t a worrying notion.

“Back then,” Yuliana spoke, “I was so sure my journey was going to end here. And so it would have, if not for you.”

“If you want to show your gratitude, I do accept gold,” the woman told her.

Her majesty answered the remark with a sour look. “That’s something Riswelze would say.”

“I know, right?” Izumi nodded and smiled. She gazed ahead, posing with her hands on her hips, looking unusually contemplative. “The dead are never really gone. We carry a part of them with us, wherever we go. I used to think that was only cheesy nonsense they put in budget RPGs. But right now, that idea comforts me like you wouldn’t believe. No, it’s not just a fantasy. Before, on the road...and even here and now, I’m being carried by the dead.”

“Izumi…?”

“Well, don’t think too deep on it,” Izumi continued with a bashful shrug, and quietly inhaled the fresh evening air. “Guess it’s the atmosphere getting to me.”

Yuliana watched the woman's profile in silence for a moment, before she spoke up again.

“By the way...”

“Yes?”

“Seeing the town today, I remembered something else that happened here…”

“Hey now,” Izumi interrupted Yuliana with a bit of a worried look. “You’re still way too young to be lost in the ‘good old days’! Seriously. Talking about the past all the time is another death flag, you know? I’m your knight now, it's my job to keep you alive, so could you try not to make my job too hard on me, okay?”

“Could you just be quiet and listen for a moment?” her majesty irritably replied. “Back there, in Haywell, do you remember—”

—“Izumi!”

A voice calling from the camp’s direction interrupted Yuliana before she could finish. The two turned and saw a maiden in a blue coat come their way across the grass. It was Millanueve. The girl couldn’t tell who was the person with Izumi due to the cloak and hood and the low sun, and froze mid-step out of surprise when her majesty turned around.

“Ah, I—I’m sorry,” she stammered and went pale. “I didn’t mean to interrupt you…It’s just, Master Laukan—he asked me to pass the word, for Izumi…To stop by at the medical tent. Whenever you’re free…That is all!”

“Oh. Alright.”

“I-I’ll be on my way now!”

The girl spun 180-degrees over her boot heel, stiff as a toy soldier, and faced back towards the camp.

“Wait.” Yuliana called after her.

She wasn’t sure why. She suddenly felt inexplicably vexed inside and felt like she had to do something. She detested the sense of ambiguity that hung in the air and determined to clear it up, once and for all.

Millanueve turned reluctantly back with a questioning look, and Yuliana beckoned to her. “Come here!”

“Yule…?” Izumi frowned, unsure of her majesty’s intentions. She hadn’t seen Yuliana exhibit such a commanding demeanor before and it made her uneasy.

“Shush,” Yuliana whispered to the woman.

Millanueve came closer to the two, doing her best to hide her unwillingness and appear the same as usual, and avoided carefully looking in Izumi’s way. “Ahem, yes...? W-what is it, your majesty?”

“You’re still calling me that?” the Empress scolded the girl with an exaggeratedly sad look. “I told you to use my own name, didn’t I? There are none of your superiors here to worry about now, so why don’t you give it a try?”

“Eh?” Millanueve squirmed, blushing. “Here? Now? E-even if you ask me to, it’s a little…!”

“A little what? We are friends, aren’t we? It’s beginning to seem like I’m the rude one for acting overly familiar. Am I presuming too much?”

“Not at all!”

“Then, go on. I’m waiting.”

“Ah…”

The knight maiden fidgeted under Yuliana’s expectant look like a small, cornered animal. Izumi was also looking. She had no escape. Therefore, with no way around the challenge, she mustered her courage, closed her eyes, cleared her throat with a faint cough, and tried hard.

“Yu…Yu...”

“Yes…?”

“Yulia—Aah! I can’t!” Millanueve gave up and her posture collapsed together with her formal facade. “I can’t say it, it’s far too embarrassing!”

“…What exactly is so embarrassing about my name?” Yuliana blankly pondered and suddenly felt very drained. “It’s a name like any other?”

“No, I get the feeling,” Izumi said, unexpectedly taking Millanueve’s side. “It’s like treading somewhere you shouldn’t. A step too far over the line.”

“Yes, yes, that is it, exactly!” Millanueve nodded in agreement.

“No, it’s only my name…” Yuliana protested. “What’s with you and all those sobriquets, anyway, Izumi? Don’t tell me you’ve been making them up this whole time only because you’re too shy to call people by name?”

“Well, it’s one of those cultural things,” Izumi explained. “Your name is your identity. Private property, in a sense. A pet name puts some casual distance between us. Yule’s Yule—if I call you that, I can deal with you normally. Just like how Nue is—”

When she glanced at the girl, spoke her name aloud, Izumi felt a weird shift in her chest and stopped against her intentions. It was as if she had only now been slapped awake from months of unfeeling daze, and became in an instant fully conscious that it was really Millanueve there.

The colors of her clothes and face and hair seemed somehow more vivid than before; Izumi could sense the warmth radiating from her body, the weight of it on the air; she learned again the minute shapes and details on the girl’s face, which had faded from memory, and each of them seemed like a beautiful word in a terribly interesting story; she heard the slight rustle the clothes produced as the girl nervously shifted, and she took notice of the little movements of her soft hands that imagination could never fully recreate. She stared and stared, unable to look away, and felt her heart precariously waver.

“Nue...”

When had it happened?

Izumi couldn’t point out any specific moment when, but somewhere along the months between summer and winter, even the pet name had become too much to be spoken aloud. Something too precious and intimate to be shared with anyone else’s ears. She wished to keep it only to herself.

“W-what is it...?” Millanueve mumbled and glanced nervously back at the woman.

Izumi burned inside, gritted her teeth, and struggled with all her will to deny the feeling. It was nonsense. Pure nonsense. After all the things she had said and done… She couldn’t let anyone else catch wind of the unsightly emotion welling up in her. She looked for an excuse, a joke to cover for her blunder, but the seconds kept running by and her tongue failed to move. Millanueve stood under the woman’s awkward look, likewise blushed, and quickly looked down at her toes.

And Yuliana watched the two from the side, gaze narrowed to a thin crack.

“Am I perhaps in the way…?” she icily inquired.

““T-that’s not it!”” Izumi and Millanueve snapped out of their daze and loudly denied at the same time. Which hardly made the situation any less weird.

“Ahaha,” Izumi forced a wry laughter to gather herself and scratched the back of her head. “I-it’s been such a long day, I just went and froze there. Oh dear, must be my age showing! Should sleep early today, I suppose…Sorry about that…”

“N-no, you did nothing wrong!” Millanueve said. “It’s my fault for interrupting so suddenly. And I really should be going now! My apologies! Please...enjoy the fresh air, you two.”

“Ah, thank you—for the message. Thanks, for coming all this way…I’ll go see the wizard when I can. Which is probably very soon. I think.”

Nervously smiling, stiff as a robot, Izumi turned back to Yuliana for clearance.

“Er, was there anything else…?”

Her majesty answered the woman with a horribly cynical expression, her voice cold as Dharvic steel.

“Ah, now that I recall, I believe I owed you a kiss.”

Yuliana took a step forward, caught the woman’s head between her hands and pulled her to her lips. Displaying no reservation or shame, with almost carnivorous hunger, she disregarded the feeble resistance, forced her tongue in Izumi’s mouth, and promptly had her way with her. In no hurry anywhere, she prolonged the kiss to its extreme limits and a little further from that, before she finally let go.

“Pwfha—!”

Izumi gasped for air, having held her breath the whole time, and staggered back.

“Where the heck did you learn to kiss like that!?” she asked in dismay as she wiped the spit off her chin.

“Who knows!” Yuliana replied with a haughty smile and turned away. She glanced stealthily at Millanueve from the corner of her eye, wondering what kind of a reaction the girl would have.

“……”

Against expectations, the maiden knight’s appearance remained rather stoic, at least on the surface. She made no sound or moved. Her cheeks were milky white, her expression neutral, conveying an impression of total internal tranquility.

Or rather, of complete vacancy.

Did she actually not care?

Examining more carefully, the look in Millanueve's eyes was a bit strange, hollow. She stared off without blinking, her widened pupils not fixed on anything, like an alchemical effigy robbed of its power source. Her static immobility dragged on without change, and it began to get somewhat alarming.

“Um…Millanueve?” Yuliana now turned to the girl with some concern.

At being called, the girl showed signs of life again. She parted her lips and whispered briefly in a voice drained of color, the same as her complexion,

“How shameless.”

And then tumbled in the grass, out cold like a candle.