1

Millanueve thought she had blacked out only for a brief moment, yet the scenery about her had changed completely by the time she came to. She found herself lying on a light, green camping bed inside the medical tent. There were a few other beds around, but no one else in the camp was in need of rest, it seemed, and everything was quiet. A steely oil lamp hung off a hook on the central support pole and cast its dim light on the surroundings, while night had grown dark outside.

The girl sat up with caution, and touched her head.

—“Are you all right?”

A voice spoke close by.

On a little chair close by the bed sat Yuliana, a worried look on her face.

“Your majesty…?” Millanueve gazed at the Empress with some confusion.

Why was she there?

Seeing that the girl had regained her senses and appeared to be unharmed, her majesty sighed faintly in relief. Then she closed her eyes and bowed her head deep towards her knees with a face of profound remorse.

“I’m truly sorry!” she said. “I took the joke too far.”

Troubled by that earnest display, Millanueve turned her gaze away.

“…I can’t remember too well what happened,” she muttered and searched through her fuzzy memories, “but I’m sure it was nothing for your majesty to apologize for.”

“We’ll leave it at that then,” Yuliana said and raised her figure.

“Where’s Izumi?”

“She went to see Master Laukan. I promised I would stay and watch over you in the meantime.”

“Oh. Okay…”

“It’s not like you were abandoned, if that’s what you were thinking.”

“That’s not—!” Millanueve began to protest in a fluster, but the bittersweet smile on the Empress’s face made her stop and she averted her eyes again. That look always made her feel inexplicably guilty within.

Millanueve sat quiet, sorting out the confused disorder inside her mind, unable to to come up with anything worth saying. But instead of simply leaving her like that, Yuliana continued to sit and looked at the girl, that wry smile persisting on her lips.

And then she spoke.

“You really do love Izumi, don’t you?”

“Ha—?” Millanueve looked at the Empress, startled. For a moment, Yuliana worried the girl was going to faint again. However, she soon recovered and resumed in a subdued tone, her face downcast,

“...No. I don’t have that kind of right.”

“Right?”

The girl nodded.

“You know the story. Half a year ago, my brother and I did something unforgivable...Whatever the reason, the fact is that I raised my sword against her. I hurt her. For that, I deserve neither her time nor attention. I couldn’t even speak the word ‘love’ in her presence. No, I couldn’t be so audacious...”

“Even though you came all the way to Bhastifal just to see her?”

Millanueve looked up astonished again, before replying with a self-deprecating smile. “You even realized that? As expected, there’s nothing I can hide from your majesty…”

“No, I think Izumi is the only one in the country who hasn’t realized...” Yuliana replied with a bit of a cringe.

“That’s fine,” Millanueve said. “I’m not going to do anything. I won’t be a bother to anyone. If only I can find a way to help her from afar, unseen—that’s enough. It’s plenty.”

Was she assuring so to Yuliana, or only to herself? The Empress watched the girl for a while longer, and thought back to the path she had traveled since spring.

“The General was right,” she then said aloud. “You are stronger than you look. I think you should have more faith in yourself.”

“Eh? Why?” Millanueve asked, thinking she was the very opposite of the word.

“It’s easy to stand against an enemy,” her majesty explained. “Someone offends you and you fight back to have justice, to bring balance. Defending ourselves and what is ours against those who would try to ruin is second nature to us humans. But it takes resolve beyond that to stand up to someone dear to you, for what you believe is right, even when you only have things to lose by doing so.”

The girl shook her head. “I don’t think it’s anything so wonderful…”

“No,” Yuliana continued with a remorseful expression. “I can admit it’s the type of courage I personally don’t have. In the past, time after time again, I watched Izumi commit things I strongly felt were wrong. Yet, I couldn’t do anything about it. The thought of hurting another person, the thought of being hurt myself, the dread of doing something you can never take back, and perhaps for mistaken reasons—I became crippled by my own doubts. Even now, I can only keep moving forward while holding faith in the best possible outcome, no matter how irrational it seems to others. I wouldn’t call that courage. I am merely turning a blind eye to the prospect of failure, and I do it knowingly. The others won’t say it in my face, but no doubt they think I am running away from reality.”

“That can’t be—”

“—I don’t particularly mind if they do. It’s the truth, in a sense. As a person, I can recognize my own shortcomings and seek ways to work around them, to achieve the ideal result. If I waver here, even once, then it really will be the end for all of us. So I’ll do what I must to avoid that. Even self-deception can be made a tool—I learned that from our friend. But you’re different. When push comes to shove, you don’t let doubt hold you back. You can’t lie about what you believe, even to your own advantage. Back then, or here and now. You did what you did because you felt it was for the good of the other person, right? Even if it meant sacrificing your own happiness in the effort. That’s nothing to feel guilty for. Ever remaining true to what your own heart tells you, regardless of circumstances or what other people say—that conviction is what defines a true knight, I believe. In all honesty, I might be just a bit envious of such people.”

“I…”

“Hold your head up high,” Yuliana added in a cheerier tone and stood from her seat. “I apologize for the mischief, but I hope I can count on your aid from hereon as well, Millanueve. Try to get some rest now. We still have a long road left to go.”

Yuliana turned to leave. At the tent’s threshold, she heard the girl’s voice hesitantly call after her, paused and looked back.

“Thank you,” Millanueve mumbled, unable to meet her majesty’s eyes. “Yu...Yuliana.”

Yuliana replied with a wide smile,

“You’re welcome!”

2

The second Court Wizard of Tratovia had a private tent half smaller than the army grade squad tents, and the pompous command pavilion, but still tall enough for a person to easily stand in. In the back was an unexpectedly spartan camping bed, next to it a wooden work desk, and a few light chairs. Going by the equipment, the tent effectively doubled as a doctor’s office.

Izumi pulled the tent flap slightly aside and peeked in. The mage was in, alone, writing notes at the desk, an arrangement of glassy little vials and jars of unknown, colorful substances as his audience. Though the man was quite aged, he wore no glasses, his dark cloak and overcoat he’d left off, and his staff leaned on the back corner unused. In only his white shirt and black pants, he didn’t seem sorcerous at all, one thin-worn human who has made peace with life.

Paying attention to the oddly unnatural, fluorescent lighting, Izumi looked up and saw there was no lamp. Instead, three small orbs of pure white light hovered near the ceiling, like fireflies about the support pole. They gave off mild heat, keeping the tent bearably warm in the night.

“Sorry to bother you,” she told the mage. “Were you asking to see me?”

“Ah, yes,” Laukan answered and set down his pen. “Please, come in. Have a seat.”

Slightly nervous, as one is bound to feel on the way to an appointment with a doctor—or a wizard—Izumi went in and sat on the spare chair he pointed for her, close to the desk. The clinical, sterile atmosphere reminded her of hospitals too. Small talk wouldn’t come.

Laukan turned a quarter circle on his seat to face the woman and crossed his fingers on his lap.

“My apologies for calling you so late,” he spoke in a quiet tone, “but I received a personal request from Master Carmelia earlier that I examine you, and this seemed like a good occasion to do just that. I hope I did not catch you at a bad time?”

“A request from Lia...?” Izumi was a bit surprised. “Well, the timing probably could’ve been better, but if it’s important…”

“A standard procedure,” Laukan assured, “no need to be alarmed. Her grace—by her own words—had traded away her aptitude for the healing arts, while I boast some degree of knowledge in the field, so I agreed to provide something of a secondary opinion. Since you are, as far as I understand, not...a standard person, by our measures.”

“You could say that again.”

The mage considered his words for a moment with a contemplative look.

“We spoke briefly before the departure, but allow me a few more words about myself. I earned the title of Court Wizard now thirty-two years ago, and have seen my fair share of war, battles, and such like unsavory situations, but unlike the other mages in our company, I am not—how should I say?—geared towards combat. My skill lies primarily in the field my colleagues call, ‘reinforcement’; not that of matter but that of spirit, and the various rituals associated with the spiritual side of life. My magecraft reinforces spell patterns and information constructs, and as such, I happen to also hold some affinity with the endangered art of restoration. And that should likely explain to you why I am part of this mission. My role is to keep everyone in good health and see that they are safely returned home to their families, after all is said and done.”

“I see.” Izumi nodded in understanding.

“Of course, it might go without saying, but part of my duty is also about supervising Margitte’s development. She may have been named my equal in rank, but that does not mean her training is completed. I’m afraid not. That child still has a long road left to go to reach genuine mastery, and I wish to guide her as far along as I can, with the time I still have left. This is a very extreme choice of a first assignment for her, and I would’ve preferred she reconsidered her participation in it—but it is what she chose of her own will, and I must respect that. Margitte is taking her first steps into a much larger world, and it won’t ever be easy or painless, but it is a step we must all go through once in our lives nonetheless, sooner or later. I’m sure you know what it’s like, Lady Izumi, by personal experience.”

“Ah, well…” Izumi forced a halfhearted response. Despite her numeric age, she wasn’t so sure if she was mature enough mentally to have an opinion on such profound affairs.

“That being said,” Laukan resumed, “I would appreciate it if you could look after my disciple when you can, and see she doesn’t do anything unbecoming of her rank. I understand she can be a bit rough around the edges at times, but I also think she might listen to a fellow woman more readily than an old fool like me. The experiences of a girl her age are regrettably foreign to me, as I never had any children of my own. I can only teach her as a magician would, but as a person…You can probably imagine. Those worlds just don’t align.”

“Uh, I can try.”

Izumi couldn’t easily picture a scenario where the peppery mage would listen to a word she said, but it was less complicated to play along for now. She never liked making waves.

“Well then,” Laukan said, separating his hands. “That’s quite about enough of my business. Ms Izumi, I’d have a closer look at you now, if you don’t mind?”

“Do I need to strip?” she asked, a little worried.

“That will not be necessary,” he said.” If you could turn around, with your back towards me, that would be a start.”

Izumi obediently rotated around on her chair.

“I am going to open a link with magic,” the mage told her. “It may feel a bit strange, but try not to be surprised.”

He put his palm against Izumi’s back, between the shoulder blades. She thought it didn’t feel too bad. The actual effect only came after, however. She suddenly saw a bright flash in her eyes, and felt a force wave of low-intensity pass through her figure. In the next moment, it was as if her mind had become dislodged from its shell, all lights in the world dimmed, and she could see her own body from outside, rendered transparent, hollow as glass, and unfathomably deep in dimensions unknown to the layman.

Her awareness was then pulled back and she regained her fleshly senses and shuddered, feeling cold to the marrow of her bones. “Ooh!”

“Pardon me,” Laukan spoke behind her. “Most people have some degree of innate magic resistance, which necessitates a light use of force to penetrate to the interior. But it turns out, you have no resistance whatsoever, so the effect may have been somewhat stronger than intended. Rest assured, there is no harm done.”

“What exactly did Lia ask you to do? This isn’t just a regular checkup, is it?”

“No. There can be no question that you are in a flawless condition physically. The high rune of restoration alone ensures that. But it is not strictly your body we are concerned with.”

“But…?”

“Your soul,” the mage answered. “The soul of a human from another world, entirely unaccustomed to our magic. The long-term effects that the use of magecraft could have on your spirit—that is what Master Carmelia wishes to learn more about.”

“Really?” Izumi asked with some alarm. “What effects could there be?”

“Oh, many kinds.” He explained with a casual shrug, “First of all, you have to understand, the soul is not somehow separate from you and impervious to worldly influence. All arcane arts are, in essence, acts of the spiritual plane. The immaterial made material. Therefore, it should not come as a surprise that continuously driving potent energies through your form could also affect your soul, the way a strong current of water suddenly poured through a trench will quickly erode it. A person unfamiliar with conveying mana, using spells of a caliber extraordinarily taxing even by local standards—it goes without saying that there are going to be some effects. But what are those effects, precisely, that is what we wish to find out. In some cases, overusing arts affects the mind, one’s personality and sensory perception. Extensive overuse can turn people apathetic and forgetful at best, cruel and impulsive at worst, even as far as to the point of insanity. In some cases, the strain may cause the soul’s linkage to the body to deteriorate, which brings about incurable illnesses, or other debilitating ailments. In rare cases, one experiences no notable discomfort whatsoever, only slight weariness perhaps, and can go on for many, many years, before their soul is entirely burned out and they suddenly expire where they stand. These are the sort of dangers we caution young novices about. ‘Know your limits!’ Much of it depends on the nature of the arts they employ, of course.”

“Oh...Okay.”

Izumi was barely listening as the words flowed by, but she got the main point. Put in plain words like so, it made sense. Whenever she overused her runes, she did feel certain after-effects, she felt them getting worse over time, and she did know on an instinctive level that it wasn’t making her lifespan any longer. But she had avoided thinking about it any deeper. Why worry about it? She had a body that had ceased to age, but she had never thought she was going to live very long. Not in such a world. If not old age, it was playing with these volatile powers that killed her, or else the perilous road of an adventurer.

It was never a matter of “if” but “when”—she thought she knew as much.

She thought she had reconciled with the fact.

But “knowing” was different from “understanding”.

Sitting down and staring at the face of the reality she had done her best to ignore until now—it was a sobering moment.

That’s why I didn’t want to make plans. That’s why I told myself not to hold out hope, don’t get any strange ideas, don’t waste time dreaming impossible dreams...

Laukan continued to mentally probe Izumi’s spirit, silent, his eyes closed. She waited, not thinking about anything coherent, lost in a formless stupor, and couldn’t tell how much time passed. She stirred only when the wizard retracted his hand, turned to his desk, and picked up his pen. The man leafed through his notebook until he reached a fresh spread, and then began to quickly write something, and didn’t utter a sound.

Izumi turned back and watched him work for a moment, until she could bear with the suspense no longer.

“Well?” she asked. “Hit me with the bad news, doc. How much longer do I have left? Weeks? Days?”

“Ah.” As if he had forgotten she was there at all, Laukan glanced back at her and raised a brow. He put the pen away and faced the woman directly.

“My apologies,” he said, taking a pause to weigh his words. “These findings were not what I expected at all, so I lost myself in my scholarly passion for a moment. It is most unusual indeed. We mortals do not usually get opportunities to study such things—souls of entities from other worlds, or the feats of elven magitechnical engineering. But there can be no mistake, no. I was able to get a good overview of the condition of your soul, and certainly, as much as it differs from the local variety of human souls, what I perceived corroborates with Master Carmelia’s prior assessment.”

Izumi swallowed. “Yes…? And? Is it bad?”

“Well, how should I put this…”

The wizard drew a deep breath. He looked at the woman and held her with the gaze of his calm, blue eyes, the expression in them entirely unreadable, and the mood got heavy. And then, all of a sudden, he relaxed his shoulders and smirked, and all the pressure was gone.

“There is nothing wrong with your soul.”

“Huh?” Izumi paused, forgetting to close her mouth. “But...But how can that be…?”

“The Arc of Alignment Master Carmelia has crafted for you is flawless work,” Laukan continued, his voice light. “A masterpiece. It both enhances the runic effects and insulates them. There is no obvious drain to be detected on your body or spirit. Everything is fine.”

“But I,” Izumi stammered, “when I use the runes for too long, there’s this heat, pain in my body…”

Laukan nodded. “The flow of mana tires out your nerves. It is entirely normal, even if uncomfortable, and goes away in time. Just remember to rest properly after extended castings. It is no different from manual exercise in this sense, really.”

“But…”

“Rest assured, Lady Izumi,” the magician told her, “you are going to live a long life. At least as far as your health is concerned. I am willing to stake my title for it. That’ll be all. Sorry for keeping you in suspense. You’re all right! Try to get some rest now.”

Good night. With only those words, a pat on the shoulder, and a friendly smile, Laukan sent Izumi on her way.

Dumbfounded, unsure of how she even responded, Izumi got up and wandered out of the tent and across the camp, forgetting for a moment where to find her own resting place, her mind elsewhere.

Had he really looked close enough? Was that even a proper examination? As a non-magician herself, she had no way to tell what he had actually seen, if anything. Could it be, he lied, made up a fake diagnosis to help her feel better? Had Carmelia asked him to do so? Or the commanders? It was her combat ability they needed. Ensuring she was focused and ready for anything was in their best interests. Even if it meant hiding inconvenient truths. Then again, Carmelia could’ve told her as much in person and she would’ve believed every word. There was no need for such elaborate arrangements.

Izumi looked at her hands. She felt fine. Normal. Definitely not like dying too soon. There had been some close calls in the past and she knew better than well what dying actually felt like.

What if he’d told her the truth?

Was it okay to believe?

What if she had a “future”, after all?

What if there could be “after”?

Was it all right to make plans again?

“Damn.”

Izumi looked up to the sky above the camp where a few faint stars twinkled in the shapeless dark between the tattered clouds. And she couldn’t tell which scenario was worse.