SIEGE

Day 9

1

It was still dark when Izumi opened her eyes. Hardly after seven in the morning or close enough. A sense of inexplicable unease made her give up on trying to sleep again. She sat up on the floor where she had set up her camping mattress and sleeping bag, and looked at the girl on the couch next to her. Millanueve’s rest remained undisturbed, her breath tossing a solitary curl up and down in front of her face. Izumi moved the strand carefully aside, got up, and went to look out of the windows in the back. The twilight castle yard showed no signs of life, but soon a moving patrol came into view on the wall.

Everything appeared to be in order. Yet, the restless feeling wouldn’t let up. She went to get a drink from the water tank near the entrance. There, she saw Margitte speak with a pair of knights by the front desk in hushed tones. The girl sure was early to rise. Did she sleep at all?

“Something up?” Izumi asked as she came closer.

“Oh, nothing.” the Court Wizard gave her a glance and said. “Some patrols have been late for their shift, nothing worth a fuss. Sergeant here was on his way to wake up the tardy ones and they want a mage to go with them, just in case.”

“I see…”

After the mutineers had gone, less importance was given to research and most of the mages had been reassigned to back up the outside watches. As things stood, Margitte was the only one who still continued to work in the castle library, and was the nearest caster available.

“The troops are staying in the two ballrooms below on the north-side. It’s not far from here. I reckon they’ve only overslept, but there is a slight chance the ward on the door is acting up and has trapped them inside. It happened once before. I should double-check everything these army buffoons do! Either way, I need to go have a look. In the meantime, you stay put.”

“No, let me come with you,” Izumi said. “I’ll go get my sword.”

“Hey, have you forgotten you are under room arrest and...Geez.”

Izumi wasn’t listening but departed in quick steps and returned soon with her weapon, tightening the vest on. Instead of arguing, Margitte made a faint sigh and turned back to the Sergeant.

“Myself and this sword idiot will be more than enough for such a simple job. You two return to your stations. We’ll send your men to free you in a moment.”

“Thank you, your grace.”

The mage and the champion left the library, parted ways with the knights at the entrance, and headed for the stairway further in. Izumi kept uncharacteristically quiet, her stride quick, and her apparent nervousness was contagious.

“Hold up!” Margitte struggled to keep up with the taller woman’s pace. “What’s the rush? They’re not going to turn to salt even if they have to wait a little more.”

“Nah, just a bad feeling.”

“What for?”

“Not sure yet.”

“You don’t think it’s the enemy, do you? No way! If they had a way past the wall, don’t you think they would’ve made their move much sooner than this? But we’ve been here for over a week already with no casualties. You’ve let them get into your head. Like I said, the fools have only slept past their mark. It’s been a long week.”

“Would be nice if that were all…” Izumi mumbled and kept walking. “You don’t feel anything off?”

“No,” Margitte said. “Not any more off than usual in this place. Everything is off in here!”

“You can’t scan ahead? Sense what’s going on downstairs?”

“Who could do such a thing!?”

“Lia could?”

“So sorry for being only human! And telepathy doesn’t make anyone omniscient. You need to see the person to get a reliable reading, and it’s difficult to perceive anything through solid walls. The more material there is the harder it gets. Of course, material density also plays a role, and—”

“—What about the metronome?” Izumi interrupted.

“See for yourself,” Margitte drew out the shadowmeter and held it up. The device continued to revolve as usual, only stalling near the woman.

“Does that toy have any weaknesses?” Izumi asked. “Blind spots? Design flaws?”

“Of course not!” the girl proudly replied. “It has theoretically unlimited range!”

Then, in a voice less confident, she added,

“...Well, to be fair, as it seeks gaps in the Endolian residue, it won’t work reliably if there are living bodies in the way. It was designed to be used out in the field, without other people around.”

“Huh? What does that mean?”

“That means,” Margitte explained in a tone mixing annoyance and embarrassment, “the vital energy people radiate can distort the reading. Mask the gaps, give a false distance. If you had a large crowd of people and there was one daemon hiding among them, you would have to bring the meter fairly close to identify it. At least within eight feet, I suppose...”

“Now you’re telling me!” Izumi exclaimed. “Isn’t the thing practically useless in a crowded place like this!?”

“It’s not!” the mage denied. “There aren’t that many people here! Just, in theory! Besides, how could the daemons know about that? So long as the enemy is even slightly apart from the staff, the signal will show clearly. And we inspect the entire force individually every morning. You’ve seen it yourself. The assembly is within the hour.”

“Right…”

They kept walking, but the sense of foreboding wouldn’t leave Izumi. On the contrary, it was only getting stronger. As if there was something really obvious she was missing. What could it have been?

“What type of ward is it, anyway?” she asked. “On the sleeping halls? Is there a difference between a ‘ward’ and a ‘barrier’? Or do they mean the same thing?”

The girl twisted her brow at the query. “You don’t even know that...?”

“I asked, didn’t I?”

Margitte began another lecture, not nearly as reluctant in reality as she acted,

“There are many types of wards, but the ones we’re talking about are essentially just ‘standalone barriers’. Either the caster imbues the warding spell with the necessary energy during the casting, or else sets up a mechanism by which energy is drawn from the environment. The former type will eventually be depleted and fade, whereas the latter can theoretically hold forever. But there is a limit to how potent they can be made. The amount of mana wards consume must obviously be lower than the amount of mana given, or else they’ll fall apart immediately. One basic way to make them sustainable is to lower the refresh rate.”

“The refresh rate?” Izumi repeated. “Like on TVs or computer monitors? How many times the image is replaced per second?”

“Tee-wees…?”

“Never mind that.”

“Well, I suppose you have the right idea, or close enough. Then, carrying on, barriers are bounded fields actively created and maintained by the caster. Since they have a steadier power source, they are obviously also a lot stronger. The number of layers and refresh rate can be made as high as the caster’s own potential allows. But they require constant attention and such intense projections can’t be kept up for long, or they will drain the caster. So we use wards to protect the essential areas of the castle. It saves energy and frees manpower to other tasks. Wards are more than adequate for the job and we check and reset them at least once a day.”

“Okay,” Izumi nodded, struggling to keep up with the lesson. “So what kind of wards are they, the ones on the rooms?”

“There are two, if you insist to know,” the girl answered. “One is the standard sealing ward, which prevents entry. It has a reactive trigger—all you need to do is put your palm against the seal to open the door. It won’t react to the touch of something that doesn’t conduct mana, so there is no need for elaborate mechanisms, like codes or spiritual signatures. Since we’re not dealing with enemy soldiers or regular, living monsters here.”

“Right.”

“But I know what you’re thinking now. ‘What if a living person opens the ward to someone disguised as a friend’? That’s why there are two wards. The second is a simple alarm, which does not prevent entry, but is on all of the time. If an entity that disrupts magic touches it, it will break with such a noise the whole castle will hear it, and all of the company will be alerted to the intruder at once. Nothing can get through unnoticed. So the sleepers are quite safe.”

Izumi was less confident. “But you said the wards have a fixed refresh rate.”

“Yes...?”

“That means, there’s a slight margin in between each update when the field is not active and something could slip through. It was even a plot point in a bad Star W**s movie.”

“...Well, yes,” Margitte reluctantly humored her speculation. “But we’re talking about an impossibly quick gap. Think less than a hundredth of the span it takes for you to blink your eyes. Just like that. Living beings cannot even perceive an opening so brief, let alone move to exploit it.”

“But something capable of instantaneous movement might.”

“Wait. You don’t mean…?”

They arrived in the long first floor hallway. Two sets of double-doors decorated the walls on the left, both leading into a ballroom that could be divided into smaller areas with foldable partition walls. There were several such rooms in the castle, reserved for royal receptions and celebrations in the past, where her majesty too had danced and lived a life like out of a fairy tale. Who could’ve foreseen such a day when Imperial soldiers occupied the halls of Langoria’s king uncontested? What a time to be alive.

“It’s not literally ‘instantaneous’,” Margitte continued to argue. “A symbolic expression. Just very, very quick. I don’t think they could be that quick. I mean, it is an incredibly short gap we’re talking about…”

“We’ll see soon enough.”

Izumi reached the closer set of doors and held up her palm against the glossy, white-painted surface. At least the door was still intact. And so was the spell. A glyph of slightly purple light flashed under her hand and spread out, rapidly fading. She grabbed the curved, gilded handle, pressed it down and pushed. The door gave in barely a quarter inch and was stuck.

“Hm? There’s something blocking the way…?”

“I’ll go try over there,” Margitte said and left running along the edge of the crimson carpet towards the further entrance.

It was no bolt or magic that held the door, it did move a little. Izumi pressed her shoulder against the door and tried again with more weight. The way opened a little more, but a heavy weight pushed back. As if there were something piled up against the door on the other side. She rammed the door harder and got it to open a little more. Through the narrow gap, she saw a heap of heavy objects, like dark sacks. Had the soldiers gathered their backpacks against the door? Why? Why barricade themselves in? It made no sense.

“Hii—!”

Izumi stepped away from the door with a start.

Why did it take her this long to realize it? How could she be so dense? It wasn’t luggage that lay against the door, or a barricade. She turned and chased after the mage as quickly as she could.

“Wait, So-chan! Don’t open that door!”

“What? Why?” Margitte turned to glance back. Her palm was already on the door. The glyph flashed and, a confused frown on her brow, she began to press down the handle. There was nothing blocking the way on that side and the door opened easily enough. Izumi caught the girl and shut the door. Through the widening gap, she could see a flash of the interior. The floor that should’ve been of spotless parquetry, but was mostly covered in deep, uniform red, and red, irregular streaks coursed along the formerly white walls and curtains too, red and glistening. And all over the hall floor were dark lumps and heaps scattered, torn shapes, hollowed out forms—it was almost inconceivable to think those thoroughly diced, clobbered, mangled, shattered shapes had once been human—

“Don’t look in there! Just seal it up,” Izumi told the mage.

“What are you talking about?” Margitte asked her with a disturbed look. “Why? What’s in there?”

“Just seal the door,” Izumi repeated, trying to appear calm. “Then we need to go.”

“You—you don’t mean…?” The girl turned pale and glanced back at the door, horrified. “Oh…!”

“The seal. Then the other one. Quickly now. We need to check up on the others too.”

Her hand trembling, Margitte sealed the doors with a ward that had no unlock pattern, and they hurried back to the library on the second floor, where Izumi woke up Millanueve and the bard.

“Good morning...” Millanueve mumbled as she sat up, yawned wide and rubbed her eyes. “What time is it...?”

“The eleventh hour,” Izumi told her. “We need to go pick up the boss.”

“Huh…?”

By the champion’s urgent tone, and the shaken look on Margitte’s face, the two others could tell the situation was bad and asked no more questions. They got quickly dressed and ready and all four headed out of the library, towards the sitting room on the second floor, where the civilian servants stayed, and the Empress with them.

On the door at the end of the corridor, Izumi’s hand hesitated. Did she even want to see what was inside? No, she had to. Whether her heart could take it or not, it was her duty. She reached for the handle of her sword with the other hand, undid the locking ward with the other, and barged in, ready for anything.

“……”

Inside, drowsy servants were getting up and making their beds, blissfully oblivious of the carnage under their feet. Yuliana sat on a chair in front of a fireplace in the back, still in her pajamas, and Tilfa was braiding her hair. Hila remained tightly wrapped in her sleeping bag, apparently determined not to get up at all.

All eyes turned at the unannounced guests, surprised and disapproving. A female servant on the side let out a muffled yelp at the sight of Izumi’s blade.

“Uhh, sorry,” Izumi said and let go of the handle. Somehow, the thought of just knocking first had never occurred to her.

“Izumi?” Yuliana greeted the woman with a questioning look. “Everyone? What are you doing?”

“So-chan.” Izumi turned to the mage. “Can you stay here? Check if they’re all green and keep them safe?”

“Ah...Oh, okay.” The magician regained her self-awareness and hurriedly nodded.

Trying not to alarm the others with her strange behavior, making forced smiles left and right, Izumi passed across the hall to her majesty.

“Where’s the Marshal?” she quietly asked.

“Upstairs, getting ready for the assembly, I should think?” Yuliana answered. “Why?”

“We need to see her and the others. ASAP.”

“What are you talking about? Did something happen?”

“Not here. Come on.”

“Can I at least get changed first?”

“Why, it’s such a trendy gown. Nothing to be embarrassed about. Love the colors. Come on.”

Trading the Court Wizard for the Empress, the group continued upstairs.

The topmost floor was Carmelia’s territory, and nothing could get past the jungle of her barriers, while the caster herself remained there to uphold them.

The party checked the bedchamber first, but found it empty, and kept on going to the conference hall one set of stairs higher. There, they found both Miragrave and the sorceress, alongside General Monterey and his aide. The morning assembly wouldn't take place until after wakeup and breakfast, but they all seemed to suffer from chronic insomnia, and even bad company was better than none. Master Laukan and Arnwahl were absent, the former likely at the sick ward downstairs, and the latter at his post on the wall.

The General looked slightly confused at the haphazard group suddenly storming in. Miragrave seemed barely awake, slouching in a chair near the mid-part of the long table, her boots on the seat next to her, and Carmelia was the same as ever, standing by the Sovereign’s seat.

Izumi glanced briefly at the crew before reporting,

“We’re in trouble.”

“Took you a week to discover that?” Miragrave wearily replied.

“That’s not it!” Izumi said. “The enemy’s here. I don’t know how many there are or where they are now, but they’ve made short work of the knights downstairs. There’s a hole in our defenses. We need to find it and patch it up quick, before any more...Er, I’m sorry, are you laughing?”

Halfway through the grievous report, the Marshal had started to giggle.

“I...don’t see the funny,” Izumi told her with a disturbed frown.

“You are,” Miragrave answered. “Funny. All of you. I mean, look at your faces! Hahahaha! Look at them, Monty!”

The commander could barely keep on her chair, laughing so hard, as if having heard a particularly riveting gag, and had to put her heels back on the floor to keep from tumbling over.

“Please!” Millanueve shouted at the soldier. “This is no time to be horsing around! People have died!”

“And what do you think we've been doing this whole time but ‘horsing around’?” Miragrave retorted. “You thought—hahaha...! You actually thought...’if only we close the doors—draw little chalk letters on the walls, then the bad things can’t get us’? Is that it? HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

“Master?” Yuliana took a step towards the officer, her voice trembling. “W-what are you talking about…?”

The smile faded from Miragrave’s face, and her gaze regained its usual grim sharpness.

“There never was any safety!” she told them. “We’ve been at their mercy from the beginning.”

“Eh...?”

“I told you as much, did I not? As if we could ever isolate a fortress this vast entirely from the outside world with the manpower we had, leaving not a single opening anywhere? Please! Only a fool who knows nothing could believe that! But you and the men chose to see things otherwise—as I prayed you would. I truly prayed, believe me! To all the Divines I know by name! Our defensive formations, our plans, the arms, the battlements—it was the people I wanted to convince, not the monsters! That we had a chance! That we had hope! All a wretched lie. The only genuine safety in this place is within the barrier on this floor, which Caalan has been sustaining for the past week nonstop.”

“W-why…” Yuliana stammered, falling pale. “Why didn’t you tell us…?”

“Because ignorance was what we needed! Oh, you knew full well, but you didn’t understand. You couldn’t accept it. Had you all grasped the true extent of our plight straight away, you would’ve succumbed to despair before the first nightfall. And had we fought back with the ferocity of a cornered lion, the daemons would’ve had precisely what they wanted. But they are vain creatures and picky about the way they kill. A prey that does nothing is simply not amusing at all. So that’s what I had us do! Nothing! So long as we simply sit here and deny them of their grand battle, they will take their sweet time torturing us, provoking a reaction out of us... And each day they waste at this morbid play is one more day for the rest of mankind. We are not here for ourselves, we never were! We are here to buy every hour we can, so that the bearer of the Gilded Bow can get here and blow this city to Hel—and us alongside! So yes, I didn’t tell you! I’m sorry for not letting you know we were always doomed. I was going to take that bit of trivia with me to oblivion!”

Finished, Miragrave kicked back on her chair with a sigh.

Yuliana stared at the soldier, opened and closed her mouth but managed to produce no audible words to respond with. She then turned away to the side and wobbled a few steps off, before falling on her knees by the wall, and vomited. The bard leaned his back on the door and stared off, and not even his artistry could help him summon a sound. At the table, General Monterey hung his head in guilt, his fingers crossed on the table before him, eyes closed in a silent lament for the lives lost.

Millanueve looked at Izumi.

Izumi couldn’t bring herself to face that gaze and admit her powerlessness, but gritted her teeth, desperately searching for a way, but unable to see anything but black in their future.

“Is this as far as we go...?” she muttered.

Further away, Carmelia stood still in silence and it was difficult to tell what she thought, if anything. Even this despair was probably nothing worth mentioning compared to what she had witnessed in her native land across the sea. But then the sorceress suddenly interrupted her meditation and came forward.

“Could I ask everyone in this room, save for Izumi and her majesty, to step outside?”

The others made questioning faces at the sudden request.

“Suit yourself,” Miragrave replied, hopped up from her chair, fixed her pants, and strode out. General Monterey followed shortly after the commander, and the bard went with them. Izumi nodded at Millanueve, who left as well, and turned then to face the magician.

After the others had gone and closed the door, Carmelia raised her hand and a red glow emitted from her palm. The light expanded in a flash, clung to the walls in a barely perceivable grid of hair-thin strands.

“What are you doing?” Izumi asked her as she helped Yuliana up from the floor.

“I have sealed this room to prevent noise from leaking,” the cirelo answered. “I would rather have honored your wish and not done this, but it appears we have no more options. I cannot tell what will happen next, but I shall leave the rest to you.”

“Ehh…?”

It seemed no further instructions were coming. Carmelia gestured at Izumi to step aside, and turned then to Yuliana.

“Forgive me, your majesty,” she said and bowed her head a little.

“What for…?” Yuliana stood overwhelmed with confusion, glancing at Izumi, who was none the wiser.

“For what I am about to do.”

Preluded only by this vague warning, Carmelia pointed her open hand at the Empress. In the next moment, arcs of vermilion light coiled around the young woman’s figure. Enveloped by an invisible force field, Yuliana was picked off the ground, and she squirmed in mid-air in evident pain, pressured by the Court Wizard’s sorcery.

“AAAAAEEEEEEHhh—!”

Her agony appeared very real. Acting remarkably composed for one committing a high treason, Carmelia raised her voice in a commanding tone,

“I speak now to the entity inside this human. Come forth and answer me, or I will destroy your vessel. Va hés do ní suturé! By my power, I compel you to obey me. Come forth and stand in the light—”

Things proceeded very quickly from there.

A blindingly bright flash made Izumi avert her face by reflex. She felt a wave of pressure wash over her, and the figure of the sorceress a few paces away was flung off her feet and far back across the room.

The shining soon dimmed and Yuliana’s figure was gone.

In her place stood a woman—a monstrosity—veiled in white.

“I am light and not yours to command!” Aiwesh pronounced with a prideful smile, and pointed at the downed cirelo with a finger. “Now, allow me to demonstrate real magic!”

Carmelia made an effort to get up, but froze partway through, as if having abruptly run out of strength. She reached for her neck, like one being strangled, while numerous tiny, colorless sparks surrounded her, fading in and out.

“Hey! What are you doing?” Izumi asked the spirit.

“Why, I am bombarding the oxygen molecules in her bloodstream with photons,” Aiwesh informed her. “Technically, this does not exceed the boundaries of my Authority, so I am completely safe!”

“Come on, is this the time for ego-tripping? You know full well why she drew you out! We need your help! You’re not fond of the monsters either, are you? How about actually working with us for a change?”

“And what am I to do, in your enlightened opinion?” the spirit replied and the smile on her lips turned grim. “Give them a tan? Those things will go berserk if I show my face and the humans lose their minds. Nothing can be done! None of this was meant to happen! The timeline itself has become corrupted! The process must have accelerated after I expanded my privileges. All my plans are now as good as ruined! 12,000 years of calculations, down the drain!”

Then throwing Izumi off her mind, the spirit fell in a nervous soliloquy, even as she continued to toy with the sorceress.

“Maybe there is still time, I should take my vessel and fly—oh, but I cannot access the system without Izumi! Then, I should take her and—no, I will not be able to cross the sea while carrying a person…! Then how…? Is there no choice but to fight then? But even corrupt people are still considered people, the system was never designed to tell the difference! If I trigger the security measures, I might lose this vessel, and that will be it! Is there no way…?”

“Hey!” Izumi called, worried about Carmelia’s worsening condition. “Could you stop that already?”

Aiwesh ignored her, but ruffled her hair in frustration. “No, it is useless, all useless...! I do not have full control over this Fragment yet, I cannot chart all the possible continuities. There are too many variables involved, not enough calculative capacity—I should have devoured more, I knew should have…!”

“Come on!”

“—Oh.” The Divine suddenly paused and thoughtfully touched her chin. “Wait. Ah, yes, there is still that. Yes, that might work. The flock is sufficiently culled now, it should be viable…If only…But...”

Reaching a sudden decision, the spirit lowered her hand. The lights sparkling around Carmelia stopped and the cirelo was able to resume breathing again, feebly coughing.

“Rejoice, little elfling!” the spirit told her with a wide smile. “It appears you are still an essential character, after all!”

“Geez,” Izumi sighed faintly in relief. “Would it kill you to make sense?”

Aiwesh turned to face the woman.

“Believe me,” she said, “I would take you by hand if only I could, my dull champion. But I cannot tell you what to do, for directly interfering in your pitiful lives—for or against—violates the directives our noble Makers invented. The more you know, the more the knowledge binds you. If you go ruin your fate with information that comes from me, then it is considered no different from if I had destroyed you with my own hands. And I shall be the one to eternally pay the toll for your incompetence, while you merely die! Where is the fairness in that?”

“I don’t understand.”

“I know. But I will tell you what I can. So listen very carefully now and employ what is left of your lonely brain cells. You are going to have to make innovative use of all your merry friends, if you wish to get out of this predicament.”

“So?” Izumi waited.

Aiwesh took a step closer and answered with her gaze steady and serious,

“Ask my chalice where she found the sword that you carry. Further below is the key to your salvation. You shall know what to do when you find it. That is all the tips you get from me. Try your hardest not to fail my loving confidence. Again.”