1

Anyone seeking to get into the Imperial territory of Tratovia from the southern kingdoms had no choice but take the scenic route. Why more direct paths didn't exist, why none had been constructed over the long centuries, the reasons for that were chiefly political. They were rooted in the experiences gained through those long centuries, in the distrust the times had ingrained in the locals. War and peace alternated frequently enough on the continent for no one to forget the former even while the latter prevailed.

A straightforward highway access to all the major cities would have made an invasion by the continent's greatest military might that much easier to carry out, whenever they should wish to attempt it. No more complex reasons were needed.

The greatest defense of the principality of Luctretz, as well as its neighboring kingdom of Langoria down south, were not their valiant knights, not the heavy stone walls guarding their capitals, not their swords, shields, or spears of quality steel, or even the cunning of their leaders. Before all those, they were shielded by the geography of their respective domains. The vast distances which made moving infantry and cavalry a risky, time-consuming, resource-consuming effort, even to a powerful economy.

Dividing the southern continent of Noertia were barren, rocky mountain ranges and deep, dark gorges, where detached communities of dangerous beasts occasionally made an appearance. There were wide rivers with powerful currents splitting expanses of lowland, with very few larger bridges to cross them. There were isolated batches of thick, unkempt forest here and there, that easily hid guerrillas and supplies for the defenders. There were places where sharp, treacherous bits of bedrock peeked through the grassland to ruin wagons and carriages.

Weeks if not months of extended open land warfare would follow the crossing of the border, before either nation’s heart could be claimed. So long as any chance of the effort proving wasted remained, no one in their right mind would dare to even consider conquest. And so, for these practical, natural reasons, the Emperor of Tratovia silently suffered the presence of his less ambitious neighbors, despite his well-known desire to unite all of mankind under his flag.

While the general opinion in Luctretz had turned mixed over the recent years, Langoria had no intention of ever joining hands with a foreign power, no matter the reasons, and so they vehemently vetoed all the Merchant guilds' proposals for a new road or two.

Thanks to this state of affairs, traders, mercenaries, messengers, travelers, vagabonds, and adventurers alike moving on the eastern continent had no choice but to invest weeks on the roundabout, poorly maintained roads, to cross distances that could have only taken a few days as the crow flies.

“This isn't quite what I had in mind,” the woman from Earth, Itaka Izumi remarked from her seat at the back of a carriage, looking over the endless green fields spreading before her eyes.

The carriage in question, veiled with a tent-like cover, steadily pulled by a pair of large oxen, was certainly tedious for someone accustomed to the speedy 21st century vehicles, never mind the hectic pace of racing games. Izumi had little against the peaceful travel speed per se, but she was also painfully aware that she wasn't growing any younger while the journey lasted.

Ever since being summoned into the whole world of Ortho a week ago, Izumi's goal had been to explore her new home, all the lands, and all the races, cities, and dungeons, every nook and cranny of it. The adventure had certainly started in a thrilling fashion—if not too much so—but luck was on the earthling’s side.

As Izumi had made her hasty departure from the small town of Grelden with her friends, she realized that she had forgotten her original clothes in the little room she'd been staying at. All she had left was the glamorous albeit dirtied ball gown she had worn to the Mayor's banquet on the previous day, but going back to town was not an option anymore. Thanks to all the commotion, the lady had become wanted far and wide, and not in the romantic sense.

With great difficulty, Izumi managed to scrub the dress clean of all the blood by a small brook and then sold it to a merchant in the next town. Using the coin gained, she purchased herself a new, more appropriate costume at a local flea market. A simple shirt, leather pants, light shoes and a knightly surcoat—all secondhand, of course, but mostly intact.

Izumi’s companions brought her fashion sense to question several times.

The surcoat was obviously for men and too tight around the chest to be buttoned, but the woman herself took a liking to it. Her intention was to become a sword for hire and for that, a certain rebellious look was necessary—or so she reasoned it. There wasn’t enough money to buy a proper armor, but neither did Izumi want any.

“I always go for the glass cannon build,” she explained. “Max damage with minimal defense. Armor restricts movement, slows reactions, and it's awkward when I'm not used to wearing any. And since I’m already...chronologically challenged, it would tire me out too soon.”

“But without armor of any kind, you will die in one hit!” Her companions tried to make her see the good points of protection.

“Well, you can die in one hit even if you wear armor, you know?” Izumi retorted. “If you’re gonna put some on, then you'd better go full Havel or there's no meaning.”

“What kind of an expression is that…?”

“Anyway, all I need to do is to not get hit, so it’s okay.”

“That’s impossible.”

“It’s not, if you get good.”

“Where exactly is this bravado coming from…?”

Now looking and feeling like a true adventurer in a medieval fantasy world, Izumi's journey had resumed with renewed vigor. And yet…

It had already been three days and a half since they last saw a village, and there was no hint of adventure looming on the horizon. No monsters, no bandits, no magic or dragons, absolutely nothing even remotely thrilling, that would have allowed the tourist to forget her impatience.

Only grass, rocks, and the long road, as far as the eye could see.

Ever since she was a child, Izumi had prayed for a miracle that would take her from her old world to somewhere, where might and magic ruled. She had lived for that dream and nothing else. One could say that she had wasted her life, but as unlikely as it had been, the dream had actually come true. Regrettably, it seemed her portion of luck in this life was spent in the process.

The world she had ended up in continued to betray expectations at every turn.

“Please bear with it.”

Sitting opposite of Izumi was a young woman in a white dress and a shiny metal armor adorned with beautiful engravings, a deep blue cloak over it. Together with her clothes, Yuliana Da Via Brannan had regained the dignity and nobility appropriate for a true princess.

“We couldn't afford horses of our own, so this is as good as it gets for us,” Yuliana said. “As far as I can tell, fortune has been only too kind to us.”

Their ride, provided by a carpet and textile merchant from Estua, had the women travel together with the merchandise in the back of the carriage—under the condition that they took off their shoes and didn't spill food or drinks while on board. It was certainly a great deal more comfortable than an average bus ride, but the large beasts pulling the carriage weren't among the speediest of animals.

It might have been faster to just walk.

The merchant himself, a white-bearded, dried-up and tanned little man in his mid-fifties, had been looking for mercenaries to guard his goods on the way to the northern markets. He only had his adult daughter and the animals for company. Due to the modest size of his enterprise, he couldn't afford to pay much—or so he insisted—which was why he had experienced difficulty finding suitably street-credible escorts.

Yuliana and Izumi were not especially imposing in appearance, but they were content with only a ride out of Luctretz and food for payment. Both parties saw the deal as a dream come true, so compromises were made in other regards.

There was also a third passenger. Though she was only a girl not much older than the princess, as a traveler she was the most experienced of the three of them by far. And also dressed for the part. Her thick vest, made of laminated leather, tough black riding pants, and dull brown cloak showed visible signs of wear, which could only result from long days on the road. The same message was conveyed by her tanned but attractive face and dark curls that long exposure to sunlight had turned from black to gray-brown.

“You should've been on the ride I came to Grelden with,” this third passenger, assassin Riswelze said, sitting left of Izumi on a crate. “It was smaller than this one but had people on two floors, packed like sardines. The smell was—indescribable. My rear still remembers the coarse board it had to sit on for two weeks straight.”

“That would not have been a prison carriage, by any means?” Yuliana inquired in a dry tone, not very sympathetic.

“No,” Riswelze answered just as icily. “It was a slave carriage.”

“Surely even an uncultured manslayer like you is aware that there is no slavery in Luctretz. It was abolished by a law over a hundred years ago, before you were even born.”

“Oh, pardon me, your highness. I believe they call them recruit carriages these days. Naturally, you won't see them during the day, since they only bring them in by the night, when it's well past every nice little princess's bedtime.”

Yuliana's face became flushed with anger again, as she evaded Riswelze's playful gaze.

“I should know better than to listen to the gossiping of a turncoat killer,” the princess said. “I rather put my faith in the Prince of Luctretz, who happens to be my good friend and an excellent, honest young man in all respects.”

“And no doubt just as detached from the realities of his land.”

“Lady Izumi, could you please tell your friend of questionable character to either be silent or else get off this ride? I'm sure I don't need to tell you which is my preference.”

“That's my line, your highness. Remind me again, Izumi, why must we babysit this uptight crane? We'd get a mountain of silver selling her off to some noble at the nearest town. By prior experience, the demand is high.”

“You will address Lady Izumi with more respect than that. And stop trying to tempt her to villainy by your side,” Yuliana's tone was turning more agitated still. “As the summoned champion of my people and the bearer of my family's heirloom, she is dramatically above the level of petty criminals in status.”

“And, as her highness makes painfully evident by her each breath, rank alone doesn't make a person worth the clothes they're wearing. A friend of heart is the highest title attainable to a human, and such is she to me, above anything else. Not that you would understand such commoner concepts, having never had a real friend in your life.”

“That is…!” Yuliana jumped up from her seat. “Whatever senseless, lawless bond you believe you've made with Lady Izumi, after she bothered to rescue your worthless hide out of sheer charity, is not only fallacious from beginning to end, but nothing compared to the mutual respect between us.”

“Why don't you drop the holier-than-thou maiden act already? We both know the value of your bonds, seeing how quick you are to go along with any and every male that comes your way, whether they be town guards, pretend-nobles, or their brainless goons. Did you actually even want to get rescued? Maybe we interrupted something we shouldn’t have…?”

“Why, you villain—!” Bright red, the princess could barely contain her rage. “You will pay for those words!”

“Fine by me,” Riswelze stood up as well. “Making stuck-up princesses cry is my favorite pastime.”

—“Oh, pipe down, both of you,” Izumi interrupted their escalating bickering with a groan. “Aww, my head hurts...”

“Are you still feeling under the weather?” Forgetting about the assassin, Yuliana knelt beside the woman and asked. “Really, you should mind your age before getting carried away with drinking...”

“That's not it!” the woman dejectedly complained. “I need my morning coffee...! Why does no one in this world know coffee…? This is just awful! Awful! I'm starting to see why the Gods took off...”

“What’s this 'coffee' anyway?” Riswelze frowned. “I've never heard of such a thing before. Would be helpful if we knew what it's even made of.”

“Well, it's these beans...”

“Beans?”

“Yeah, you roast them...Where do they grow anyway? In a tree or a bush? Either way, it's a...Oww, I can't focus! My brain can't wake up without a cup! First I get the hangover of the century and then no coffee...As I thought, this world really sucks! Sucks, sucks, sucks!”

“The hangover part was purely your own fault, though,” Yuliana sighed.

“I know I'm not young anymore...” Izumi muttered. Then, her tension suddenly spiked. “Oh, I got it now! Oww...”

“W-what?” Both Yuliana and Riswelze were startled by her sudden exclamation.

“Of course, why didn't I think of it sooner?” the woman resumed with a wide (only a bit pained) smile. “I know it now! My goal, my first mission as a character in this fantasy world! I'm going to find a way to make myself young again! That's it! That's just the thing! This is a world of magic and fantasy where you can do anything. An elixir of immortality, a formula of everlasting life, anything goes! Where will I find it? Who will I have to kill to get it? Well? Tell me! Tell me! Hurry! Hurry up now!”

Izumi crawled to Yuliana and clung at her skirt hems, demanding an answer.

“Get a hold of yourself!” Yuliana tried to make her settle down, before turning to Riswelze. “Of course, there is a way. You know one, don't you?”

“R-right!” Riswelze tried to quickly recall the stories she had heard during her travels. “Yes, I know just the thing. Bathing in the blood of a dragon is said to make one invulnerable, and the tears of a phoenix can heal wounds, so it shouldn't be too far-fetched to think there's magic to make one young again...Or not! What am I saying? Why are we suddenly going along with this nonsense! Of course, there is no such thing! Those are fairy tales! You don't look that old to me! Get a grip and live like a woman!”

“When you reach my age, you'll know what I'm going through...” Izumi sank on the floor. “You'll change your mind then. You'll understand...Just you wait...It will happen before you know it...”

“Are you trying to put a curse on me now!?”

——“You lasses sure are having a jolly good time there, by the sound of it!” The old man driving the carriage turned to yell at them. “Just don't trample my merchandise, you hear me! Sit nice!”

“Ah, I'm sorry for the rowdiness!” Yuliana was quick to apologize.

“If it's youth you're looking for,” the merchant unexpectedly continued, “why don't you look up the spring of Felorn while you’re at it? Haha!”

Everyone traded glances, all equally confused.

“The spring of Felorn?” the princess repeated.

“Why, the source of everlasting youth,” the man said. “A spring hidden deep within the heart of the Felorn woods. It is no legend, ladies! Agelaos of Ealtram found the spring, a good four hundred years ago, that he did. Many books have been written about the Wise Wanderer. You heard of him? A vial of the water he brought back with him still exists and is on display in his hometown, as a proof that it happened. I've seen it with my own eyes! Being an Estuan, you know.”

“And yet, let me guess,” Riswelze commented, a sardonic smile on her lips, “this Sir Agelaos is long dead now, in spite of the youth he supposedly found, and that spring actually did no good to anybody.”

“Die he did, yes,” the merchant answered. “But not of old age! No! Don't you know the story? It was quite popular back in the day, I read it many times. What a shame. Anyway, it is water of youth in the spring, not of immortality! Agelaos died, as anyone would when the great wyrm of Gornhull tore his head off and chewed it up! Ventured into the wrong land, he did. But, as those who last saw him said, not a hair of his head aged past the day when he found the spring. In fact, they say his corpse still lies there, on the slopes of Mt Eremitas, fresh as though he were killed only yesterday! Even though four hundred years've passed.”

The passengers listened in silence and that silence persisted even after the old man had finished.

Izumi was the first to recover.

“Where's that spring, exactly? Did that Akko guy leave a map, by any chance?”

“Felorn woods spread along the west coast of Tratovia,” Riswelze answered. “the southern end reaches as far as Luctretz. It's not far at all. This very road takes us right by the forest on the way to the north.”

At her unexpectedly serious answer, Yuliana directed a suspicious glance at the assassin.

“What are you up to now?”

“Water that makes you young again? Isn't it obvious?” the dark-haired girl answered. “Imagine what it would be worth. Any old noble would be willing to pay tens of—hundreds of thousands in gold for just a drop. The business idea of the century.”

“Provided even a drop exists,” Yuliana retorted. “Don't tell me you believe this nonsense? Didn't you say it yourself? Those are nothing but fairy tales. The good mister here is playing us for fools, clearly enough. If it’s this easy to trick you, then you are even below the—exceedingly—low rating I've given you.”

“Dragons exist,” Riswelze argued. “Immortal, ever-young races exist, as do those that can live for hundreds of years. There's a grain of truth in every fairy tale.”

“...”

“The point is, it doesn’t have to be real! It's a matter of marketing, creating an appealing impression, dropping subtle hints here and there, mixed with innocent facts. You get other people to do the storytelling on your behalf and the product practically sells itself. All we need is people who can vouch that we actually walked the walk and got something passable for a miracle draught.”

The princess was less impressed by the plot.

“Do I need to remind you how many have gone missing in Felorn over the ages? It's one of the greatest and deadliest expanses of unexplored wilderness left upon the continent. Hostile elementals, dangerous wildlife, there could be tribes of trolls or goblins. You'd be mad to think we can simply ride in there and back again, the three of us, like it's the simplest little trip in the world. Magic wells or not.”

“First off, trolls don't live in forests and goblins have been all but eradicated from Noertia.”

“You're only arguing with me out of spite!”

“Well, there's that too.”

“You...”

“You're with me on this, aren't you, Izumi?” Instead of trying to convince the princess, Riswelze turned to the summoned champion with a mischievous smile, knowing Yuliana wouldn't be able to oppose anything the woman decided.

“Well, it does smell fishy,” Izumi thought for a moment. “That kind of thing is almost always a guaranteed lie or otherwise not worth the effort. Buuut, if it's really so close by, then it might be worth risking a lame moral lesson at the end to check it out! Yes, of course, I’m going! I don't want any more wrinkles...”

“How old were you again?” Yuliana sighed. “I don't even see any wrinkles on your face...”

“No, there are! Look closer! See?” Izumi brought her face closer to the princess and pointed at the corner of her eye. “This is number twenty-eight! I've had three new ones since last week! It must be because of all the stress and exercise! At this rate, I'm going to turn into a mummy after a month in this world! Oh, there’s no question about it! We're going to find this spring of wonders and when we do, I'm going to empty it!”

“Oh my, you'd steal such a unique wonder of the world all for yourself!” Riswelze acted shocked, still unable to hide her triumphant smile. “Are you even human?”

“Well,” the woman cheerfully added, “even if we don't find the real deal, I can always go pick up the bottle that Akko guy brought home with him and chug it!”

“ARE YOU EVEN HUMAN!?” Both Yuliana and the merchant hollered in perfect sync, fearing for the fate of Estuan cultural heritage.

No one at the time took this decision as official, far less final. They were only fooling around, trying to pass time. The Felorn woods were hardly “close by” or easily explored, and nobody knew where within its vast depths the spring might have been hidden. Izumi did have an interest in reclaiming her lost youth, but she also lacked the determination to commit to such a distant goal. Meanwhile, Yuliana's aspirations had nothing to do with eternal youth or the forest of Felorn, and she outright refused to even consider it. And Riswelze—lived in the moment and went with the flow, like anyone in her trade.

“Ah, reminds me,” the assassin suddenly spoke. “Here, have this.”

She pulled something out of her bag and tossed it to Izumi. It was a bundle of leather straps and buckles resembling a harness, with a strange, smooth, circular plate attached at the center.

“This is…?”

“The stone there’s magnetite,” Riswelze explained. “A holder for your sword, so that you can wear it on your back. It’s heavy to drag around, isn’t it? This way you can have your hands free wherever you go. Pretty nifty, huh? Found it at the markets before.”

“For real? It’s way too cool!” Izumi examined the gift closer with excitement. “Is it really okay for me to have it?”

“Of course, it’s for you that I got it.”

“My, my, you sure scored yourself a ton of points now, Rise! Thank youuuu!”

“What points…?” Riswelze asked, but looked exceedingly pleased.

Yuliana directed a narrow glance at the other girl, less impressed.

“I’m surprised you had the coin for such a present. It had to have been costly, by the looks of it. How much was it again, exactly?”

“I’m an assassin, not a beggar,” Riswelze shrugged and evaded the princess’s gaze. “Though I engage in occasional thievery as a hobby, I don’t need to count every copper in my pocket.”

“Oh, really? That’s good then. Here I was almost starting to think that you stole this thing from some poor aspiring mercenary...”

“Jealousy isn’t a pretty thing, your highness.”

“J-jealous?” Yuliana’s emotions were all too visible on her face. “I have no idea what you’re talking about! Hmph!”

“Yes, yes...A ton of points.”

“Be silent! I don’t care!”

2

The carriage continued to crawl across the endless lowlands of north-eastern Luctretz, along a narrow road, which resembled a great tapeworm stretched out against the green background. Everywhere around, verdant grass swayed in the gentle spring wind, the immaculate cerulean midday sky for contrast. It was by all means a pleasant, sunny day, warm but not too hot, and ideal for outdoor excursions. Perhaps too much so.

The soothing air rendered the travelers lethargic and kept the conversations brief.

The lack of landmarks on ground level was one thing, but there was nothing too fascinating in the skies either, as Izumi idly observed. A few small, pale celestial dots were visible even in broad daylight, which Yuliana identified as the two small moons orbiting Ortho, as well as the faraway planet Deneval, respectively. But upon a quick look, they were no different from spots of dust on a windshield, barely noticeable unless you were specifically looking for them.

Izumi had expected to see something more surprising in the skies of this alien world, like exotic gas giants dominating the view, three colorful suns, black holes, or fancy nearby nebulae weaving intricate patterns on the canvas of outer space. Regrettably, as life on Ortho resembled that on Earth to a disorienting degree, it also meant that the planetary conditions were close to identical. Izumi thought she felt slightly lighter here, but whether that was due to a difference in gravity or simply loss of weight, she couldn't say.

Considering it further, even if the physical conditions were dramatically different in this world compared to her own, maybe Izumi's existence itself had been automatically adjusted to it, similarly to how she had been able to understand the local speech. She had adopted the local standards for normality as a matter of course and her point of reference had become warped in the process.

For example, if she were to come across streetlights in this world, where green designated free passage and red prohibited it, could she say for sure it was a concept carried over from her own world—or did she only feel they were the same, because the corresponding symbols were translated and equalized in her mind on the fly?

Perhaps, if she were to be transported back into her original world now, as she was, she would come across some incomprehensible gadget controlling traffic and not understand it at all, and streetlights were only a residual image retroactively reconstructed in her mind from Orthan concepts. Concluding that it was all a gigantic waste of time to think about, Izumi returned to nonchalantly gazing into the distance.

Shortly after noon, the travelers stopped on top of a wide mound to have lunch. Finished with her meal, Izumi sat on a rock and looked east, where tall rock formations far in the horizon caught her attention. They were like groups of towers sticking up from the grass, with no other buildings near them. First imagining they were ruins of a past, now lost civilization, Izumi kept squinting at them, before making an alarming discovery.

“T-the rocks are moving...?”

“Titans,” Riswelze sitting close by informed her.

“Titans?”

“Yes, Titans. For a long time, they were mistakenly believed to be a subspecies of giants, but they're actually Earth Elementals, spirits of the land.”

“Spirits? Like Divines?”

“No,” Yuliana joined the conversation. As someone taught by the wisest of professors in Langoria, she didn't want the street-learned delinquent to outshine her. “Divines are high-ranking spirits created directly by the Gods themselves, and embody various aspects of Divinity, whereas Elementals are spirits that spawned from nature on their own. They are a crystallization of the scattered creative will coursing through all existence. They are similar, yes, but you could say their existences perfectly mirror one another. Divines are fated to one day forget their godly origin, lose their individuality, and merge back to the flow of nature, whereas Elementals spontaneously gained individuality and separated from that flow—”

“Do they kill people?” Izumi asked what interested her the most.

“N-no, I don't think so. At least, I have never heard of that happening...”

“Oh, the princess doesn't know?” Riswelze didn't miss the chance. “Could it be, they don't teach that bit in the school where all the rich kids go? Yes, that would expect the old coots who write the books to actually step outside their lonely ivory towers and see the world for themselves. Relying on hearsay is so much easier...”

“H-how dare you! My professors have seen more of the world than you could ever dream about! If only you had a fraction of their wisdom, we wouldn't be in this tiresome situation.”

“So do they kill people or not?” Izumi repeated.

“They're barely even self-aware,” Riswelze shrugged and admitted. “They couldn't care less about humans. Unless you get too close and let yourself be trampled over, then there's no danger.”

“Ehh, right,” the woman returned to silently looking away.

“...It's almost as if you're disappointed they don't?” Riswelze snorted.

“That's not it,” Izumi shook her head. “It's just, if they killed people, then somebody out there would want to get rid of them too. I bet you could make a load of gold taking down just one, since the difficulty level looks pretty high.”

“Excuse me? You'd actually fight one of those? Just for gold?”

“Why, it could be a bit interesting to try.”

“Not even I am that desperate for coin. They're huge, made of rock, see? Whenever one winds up too close to a city, a whole squad of wizards is needed to turn it away. What could you do with a sword?”

“Oh, I have an idea. It's just like Shadow of the C******s in real life. Just need a horse.”

“I have no idea what you're talking about. Forget it. It's impossible.”

“Oh reeeeaally...”

Whether it was possible or not, Izumi's competitive spirit didn't like being told what she could do and what she couldn't.

“Ah, that's right, Lady Izumi,” Yuliana recognized her train of thought and spoke up in an effort to distract the woman. “I recall you saying you wanted to learn magic, yes? I do not mean to brag, but I happen to have some rudimentary knowledge of the Art. Ever since making the contract with my Lord, my understanding keeps expanding each day. If you like, I could share some of this knowledge with you, now that we have the chance.”

“Oh!” Izumi cheered up and turned around. “I do! Teach me! What can you teach me?”

“Very well,” the princess happily said and cleared her throat. “Ahem. First, all magic depends on two things: potential and language. Potential means the possible forms that magic may take through you. You, as a caster, conduct the Power and give it shape, and, like people themselves, each person's magic is a bit different from everybody else's. Imagine your potential like a tree that grows within you. That tree slowly extends and grows thicker, separates into branches and blooms as you learn and practice. There are also things like affinity and orientation to consider, but let us keep to the basics now.”

“Right, the basics.”

“Besides mysteries unique to each sorcerer, there are also common spells that virtually anyone can learn. Let's begin with one of such. This is called Ghost Light. All it does is generate a bit of light and you cast it like this.”

Yuliana held out her palm, concentrated and spoke,

“Iota.”

Soon enough, an orb of light appeared hovering above her hand. It was tiny but visible even in broad daylight.

“Hm...?”

Then, before the curious stares—the orb suddenly started to expand and grow in magnitude. Like the flash of a camera, it momentarily outdid the sun itself and then quickly disappeared, leaving everyone stunned.

“The Hel just happened...?” Riswelze blinked, blinded.

“I—I don't know,” Yuliana replied, water gathering in her eyes. “I suddenly felt a surge of force greater than I intended to release and lost control...”

“Ai-chan's prank...?” Izumi speculated.

“Aren't your eyes hurting?” Riswelze asked her.

“Well, I knew she'd mess it up, since it's Yule we're talking about, so I was ready for it.”

“Excuse me!”

"And there's a really simple way to deal with flashbangs,” Izumi explained. “Just keep the other eye closed while looking with the other. After the flash, switch eyes to adapt faster.”

“Um, I've never seen you open either eye...”

“That's right! I'm glad you noticed. I'll only open my eyes when I get serious!”

“Serious about what…?”

“Flash...bangs?” Yuliana repeated the odd word. “Is that magic of your world?”

“It's nothing that special,” Izumi replied. “Every worthwhile tactical FPS has flash grenades. Like SW*T or...”

“Oh boy, here we go again...”

The two girls were already used to their companion spewing otherworldly lingo and knew that the best medicine was to simply ignore it.

“Fiiiiine,” Izumi gave up explaining. “Then, what do I have to do to cast the flashbang?”

“'Ghost Light'.” Yuliana corrected and resumed her lesson. “Let's do this step by step. The wise adepts teach us that each person has not only a physical body but also a spiritual one, which overlap with one another. Your spirit is the catalyst by which all spells manifest. Now, close your eyes and concentrate. Turn your thoughts towards your heart. Not the physical heart but the core of your spiritual body. Picture it as this little sphere of energy deep within you, a bit above the navel, pulsating as you breathe...”

“My mentor told me to imagine it as a gate, though,” Riswelze commented, following their lesson from the side while chewing on a straw.

“T-the image is unimportant, so long as you focus on the right spot,” the princess said. “Now imagine the energy of this sphere gradually intensifying...”

“Much quicker and easier if you just picture the gate opening.”

“Please be quiet about your dark arts. Now, gently draw energy from the sphere...”

“So wasteful. A little sphere can't fit much in it, can it? But a gate can have unlimited quantities on the other side.”

“We do not need 'unlimited quantities' for one simple spell! I told you to be quiet, you charlatan! Or do you proclaim to be some kind of a master magician, on top of a thief and a cutthroat? Some good your magic ever was, letting yourself be captured and—”

—“Excuse me, who was the one who got herself captured first, despite being a princess and apparently also a peerless sorceress? How did that happen?”

“I-I allowed myself to be taken away! It was not capture, I went along with them in good faith and had my noble intentions mercilessly exploited—”

“And, what do I do next?” Izumi interrupted the escalating bickering again.

“Ah, yes!” Yuliana hurriedly seized the opportunity to distance herself from Riswelze. “Keep drawing the energy steadily. Next comes language. Every spell gains its form through the old tongue; the universal language spoken tens of thousands of years ago, in the Golden Age. We humans have mostly forgotten that speech by now, but it's the native tongue of elves and goti, for example, so it's still possible to learn it. You have potential, you have your spirit for a catalyst, and the words form the blueprint which tells the spell what to do. The more complex the spell, the more details you need to provide to make it work, while for simpler things, just one word is generally enough. However, simply saying the word will not suffice. It is essential that you also understand the precise meaning of it, the concept the word represents. In this case, as you heard, the incantation used for Ghost Light is, 'iota'. Translated to our tongue, the word means 'to turn on'. But it doesn't mean turning on, as in pulling a lever, or activating in general. It's used exclusively about turning on a light, initiating illumination...”

“The explanation is taking too long...” Izumi groaned.

“Pay attention or it won't work! Now, reach out your hand. Yes, the palm up like that. Picture the energy inside flowing through your veins, down your arm. Feel it gather on your palm...Are you imagining it now?”

“I am,” the woman mumbled, a frown of concentration contorting her forehead.

“Good. Now, speak the word.”

“...This is kind of embarrassing to do when people are looking.”

“Just do it.”

“Um, iota?”

“….”

“…..”

“...This is strange,” the princess mumbled. “There should be at least a slight glow appearing about now. That's the way it worked for me. Did you really understand the meaning of the word?”

“Yeah, like flipping on the light switch, right?”

“Er, what switch?”

“I told you, the image you use for channeling energy is not intuitive,” Riswelze said. “Try my way and it will work right away, I am sure of it.”

The two proceeded to share various cognitive tricks to aid the visualization and execution, but to their collective dismay, all attempts proved equally fruitless. Izumi wasn't able to create one little spark, let alone a stable ignis fatuus.

Perhaps she simply had no potential for this particular spell?

The princess and the assassin went on to try and share other spells from their limited repertoires with the woman but to no avail. She couldn't cast Compass of Light, Weapon of Light, Light Marker, or Cloak of Shadows. That is, none of them.

In the end, the tutors had no choice but to declare their poor student a hopeless case.

“Well, though everyone has spirit and potential, that doesn't mean just about anyone can draw upon them too,” Riswelz shrugged, unwilling to admit that her level as a magic instructor might have been lacking. “Perhaps your core has simply degraded for going unused for so long?”

“Sorry for being too old...” Izumi mumbled, dejected.

“I-it's not like I have a problem with that, personally! I mean, I'm sure you have some wisdom to you, that only...maturity may bring. Yeah, I like you better this way.”

“Yes,” Yuliana agreed. “I don't know about your wisdom, but having seen what a simple sword can do in your hands, I shudder to think the consequences of you obtaining the power of magic as well.”

Izumi pouted at this unexpected jab,

“And I so would've wanted to become a magic knight. It would've made my life here easy mode. Like D*** Souls with a pyromancy build...”

“Ehh, right...”

“That reminds me,” Izumi said, “you mentioned the people of this land used to be more advanced tens of thousands of years ago, didn't you? Any chance there's a magical mech lying somewhere underground, waiting to be discovered? Obtaining a nifty airship will be the next item on my to-do-list, right after my eternal youth!”

“Air..ship?”

“Please spare us, I have no idea what you're talking about!”

The lunch break continued in this idle fashion and it soon came the time to head back on the road.

However, before they could, a distraction arrived along the road.

Truly, a fateful encounter.

3

A group of horsemen came galloping down the road from the north. There were about dozen riders, armored in miscellaneous fashion in leather, chainmail, and fur, carrying swords, sabers, bows, shields, and war axes. In Izumi's opinion, they looked like bandits to a fairly convincing degree, with long scars and wild tattoos on their arms and faces, as well as some colorful, eye-catching hairstyles. Yuliana innocently assumed them to be mercenaries, on their way to the next job. Whatever Riswelze thought, she checked if her daggers were all in their places.

The riders slowed down as they neared the merchant's carriage.

At first, it looked like they were going to pass by quietly, but then suddenly changed their minds.

At the front came a bald horseman who stopped his mount a few paces away from the merchant who stood by the road, watching his daughter feed the oxen.

“Hey. This your carriage, old man?” the stranger asked the merchant.

The rider was in his mid-twenties, by a rough estimate. Most of his fellows were around his age, give or take. As said, his head was shaved bald, but he had a pointy goatee jutting down his chin. His ears had simple steel piercings on them and there was an old scar splitting his brow above the right eye. Like most of his companions, the man was dressed in a slim leather armor and had the hide of some wolf-like animal wrapped around his waist.

Without turning to face the questioner, the merchant stood still and answered,

“Why, yes, it is.”

Gazing southward, down the road, the rider leaned forward and continued to ask,

“Tell me, grandfather, how much in gold do you carry?”

While he talked, his companions carried silently on, drawing a distinct line between the carriage and the three women on the other side of the road.

“Not one mark to test my teeth on,” the old man answered. “All I own I've put in my merchandise.”

“And that merchandise is?”

“The finest carpets, dresses, and tapestries from Estua, for the Imperial markets.”

The rider spat and asked again,

“Tell me, in good faith, grandfather, how much in silver do you carry?”

“You must not have heard me, poor boy. I have no more silver than I have gold. I am a merchant, and a merchant has no coin while he has yet to sell so much as a fiber. You should see as much for yourself, unless your sight is as poor as your hearing.”

The rider looked at the distant scenery in silence for a moment longer, with a deep, guilty-looking frown, and then spoke again,

“Me and the boys left Wysel seven nights back. Lost our old jobs there. They wouldn't have us in Varnam either. To the Empire, we don't go. That means, we don't have a roof over our heads. Not a copper to our name. Not much food left either. Consider sparing some of your coin and we'll be on our way. We don't mean any trouble to you, old man. Just trying to look out for ourselves.”

“You make me repeat myself,” the old man remained unbending. “I can't give what I don't have! You don't eat cotton, do you?”

“That your daughter?” The rider ignored him and nodded at the girl in the pale blue dress next to the cart.

“Yes, that she is,” the merchant's reply came quietly.

“Didn't inherit her looks from her father, praise the Divines. What is her name?”

“Livia,” the old man's daughter answered for herself, looking defiant.

“Say, how old are you, Livia,” the rider asked her.

“Thirty-one,” she answered, trying to hide her contempt with poor success.

“Why is a woman like you traveling with this cheap old geezer?”

“Because it's my work.”

“Oh, is that so? Worthwhile, is it? Selling—what?— carpets? Pays enough to feed five mouths for weeks before they've even sold one rug? Maybe I should become a carpet seller myself? It clearly works out better than being a mercenary these days. Hey, boys, change of jobs! What say, we all become carpet sellers today?”

The other mercenaries laughed wearily at the humor.

“So?” The rider turned to the old merchant again, gesturing in the three travelers' direction. “The women there, who are they? They your daughters too? I don't know what you're hiding in those trousers, but they seem to be from different mothers if that's the case.”

The wordplay this time brought up some louder laughter.

“They would be mercenaries I hired for my protection,” the old man replied without shame.

This time, the joke didn't need a punchline to nearly drop the crowd from their saddles.

“I see, mercenaries,” the rider raised his brows and shrugged at his companions. “That's—that's a funny coincidence, don't you think? Always nice to run into colleagues on the road. The hired muscle does seem to be armed, at least. You know what? I am starting to believe you truly have not a copper in your pockets, old man.”

After another round of chuckles, the rider climbed down from his saddle and approached the merchant. “Alright then. Since you insist you have no money and being a mercenary is not profitable anymore around these parts—for most of us—we are going to have to take the women and the rags and sell them. Or do your 'bodyguards' have something to say about that?”

He gave a brief, ironic look at the trio sitting by the road.

“Very well, I shall be your opponent—” Izumi immediately stood up, reaching for her sword.

—“You most certainly will not!” Yuliana and Riswelze pulled her back down.

Instead, the princess stood up and approached the riders herself.

“You are making a grave mistake here, gentlemen,” she said. “I don't know about your past or your circumstances, but being reduced to banditry must not be your ideal career of choice by any means. Or am I wrong?”

Her clear voice rang in their ears and no one uttered a word as her unwavering gaze swept over the crowd.

“Therefore,” she continued, “I propose that you carry on your way and we shall do the same, without any needless arguments. I see you come from the north and speak not highly of the Imperials, so I can only assume that you've run into some problems with the local law. I do not know the current state of the Empire, but I assure you that Luctretz remains safe and prosperous enough to provide reputable employment for healthy young men. In here, no one cares what the Imperials think of you. Rather, is not an enemy of an enemy a friend? Until proven otherwise, at least. This can become your fresh start, gentlemen. I suggest you don't throw it away without at least seeing what it has to offer for you. Put your strength to more constructive use. You know suffering, I can see that much in your eyes. I hear it in your voices. But know this: this pain may also be a source of power; to shield those worse off and spare them from the same fate.”

Yuliana hadn't climbed the ranks to the position of a knight captain due to her royal background alone. Her natural charisma and strength of character captivated her listeners at once, rekindling a sense of pride and dignity in them. It was like before fear for herself, she was selflessly appealing to them for their own honor's sake, which made her seem that much more valorous and worthy of respect.

Of course, the men had no way of knowing that she really was appealing to them for their own lives' sake, with the all-too-easily provoked earthling behind her. Yuliana also wanted to prove to Izumi that bloodshed was not a civilized or acceptable form of problem-solving.

“I propose that our good employer here will gift you a fine tapestry or two for you to sell, so that you may begin the search for your place in the society free of hunger. And so that he will not oppose this act of charity, I will personally give up my salary to reward the kindness. Therefore, we all go from here free of debt, crime, and bodily harm. How does this sound to you, gentlemen? Will you find it in you to agree to my proposal?”

At her words, the man who seemed to be something of a leader of the gang, directed a questioning look at the old merchant. A bitter expression on his dry face, Livia's father finally nodded.

"Fine.” The rider then gestured to one of his companions, “Take two and we're on our way.”

With effort, Yuliana contained the reflexive sigh of relief.

“We're not animals,” the rider told her. “But these are dark times. We're just trying to survive. You can see that, right?”

“I see that, yes,” the princess nodded. “And I do not fault you for doing so. But it is my belief that good men fare better in these lands than the wicked. There is justice left in the world. So long as you don't give up on your humanity, but work to protect those beneath you, your chivalry will one day find its righteous reward.”

At Yuliana's warm words, some of the riders were even showing smiles.

“I cannot for the life of me remember the last time someone spoke to us as equals,” the bald rider bitterly said. “Like we were something other than filth. It won't fill our stomachs, but no one here disputes you've earned your freedom with those words.”

With that, the formerly tense situation appeared to have turned favorably.

However, the mercenaries were not the only travelers on the road that day.

The low rumbling of heavy hooves suddenly drew everyone's attention—this time coming from the south. There was another, a larger group of horsemen, fifteen of them.

Mistaking them for bandits or even mercenaries was impossible to anyone, thanks to their uniform blue clothing. It was clearly a squad of true knights, heavily armored. Mysteriously enough, they rode with no banners or flags to reveal their purpose or Lord, and their attires lacked distinguishing brands and emblems. They weren't Luctretzians patrolling the highways, or royal escorts, that was for sure. Only one rational reason could be given to hiding their signs—regardless of their rank, they were up to no good and aware of it.

The knight squad's alarming appearance raised the tension again to unprecedented heights.

Among the group of merchants, mercenaries, and adventurers, only one could recognize the newcomers. Flags or no flags, the former princess of Langoria could never fail to identify a task force of her own army.

Suppressing the mercenaries' dominating presence on the scene with sheer numbers, the knights slowed down and rode boldly right between them, before coming to a stop with a single gesture from their leader.

Said leader then proceeded to ignore the merchant and other bystanders and brought his chestnut brown, almost red, horse straight up to Yuliana.

Nimbly climbing down from the saddle, the knight removed his helmet and bowed his head to the girl.

“Your highness.”

From under the steel pot had emerged the head of a robust young man in his early twenties.

Izumi thought his face looked like that of the default protagonist of a standard western video game. His light brown hair was cut tidily short in a militaristic fashion and his steel-blue eyes had a relaxed look, speaking of confidence in both his men as well as his own strength. Light stubble covered his jaw, indicating that he hadn't had the time to shave in a few days.

“Sir Brian Elvin Mallory,” Yuliana named the knight with a forced smile. “You're a long way from home.”

Straightening his posture, the man answered with an ironic smile of his own, while reciting the lines the law demanded to be delivered upon apprehending a criminal,

“By the order of his Majesty, King Astellen of Langoria, I hereby place you, Yuliana Da Via Brannan, under arrest on the charges of theft, high treason, and manslaughter. Please remove your weapon and come with us quietly, or resisting arrest will be added to your charges. We are authorized to use force, if necessary.”

The mercenaries around made surprised sounds at the revelation.

The gallant female mercenary had been foreign royalty!

“Brian, you don't have the authority to arrest me in Luctretz,” the princess replied, trying hard to ignore the audience, “which means that you recited all of that for nothing.”

“A-ha,” he retorted. “Apparently, a clause was found in a two-hundred-year-old article, which gives us jurisdiction in the principality. So we're technically still abiding by the law.”

“And what do the Luctretzians think about that two-hundred-year-old clause?”

“Let's just say that we're not asking their opinions.”

Yuliana could only smile crookedly at his words,

“They found just the perfect guy for the job, didn't they?”

The knight exhaled deep and shook his head,

“What are you doing, Yulia? High treason? Please tell me this isn't just a bad joke and you have an actual reason for doing all this?”

“I do have a reason, yes,” the princess replied. “And I wouldn't dream calling it a joke.”

“Why did you leave by yourself? You could've been killed, or worse. You could've told me.”

“And drag you down with me? You know that was never an option to me.”

“How about letting others decide for themselves if it's an option or not?”

“I'm sorry, Brian. I really am. But I chose this for myself and if this path is the wrong one, then I alone should pay the price for it.”

“That's not fair. I thought we were comrades in arms? No, I thought we were friends. Yet, every time it really matters, you decide to be a princess and leave everyone else behind.”

The two continued their exchange, as if in a bubble of their own. The onlookers felt the conversation differed somewhat from the way they had imagined a knight arresting a fugitive would pan out.

“So, is he her boyfriend or what?” Riswelze turned to Izumi and asked.

“Eeh! The much-rumored fiancé!?” Izumi gasped.

“Neither of those,” Yuliana, who heard them perfectly well, said.

“...A liaison then?” the assassin shrugged.

“Work romance!? I thought you were pure like me, Yule! But I’m the one who got played!? How could you do this to me?”

“Would you two mind being quiet for a bit?” the princess was starting to lose her fortitude.

“Who are they?” the knight called Brian glanced at the two women sitting on the rocks by the road and asked.

“Ah, they are...friends? They've been traveling with me. A lot happened...”

“See, friendzoned? You were friendzoned,” Riswelze remarked, fully enjoying the chance to make the princess look bad. “The very instant a suitably hot guy shows up—ooh, talk about getting the cold shoulder. That means you’re in the free markets now, huh?”

“So sneaking into my bed every night meant nothing at all!? It was just a phase!?” Izumi lamented.

“You two are doing this completely on purpose, aren't you...?” Yuliana wanted to curl up and cry.

Thinking quickly, the knight, Brian Mallory, then said to the princess,

“Tell me one thing. This whatever quest you're on, it's dangerous, isn't it?”

Regaining her composure, Yuliana looked away and answered,

“I do not think I will ever return.”

“Okay. No surprises then.”

At that moment, one of the knights brought his horse closer,

“Captain, what is the meaning of this? Are we not going to arrest her? We should hurry before the locals learn of our presence.”

“She's the princess of Langoria, as well as your superior,” Brian turned to face the rider. “You owe her respect, Stopher.”

“Whatever you say, Captain. So we taking her or not?”

“Guess what? Not my headache anymore.”

“Huh...?”

“I’m saying, I resign from the guard. Effective immediately.”

“What—? Captain, have you lost it?”

“Brian?” Yuliana looked at the knight in surprise. “You don't mean...”

“There are times when you only have bad choices to make,” the man said, “and when it's a time like that, you have to stop hiding behind codes and listen to your heart. Do what you feel is right. You taught me that, Yulia. And now's such a time, as far as I can tell. Either I let you go and fail my orders, or arrest you and hate myself for the rest of my days. So I'm picking the third option. I’m coming with you.”

“Why is there suddenly a guy pulling a heroic sacrifice for her?” Izumi questioned the situation. “Why does nobody ever show such passion for me?”

“Oh, life just works out mysteriously well for you when you're royalty,” Riswelze added her loaded opinion.

“Captain,” the knight called Stopher was also getting frustrated with the situation. “We can't abandon his majesty's orders, even if you tell us to. All this means is that we have to take the both of you. You could face the gallows for this! Please reconsider, sir!”

“Well, I'm not telling you a thing,” Brian replied. “If you plan to take us, give it your best shot. I'll do the same.”

“So, since we're fighting, is it finally my turn yet—?” Izumi was about to stand up, reaching for her sword.

—“It is not!” Yuliana frantically waved at her to remain seated.

“Yes, please stay back, madam, this could get ugly,” Brian chivalrously warned the woman as well.

Izumi sat back down, and only Riswelze sitting next to her could tell that the woman was getting seriously miffed. However, even without her involvement, things were only about to get more complicated.

“Hey, hey, hey! Excuse me!” The leader of the mercenaries forced his way into the conversation. “Hold on a moment, ladies and gentlemen! Isn't someone being left out of the loop here?”

“You were still here?” Brian glanced at him.

“Whoa there, mate! We were here first! The lady never said anything about being a sodding princess! So all those uplifting words were just so much horseshit? Took us for downright simpletons, didn't you? 'Them gullible peasants', huh! Well, too bad! The cat's out of the bag now! I'm afraid our previous agreement isn't valid anymore! On the grounds of us being fucking deceived! I couldn't care less about a few rags and pocket change now! Listen up here, all you potheads! If you want 'her highness' here, you had better scoop together at least ten thousand marks in pure gold. No, double that—thirty thousand!”

“The double of ten thousand would be twenty thousand, though?” Izumi pointed out.

“FORTY FUCKING THOUSAND!”

An icy, heavy silence over the crowd.

“I don't know if you can count,” Brian glared at the mercenary and said, “but there are twelve of you and sixteen of us.”

“We aren't being counted, are we?” Riswelze noted. “The princess is counted, but not us? What do you think of that?”

Izumi was too busy pouting and puffing her cheeks to say anything.

“So this is what it comes down to, no matter what I try...?” Yuliana lamented.

“Listen, math doesn't work like that in the real world, scout boy,” the tattooed mercenary told Brian. “And you're a long fucking way from home. You’ll need another hundred of your milk-faced suckers before it becomes anything close to a match.”

The knights didn't take well to that comment and started to shift irritably. In no time, the mercenary gang and the Langorian task force were locked in a hateful staring contest, ready to draw arms.

Yuliana tried desperately to think of a way to avoid the impending bloodshed.

Was there no way to resolve things peacefully at this point? Or at least a way to reduce the damages? As she was busily looking for an answer, her attention was drawn to something else.

Yet another rider on horseback approached, up the hill from the south.

Thanks to the commotion, he had made it quite close before anyone else noticed.

This one was without company, not an adventurer, mercenary, or a knight, by the looks of it. A young man less scarred than the mercenaries, less armored than the knights. He was dressed in a long black coat, which together with the frilly white sleeves, scarf, and the ornate, golden sword handle sticking from his belt suggested a noble background. His hair was also dark, short and tidily combed backward. The look on his face was grim, a light mustache overshadowing the stiff upper lip.

Reaching the hilltop with all the armed mercenaries and knights, the rider spotted the lone girl in white standing in the middle of the group.

“I knew it!” the youth exclaimed and leaped off the horseback before it had fully stilled. “I knew the knights would lead me to you! At last, I have found you, your highness!”

“No. No, no, no.” The mercenary leader questioned the rider in disbelief. “Don’t tell me you want the princess too?”

“If that's the case, we're going to have a problem,” Brian agreed.

“No. It is not my desire to possess her, as much as it is to deprive the whole of Ortho of her,” the newcomer answered, receiving odd looks.

“You are...?”

Looking at the lone traveler, Yuliana realized she knew him.

“That's right,” the young man recognized the knowing look in her eyes and defiantly faced her. “I am Gregory Doria Eisley, the son of Sir Ivanov Eisley, the Baron of Troms and the Captain of the Kingsguard. And a princess or an outlaw, I am here for no other reason than to avenge the father you murdered. This stain on my family's honor cannot stand. I hereby challenge you to a duel, with our lives on the line.”

The man, Gregory, pulled off his white silk glove and threw it down on the road, at Yuliana's feet.

“The princess killed somebody?” Riswelze discreetly asked Izumi.

“Eeh, she did? What a surprise!” Izumi exclaimed.

Yuliana wanted to cry.

You're the one who killed him and you don't even remember?

However, on the outside, the princess said nothing but only coldly nodded to the young man.

“Indeed, the blame for your father's premature demise lies with me and no other.”

“Then you will accept my challenge,” Gregory said.

“No one’s challenging anyone here.” Brian stepped between them.

“No? And you still call yourself a knight, sheltering murderers now?” The Baron's son bitterly asked him, and then turned to look around. “Did you know this, gentlemen? My father's remains were brought home—in two caskets. I...saw what was in them. And as we buried him, as we laid him to rest in the family grave, the head had to be kept veiled. Because everything above the shoulders was so...The womenfolk would not have endured the sight of it. I could only recognize him by the rings on his fingers. My mother could not bid farewell to her husband, to the most outstanding, faithful, and admirable man in our land. In the world. A man, who fell in defense of the law and was pecked apart by the crows for it. And I must lead our house alone now, listening to all sorts of inbred mongrels bark day in and day out, 'Lord Eisley of the Kingsguard was a weak fool who lost all his men and got done in by a girl barely of age!'”

“Pfft...”

The mercenaries chuckled at the story, further infuriating the Baron's son.

“So I swore before his gravestone! A woman or not, a princess or not, Da Brannan will have to pay! In this place, I will redeem my family's honor!”

Brian glanced over his shoulder at Yuliana.

“Is it true, what he says?”

“More or less,” Yuliana answered, biting her lip.

“I have to see this!” the mercenary leader suddenly shouted. “Clear up! Make room! Make room! Let them fight. Can the boy redeem his father? Or will he perish in the hands of a little girl, the way his old man did? Hahaha! This is too good!”

“What if he kills the gal?” one of his men asked. “Who are we going to sell then?”

“The lad, of course, dumbass. His family should want him back. A Baron!”

4

The Langorian knights had their misgivings about the turn of events, but a formal challenge had been issued and they could only respect the ages-old custom. Both parties made way and left a circular clearing between them, right in the middle of the road. Fortunately, there was no more traffic in view.

“Um, are you really going to do this?” Izumi came to inquire Yuliana when she found the chance. “No matter how you look at it, it should be my turn now.”

“You keep out of this,” Yuliana curtly told her, before stepping into the circle to meet the young Baron. "Don't make things any worse than you already have.”

The look in the princess's eyes was enough to silence Izumi. There was no friendly care or compassion to be seen anywhere in that gaze, no hint of the warm emotions that had been there earlier in the morning—only profound, righteous disapproval and disappointment.

That look felt oddly painful to Izumi.

As though she had been stabbed, she absentmindedly touched her chest.

You can't do anything right, you fool of a girl!

Don't you understand anything I try to tell you?

Useless. You're useless!

Get lost!

—“You all right?” Riswelze appeared by her side and asked, bringing Izumi back to her senses. The woman realized her pulse had become unnaturally quickened.

“Hey, do you think I'm evil?” she ended up asking aloud.

“Huh?” the assassin girl frowned. “What's that now?”

“Just a thought,” Izumi said, looking at her open palm. “I ended up killing a lot of people right after coming to this world. 'That's just the kind of a world this is, there's no avoiding it'—or so I thought. It wouldn't make much sense to try to apply the morals and ethics of my own world into this one. The history, the rules, and the values should be completely different. In the beginning, I didn't even think any of this was real. But maybe I was wrong, after all? Maybe there's no real difference? Death is still heavy. In many ways, it seems even heavier than before. Does thinking so lightly of it mean I'm a monster then?”

Riswelze shrugged.

“Well, did you enjoy killing all those people?”

“I never thought about whether it was enjoyable or not. Kind of like cleaning the toilet. As gross as it is, you do it anyway, because it's fairly simple and makes things more convenient in the long run.”

“Do you regret it then?”

“Not really.”

“If that's the way you sincerely feel, then what's the problem?”

“Maybe having no regrets is the problem? Maybe I should be hurting more now? Could it be that I'm missing something essential that every other person has and don't even realize it? Am I actually broken on the inside?”

Riswelze sighed at her words.

“Look, I don't mean to sound like I'm bragging, but I've killed a whole lot of people too, over the years. That's kind of what being an assassin is about. I didn't exactly choose this lifestyle for myself, but neither am I seriously trying to get away from it. Just like cleaning the toilet, as you said. If I don't do it, then somebody else will. Does that make me evil? Should I feel bad about it? Does that mean everybody who died is 'good' solely because they once lived, and that their killer is always wrong, for sending them to their graves? I should think not. There were some sick bastards out there, as you've seen, who deserve every bad thing that's coming for them and more. Why should I regret killing such people? Well, maybe I ended up killing a few people who didn't entirely deserve it along the way too, but nobody's perfect. You can’t put the spilled milk back in the bottle. So why cry over it?”

“That's what I thought,” Izumi nodded. “But what if people do have something invaluable like soul or humanity, which they can lose if they do too much bad stuff? What if evil is like a sickness that sneakily corrupts you from the inside, like in all those lame RPGs? One day you look in the mirror and realize that your karma meter has turned pitch black and you have horns jutting out of your head. You've become evil, can't ever be happy again, and may only think about the next life you're going to destroy.”

“Let me ask you then, what exactly is so wrong about being evil by your definition?” Riswelze asked. “I think having horns would be pretty cool.”

Izumi looked at Yuliana's valiant profile a short distance away and mumbled,

“I suppose there was a part of me left that wanted to play the role of a hero. If I'm only going to bring grief and misfortune to everyone, then was there any meaning in me coming to this world?”

Riswelze observed the woman’s unusually serious face for a moment, before suddenly clinging to her arm. “Well, I don't really get half of what you’re saying, but want to know what I think? It's all bullcrap. Heroes, villains, good, evil, who cares about any of that? Once you're born a human, you stay as one, whether you want it or not. If it were so easy to lose your humanity, we'd be a borderline extinct species by now. Instead, we have a whole history of incorrigible assholes, who made bank on atrocities and got away with it. And guess what, the assholes all had families too, who sincerely believed daddy was the sweetest, fairest guy in the world. Like beauty, righteousness is in the eye of the beholder. If you actually had something so important and priceless as a soul, but can't even tell if you still have it or not, then did it really matter to begin with? You're only ever right or wrong if someone manages to catch and convict you. If someone has a problem with the way you live your life—to Hel with them. They didn't deserve you, it's just that simple.”

In the circle formed between the knights and the mercenaries, Yuliana faced Eisley junior.

Their confrontation was truly a shame and a tragedy by any measures, the princess thought, but she could only brave through this trial somehow. As much as she pitied Gregory, she still believed her cause was too important to give up now.

One of the knight officers was chosen as a referee.

“In the presence of witnesses,” he announced, “the offended party, Lord Gregory Doria Eisley of Troms, demands settlement in a personal feud with the defendant, her highness, Yuliana Da Via Brannan of Walhollem, by means of a trial by combat. It will be single combat, waged with swords and no other arms or accessories, and shall proceed until one party is pronounced unfit to continue, or yields of their own initiative. The defeated shall bear the full fault in the dispute and accept whatever consequences, including their own death, if the Divines would so have it; whereas the victor is absolved of all accusations and dishonor that may stain their dignity. Do both parties agree to these terms?”

“Yes,” Gregory nodded sternly.

“...Yes,” Yuliana nodded, though less resolute.

“Then, may the best...person win.”

For some time, the duelists stared at each other in silence.

Being slightly older and more experienced, Yuliana courteously awaited for the young Baron to make the first move. Yet, he made no effort to raise his slim sword. He only stood still, leaning on his weapon, like a statue of a hero of songs, as if waiting for her to take the initiative instead.

And, right as she thought about taking it...

“What are you doing?” Gregory suddenly asked her.

“What?” Yuliana frowned.

“Where is your second?”

“...”

“Do you take me for a savage? Have you not chosen a second?”

“What's he talking about?” the uneducated mercenaries looked at each other in confusion. “Second who?”

“I will not lay a hand on a woman!” the young Baron shouted at them. “I will not stoop so low, for any reason! Her highness will appoint herself a representative, a man of rank, who will fight on her behalf. His loss will mean her defeat and my father's honor will have been redeemed. Now, choose!”

“Oh, let me—” Izumi looked up.

“—You're not a man,” Riswelze shot her down.

“That's sexism!”

“I will not let anyone else bear my shame—” Yuliana started to say, but was interrupted,

“—I will be her second.” Sir Brian Mallory stepped forward. “I will fight. You should have no qualms with that.”

The knight threw off his chestplate and gauntlets, drew his sword, and stepped before Yuliana to face the young Baron.

“Very well,” Gregory Eisley sullenly nodded and lifted up his sword. “I do believe you are harming your reputation here, Sir Mallory, but we're not getting anywhere otherwise. I accept.”

“My apologies, your lordship, but what's about to happen will not help your reputation either,” the man called Brian said before turning to smirk at Yuliana. “This won't take long.”

“Brian, I...” Yuliana didn't know what to say.

Not that she had the chance to say a thing.

The duelists already took their stances and she had to retreat outside the circle.

“Ready?” the referee called out again in a loud voice, like announcing a casual boxing match. While the mercenaries looked somewhat disappointed with the change of plans, the knights seemed considerably more content with this lineup. The referee lifted his arm high in the air, before swinging it down.

“May the best man win!”

Upon the signal, the combatants immediately took a step forward and started to circle one another, looking for an opening. At times, they'd lightly touch swords, to test each others' reactions. The tension was palpable right from the get-go. While their movements looked almost playful, it was clear they were prepared to risk death and injury for their cause.

Yuliana nearly forgot to breathe as she watched them.

It was the worst imaginable outcome to the already terrible situation, having a friend she cared about risk himself to defeat a person she had grievously offended. No matter which one would win, the outcome would be a disaster and injustice all the same—and completely her fault.

But it was too late for regrets.

Yuliana could only wait and see things to their terrible conclusion.

Baron Eisley took the first strike. He hadn't followed in his father's footsteps to a career in the military, but a nobleman's life was never devoid of dangers either. He'd been made to take fencing classes from a young age, for his own protection. Those classes now showed their fruits in the swiftness of his sword arm that cleaved the air.

Sir Mallory stepped back and evaded the cut, but another slash followed immediately from the side. This he aptly deflected, yet didn't go for a counter but waited for the third strike, a stab, which he readily parried as well. He was older and better trained than the young Baron, but it seemed he had decided to give his opponent a fair chance and a fight to be proud of.

But would his fairness backfire on him…?

Yuliana nervously bit her thumbnail.

Clang, clang, clang—the bright sound of metal against metal rang out time after time again, while the audience excitedly followed every move.

“...Hey, Yule.”

The princess suddenly felt Izumi tap her on the shoulder.

“Shh, quiet, not now,” Yuliana hushed her, unwilling to take her eyes off the fight. What if the decisive blow was delivered while she was looking away? Whatever nonsense the woman had to say again couldn't have been so important.

“I do think this is a bit important...” Izumi said.

“I told you, not now!” the Princess hissed.

“Okay, you can stay here then.”

“What...?”

At the odd words, Yuliana had no choice but to look back.

“I mean,” Izumi whispered, gesturing behind her. “Grandpa's gonna leave us behind. We won’t catch up if we don't go now.”

“Ehhh...?”

Indeed, the merchant's carriage was already a good distance away down the hill, with the assassin on board, waving at them.

“If you're not coming,” Izumi said. “then that means goodbye. The show's not very interesting and I'm too old to walk. Thanks for the company and good luck.”

Having said that, the woman turned and discreetly jogged after the distancing transport.

“...”

Yuliana glanced back at the duelists.

The Baron made a clever feint, followed by a swift pirouette and a backward stab. Sir Brian barely evaded by twisting his upper body sideways, eliciting an awed “oooh!” from the audience.

“...I wonder if Brian will ever forgive me?” the princess sighed a moment later, leaning on the backboard of the carriage, the group of warriors only a small dot in the distance.

“He will,” Riswelze chirped. “If it was true love.”

“If it was true love, you'll find each other again!” Izumi nodded.

“You two are terrible!” Yuliana cried. “Aah, why did this happen…?”