1

Even the beasts pulling the carriage appeared relieved for leaving the tense scene behind and for a while, their hooves trampled the dusty road with unprecedented zeal. The old man wondered aloud what got his trusty companions so worked up, but the passengers voiced no complaints. The landscape was practically flying by now.

A couple of hours later, a brand new environmental element came visible in the distance ahead.

A sea of dark green, wide and vast.

It was Felorn, the Darkwood, the most gargantuan stretch of continuous woodland on the entire continent of Noertia, crossing the territories of no less than three noteworthy nations. The treeline's presence here also meant that the travelers were nearing the border of the greatest among those nations, Tratovia.

The Empire was far from a friendly neighbor for the Langorians, but going there also meant that Yuliana could stop worrying about pursuers from her homeland. There was no open war yet, but foreign knights were certainly not welcomed on the other side and setting off the hostilities by a careless move was in no one's best interests. Even if it was to catch a runaway princess.

Over the course of the evening, the road took the travelers closer and closer to the woods in the north, before at last curving slightly eastward a safe distance away from the mighty trees. Even as the human civilization continued to spread, Felorn remained virtually untouched to this day. People occasionally ventured there for timber, firewood, berries, mushrooms, or wild game, but no one sane had ever thought about setting up a town, let alone a city in shadow of those trees. People preserved their polite distance and whatever unpleasant, carnivorous things inhabited the woods kept away from the open as well.

The sun began to set, twilight taking over the fields, but the merchant's ride wouldn't stop. They had no intention to set up a camp for this night. Not so much because they feared the vengeance of the betrayed knights or mercenaries on their trail, but because there was a town, Varnam, close to the border. As romantic as it was to stay the night under a starry sky, they’d already had their fair share of such by now, and most of the travelers preferred a solid roof over their heads. Summer was well on its way, but the nights and especially the mornings were still dreadfully cold and humid, painful to aged bones in particular.

Thanks to the bovines' uncharacteristic vigor earlier in the day, the motley crew was able to reach the town well before midnight. Varnam was very similar to Grelden in the sense that both towns sat near the line between two nations. That was as far as they went in terms of likeness, however. Of the two, Varnam was the more modest one by every conceivable standard.

The amount of traffic between Luctretz and Tratovia had never been comparable to that between the former and Langoria, and it had been further reduced by the shift in the political climate. Also, most traders bound for the Imperial cities tended to favor the eastern highway through Messida instead. Monster attacks were not much more common near Felorn than anywhere else, but the woods had gained infamy over the ages and baseless prejudice reigned.

No danger could be observed on the quiet streets of Varnam herself.

Even at night, the town looked tranquil and safe, if not a little lonely.

One might easily assume that a lot of wood would’ve been used in the town's architecture, with the raw materials so close at hand in abundance. A large part of the male population were also woodcutters or carpenters by trade, with herbalists and weavers for wives, and the rest herded cattle or grew wheat on the plains spreading east from the town. But against such expectations, the houses were mostly of white-painted brick instead, with only a few dark, thick planks to support the ceiling.

A wide, cobbled central street curved straight through the town towards the north, with the finest and largest houses lining its sides. The other buildings were haphazardly gathered around, or more like, hidden behind the ranks of their betters. It was as if the Varnamians tried very hard to show a fresh, more modern face to the passers-by, while hiding their true, rural nature.

There, the long day’s journey finally came to an end, in the backyard of a local tavern.

“Hey, have you been thinking about it?” Riswelze asked Izumi, as they watched the merchant haggle with the tavern owner, Livia tending to the oxen. “The idea from before?”

“Hm?”

“The spring of youth. If we're going to explore the woods, then this is our stop. The folk at Varnam know Felorn better than anyone and their work roads provide us an easy path to start with. We can gather information here, purchase supplies, and plan our course.”

“Oh, that," Izumi recalled.

“Don't tell me you were actually serious about your absurd plot?” Yuliana sighed. “You mean to scour the woods for this pipe dream? And for how long? Do you have any idea how much supplies would be needed even for a brief excursion? And where do you plan to get the money for that? The last I looked, we were broke and working for scraps.”

“It’s not a royal retinue we need,” the assassin shrugged. “A tent, horses. It's a forest, your highness; there's food and water everywhere, if only you know where to look. We'll hunt and fish and find our way around. And throw off any pursuers while at it...”

Yuliana remained unconvinced by the plan.

“Oh, I am simply brimming with confidence towards this 'plan' of yours,” she exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air. “How does one survive in an ancient forest where entire armies have gone missing, and of which we know practically nothing? —'We shall hunt and fish!' Great! Nothing I can say to that!”

“Excuse me,” the assassin retorted, “not all of us are clueless, pampered maidens, sheltered in halls of marble and frightened by old wives' stories. I've survived in the mountains with nothing but rock and trolls for company. I've survived in a scorching desert with sand and scorpions everywhere. Felorn? It’s a veritable paradise. Don't you think?”

“Eh?” Izumi stirred from her thoughts at being spoken to. “Ah, yeah. I was just thinking, what kind of monsters live in there? Like, things with tentacles? Giant flowers that dissolve clothing with their pollen? Slimes? Goblins? Walking mushrooms? Treasure chests with arms and teeth? Would anyone pay money for parts of such?”

“The Hel are those?” Riswelze grimaced. “Come on. There might be a unicorn or two. As a rule of thumb, don't eat anything that has horns.”

——“You lasses aren't really going in there, are you?” the old man overheard them, returning from his negotiations. “For the spring of youth? Oh bollocks, have you gone mad? I was jesting! Take the hint!”

“What did I tell you?” Yuliana nodded.

“So what?” the assassin retorted. “It's not like you wrote the legend yourself. It could be real.”

“I didn't, but—why do you think they call it a legend!? Get a grip, girlie! It's Ferlorn out there, not just any old grove. That's Lord Matheus's domain! The spirits of the woods loathe the malice that lurks in human hearts, they can smell it from afar. We have grown too distant from the light of the Old Gods. Because of that, they will chase you out. If you're lucky, that is. Remember Emperor Yollam! Four hundred years back, he wanted to build a road through Felorn and set up a harbor on the west coast. No trace of what he built is left today. Not a bone of the Emperor himself or those who went with him. Such is the reward of arrogance!”

“Yes, yes. Varnam here seems to be faring just fine, despite all the road-building they do,” Riswelze retorted. “Clearly, the spirits aren't all that indiscriminate.”

“The Varnamites know what they're doing,” the man told them. “They've been the forest's neighbors for centuries, if not more. They live by Felorn's rules. Take only what they need, where it is given, and touch nothing more. They respect and fear the Divines! As anyone should.”

“And what do you think we'll do? Steal the nuts from the squirrels? We can be respectful too.”

“Bah!” the merchant got frustrated with Riswelze. “Go then! What's it to me! Foolish girls! But if you really must go, then throw away your weapons! Submit yourselves to the Divines' mercy and they may respond in kindness. That's what Agelaos did. Only his bag and notebook he took with him, and he came back in one piece. But if you want my honest opinion: go back home! There is no helping stupidity!”

Continuing to swear under his breath, the old merchant left them. It was only out of friendly concern that he got angry, of course, and understanding this made Yuliana feel guilty.

“You know how to tell a fairy tale apart from reality?” Riswelze asked, unfazed. “They always end in some profound moral message. Reality doesn't. There's nothing educational about any of our lives, no hooks, no twists. Want the real lesson? Yollam failed because he was a dumb, clueless nobleman, while Agelaos was a practical guy, who was cautious and prepared. So long as we let no members of royalty dictate our course of action, we should be perfectly fine. As I've said from the beginning.”

“Noble or not, you are the living embodiment of the pride and arrogance that destroyed the old Emperor,” Yuliana shook her head. “Either way, I'm not going to take any part in this nonsense. Go wherever you like. I shall do the same.”

The princess headed inside the tavern.

“Don't worry about her,” Riswelze glanced at Izumi. “Come tomorrow morning, she'll be pleading us to take her along. Wanna bet?”

“Might be better if she doesn't,” Izumi replied in a distant tone, looking after Yuliana. “Since it could be a bit dangerous.”

“And you're okay with that? Saying good bye?”

“Hm? Why wouldn't I be?”

“...Don't give me that crap,” the assassin sullenly knocked Izumi's arm.

“Well,” the woman covered a big yawn. “I'm just too sleepy to think right now. Let's go in.”

“Right. Everything looks glum in the middle of the night. We'll talk things through in the morning.”

They followed after the princess and the merchant towards the doorway of the tavern, whence a streak of warm, inviting light fell onto the deep blue street. But none of them could know—come tomorrow, the decision would be made for them.

2

The morning arrived gloomy and foggy. A pallid mist made its way up the streets of Varnam from the eastern fields and the air was cool enough to render one's breath visible. A single glance out of the window made Izumi crawl back into the bed and pull the blanket over her head.

“I'm not going anywhere.”

Compared to the inn at Grelden, this one was a step down in quality. The guests didn't get separate rooms for themselves unless they specifically requested one and were prepared to pay a good deal extra. Instead, there was a larger sleeping hall downstairs, with white-painted walls, stripped décor, and rudimentary, wooden bunk beds for about forty guests or so. As said, Varnam was hardly a tourist hotspot and at this time of the week, no more than eight beds were taken. At least the night had been quiet.

Izumi was among the first to stir at dawn. She had grown wary of sunrise and unexpected visitors in her bed, even if there were no unusual occurrences today. Hoping nobody noticed, she tried to go back to sleep. However, from the bunk above hers, Riswelze's head soon appeared hanging upside down over the edge.

“Up already? Then, shall we be on our way?”

“I'm not going anywhere,” Izumi repeated, louder. “I'm going to sleep here until there's summer, a real summer!”

“Try to think of it this way,” the girl argued, “since it's still not too hot out there yet, all the nasty, venomous snakes, centipedes, spiders, mosquitoes, and warguls are not out yet. It's the optimal time of the year to explore the forest.”

“Venomous spiders!? And some unknown mystery creature I can't even pronounce was mixed in!? That's it, I'm definitely not going!”

“Your world doesn't have warguls? That's boring.”

“I don't need excitement like that!”

“Oh come on, rise and shine.”

“For once, Ai-chan didn't come wake me up, yet I still can't sleep my fill...I hate this world! Hate it, hate it, hate it!”

“...What are you two being so noisy for? It's not even the second period yet.” Yuliana woke up on the bed adjacent to Izumi's and sat up, rubbing her eyes.

“Rise is being a bully!” Izumi complained under the blanket. “Let me sleep.”

“Time flies and we have preparations to do,” the assassin retorted.

“You still haven't given up on your nonsense expedition?” the princess asked Riswelze. “It's two against one now. Just forget about it.”

“Geez,” Riswelze sighed and shrugged. “You get a cozy little hike, maybe a week or two of enjoying the nature, sufficient to throw off the scent for any eager officer of the law, pick up a bottle of some suitably odd-looking juice, and then sell it at Bhastifal for a big bag of silver. Then, early retirement and easy life ever after. The end. What's wrong? You people hate money?”

“I'm simply not attracted by the idea of getting thrown into jail for fraud,” Yuliana replied. “No. It's a waste of time, anyone with a modicum of common sense can tell that. You, master assassin, are free to go wherever you please, like I've told you. But leave others out of it. I'm going to Tratovia today and then continue north to Melgier.”

“Melgier?” Riswelze repeated, raising a brow. “Why there? You want to become a pirate? Slightly more reputable a career than princess, maybe, but a bit unexpected...”

“In your dreams,” Yuliana sighed, got up and started to clear her bed. “I'm taking a ship and sailing to Val Astea, that's all.”

“Val Astea? What business do you have with the goti? It's on the other side of the sea, you know?”

“I know. I’ll be merely passing through.”

“Passing through...For what? There's nothing beyond there. Ruins. Jungle. Mountains.”

“Yule's going to apply to a tower tournament to save the world,” Izumi mumbled under her blanket, trying to speed up the dialogue and get back to sleep. “And wish for a gender change.”

“A tournament? Wish for what…? You're not making any—wait a minute.” Stunned, Riswelze dropped down from her bunk and stepped next to Yuliana, grabbing her shoulder. “The Trophaeum? You've got to kidding me, highness. You've got some guts, preaching to me about common sense with a straight face, while chasing impossible dreams of your own!”

“The Covenant is not a dream,” Yuliana answered while brushing the girl's hand off and continued to fold her blanket. “It's real. Or did you miss that bit on your travels, Ms Omniscient Cutthroat Sage?”

“You—you'll never make it,” Riswelze couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of the princess's plans. “Do you have any idea what's between you and that place, provided it's where it's said to be?”

“No matter how far or dangerous, I will do it.”

“You'll never come back!”

“I'm aware of the possibility,” Yuliana said and turned around. “I'm also aware that trying to explain myself to you is a waste of effort. Because all you're capable of thinking is yourself, your own good, comfort, and gain. You cannot fathom that other people might have selfless ideals and aspirations beyond themselves, worth more than their own safety.”

“Such as?” Riswelze rolled her eyes. “You're right, I don't understand. Not one bit. Even if you somehow succeed, what good is it if you won't live to tell the tale? You won't see anyone benefit from your sacrifice. What is the point?”

“That is what ‘sacrifice’ means.” Yuliana started to put on her robe and armor.

“What about Izumi?” Riswelze asked.

“I'm going alone,” the princess answered. “It has nothing to do with her.”

“Nothing? Are you listening to this?” the thief turned to ask Izumi instead. “Do you get what she’s saying? You’re getting dumped.”

“I know what she’s up to,” the woman's muffled voice answered. “And what I don't get is, how can you two be this energetic so early in the morning? Do whatever you please, but let me sleep!”

“You already knew? And you're letting her go?”

“It's a free world, what do you want me to do? I'm just sightseeing. And trying to sleep.”

“Oh, I'm really going to go mad with you two.”

After a brief while, the other guests were starting to get up as well and Izumi had no choice but to admit that getting any more rest was unlikely. Reluctantly, she got dressed and joined her friends in the dining hall for breakfast. A breakfast otherwise satisfactory, but still highly lacking in caffeine. Izumi’s headache wasn’t letting up.

The mood at the table was about as vague as the weather outside.

The three women all had their separate goals.

Of course, they had known as much from the beginning, but it was only this morning that they had to admit carrying on together any further was impossible. Either some of them set aside their personal objectives and shared the path of another—or else they could only bid farewell and face the world henceforth alone.

No one could call it an easy decision.

Whether they wanted to admit it or not, the week spent on the road and the colorful events before had already forged a bond between the three, that couldn't be painlessly severed. The mere thought left them equally depressed and at a loss of words. But it was while they remained seated under the awkward silence that a sudden interruption arrived.

The tavern's front door flew open with a bang and one of the town's men barged in,

“Riders!” his frantic cry sounded across the hall as soon as he could draw breath. “Imperial banners!”

The formerly drowsy mood in the dining hall turned startled. Imperial troops crossing the border to Luctretz—everyone was immediately assuming the worst case scenario.

War. Had the long-anticipated war started? Was the Empire about to launch a surprise assault? Would the town be razed? The fields burned, the cattle slaughtered to feed the invaders? Varnam had been caught completely off-guard, everything was going to be lost. All the people present immediately forgot about their breakfast and rushed out to the street, to see what could still be saved. Well, not all of them.

The three women didn't move from their seats.

While dismayed by the news, Yuliana already knew Luctretz was under Tratovian influence behind the scenes. Even if a legion was coming, they were likely to only pass through the town on the way to a more significant location. Riswelze didn't move either, because war or not, it had nothing to do with her. And Izumi remained seated also, of course, because the others did.

Although, she couldn't deny feeling a bit curious.

“Wanna go see?” she asked her friends.

“I'd rather not,” Yuliana sighed and rubbed her forehead. “They're on their way to burn and pillage my country, before occupation and oppression, what else? Pardon me, but I will not enjoy such a spectacle, nor cheer them on.”

“You couldn't be any more depressing even if you tried,” Riswelze told the princess.

“Well, suit yourselves,” Izumi said and got up from her seat. “I do want to see what the people from this fabled evil Empire look like.”

“Oh, wait for me!” The assassin quickly followed her.

The two stepped outside, where a large number of townspeople and visitors had already gathered along the main street, as if to witness a parade. Some of the residents of the nearby houses were still in their nightwear and looked dazed. The more fiery spirits had chosen to pick up improvised weapons, shovels, ladels, and brooms, before their pants. The chilly northern breeze made them soon regret this decision and, with no riders in immediate view, they swiftly returned indoors to improve their public image.

However, not very long after, riders did appear.

The fog had concealed their approach until it was too late to even think about running or hiding. Being only a small rural town without military presence or key strategic resources, Varnam lacked heavy walls or gates, allowing the foreigners to enter unhindered. The few state guards stationed in the town could only admit their helplessness at stopping the incoming force.

It wasn't an army, but a sizable unit regardless.

A company of around a hundred men. Not regular infantry but cavalry on black horses, knights, with three supply wagons following behind. They all wore dark plate armors instead of cheap chainmail, with deep purple surcoats and closed helmets. Some carried spears, others tall banners adorned with silvery unit insignia and other symbols Izumi couldn't understand.

“Check this out,” Riswelze whistled as the entourage slowly passed. “It's not a reconnaissance or a strike unit. They're hunting.”

“Huh? How can you tell?” Izumi asked.

“The banners. See, they have different symbols for different situations, to signal their business to other units from afar. Sometimes military squads cross over national borders in pursuit of dangerous monsters. So they carry the appropriate symbols in order to not get confused for raiders and attacked when they're trying to do everybody a favor. Though I hear the Imperials haven't practiced that in decades. Normally, they'd just give up the hunt if the mark crosses the border.”

“Oh, that's pretty smart, I guess.”

“And look at those armors. Not a speck of dirt on 'em. These guys aren’t just any typical border patrol. This is an elite unit, the Stohrenkartes. Soldiers handpicked to serve directly under the Emperor himself. Kind of like their version of Royal Guard—but meaner.”

“Hm? Why would you send such high-level players monster-hunting? Isn't that a waste?”

“Beats me. Oops, there comes the lead. On your best behavior now.”

After the front riders, close to the mid-part of the lengthy cavalcade, came an eye-catching group different from the standard knights.

The first rider was an older man, unarmored, his head bare, the top of it bald with only short, frizzy hair on the temples. He was dressed in a dark riding coat with silver buttons and linings, a large silver-black emblem on his chest. If his attire and decorations didn't make it clear he was a high-ranking figure, the effect was conveyed by the hawkish gaze of his grey eyes. That gaze, behind a pair of slim, rectangular spectacles, swept over the townspeople from left to right and back left again as he rode on, and his expression made it clear he didn't think too highly of what he saw.

A few paces behind the austere man came a pair riding side by side.

The one further back on the left was a man older than the former, also with reclining hairline, but his remaining strands longer and nearly pure white in color. He also had a goat-like beard, giving him a somewhat comical air. The old man's watery eyes ignored the locals as he rode on, and he wiped his long, reddened nose, sniffing. He didn't wear a coat as handsome as the one before him, but a dark green robe with baggy sleeves. With his right hand, he held the reins of his horse, while the other gripped a long, wooden staff.

Izumi soon forgot him, however.

The figure riding beside the old man couldn't have possibly differed from the previous two more.

It was a woman younger than Izumi but an adult nevertheless, and with a presence no less commanding than that of the decorated man. Her red-brown, shoulder-length hair was tied loosely in the back, with a few wavy strands framing the sides of her pale but beautiful face. The look in her green eyes was distant, aloof in the sort of regal, self-contained fashion—but Izumi could tell the rider was perfectly aware of everything that went on about her. The woman was dressed in a long uniform coat with golden rank insignia on both sides of the collar, leaving no doubt that she was an officer. Over the coat, she also had a lighter cloak with the hood left down.

The audience forgot themselves, watching the dream-like cavalcade flow by.

The procession didn't continue for much longer, however.

“Here's good enough,” the cruel-looking man ahead suddenly called out, while the adventurers still remained within an earshot.

“Captain. Stop,” the officer woman said.

At her words, the knight riding behind immediately raised his voice,

“COMPANYYYY—HALT.”

The order was echoed by the other squad leaders, front and back, bringing the unscheduled parade to an instant stop. All stilled where they were, like tin soldiers. No noise, no shifting. Even the horses were superbly trained, it seemed.

The cause for the pause became soon apparent.

The Imperials planned to have a word with the locals.

Meaning, in this case, the town elder, who was a short widow in her mid-fifties. Woken up to this unpleasant scene, the elder now made her way towards the knights while tugging her overcoat tighter on. Regardless of the town elder's modest stature and age, she had the strength of character to make up for both, and looked quite peeved over the disturbance, to say the least.

“What is the meaning of this?” she yelled at the knights. “What are you Tratovian hounds doing in Varnam? Is it war? You're going to attack us now? Burn down our little houses? Is that it?”

“Calm yourself,” the grey-haired man with the glasses told her. “We've slightly more important business today than invading your pigsties and granaries.”

“Then what is it?” the elder showed no sign of calming down. “Be out with it and on your way. The last I looked, we were still in Luctretz, and we don't want your mean horses making a mess on our streets.”

“Then listen, and I shall tell you. We are on a bit of an errand and want to hire men. Woodcutters, carpenters, what have you. Twenty or so should do. The job takes a week, maybe two, after which they are home free. Properly compensated, of course.”

“Out of the question,” the woman denied without hesitation.

“Reconsider.” The Imperial wasn't going to give up that easily. “This is a small town, you need the coin. You know that as well as I do. It's not a war we're off to, you'll have your boys back, safe and sound. No one needs to know. I wouldn't call it a bad deal by any means.”

“And what do you need woodcutters for?” the town elder scowled at him. “No, don't answer. I know. There's only one place here with wood to cut, and the answer is no. Absolutely not. No one from Varnam is going with you into the forest, you poor devil.”

“You're not the law here, madam,” the man said and instead turned to look at the townspeople lining the street, raising his voice. “Anyone here in need of honest work and easy money? I'm sure not, right? You get to do your job, the job you know best, nothing more will be asked of you. As you can see, you'll have sufficient protection; the Empire's finest. You'll be fed and handsomely paid and then it's back to life as usual. Three silver per day! When was the last time you saw such money? Be stubborn if you want and stick with your superstitious elder, but if you're looking for...variation to the usual, then come find me. Our camp will be outside the town and will depart for Felorn tomorrow at dawn. Let the word go 'round! Thank you!”

Without delay great gossiping started among the spectators.

It was indeed a lot of money for simple woodwork. Almost too good to be true.

Turning back to his knights, the Imperial nodded. “Shall we?”

“—Just a moment.”

The noble-looking woman climbed down from the saddle and approached the town elder in turn.

“Pardon our unannounced intrusion, madam,” she said. “I assure you we have no hostiles intentions and shall do our best to keep the distraction to a minimum.”

“Hmph,” the elder snorted spitefully and looked away, but didn't seem as opposed to speak with a fellow woman.

“I was hoping you could tell me something else,” the officer continued. “Have you had any visitors from the south of late? Anyone particularly suspicious? Someone who behaved oddly or was otherwise eye-catching, perhaps a foreigner. Only this week. It could be very important.”

“It's a manhunt you're on then?” the elder replied. “What sort of a fellow is it, exactly? And who did he kill to get you people on his tail?”

“I am sorry, but it is a confidential matter,” the lady in uniform said. “I may not disclose the details, but anything you can tell us would be appreciated.”

“Why, we don't get many visitors at this time of the year,” the older woman finally said. “But some do come. A few last night, and they're not from Luctretz by the looks of 'em. There's two of them standing right there, as a matter of fact.”

The Imperial quickly turned to glance at her five o'clock where the elder was pointing—at Izumi and Riswelze near the tavern doorway. Being so abruptly made into a topic, the pair of travelers were too surprised to move. In a blink, the officer’s previous diplomatic politeness was gone and her gaze flashed like lightning.

“Archers!” she sharply cried.

Several nearby knights immediately pulled their bows from their backs and took aim at the pair. The townspeople around backed away in shock and retreated into their houses, astonished cries and murmur echoing around.

“What in the blazes are you doing!?” the town elder cried in dismay. “Didn't you tell me you weren't here to fight?”

“For your own safety, madam, stand back,” the Imperial curtly told her, without taking her eyes off Izumi and Riswelze.

“Your names?” she questioned the two.

“Ahem,” Riswelze cleared her throat, defiantly folding her arms, “I would be the famous Ridley Radelly Rude, or Rad-Rude for short, a wandering performer and a peddler of bad advice. Want one? The first one's always free.”

“I-I'm Izumi, Itaka Izumi, pleased to meet you,” Izumi said with a nervous bow.

“What are you doing, don't give them your real name!” Riswelze berated her in a whisper, although in the heavy surrounding silence, it was audible to everyone.

“I can't help it, I get nervous when so many people stare at me!” Izumi cried. “My imagination's not working right now!”

Not amused, the Imperial woman glanced at the aged rider behind her.

“Yornwhal, what do you say?”

“What do you want me to say?” the bearded man shrugged and shook his head. “You know mindreading is not my forte. I can tell if someone I know is changed, but if it's a complete stranger—it’s too vague to say for certain. But they do seem fairly normal to me.”

“Your 'seems' is not good enough,” the woman groaned. “Oh what I wouldn't give to have Carmelia with me...”

“So, are we in trouble or are we not?” Riswelze asked.

The officer glared at her in answer,

“You seem a little mismatched for friends or family. Where did the two of you meet? When was it?”

“Our first meeting...was in another life. Far, far away,” the assassin answered like a bard. “Death separated us, yet fate brought me back together with my soul sister after all those unknown eons and now we may never part again! Surely.”

Their questioner still wasn't pleased. And neither were the archers.

“Weigh your next words very carefully, jester,” the Imperial woman told Riswelze, before turning to Izumi. “The sword on your back—it's elven design, don't even bother to pretend otherwise. There are no elves in Luctretz or Langoria. So where did you get the sword?”

Her last words were no louder than a whisper, yet heavy as lead.

“I...um...ehh...”

The earthling, unaccustomed to such an audience or the tense atmosphere, had no talent for spinning the yarn. I just found it lying on the ground, she was going to say, which was the honest truth. But, given the circumstances, that terribly suspicious and incredible answer was likely to sign her death sentence.

“Well?” the woman pressed her. “Answer me! Or die.”

She raised her hand and the archers tightened their bowstrings.

Clak.

Before anyone could speak, the nearby tavern door opened, and out stepped the knight princess of Langoria. No longer hearing the horses or the commotion, she had assumed the riders had passed and that it was the time to head out.

What a terrible timing.

“Good grief, like children, gawking at every terrible thing that—”

At the sight of the archers, Yuliana cut herself off and froze in the doorway.

The Imperial woman turned her sharp eyes at the princess——and her expression turned startled. An unguarded cry immediately escaped her lips.

“Yuliana!?”

Yuliana looked back at the woman, her eyes immediately brightening up with the light of recognition and the following astonishment.

“...Master?”

3

On a spacious field south of the town, a military encampment was raised in short order, with the total of twelve large, red-brown hexagon tents. Among those, the three adventurers found themselves guests in the command tent itself, with Imperial Colonel Miragrave Marafel as their host.

“When I was fourteen years old,” Yuliana explained to her friends, “I accompanied my father on a state visit to Tratovia. We stayed at Bhastifal for close to two weeks and it was during this time that I met commander here. She was kind enough to keep me company when I found myself idle and alone in the enormous palace complex.” The princess's face turned a bit bashful when she added, “I was quite the unruly visitor. Instead of any innocent plays, I insisted on having her teach me fencing, tell me about military tactics, famous heroes and battles, and other such things. I even insisted on calling her my 'master' and mentor. I had to have been a terrible burden on her. But it was commander's patient guidance and example that inspired me to join the army, as soon as I came of age. And you all know the rest.”

“I was but Captain at the time, recently promoted,” Miragrave said, recalling the past with a faint smile. “And you were not a burden in the slightest. Many times I have thought back to those carefree days and wondered how your highness turned out since. Now I see the answer before me. You don't believe how lucky I feel for that.”

“Master...” Yuliana smiled meekly and looked down at her feet.

“Then, there is no doubt?” the aristocratic Imperial standing nearby asked. “The girl is who she claims to be?”

“Yes,” the Colonel nodded. “Those memories are no lie. As if there ever was any doubt. This is her highness, Yuliana Da Via Brannan of Langoria and no other.”

“We are in luck then,” the man said. “Ever since the news of her abrupt...departure from Walhollem, the Emperor has expressed a great interest towards meeting her highness. How nice of her to come to us. Spares us the effort of looking for her.”

“Vizier...” The Colonel frowned at his words.

“Excuse me, commander,” he immediately retorted. “But I'd like to remind you that while here, I am his majesty's mouth, eyes, ears, and every other part, save for the manhood. That I'd like to keep to my own name. You've heard the reports. Our man at Grelden perished a bare week ago in what appears to have been a covert raid by Langorian special forces. Eyewitnesses insist they saw the princess in town at the time that it happened. I have to say, I share his majesty's curiosity in the matter. The princess comes with us and it's not up to debate.”

Sighing, Miragrave gestured at the man and introduced him to Yuliana,

“Vizier Rubeus Theolinius Attiker, his majesty's internal affairs advisor. Forgive me, Yuliana. Orders are orders. You need to come with us to the capital.”

“That is fine by me,” Yuliana answered. “There are things I would like to discuss with his majesty myself.”

“You will have the chance,” Vizier Attiker said. “That is, of course, after we have completed our current mission. Which sadly means that your highness is going to have to go through this little forest excursion in our company also.”

“Surely you don't mean that?” Colonel Miragrave berated him. “It's too dangerous!”

“What other choice do we have?” Attiker spread his hands. “Leave her to the town guard to wait for our return and you can be sure it will be the last we ever see of her. And neither can we afford to detach manpower from our already modest crew to watch her. The only viable solution therefore is that she comes with us. Her...er, retinue, on the other hand, is free to go as they please. Their presence is not requested.”

“Too bad, wherever the princess goes, we go,” Riswelze defiantly announced, crossing her arms, and neither Izumi nor Yuliana imagined it was because of her boundless loyalty.

“They are…?” Miragrave eyed the two women behind Yuliana again.

“Ah, they're...friends?” Yuliana struggled to answer. “As I see you already know, I was forced to leave my homeland due to...some complex reasons, and these two have been kindly helping me along the way.”

“Hmm?” The Colonel's curiosity wasn't sated so easily. “So you've only met them recently, yes?”

“T-that's right, though it already feels like a lifetime ago!” Yuliana felt uneasy about the way the question was posed and hurried to change the topic. “But why the Felorn Woods? What would the Emperor want in such a place? There should be nothing of interest there, so far as I'm aware.”

“That would be classified information,” Vizier Attiker pointed out.

“Classified, because the reason is too embarrassing to be uttered aloud,” Miragrave wryly remarked. “For some time now, his majesty has expressed an interest in mythical sources of power. He dispatches one pointless expedition after another in pursuit of campfire stories and folklore. Our unit got the short end of the stick. Apparently, there is one such place of power somewhere deep within the woods. What was it again? The source of...everlasting life?”

“I hope you’re jesting...” Yuliana sighed and shook her head.

“The Felorn spring is not a simple myth, mind you,” the white-haired older man sitting on a chest in the corner of the tent suddenly spoke, while blowing his nose on a napkin. “We've had multiple oneiromancers independently verify that it exists, and we even have a rough estimate as to where. All these accounts bear such striking similarities, to the point that they cannot be rationally dismissed. Think whatever you will of the legend of Agelaos itself, but there is no need to doubt our sources. Whatever miracles the Darkwood hides, it is worth investigating, wouldn't you say?”

“And I used to look up to the famous Court Wizard Yornwhal when I was a little girl,” the commander replied. “Only to learn that he is a man willing to pursue childish treasures with daydreams for evidence. Adulthood is full of disappointments, isn't it?”

“When did this rascal ever look up to me!” the wizard bemoaned. “Though I knew her father and cured her of a terrible fever once, all she has for me is contempt before gratitude. Contempt!”

“Trust me, I know only too well what you have to endure, Master,” Yuliana sighed.

“And yet,” Miragrave said, her countenance turning darker, “I would consider myself blessed, if only this farcical quest were all we had to deal with. Alas, it is not.”

“Hm? What do you mean?”

“No matter what his majesty says—to me, the search for this well of wonders was and remains a secondary objective.”

The Colonel stood from her chair behind the command table and walked to the open tent front, gazing over the fields without another word. The sudden shift in the mood seemed weird to Yuliana.

“Hm,” Attiker puffed. “She derides our endeavors and tries to pose as the voice of reason, while pursuing phantoms herself. Ha. Nothing but pots and kettles here.”

“Now that I recall, your unit wears hunting banners,” Yuliana said to the Colonel. “What is it that you hunt?”

For a while longer, Miragrave remained silent, maybe out of reluctance towards the subject, or simply trying to decide where to begin.

Then, after this lengthy pause, she finally spoke again,

“Since twenty years back, Tratovia has had a military pact with the cirelo of Ledarnia on the old continent.”

“Also a highly classified state secret, I should add,” the Vizier dryly notified.

Ignoring him, Miragrave went on,

“As part of our exchange program with the cirelo, we send select officers-in-training to their colony, once per year. To show the cadets what life is like on the front lines, to incur genuine wartime experience. To teach our soldiers the true meaning of prudence...and fear. Some come back wiser for it, resolved. Some come back changed for the worse, broken. And some—do not.”

The Colonel turned around and her piercing gaze swept over the guests one by one.

“Less than a week ago, one of our ships was found washed ashore in the north-western Luctretz. Intact but empty. Not a soul was left aboard and not a single corpse to tell the tale. Only blood, in copious amounts. The ship was identified as the Ikanos, dispatched nine months ago. The vessel did reach Ledarnia, that much is certain. Our allies confirmed that it departed back in safety as well, with all the cadets on board and accounted for. Yet, something happened on that ship during the weeks on the sea. A massacre.”

Izumi had a hard time understanding where the story was going, but she could recognize the tension building up in the tent. She could see the look in Yuliana's rounded eyes, a look of shock and horror that she hadn't seen there before. It couldn’t have been over a simple fight. Something else was involved.

“Yes,” Miragrave nodded grimly. “There is a chance—a slim one but real—that a daemon made it on that ship. And is now here.”

A heavy silence took over the audience as they let the meaning of her words sink in.

But the silence was soon broken.

“I still believe you are jumping to conclusions,” the Vizier told the Colonel. “There are too many holes in this theory to even begin to count them. First of all, it is common knowledge that daemons cannot cross flowing water.”

“Yes, the sea should have been an eternal, impassable barrier between us and the nightmare of Amarno,” Miragrave replied. “But then man gave them the means.”

“So it sailed to us! Like Kupid or Franqoir?” Attiker argued. “Don't be ridiculous, Marafel. They are beasts, mindless monsters, nothing more. For one of them to infiltrate our ship, somehow containing its murderous impulses for long enough to set sail, nobody suspecting a thing—it's preposterous. What you're suggesting is no different from a tiger dressing up as an attendant to board an elevator, then taking it all the way to the king's quarters, completely ignoring the kitchen along the way. No! It’s unthinkable. The cirelo mages would've detected the beast long before it made it to the harbor. The Ikanos was hit by pirates. Pirates with an overwhelming advantage in numbers. And that's that.”

“Pirates leaving a captured Imperial vessel to drift in full load?” the woman retorted. “Pardon me, Attiker, but that seems even more absurd to me than a tiger riding an elevator.”

“Then it was a sickness. Poisoned food stock, a mutiny. Collective madness. A great sea monster. Whatever. There are countless more sensible ways to explain the ship's fate.”

“More convenient ways, don't you mean?” Miragrave sighed. “Anything, anything else would be better. Even the great sea monster. But the investigators’ reports leave few alternatives. No matter how you wish to deny reality, I know better.”

“Oh, I'm the one denying reality?” Attiker snorted. “Wouldn't you actually prefer it were a daemon instead?”

“...”

“Sadly, no matter how you excel in exercises or academics, there is no way for a woman to be promoted above the rank of a Colonel, when it's peacetime. So you will become 'Marafel the Daemonslayer'! You think bringing that creature’s head will earn you the Emperor's grace and lift you above the rest? Maybe they’ll even put you in the Guild next! Oh, no matter! Don't waste your breath answering. Your ambitions are of no concern to me. So long as you remember your orders.”

“Yes, yes,” the woman sighed and gave up on arguing. “'Since you’re going the same way, escort Attiker to the spring'—our majesty has a bizarre sense of humor at times. And like you, no grasp of danger. Otherwise, his priorities would be different.”

Miragrave returned to her chair and sank wearily into it.

“I was once a cadet myself,” she said. “One of the chosen, an 'elite'. A fate I've cursed ever since. I saw in Ledarnia things human eyes weren't meant to see. Before the nightmare of Amarno, the word elite the way we understand it—means nothing at all. Babies. Before daemons, we are all as infants, you and I.”

Confronted by her lightless gaze and the dark despair lurking behind it, even Attiker was forced to remain silent and avert his face.

“By our calculations, it can't have been much longer than a week since the Ikanos came ashore,” Miragrave soon returned to her usual aloofness and said. “Even if our fears prove true, the daemon can't have left Luctretz yet. It's still in this province and within our reach. No matter how we are children, there are a hundred of us. I will hunt that monster down and slay it, one way or the other. Even if it costs me my rank and my life.”

“She's obsessed,” the Vizier shook his head and told the others, before leaving the tent through the second doorway on the side.

“Forgive me, Yuliana,” Miragrave soon added in a softer tone, looking up at the princess. “The Divines have finally brought our paths together again, and it has to happen under such circumstances...”

“No.” Yuliana shook her head and took a step forward. “After learning everything, I am glad that it happened. I may still have ways to go before I can be a peer to you, Master, but please allow me to help carry this burden with you, however I am able. It's at times like this that we shouldn't be looking at flags and ranks or the borders of nations, but join hands against a common threat.”

“Look at you,” Miragrave said to her. “Haven't you grown into a splendid princess. No, a knight.”

Yuliana's smile at those words of praise easily surpassed in brightness the frail sun behind the clouds of noon.

4

“I...did not imagine we'd be dining in Imperial company today,” Riswelze said, absentmindedly mixing her portion of light meat soup with a spoon. “Or any other day, ever.”

“Well, same here,” Izumi replied, having already emptied her bowl. “I thought the Empire was supposed to be evil, yet they seem reasonable enough. My, I don't think I've played a game like this before. For the first time, I'd appreciate a nifty datalog or a glossary to explain a few things for me. A chapter summary would be nice too.”

They were sitting on supply crates near the wagons by the road, on the edge of the camp. As a member of royalty and a military officer herself, Yuliana had been invited to have lunch together with the leaders—an offer which she accepted. Being only simple civilians and commoners, Izumi and Riswelze on the other hand were left out. Though they were given food together with the knights, they chose to keep a polite distance from the rest of the camp. Had the Imperials been aware of the pair's past deeds, the treatment probably would've been nowhere near as friendly. Knowing this, they were fairly content with their lonely lot.

“Oh right, you said you were from another world,” Riswelze nodded. “I keep forgetting. What kind of a world was it, anyway?”

“Well, more convenient, in many ways,” Izumi replied, thinking.

“More convenient, how?”

“Like, right now, I can't stop thinking about how handy it was to have a cafe and a supermarket around the block. At this rate, I'm going to forget the flavor of potato chips and there's no ice cream either. Honestly, just a can of soda would make me feel a lot better...”

“Yup, don't understand one bit.”

“That's right, no one here can understand what I'm going through,” Izumi complained. “Anyway. So these monsters everybody keeps talking about, they're from another continent? I feel like I'm missing something important, having never heard of those things.”

“You mean daemons?” Riswelze shuddered. “I don't know too much about them myself, to be honest. They're just folklore over here. No one's ever seen one and no human—save for the Imperials, apparently—has been to Amarno for thousands of years. But, the story goes that the cirelo and the cruleans are still fighting out there, to this day. Kind of hard to believe, if you ask me. A war that has gone on for way longer than most people live and there's no winner to be found. How's that even possible?”

“Cirelo...” Izumi repeated. “Why do I feel like I've heard that word before?”

“Fallen elves. The sorcerer at Haywell was one, remember?”

“Oh, that boy. So what made them ‘fall’?”

“It's kind of a long story,” Riswelze shrugged.

“Are we in a hurry somewhere?”

The assassin played with her spoon for a bit, gathering her thoughts, before beginning her explanation,

“Okay, so once upon a time, elves ruled in Amarno. There were other races living there too, sure, but it was their continent, entrusted to them by the Gods themselves, after the Golden Age. So they like to claim, anyway. It's said that Amarno was a downright paradise. Beautiful, massive cities of white stone, gold, silver, bronze, and brass; enormous waterfalls shining in all rainbow colors; dense, vast jungles with exotic animals and delicious fruit, magic everywhere, and all that shit. A real la la land. Then, nobody knows exactly how or where, but the daemons showed up. As a result, everybody else was either killed or chased out.”

“Just like that?” Izumi furrowed her brows.

“Yep. The books and songs tend to play it up nice and family-friendly, labeling it a War of Tears, a War on Nightmares, and so on, which was only barely lost after a lot of bold heroics. But my guess is, what happened there was no war. When one side tosses the rest into the sea like that, it can only have been one atrocious butchery. No way the elves left willingly, but at the end of the day, they had no other choice but to hop on their ships and evacuate the whole continent. It’s all deserted now.”

“Really?”

“I don’t know, I haven’t been there, but so they say,” Riswelze shrugged. “Anyway, the elves. Some of them never quite got over what happened. They swore undying vengeance and resolved to get their lands back, by any means necessary. Over time, that oath became like a curse. The elves were supposed to be the nice guys, see? The Gods' favorites. Serve the light, respect the spirits, live in harmony with the planet...that sort of thing. Most of them wanted to just get over their loss and start anew elsewhere, so they settled on the island of Alderia and kept there. But these other guys, the Oathmakers—they went, 'screw that, we just want to kill the bastards who killed our families and took our homes! And anybody who isn't with us is against us, be they gods or beasts.' So they stopped with the Divine worship and cut ties with the rest of their folk. The nice elves call themselves, 'emiri', or 'walkers of dawn', while 'cirelo' means 'dwellers of dusk' in the old tongue. Like night and day, that's just how deep their differences had become.”

“Did they ever get any of their lands back, in the end?” Izumi asked.

“Weeell, they did try,” Riswelze answered, already fully in storyteller mode, pulling closer. “This is a bit cool part, really. About two hundred years ago—two-forty or some shit, don't remember, but anyway—the cirelo allied with a few other races and got ready for a comeback tour. Humans were left out, but the more prominent ones all played a part. Together, they amassed a huge fleet and sailed overseas to kick daemon ass. It was called, Operation Angrele, or Dayglow. They say the sea was so full of ships that day, you could've crossed it just by hopping from deck to deck. It started out well. In a few months, the allied forces took back a good third of the continent and a several pretty cities. Mysteriously enough, there was practically no resistance. Every place stood empty, abandoned, as if the enemy had just packed up and left. Why conquer all those cities and then leave them unused? Maybe the daemons all went and died out of loneliness? It looked too good to be true.”

“I think I can see where this is going,” Izumi sighed.

“Wait for it!” the girl hushed her. “Okay, so the elves had promised to divide Amarno between the allies like, 'whatever you set your flag on is yours to keep, forever'. Pretty generous of them, huh? That's just how bad they wanted their homes back, and this promise kept the alliance together. Most lesser races were pretty thrilled to get their hands on elven cities and lands, or expand their old zones. But among them, there was an exception. As soon as they pulled ashore, the cruleans only took a chunk of the east coast for themselves and stopped right there. They were supposed to be the fiercest of warriors and ages-old rivals of the elves, yet instead of hogging any more free land for themselves, they were content with only a narrow province. The put away their swords and started fortifying the place like no tomorrow, setting up these enormous walls and digging motes—cruleans are good with their hands, see? Then, a while later, the other allies came to check up on their buddies, who were busy at work, and stood reasonably confused. 'What are you doing? The job’s not finished yet, we’re only getting started here,' they said. And to that, the cruleans merely answered, 'don't kick the sleeping dogs, and easy comes, easy goes.' They refused to take one step further. But the cirelo, they were up for a fight. That's what they came for in the first place: revenge. 'So be it’, they said, ‘but don't come begging us for more when we own everything'. And they kept on advancing, mile after mile, bent on reviving the past glory, and for a while, they kinda did.”

“Just for a while, then?”

“Yeah, as if it could last!” Riswelze gave up on keeping the suspense and smacked her knee. “The daemons were just taking a nap! I think everybody saw it coming, but really, what happened? The stories are kinda vague about how it went down. But despite all the huff and puff, the avengers got chased out for the second time. It didn’t end well for anybody. A few tribes bet their everything and went extinct on that trip. Ultimately, all the cirelo were left with was the small plot of Ledarnia on the coast southeast. They dug into a valley between rocky mountains and the sea and held it, determined to fight to the last pointy-ears. And somehow, they're still there, in that crude vale, two hundred years later. Though the losses were...maybe not entirely worth it.”

“Sucks, but that went by the book,” Izumi said. “So I take it they're pretty strong then, these daemons?”

“Why do you think humans got left out of the alliance? Waste of space. You saw the elf guy. The cirelo are pretty tough, tough enough to take a sword in the face and walk it off, but clearly not tough enough. So we poor little people don’t have much of a shot in those games.”

“That makes this Amarno a no-go zone then?” Izumi rubbed her chin. “I've been trying to come up with a travel plan, but without even a map, it's easier said than done. I could miss important timed events if I roam around at random. How many continents are there, anyway? Yule told me not all of this world is even mapped yet.”

“Humans live mainly here in Noertia,” Riswelze explained, counting with her fingers. “Some folks live also in Estua in the south, where the merchant came from, though that's generally considered a big island. Then there's also the Northern Continent and—Aah, ask somebody else. I'm no geography professor, ma'am.”

“Didn't go to school, huh?”

“Screw that. I know enough, don't you think? What’s the point of traveling anyway? Just stick to where people live and you’ll be safe. Can’t make money elsewhere.”

“Setting aside the problem of money," Izumi said, "you won’t become a hero if you play it safe.”

“What do you mean, a hero? Oh, whatever. If it's maps you want, I bet these guys have a plethora of them.” Riswelze nodded towards the tents behind. “Though they might not be too willing to share.”

“Hmm...” Izumi glanced at the tents as well, lost in thought.

“...Don’t tell me you’re actually thinking about stealing from these people? Professional advice: forget it. Not worth it.”

“That’s not what I have in mind,” Izumi denied. “That spring of youth thing—sounds like it could be real, after all. Maybe I could actually get young again?”

“Maybe, if you can beat them to it. They might be miserly with their maps, but this is something else. The Imperials get their hands on the magic juice first and no one else will see any of it.”

“Well, competitions are always fun.”

“I don’t think 'fun' is the word I’d use here...”

“——!”

Suddenly, as the two were immersed in this exchange, a melodic whistle sounded in the air.

It was a bit too loud and consistent to belong to a bird.

That seemingly innocuous sound elicited an immediate reaction in the Imperial camp. It was an alarm signal by a watchman, indicating that something suspicious was approaching. Even those with soup left in their bowls set aside their spoons, put on their helmets, and rushed to take their predesignated positions.

Seeing their rush, Izumi and Riswelze left to look for Yuliana as well.

It was already afternoon, but the frail sunlight failed to warm up the land and the damp mist still hung persistently over the fields in the form of a pale fog.

The camp was set deliberately by the road so that the knights could easily inspect anyone approaching Varnam. This was not about to be a routine inspection, however. Following exemplary discipline, the knights adopted a fan-like formation, those with tall shields and spears at the front and archers in the back. Their meticulous preparations might have looked blown out of proportion to a layman, but it wasn't any simple bandit they were expecting either. The watchman wouldn't have alarmed the camp over any generic merchant wagon or a beggar. They'd been instructed to give the signal only when detecting something clearly out of the ordinary.

“What is it?”

Commander Miragrave took her position at the center of the formation, where she could easily observe and control the situation, accompanied by Yuliana and the Court Wizard. As a non-combatant, Vizier Attiker wisely chose to remain further back behind the knights. Though Izumi wanted to get a better view, Yuliana gestured for them to remain where they were, near the Vizier.

“A single man on foot,” a Lieutenant reported the sighting. “Armed and armored. No identifying insignia, behaves oddly. Wouldn't respond when hailed.”

“On foot...” the Colonel repeated. “Surely this knight did not walk through the principality. Archers, get ready.”

The bowmen picked arrows from their quivers and drew their bows, eyes fixed on the road up ahead.

“The stories say that daemons have hides harder than iron,” Yuliana noted. “Is that true? Will simple bows be enough?”

“Simple bows, but not simple arrows,” Miragrave answered her. “Heads forged of dimeritium, engraved with the Rune of Immolation. They penetrate two inches of steel and set ablaze anything they strike. And daemons have a weakness for fire. Each one costs a fortune to produce, but not even a God would walk away from a direct hit. Now quiet.”

Everyone waited with baited breath.

Waited.

And waited.

Nothing moved in the mist.

It was starting to seem like the whole alarm had been a prank or a misunderstanding. But just as Izumi thought that, her eyes picked up movement in the distance.

Some two hundred feet away, a vague man's figure slowly emerged from the fog. He walked slowly, dragging his feet, either exhausted or wounded. Several times, he stumbled on the coarse path, and nearly fell. As the stranger came closer, everyone could see he was a knight in a deep blue uniform, his head bare and bloodied.

“It can't be...” At the sight of the uniform, Yuliana drew a sharp breath.

“Halt!” When the unknown knight came close enough to be seen in detail, one of the watchmen called out. “In the name of his Imperial majesty, stop where you stand!”

Still the man staggered on, searching for the source of the voice with his confused gaze. It seemed he hadn't noticed the interception yet.

“STOP! IF YOU VALUE YOUR LIFE, STOP!” The order was repeated, louder.

It was then that the man saw the crowd of knights blocking the road and stilled in dismay. He was now close enough for everyone to see his dirtied face. And, identifying the man beyond any doubt now, Yuliana failed to hold her voice,

“Brian!”

She wasn't mistaken. It was none other than Sir Brian Mallory, the Langorian knight they had met only yesterday. Alone, without his helmet or his squad, the man’s reappearance here was as ghastly as it was unexpected.

“Y-your highness…?” hearing her voice, the man took a step forward.

“STOP!” the Imperial knight hollered again.

The archers strained their bowstrings, awaiting the killing order.

“Tell them to hold fire!” Yuliana turned to Miragrave. “I know this man! He's a knight officer from my kingdom, sent by my father—”

“—Quiet! Stand back!” the Colonel swiftly silenced the princess and gestured her to keep behind. “Not another word. Daemons have the ability to assume the form of anyone they've met. It is too soon to tell if he's what he appears to be!”

“That's…!”

Miragrave took a step forward and shouted,

“Soldier! State your name and rank!”

“I...Who is this...?” Brian called back.

“I ask the questions!” Miragrave roared. “Name and rank! Do you wish to get shot?”

“I am...I am Brian Mallory of the Langorian Royal Army, Captain,” he answered with hesitation. “I was...sent on a classified mission, to retrieve her highness. A task which I abandoned of my own volition, to help her...I've no more ties to my fatherland. I'm not your enemy. Please...”

“It's him,” Yuliana desperately appealed. “It's all true. On my honor, it's him.”

“Damn it, anyone could learn that by torture,” the commander wasn't so easily convinced. “Ask him something only he and you will know.”

Yuliana desperately thought for a moment, shaking her head,

“Um, your birthday!” she finally raised her voice. “When is your birthday?”

“Th...the twenty-first of Lenzith,” the man answered.

“It's correct,” Yuliana confirmed.

“Too basic!” The Colonel snapped. "Ask him something harder! A memory only you two share!”

“I—I don't know him that well!” the princess cried. "We were cadets together, but in different units and I never pried into his private life...I can't think of anything that I could be sure of, please spare him!”

“Yornwhal?” Miragrave turned her attention from Yuliana to the magician.

The Court Wizard answered with a helpless shrug,

“The attire he wears is genuine steel and cloth, not an illusion or mimicry, that much is certain. The blood on his face is human blood, whether his own or not. I don't perceive any malice or bloodthirst from this man. Beyond that, your guess is as good as mine.”

“Don't be daft, Miragrave!” Vizier Attiker was losing his patience as well. “Daemons are beasts! They do not speak! Will you have to kill the poor bastard before you're satisfied?”

“...Yornwhal, can you quell the flames if we shoot his leg?”

“The fire of Yodith? Not even a God could!”

“Master!” It was getting too much for Yuliana to bear. “He’s an innocent man! You're making a mistake!”

“...”

Commander Miragrave shifted her gaze from Yuliana to the exhausted knight on the road and thought for a moment.

Then, she finally said,

“Daemon impersonation is never perfect. They do not understand our anatomy. There will be something missing, a body part, a toe, a finger, an ear—it will expose him.” She then raised her voice and ordered poor Sir Mallory. “Soldier, strip!”

“What was that?” Brian was visibly confused.

“I said, strip! Take off your clothes! Your armor! Your weapon! All of it and throw them away! Be quick or you will have an arrow in your eye and another where the sun won't shine!”

Shaken and confused, but with no other choice, the Langorian knight started to unbuckle his utility belt and threw it away together with his sword. Then the chestplate. The shinguards. His surcoat, the boots, the shirt, and the trousers...

“Yes, I said all of it!” the Colonel answered to the knight's questioning gesture. He was down to his cotton underwear, his muscular upper body, arms, and legs fully bared, but was shown no mercy.

“Javiése, woman!” the Vizier swore and shook his head, still convinced that daemons couldn't even understand speech and it was all senseless horseplay.

But Miragrave Marafel wouldn't relent.

Soon enough, the man stood fully naked before the scrutinizing gazes of the hundred knights, his princess, and the other bystanders. Feeling deeply sorry for the comrade she had first abandoned and now led to this disgrace, Yuliana bashfully looked away.

“Turn around! Until I say stop,” the Colonel instructed the Langorian. “Slowly! No sudden moves!”

As Brian kept turning around, his arms raised, everyone could count his toes, fingers, ears, and other parts prominent on the human body, and note that none were missing. While he had blood splatters on his face, he didn't seem to be seriously wounded. No matter how you looked at him and from which angle, he was a regular—if not above average—human male, who had taken good care of his mortal shell.

“Satisfied?” Brian asked after the eighth turnaround, sounding fairly frustrated with the examination. At this point, he was probably starting to think that being shot might not have been all that bad.

“Well, he does seem to be sufficiently...equipped, for a man,” the commander noted and nodded to her attendant. The Lieutenant, in turn, shouted to his colleague from another kingdom,

“You may get dressed! But leave your weapons and armor!”