1

The sky in the far east had brightened up considerably by the time the company reached the woodcutter's outpost, making it some time between four and five in the morning. The trip had taken them considerably longer than expected by the more optimistic plans, but everyone greeted the sunrise mostly with sincere relief and gratitude. No one had expected a good night's sleep in the first place. There was a lot of work to be done before any rest was possible.

Izumi had expected to see something like a small village, and while her expectations were technically met, the sight awaiting at the destination was also a bit of a letdown.

No one lived at the outpost on a permanent basis, so it was presently vacant.

The locals would stay here sporadically when their quest for income took them too far from Varnam to return home for the night. They would also make something of a pilgrimage to the outpost twice a year, the headman explained; in the spring, to pray Lord Matheus for a plentiful harvest; and again in the fall, to thank him for giving it.

Along a wide green slope stood a group of brown-painted little cabins, a dozen of them, in two lines. To the right from the cabins, a short distance away, was a larger storage shed where tools, carriages, blankets, spare food, and such was kept. The back half of the elongated building was crammed full with copious amounts of firewood. On the opposite side, across the slope, was a building of roughly the same size as the shed, with a stone-made base. It was a stable with room for around fifty horses and a stock of dry hay and grain.

Behind all these buildings, further up the slope, was a more refined, two-story cottage, intended for communal gatherings. In the space between the cottage and the cabins was also a round well with a simple pump installed. The outpost was encircled by a simple, weather-worn roundpole fence. Its purpose was clearly more to hold the domesticated animals in, rather than to keep any dangerous wildlife out. Either the locals depended on the Divine Lord to protect them, or else there really was nothing to fear in this area.

Nearby trees around the slope had been felled, providing everyone with much-desired open air, following the suffocating forest march. Towering northwest behind the buildings, dominating the view, was a bare, rocky hill. It was perhaps as high as thirty-five feet, with a narrow footpath going up its steep sides.

The Imperial company gathered in form before the houses and dismounted. A quick head count had been carried out after the river episode, but they now did it again in better lighting.

The result didn't turn out any less miserable.

“One hundred and twenty-five set out from Varnam,” Miragrave grimly summarized. “Now we are ninety-four. Six locals and twenty-five of my knights are missing. Thirty-seven horses. One wagon in its entirety. What was in that wagon, Captain?”

“Ma'am, the tents, mainly,” the knight answered. “Heaters, tables, chests, command materials, documents, maps...that sort of thing.”

“So nothing crucial to our survival?” the Colonel sighed. “The silver lining in a shitty cloud. Take ten volunteers and a cart, and retrieve what you can.”

“Very well. Shall we look for survivors in the woods?”

His reflexive, otherwise perfectly natural question caused a strange reaction. The commander glanced at the crowd of knights, before sternly replying,

“...You know the answer to that, Captain.”

Realizing his mistake, the knight's figure tensed.

“Yes, ma'am!”

“Company.”

The troops straightened at the Colonel's address.

“You see houses before you but there's no time to recall your mother's cooking. No matter how it looks, this is a war zone you tread—treat it as such. You've already witnessed some of the perils that Felorn has to offer, and paid dearly for it. Do not let down your guard. The squad leaders will schedule the guard shifts and then come inspect the grounds with me. The rest of you, take a break. Have breakfast and gather your strength. It has been a long night and it will be a longer day still. But this is our home now. No one, not the woodland spirit or the goddess of ill fortune, will take it from us. And mark my words: before the day is over, this humble home of ours will be made a castle.”

2

For the adventurers, the morning passed swiftly if uneventfully. Unwitting Izumi was recruited by the supply squad to help heat and hand out food to the line of hungry soldiers. Yuliana, who had found dry spare clothes to change into, helped as well, as did Riswelze, albeit to a notably lesser extent.

Brian, who had nearly drowned and remained listless, joined the injured at the freshly set up field hospital. He didn't need to feel lonely. In addition to those from the unicorn encounter, there were several more knights who had suffered injuries, concussions, broken bones, or other debilitating ailments in the chaos at night. There were also those who had been too long in the water and had mild hypothermia, as well as a few who had been exposed to basilisk venom and felt sick. The old wizard Yornwhal assisted the army medics by mixing medicine from his supply of herbs, set bones, and cast what few restorative spells he knew. Sadly, healing was an exceedingly rare potential and weak in humans, but he still became a lifesaver to many, and no more knights exited the mortal realm that day.

The leaders took residence in the main cottage, while the Varnamians had to content with the smaller cabins. Once the day had brightened up enough and everyone had had a warm meal, the Colonel called the knight officers and the woodcutters together, and the group went on a tour around the slope to plan their protections.

“As I thought, the fence is useless. I want a proper palisade,” Miragrave made her request to the locals. “All the way around the camp. At least twelve feet high, sharpened ends. Two exits, no more. The main one there, on the road, and a smaller one over there, uphill.”

“A palisade?” the headman, Holms, repeated. “And that high? For what? I've told you there are no basilisk nests or other dangerous animals here. Are you expecting a bandit raid? No other people ever come here either.”

“If only it were snakes and bandits we needed to worry about,” Miragrave replied. “Leave the whys to me, Holms. I'd prefer two layers, but it has to be ready by nightfall, so we'll have to make do with one for now and fortify it after. And guard towers, three of them. One southeast, near the gate, one west, around here, where we stand, and one in the northeast, near the second exit. Then we should have every angle covered. The hill shields us northwest.”

Holms wasn't particularly inspired.

“All that, by nightfall—with all due respect, Colonel, you ask the impossible! Do you have any idea how many trees that will take? Building such a fortress would take a week! Three days in the very least.”

But the commander wasn't hearing it.

“You have a hundred able volunteers to help you. Make it happen, Holms. And that is only for the starters. I also want a moat dug outside the palisade. At least six feet wide. As deep as you can make it. Spiked, of course.”

“Colonel…!”

“You don't like my requests? Would you perhaps prefer to have Attiker plan our defenses instead? If so, you'll soon find yourself tasked with building walls of ebony that reach the heavens and towers out of ivory. I think my wants are still relatively grounded.”

“Damn it...” the woodcutters were on the verge of tears. “Why didn't we listen to the elder…!”

“Too late for regrets now,” Miragrave showed them no pity. “It is your own protection you're building here, gentlemen. Do try to make it last—better than your bridges.”

In the locals' defense, regardless of their personal feelings regarding the job and its sensibility, they were still dutiful, hard-working men and got to business without delay. Since ancient times, people of the land would put their minds to manual labor to escape the hardships of everyday life, and so they did now as well. They quickly pooled their knowledge together and brainstormed the most efficient way to get the project underway. Then, they divided their knight assistants into groups and educated each group on the finer details of their respective tasks. After another hour, the sound of dozens of axes chopping wood could be heard everywhere in the vicinity.

Left idle, Yuliana took the chance to get some rest after the tiresome journey.

A knight she may have been, but with “princess” for another title, being excused from hard work was a given. Still, there was no way Yuliana went to bed willingly. It was a rather absurd concept for a prisoner to willingly work for her captors, but neither was it in Yuliana's character to relax while others toiled. Nevertheless, as the young woman could barely keep on her feet anymore, everyone insisted that she retired.

The cabin closest to the cottage was dedicated to the princess and her companions. The inside of the cabin was only a single room with four basic bunk beds. No mattresses, sheets, covers, or pillows, not one blanket, such were all up to the visitors to bring. No drawers, closets, chairs or tables either, only one tiny window. It was a basic shelter for spending a night in the wild, nothing more.

Still, as far as it was from royal standards, it didn't take Yuliana long to fall deep into slumber. She'd been given a tough travel mattress and a woolen blanket from the Imperials' supplies. Equipped with those and her own rolled-up cloak for a pillow, she was out like a candle within seconds.

Used to pulling all nighters for online events, Izumi didn't feel particularly tired after just one sleepless night. More like, she was tired all the time and had simply grown to tolerate it. Not that she had done anything particularly strenuous so far either.

The earthling soon regretted not claiming otherwise, however, as the kitchen squad caught her again and she was stuck washing pots and barrels for the better part of the morning, then setting up the mobile kitchen, retrieving firewood for the stoves, and various other menial tasks.

Right as Izumi thought she was done and could slip away, it was already the time to get started with the lunch preparations. The supply wagon had to be unloaded as well and the more delicate foodstuffs stored where they wouldn't be exposed to excess heat and moisture.

“What kind of an 'adventure in another world' is this…!” Izumi bemoaned, hauling another sack of beans to the shed. “I've never had to work this hard in my life!”

Riswelze expressed no signs of weariness either, but neither could she be made to work. The assassin had already made use of her talents and disappeared. Who could tell where?

Izumi was left with no one to talk with. At least she had no time to feel bored. Compared to the night spent on the monotonous march, the work-laden day went by uncannily quickly.

By this point, the sun had traveled a good distance on its road across the heavens and already neared the treetops on the opposing side of the slope. The palisade was also appearing around the outpost at a staggering rate, the moat-diggers following shortly behind it. Watching the men tirelessly at work, like a crowd of ants, Izumi could only shudder as she passed by.

“My, they sure are energetic. Did something nice happen?”

She stepped in the shady storage building through the low doorway and looked around.

Sunlight poked in through the countless small cracks and branch holes on the walls, but no other light sources were available, and it took a moment for Izumi's eyes to adapt. The Imperials' supply bags, barrels, and crates already occupied most of the floor space, in tall piles that reached the low ceiling.

“Where am I going to fit this?” Izumi pondered aloud, as was her bad habit, with the heavy sack in her arms. “Heeey! Where do you want your beans? What, no one's here? Don't yell at me then if I put them somewhere you can't find them.”

She marched to the back of the shady room, threw the sack on top of a pile that still had space left and turned to leave.

That was as far as she could get.

Someone suddenly jumped out from the narrow crack behind the crates by the wall, and forcibly pushed Izumi into the corner, out of sight. The woman ended up pinned against the dusty wall, her assailant pushing tightly against her. Getting unexpectedly assaulted by a pervert should've been a distressful situation to anyone, but before disgust or fear, Izumi mainly felt confused.

For a knight, her attacker was oddly short and lightweight.

“W-what? Yule?” By the silky hair, she recognized the person holding her. “Weren't you supposed to be sleeping...?”

The girl stood up on her toes, coiled her slender arms around the woman's neck and pulled her closer. Feeling Yuliana's face approach hers—now was the time for Izumi to get distressed.

“Eeh! A-aren't we bold today...?” she squirmed in the girl's hold, trying weakly to pull away. “I took you more for the romantic type...Is such a place really fine with you? I probably stink pretty bad too. I may not look like it, but I still have some dignity as a woman, you know...!?”

Yuliana said nothing. It was a bit strange how quiet she was.

Then, Izumi noticed there was a mysterious, unearthly shine in the princess's eyes, visible even in the dark. Instead of their usual, gentle lavender hue, her eyes glittered with an inhuman sheen of gold. Besides the odd light in her gaze, the look on the girl's face was vacant and emotionless.

Yuliana leaned on to bring her mouth closer to the woman's ear and whispered,

“Be quiet and listen to me, Itaka Izumi.”

Though the voice was Yuliana’s, the unsympathetic, commanding tone wasn’t like her at all.

“Eh, Ai-chan...?” Izumi realized it was the Divine spirit speaking through her vessel by some magical means. “What are you doing? You’ve moved on from a bunk-crasher to a molester?”

“Silence,” Aiwesh said. “Do not speak. Do not move. Do not think. Only listen.”

“Hm?”

“I want you to take my vessel and leave,” the spirit said. “Flee this place, without delay. Before their wall is completed and your chances lost with it, you have to run. Run, as far as you can make it. Do not let yourself be seen. Take no one else. Hint to no soul of your intentions. Kill any who might resist. Steal a horse and run. Do you understand?”

“Why…?”

Without answering, Aiwesh let go of Izumi and retreated.

Mouthing only, “before dark”, she turned and left the shed.

“What's up with her? Hay fever?” Left alone once more, Izumi scratched her neck in confusion. “Stealing a horse...That's a lot easier said than done, you know? I don't even know how to ride one.”

3

A short while after Izumi's divine revelation, the salvage squad dispatched to the river returned. Not only had they loaded their cart full of items retrieved from the sunken wagon, they had found three surviving horses near the road too. The knights had seen no basilisks and were so able to complete their mission without casualties, earning themselves a five-star rating by any standards.

Yet, for some reason, the Colonel was anything but pleased.

As soon as she saw the horses, Miragrave's face turned pale and startled. Overcoming the initial surprise, she strode to the Captain and seized him by the surcoat lapel, her brow contorted in anger.

“What did I tell you about survivors, you fool of a man!”

Having never witnessed such an outburst from his leader before, the man wavered,

“Ma'am, I did not think—”

“—Clearly, you didn't!” she cut him off. “Take them somewhere no one can see and put them down. Two arrows each. Five men with you, one with a whistle ready. Do it. And for your own sake, pray I'm wrong about this.”

The Colonel shoved the man away and turned to return to the cottage.

“Yes, ma'am...” Looking sourly after her, the knight was clearly not too pleased with the order.

Anyone in Tratovia adored horses and these were magnificent animals. Not just any average stallion qualified as a mount for the Emperor's chosen elite and the man had been overjoyed to discover them alive. For the knights, their mounts were comrades, friends, family even. On top of that, the death sentence they were given was far from painless.

Regardless, there was no room left for objections. The Captain couldn't risk inspiring mutiny by challenging a direct order. Gritting his teeth, his fists clenched, he left to carry out the grievous task.

It was around this time that Yuliana woke up and discovered, to her confusion, that instead of sleeping inside, she stood fully dressed at the doorstep of her cabin.

“What was I doing…?”

It wasn't the first time she woke up in a different place with no memory of moving, and by now she could guess the reason as well. She also knew it was—if not sacrilegious—only meaningless to question the Divine's actions or demand an explanation.

Since she didn't feel particularly tired anymore, Yuliana decided to go pay the commanders a visit and ask her past friend and mentor about the Imperials' plans.

There was no one guarding the cottage's entrance at this busy time, so Yuliana was able to go straight in. But, perhaps her timing had been poor. As soon as she stepped in, voices of argument reached the princess's ears.

After the front door, there was a little entry room with dressers and a staircase to the second floor. Down in the back were two doors, of which the left one had been left slightly open. That was where the voices were coming from. Discreetly moving closer, Yuliana brought her ear closer to the opening and listened.

—“Don't you think you owe me an explanation, Marafel?” the Vizier's voice spoke. “What was that drama about? And earlier at the river? Why did you make such a show of valuing the dimeritium over the men's lives, right in front of their faces? It's like you want them to rebel? I can't believe you'd be that stupid.”

There was no answer and Attiker soon carried on.

“And now you say you're only willing to send out an expedition of twenty men tomorrow? Why only two archers? I can't agree with that. Once the wall is up, twenty is more than enough to defend the outpost itself—provided there's even anything to defend against. You'd have sixty healthy men sit here, idle and irritable? It's a waste. Waste of men and waste of time. They should all be dispatched to search. If we send out more scouts, we can cover a wider area at once and our chances of locating the spring in a timely manner increase dramatically. And in turn, it will reduce the days we need to spend in these accursed woods. I can only express my thorough dissatisfaction with your methods.”

Again, a pause.

“What are you so afraid of?” he inquired. “Why are you so desperate to preserve our fighting strength? It's not because of the woods, is it? Don't tell me you still think the daemon is out there, stalking us? Have you lost it? It's dead. We saw the corpse with our own eyes. It's ashes. Dead.”

This time, the Colonel's voice replied,

“I do not take chances, Attiker. In case we are mistaken, those arrows are the only thing between us and certain death. Therefore, it is only rational that I would value them before any individual unit.”

“Nonsense! Even if we go by your paranoia, even if we assume the creature lives, give me one good reason why it would pursue us this far? Why would it hunt prey that fights back in such difficult and dangerous terrain, when there's an endless supply of much easier fodder all around? In Varnam, Luctretz…! No animal would do that! You're not being rational at all!”

“Daemons do not eat people, Attiker,” Miragrave answered. “They kill for sport. Why do you suppose there’s life left on the old continent? Because the goti's magic makes them untouchable? Because the cruleans' strength is so overwhelming? Because the cirelo have no match with the sword? No, Attiker. If that were all, Amarno would've been lost eight hundred years ago. Why did the daemons let the emiri flee and why did they allow them to come back? Because they wanted them to. Those abominations are drawn to conflict, like vultures to a reeking corpse. They don't want to simply kill us. No. They want to flaunt their supremacy in our faces as they slowly gut us. And it is precisely because we are willing to fight back that it will pursue us to the ends of the earth, if only it has caught wind of us.”

Silence ensued on the other side of the door.

Attiker's lowered voice broke it after a moment.

“I always took you for one those made wiser by the Ledarnia program. Seems I was too hasty in my judgment. You glorify animals and jump at shadows, pitiful woman. Tomorrow, you will deploy three squads for the spring. Fifty men. Try to bear with the loneliness.”

Miragrave sighed heavily, but wouldn’t argue back. Orders were orders.

Instead, she raised her voice to address someone else,

“Yes, Yuliana? What is it?”

The princess jumped at the mention of her name.

Hoping the embarrassed redness of her face wasn't too obvious, Yuliana pushed open the door and stepped into the room.

It was a large hall reaching from one wall of the cottage to the other, with a long dining table set in the middle. The table was made of the two conjoined halves of a single, massive tree. Instead of individual chairs, there were long benches fashioned in similar style, of smaller raw materials.

Over the table, various hand-drawn maps were spread out, illustrating the forest's topography.

“I'm terribly sorry to bother you,” Yuliana apologized as the Vizier glared at her. “As expected of master. What gave me away?”

“This old house isn't suited for sneaking around,” Miragrave, seated at the table, told her. “Not even Attiker's nagging could cover the boards' creaking. You dared to come in, so you're not a knight of mine. But unlike the locals, you obediently waited for your turn. As you always would when you were still following your father around.”

At those unexpected, nostalgic words, Yuliana bashfully looked down at her feet.

“You really don't miss anything.”

“Oh, I wish,” Miragrave wryly retorted. “Well? Is there anything I can do for you?”

Yuliana did her best to gather the composure befitting a member of royalty and answered,

“I'm sorry, but if it's not too much trouble, could you share your plans for the coming days. Do you truly think you can find this spring? There's a lot of ground to cover out there.”

“And how exactly will this information help you, your highness?” Attiker asked. “You may be our honorable guest, but this is a highly classified military operation we're talking about.”

“Yes, I’m sure the Langorians will snatch the recipe of immortality from right under our noses,” Miragrave remarked.

“You're being unprofessional, Colonel,” the man scolded her. “She was just caught eavesdropping and instead of having her locked up for spying, you want me to entertain her with an exhibition of confidential information? Am I the only one here with any semblance of common sense?”

“Yuliana is as much a spy as I a chef. And, speaking of common sense, perhaps having an outside opinion could help bring some to this wild goose chase of yours.”

The Vizier looked like he wanted to argue, but failed to find the words.

Instead, he ended up gesturing at the papers spread over the table.

“These are maps drawn by the Empire's remote viewers, adepts who claim to be able to perceive faraway locations and events, mostly through dreams. Oneiromancers, some also call themselves. His majesty has recently hired several, in order to locate ancient artifacts and relics of power on the continent. Of course, each viewer has had their abilities thoroughly tested. I've supervised the testing procedures myself and, like his majesty, have some faith in these adepts. Otherwise, we wouldn't be here. The maps have been sufficiently accurate so far and I see no reason to question their reliability. According to our sources, the spring of eternal youth, described in Agelaos's tale, is somewhere approximately thirty miles east from this settlement. The reports are not consistent regarding the exact position, but we've managed to narrow it down here.” He pointed at the map, marked with a large red circle. “There are no man-made roads beyond this outpost and the flora grows verdant, so the search will be slow. There is apparently also a swamp region between us and the place. While keeping a base camp here, we will send out scout teams and let them comb the target zone. Once they've confirmed the precise location, we have eight so far empty barrels waiting to be filled with the water from the life-giving well. After completing this simple task, we are home free. Unless commander here comes up with another excuse to needlessly prolong things. I would have preferred for the first squads to be deployed already today, but setting up these primitive fortifications apparently requires absolutely everyone.”

“Against your previous insinuation, I do value the well-being of my men,” Miragrave answered. “I will not send anyone into the night; the search will be carried out in daylight, so that the teams are back by dusk. I have every intention to ensure they have a place to return to as well. And no matter how they are elite, they are also mortals and need a night's rest before another harsh journey.”

“Yes, yes,” Attiker paced back and forth before the window in the back wall. “Our supplies last us for eight days. Maybe more, if we can catch anything edible in the wild. But the spring has to be found. Trust me, you do not want to return to his majesty empty-handed. He—is not known to appreciate failure.”

“Oh, I know,” the Colonel said. “Alas, what decides our success is ultimately not you nor I, or even his majesty, but the Darkwood. Will the forest pity us? Or will it not? And...No, I should not even speak it, lest it become real.”

Yuliana recalled the conversation before.

The daemon—was it still out there, spying their rising defenses even now from the cover of the trees? Patiently waiting for the opportune moment to attack and turn their excursion into a bloodbath? Yuliana's old teacher in Langoria had told her many terrible stories about the ill-fated elven crusade against the monsters of the lost continent. Those stories had kept her awake at night. She would've never imagined they could become reality.

As if the forest wasn't enough.

But the Vizier didn't seem troubled by the idea. He was convinced that deceased Baron of Eisley had been the monster in disguise.

Isn't that just what he wants to believe?

“Rest assured, your highness,” Attiker said. “I have faith in the accuracy of the maps. So long as Marafel's knights know how to read one, the search will be a short one. I have no doubt we'll receive the good news already by sunset tomorrow.”

“Wish I had half as much faith in your sleep-gazers as I do in my men,” Miragrave sourly commented. “They haven't told us the most important thing: is that spring really worthy of its name?”

“Impossible woman.” Attiker shook his head. “Once we have it, I will gladly toast of it to your good health—and to my own, of course. Actually, before some muddy rain water, I brought a bottle of most excellent brandy for the purpose. Now, excuse me, Colonel. Your highness. Nature calls.”

The ever-optimistic Vizier left the room.

Instead of leaving as well, Yuliana took a seat at the table, opposite of Miragrave.

“Forgive me, Yuliana,” the older woman said. “I know this is no place for a princess. And I fear things are not going to improve much from hereon.”

“No, I do not mind,” Yuliana replied. “Maybe it's a terrible thing to say, after what happened, but I do think it's a bit exciting, even. Back home, going fox-hunting or patrolling the highways was as adventurous as it would get for me. Even such simple things would seem thrilling and make me proud for facing my fears. Now, I only feel ashamed for my past self, for being so coddled. This is the actual world we live in. These are the kinds of dangers that soldiers out there must face each day, to preserve our way of life. I’m scared, of course. Sometimes it starts to seem like more than I can bear. But at the same time, I consider myself fortunate for being here to experience this. If I can make it through this alive, then perhaps I will have grown just a bit stronger as a person.”

At her words, Miragrave closed her eyes and smiled.

It was a bit sad, pained smile.

“What...?” Seeing it, Yuliana sullenly twisted her lips. That world-weary expression appeared to laugh at her naivety.

“I'm sorry,” the Colonel told her. “Sometimes, I just think you're too good for this world.”

“Eh...” Yuliana blushed, astonished.

“Yes, I've seen that innocence many times before, on the faces of aspiring cadets. And I've witnessed its loss equally many times, encroached by the atrocities that their hopeful eyes are made to witness. When we last met, I didn't expect you to follow in the footsteps of all those men and women I've sent to their graves. To be frank with you, as proud as it has made me, I also thought it was a tragedy. Is this also fate, I wonder?”

“Master...”

“I know this is selfish of me, but please—try not to lose that hopeful glimmer. No matter how dark the night, don't stop believing in the coming of another day. Do you think you can promise me that? Whatever you do, don't become like me.”

Yuliana was a bit saddened by her past idol's jaded words.

“When did you lose sight of it?” she asked. “However I look at it, it's still too early for you to be saying such things. You're here, you’re alive. You still have a long future ahead of you, Master. If you've lost your light, then let's try and find it together.”

“I appreciate the sentiment,” Miragrave told her. “But it's too late for me. I may have a future, but no faith in it. My hope, my light—I lost it in Ledarnia. Attiker is right. I was not made wiser by what I saw in that land. It made me mad. Mad, mad. I may yet draw breath, but at the same time, I am already dead. My days are numbered, spent only waiting for the inevitable. And it's close. It’s coming. I can feel it in my bones.”

Yuliana sat in silence, trying to imagine what kind of things the Colonel had been through.

She knew there was no way she could.

“Have you ever seen one before...a daemon?” she finally asked.

The Colonel didn't answer for a lengthy while.

Then, right as Yuliana was about to think she wouldn’t have a response, Miragrave spoke again.

“Earlier, I told you we send troops overseas to show them war. But that is a lie. What they have in Amarno is no war, not the way we understand it. And the cirelo never let the cadets anywhere near the places they know are dangerous. We walk the safe paths, in between their own patrols, like tourists. Never without supervision. Why, it goes without saying. We humans are too weak. They say no man has ever seen a daemon and lived. And they are right. Somehow carrying on, knowing you share the world with such beings...you can’t call it living.”

A distant look in her eyes, as if witnessing a scenery from years past drawn before her, Miragrave continued to tell her tale,

“It was late summer, the year 993. The second month of my deployment had just ended. No enemy sightings, as I wrote in my diary. The cadets were bored and irritable. We all felt deceived. We didn't go through excruciating training to become elites, and then spend a month at sea, just to stare at the ceiling of elven barracks. Well, I was not all that upset. I'd met someone. A young cirelo warrior. Young, I say—he was only twelve hundred years old. But he didn't look at me like I was a mindless pig in a uniform. He looked at me like I was three years old, yes—but with kindness. What else was I to him but an infant, barely able to walk? He brought me a sylerva flower once, a pure white one from the fields of Esthiln that no human has ever walked, and I was smitten. Before war and glory in battle, I found myself looking forward to our meetings. I even dreamed of spending the rest of my days there at the colony, as a maid, a slave, if he wouldn't have me for a wife.”

As sardonic as the Colonel's tone was, Yuliana couldn't help but smile at the heart-warming story.

“I was overjoyed on a day when he and I were assigned in the same patrol. Forty long miles to march in the jungle, together with the target of my affection. A dream come true. In my eyes, all dangers had but ceased to exist. I felt I could've easily felled a dragon with my bare hands. It had to be now or never. I decided to confess. And then, we found the body.”

On a tree by the path, deep in the jungle, a cirelo warrior had been impaled on a cut branch and gutted.

The body was still warm, the killer had to have been close by.

It shouldn't have happened. How had the monster gotten past all the barriers and watchers?

The patrol squad consisted of twelve human cadets and fifteen elven warriors. The humans were ordered to stay put and wait, while twelve of the warriors went to search the woods, three left to watch over the humans. The actual plan was to use the cadets as a bait, while the scouts encircled the area, waiting for the daemon to make its move. The cirelo were strong, fearless. But that day, luck was not on their side.

Miragrave started to feel sick. Maybe it was the fear and stress, maybe it was something in the jungle, something she had eaten. Either way, there was nothing she could do to hold it in.

The warrior she admired was among the guards left to watch over the cadets. A dangerous role, where the slightest distraction could result in death. Miragrave cursed her fragile human nature. She thought dying was better than showing that elegant warrior her weakness and repulsiveness, by vomiting and soiling herself at his feet.

She was sick and not thinking straight—so she kept telling herself.

And so she made her choice. Miragrave left the cadets and their guards and ran off into the jungle, heedless of the warning voices calling after her. They couldn't break up the formation and leave the dozen cadets to look for just one. She was certain to die, but in death spared of the shame.

After making it far enough, she stopped at the root of a great tree, emptied her stomach, and cried. Sick of fear, she waited for death to claim her at any moment, knowing how powerless she was to resist it.

Wolves would never miss a sheep so foolishly separated from the herd.

But daemons weren't wolves.

As nothing happened, Miragrave eventually overcame her dread and guilt. As her strength gradually returned, she made her way back towards the road. She was bound to be severely punished for her foolishness, but there was no avoiding it. Not like she could keep living in the jungle either.

But by the time she found the earlier place again, she found no one there.

They had given up on her and moved elsewhere while she was gone, it seemed.

As she stood in the jungle, tormented by crushing shame and despair, unsure of what to do next, Miragrave suddenly saw two cirelo warriors coming down the path.

The other was him, Thalinn. He had come back for her, after all. The sheer relief made tears stream down the young cadet's face. But right as she was about to call out to them, Miragrave saw another cirelo come running down the path from the opposing direction.

Why she hid herself instead of going to them, she couldn't understand.

Because she feared their anger? Perhaps. Either way, instead of calling out, she took cover behind the nearest tree and watched the warriors meet.

“Thalinn! Menelau!” the recently arrived greeted the other two. “Where are the humans?”

“Stop!” the other two raised their swords. “Why are you alone, Heleth?”

“By Inola and Galantea!” the third raised his arms. “I'm not the one! I got separated from Selgen on the way! Couldn't find him anywhere! I think the beast got him. We need to regroup!”

“Selgen already came back,” Menelau said. “He left back with Thorami and the humans. Said you were dead.”

“By the Divines it's not me! What do you want me to do, throw off my clothes?”

“What was the first thing your mother said when you were born?” Thalinn asked him.

“Why do you ask me that?” Heleth said.

“So that I will know if you're the one or not. Answer me.”

“You’re a dog! Of all the possible questions, you picked that? Very funny. Is there anyone in the world my brother hasn't told yet? Stop this. You know full well it is not me.”

“I don’t. Answer the question, Heleth,” Thalinn demanded.

Biting his lip, looking annoyed, Heleth looked around and said,

“'My luck ran out'.”

The other two laughed at the answer.

“It was because I was born too early and had a slightly blue complexion, okay? There was and is nothing wrong with me. Idiots.”

“Come on, don't get mad. Admit it's funny.”

Insulted, the one called Heleth walked past his comrades, swearing under his breath.

“I'm going after Selgen, this patrol is over.”

The lighthearted exchange had alleviated Miragrave's dread to the point that she felt it was fine to come out now. Stepping out from behind the tree, she looked at the three elves on the road and

——thought her heart was going to stop.

There was only one cirelo warrior on the path. Heleth.

The two behind him were neither elves nor humans, but something else.

Something not of this world.

Something that didn't belong anywhere in the universe.

Something that should have never been allowed to exist.

Something——dangerous beyond measure.

Miragrave’s senses left her.

She turned in her tracks and ran. She ran through the jungle, as fast as her legs could carry her. Without looking back, she ran and ran, thinking only about running, ran like mad even as damp leaves of the jungle whipped and cut her, in her sane moments thanking the sergeants who had made running a second nature for the recruits. She ran until finally having the tall walls of the pass of Ledarnia in view, and collapsed before them.

For a week, Miragrave hovered on the brink of consciousness, suffering from a high fever.

But, in the end, she lived.

If what she was left with could be called “life”.

Of the patrol squad that went out with her that day, of the cadets and their escorts, none were ever seen again. Not even their bodies could be found.

“To this day, one question has stayed with me, one word,” Colonel Miragrave ended her tale. “Why? Why did they let me go? The daemons' senses exceed those of humans or elves. Those monsters knew I was there, watching, they had to have known, the whole time. They showed themselves to me, and no human who has seen their true form has lived to tell the tale. Yet, I did. Because they allowed it. Of all the people in my squad, only I. Did they expect the citadel's guardians to dispose of me as a mimic? Or was the jungle to be my end, weak as I was, not even worth killing? Perhaps. But, at times a thought far worse comes to me. What if I was spared for a purpose? For a purpose so evil and manifold that it eludes my understanding. With dread, I find myself waiting for that time—the time when this purpose is finally revealed and I die, witnessing the ruination of all that I hold dear.”

It took a while before Yuliana regained her self-awareness.

The story had ended.

Was it just her imagination or had the temperature in the room dropped abruptly? She couldn't stop shivering and shuddered. The thought that such things could happen and were happening even now somewhere out there in the world left her dizzy, dazed. She had known there was a war being waged somewhere over the seas.

But exactly what kind of a war it was—she'd had no idea.

“My apologies for sharing such an unsavory story,” Miragrave stood and told her.

“Ah, no, thank you for telling me,” Yuliana hurried to say. “I...I’m grateful that you did.”

“Having a little princess look up to me with such respect warmed my heart as a young officer. It still does. But as you can see, I am not a woman worthy of anyone’s admiration. Only a weak, flawed, worthless human, the same as anyone else. If even that.” Though she said such self-deprecating words, there was an ironic smile on the Colonel's lips.

“Not at all!” Yuliana stood and said. “I can't even imagine what I would've done in such a situation! If anything, learning about what you went through, how you could survive such horror—it makes me respect you all the more!”

“Flattery won't get you anything,” Miragrave pretended to scold her, before turning to the window on the back wall. “As Attiker said, the odds of that thing pursuing us are virtually non-existent. You could say it is not even worth mentioning. If it were true, we'd already know. But I still want to prepare for every possibility, if I can. Such is the duty of a commander. Isn't that right, my foolish disciple?”

Looking back the Colonel, Yuliana straightened her posture, like a knight, and nodded.

“Yes!”

4

Considering her thirst for knowledge thoroughly sated and more, Yuliana bid the Colonel good night and left. The evening was still too young to go back to sleep, however, and so the princess decided to look for Izumi instead, to help with the kitchen work.

The setting sun was already fully masked by the canopies and the sky exhibited various tones of gold in the west; deep sea blue in the far east. The cabins' shadows were drawn long and black across the slope. The sound of axes could be heard no more, only the dull banging of hammers in their stead. It seemed that the sufficient materials to complete the wall had been gathered.

Looking at the brand new palisade line run behind the shed brought an undeniable boost to the sense of security in Yuliana's heart. As brave as she tried to be on the outside, the truth was that she feared the forest and all the unknown creatures that could lurk therein. Being from a big city, there was no way she could be at ease in the heart of untamed wilderness. The Colonel's story had made her even more paranoid than before and she kept getting goosebumps as she made her way down the slope, watchful of every shadow.

As Yuliana passed the third cabin on the way down towards the field kitchen, a voice startled her.

“—Yulia!” someone called her in a hushed tone.

The princess looked left and saw Brian Mallory crouched behind the corner of the cabin. He quickly beckoned her to come closer.

“Brian?” She was astonished to see him up and about so soon. “What are you doing? Shouldn't you be resting?”

“I'm fine,” he told her. “There was never anything wrong with me. I feigned sick so that they'd let their guard down. As soon as the old man left, I took off. We need to get out of here.”

“Out?” Yuliana repeated in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“Not here. Come.”

Peeking around the corner, to make sure no one was around, the knight led the princess behind the stables, where they were better shielded from prying eyes, before explaining himself.

“These people are out of their minds,” Brian said to her. “Daemons? Spring of everlasting youth? None of that is real! This isn't going to end well for anybody. Never mind the spring, I'm not going to let them take you back with them to the Empire. We both know you won't be the guest of honor in there. We have to escape. Now, while we still can.”

“Escape?” Yuliana repeated, stunned. “But how would you even…?”

“I saw the knights put down two horses a short distance outside,” Brian explained. “Not all of them. The Captain couldn't bring himself to kill the third. He let it run. But it’s not going to go far, being so used to people. If we can find it, we'll be halfway to Varnam by the time they even realize we're gone.”

“But there are soldiers everywhere,” Yuliana said. “We're not going to slip by them so easily.”

“See that cliff?” Brian nodded at the tall hill behind the outpost. “They're building the palisade there last. There's nobody on that side right now, minimum guards. We circle around the hill to the meadow. Then find the horse and ride out of here.”

“What about the river?” she asked.

“We'll look for a shallow spot downstream,” he answered. “It’s easy. Come on. It has to be now. We won’t get another opportunity as good as this. Once the wall’s made, we’re trapped in here, at their mercy. As if the Empire knows any!”

“Wait, I can't just...” Yuliana shook her head, overcome with odd reluctance. “What about my friends? What will happen to them when the Imperials find that we’ve left?”

“The horse can't carry more than two,” Brian said. “They’d slow us down. It’ll be all right. They will say they didn't know anything, which will be true. No harm's going to come to them. It’s not them they want. It’s you, Yulia. That’s why, you have to leave.”

“I—I still don’t think it’s a good idea...”

“Yulia!” Brian seized her shoulder and shook the girl. “Get real! Remember who you are! You're not one of them. We need you, your own people need you. You heard the Vizier, these assholes are going to start a war. Against us! Somebody has to warn the King! And who would, if not you?”

“I know, but...”

“Come on.” Brian wasn’t listening. For him, the choice was obvious. “They'll find us if we hang here for too long. It’s now or never.”

Crouched, the knight left running up the hill, towards the hill in the north.

I can't go—Yuliana wanted to say.

How could she abandon Izumi and Riswelze? Well, never mind Riswelze, but could she turn her back on Izumi? Her mission to save the world? Would she betray the trust of Miragrave, her old friend? Were not the Imperials human beings equal to her own, with their own noble dreams and aspirations? Surely they could be reasoned with. She should go to the Emperor and negotiate, perhaps the war could still be stopped before it would ever happen.

Remember who you are.

At the same time, those words had been like a slap in her face.

How many times had the princess’s good intentions failed her in the past week alone?

How many times had her naivety nearly cost everything?

Save the world? By herself? It was obviously impossible. Had not her courage nearly failed at the mere mention of daemons? Innumerable such creatures stood between her and the distant Trophaeum at world’s edge. And she would turn the Emperor's head? When she couldn't even convince simple brigands to change their ways? For how long was she going to keep living in dreams?

I have to look at reality.

What was she doing now? Why was she gladly working with the Imperials, as if she had already joined them? Was not every moment she spent in their company an act of treason against her own kindred? Her father would certainly find it so. What reason had she to linger? Yuliana cared little for the spring of eternal youth. Yet, the danger of them all dying in Felorn was real. Who could measure the Divine Lord's wrath and tell where it ended? After a unicorn and basilisks, what would be next? On top of external threats, Yuliana hardly felt at home in a camp full of foreign men either. Her revolting treatment at Haywell villa was yet all too fresh in her memory.

What is the right thing for me to do? I don’t know. I don't know…!

Brian Mallory was her brother-in-arms. They had known each other for years. Wasn't he her only true ally in this place? They had to escape, ride back home. Yuliana would apologize to her father. She would warn him about the Empire's plans, of the Emperor's quest for the places of power. She had to warn them about the possibility of a daemon too. She would be at home again and all would be well, this journey of horrors but a bad memory.

Thinking rationally, if a side had to be taken, could there be any question as to which one?

The day she was born as the princess of Langoria, that choice had been made for her—her own personal wishes had nothing to do with it.

Izumi could take care of herself. Riswelze too.

They didn't need her, as was made evident at every turn. Wasn’t she only dead weight to those talented adventurers, an ever-nagging obstacle to their respective dreams. They didn’t care about saving the world, and Yuliana didn’t care about gold, they had been destined to part from the beginning. Rather, removing the princess from the picture was surely only a relief for the both of them. She was wasting her time here, while her family and people were anxiously waiting for her return.

I'm sorry—I'm so sorry!

Biting her lip, Yuliana made up her mind and chased after Brian.

There was a gap in the shabby, old fence, next to the cliff, with two Imperials posted to watch it. Under the heat of the sunny, uneventful day, they had removed their helmets, which they now used as seats while absorbed in a casual conversation.

The nonchalant air was deceitful. Both men remained mindful of their surroundings, giving a discreet glance down the slope every once in a while. If anything emerged from the woods, it wouldn’t go unnoticed.

But they probably weren't expecting an attack from the outpost behind them...

“What are we going to do?” Yuliana whispered to Brian, lying flat on her stomach in the tall grass beside him.

“Leave it to me,” Brian answered and lifted himself to move out. The animosity about the man was palpable.

“Don't kill them!” the girl stopped him by the arm and requested.

“...I'll see what I can do.”

Brian advanced in the cover of the grass, crawling closer towards the guards like a lion. The wind rustled the treetops, creating enough background noise to cover his movements. Once he had made it sufficiently close, he suddenly sprang up and dashed straight at the knights.

“Hey!” The first one to notice him was the knight sitting further back.

The second, alarmed by the astonished expression of his comrade, jumped up to his feet and turned around, grabbing his spear. But Brian was already too close. Picking up the man's helmet off the ground, he whacked the knight on the side of the head, knocking him out.

The second knight had more time, but the Langorian didn't waste the element of surprise. He threw the helmet at the man. The knight reflexively shielded himself, which allowed Brian to slip past him. Without armor himself, he had the advantage in mobility. He caught the Imperial in a chokehold, squeezing his windpipe shut. The knight struggled in vain. His oxygen supply efficiently cut, he blacked out in a matter of seconds.

The way was clear.

Quickly dragging the unconscious knights off the path, hiding them in the grass, Brian waved at Yuliana to follow.

“Let's go.”

“Well, someone's had practice,” the princess said. “Were you always this quick with your moves?”

“Special forces,” the man shrugged. “I didn't get sent after you just for my good looks.”

The pair made it to the base of the hill undetected. All around grew smaller trees and thick bushes, providing natural and effective cover from view. There was a path going up the hillside clockwise, but they didn't follow it. Instead, the two started to slowly circle the hill the opposite way. Every once in a while, they paused and waited in the undergrowth, listening, in case an outer patrol happened to pass by.

None did.

In a short while, they had made it around to the backside, with the high hill between them and the outpost’s watchers, and could sigh in relief. With almost anticlimactic ease, they had escaped and were free to head home.

“You all right?” Brian asked the princess.

“Yes, I'm fine,” Yuliana replied, forcing a smile to hide her regrets. “Why, Sir Mallory, I keep getting rescued by you at every turn. How many times is it now? It is a lot of favors to return.”

“I haven't kept count.” He shrugged. “Besides, you saved me from becoming barbecue at Varnam, so I'd say we're even.”

“And you saved me from the unicorn.”

“I think we owe that one mostly to your friend.”

“Ah, yes...” Yuliana's expression clouded.

“Who is she anyway? She looks like a housemaid, yet carries that huge sword around. Made short work of those basilisks.”

“...Just a mercenary,” the girl answered. “From some place afar.”

“That so?” Brian recognized it wasn't a topic worth pursuing, instead patting the princess on the back. “I'm sure she'll be fine. By what I've seen, she knows how to look after herself. Let's keep moving. We have to find the horse before nightfall.”

“Yes, you're right.”

“I saw it run this way,” the man said. “It's been a while, it'll probably come back the same way once it gets hungry. Come.”

“Look out!”

There was a little glade behind the hill, between the southern corner of the outpost and the edge of the woods. Glancing over the field, Yuliana noticed a patrol of three knights coming from the road’s direction. She quickly tackled Brian and both fell amid the bushes, out of sight. The princess ended up laying on top of the soldier, faces awkwardly close, but neither dared to move so that the swaying of the grass wouldn't have exposed them.

“Hey, did you see that?” They heard a voice speak in the distance.

“See what?” another responded.

“...I could swear there was someone standing there just a moment ago, near where that trench goes.”

“Oh, not you too! I've been hearing shit like that all day! It's starting to get on my nerves.”

“Shit like what?”

“People seeing things that are there in one moment and gone in the next. As if! That's just your eyes playing tricks on you. Who'd be standing there, in the middle of nowhere? Think. There are no people in these woods.”

“I wasn't dreaming it!”

“You know, the human eye has this funny way of picking out familiar forms in otherwise meaningless patterns. Some rocks and flowers might look like a sitting man in the corner of your vision, and when you look closer, there's actually nothing. It’s called pareidolia. See, mind tricks.”

“No, that's horse shit. Did you make that up on your own?”

“Reminds me of what Elric was saying before. Claimed he saw a 'cute brown girl' walking near the shed earlier in the day. He even called out to her, but the girl disappeared around the corner. So he went chasing after her, and when he stepped around the corner—surprise, nothing there. He even climbed up to the roof and all, found no trace of her. Disappeared right into thin air. He was pretty freaked out about it.”

“Haha, fantasizing about brown girls now, that guy...He’s always like that.”

“It's way too soon to be seeing visions!”

“Yeah. Remember that boot camp at Fastina? Where folks didn't sleep for a week straight. A mate said he spoke with pink oliphants one night. They kept him awake at guard, told him jokes.”

“Hahaha, oh shit, that's bad!”

The voices remained stationary, absorbed in the conversation.

“What are we going to do?” Yuliana asked. “There are three of them and we're unarmed.”

“He said something about a trench,” Brian noted. “I think I saw one a few feet ahead of us. If it's deep enough, it'll hide us and lead us downhill.”

“Let's try it.”

The two crawled slowly on, bit by bit, trying to keep the hay from swaying too much.

Soon enough, Yuliana's arms sank through the soft bank of a little brook, perhaps one foot deep and not much wider. Still deep enough for a crawling person to hide in, with only a bit of water at the bottom. Doing her best to ignore the discomfort of getting wet and dirtied, Yuliana bravely dragged herself along the shallow channel with her elbows, Brian a short distance behind her.

Foot by foot.

The patrol's voices gradually grew faint.

We'll make it.

They were really going to get away. Yuliana's heartbeat quickened at the realization. Leaving her friends behind was terrible, but as a princess, she had to look at the bigger picture. The Empire wouldn't be able to take her as a hostage and a bargaining chip on their campaign against Langoria. The information she had gained was invaluable to their defenses. Perhaps the entire war could be avoided by this minor change of conditions.

It was bitter, there was no denying it. Yuliana was disgusted with herself for having to take such a cowardly path. But she reminded herself of the countless lives that could be saved as the result.

It wasn't only about her. Her own family’s heads were on the line.

So long as the Emperor couldn't get his way—her shame had to be worth it.

But the princess of Langoria wasn't unerring.

“Ha——!”

At that moment, the strangest sensation overcame her.

Yuliana felt a fierce, burning pain flare deep within her chest, as if she had swallowed molten iron. It quickly spread through her entire being, scorching her organs, or so it felt. There was naturally no way she had actually been injured in any way. Her bodily form remained perfectly intact, yet the pain was real. Gasping for air, she became immobilized, tensing all her muscles against the paralyzing, pulsating agony.

“Yulia?” she barely heard Brian's alarmed voice calling behind her.

“It...can't be…!”

In the world of Ortho, oaths had a special meaning.

An oath sworn with a sufficient stake could become a source of great strength and bravery, a type of magic in and of itself. In some cases, when hastily taken, oaths could become like curses upon their makers. But it was after breaking a given word that the true curse followed.

In the category of spiritual contracts, giases were of a level above the rest.

For whatever reason, one could enforce an absolute taboo on themselves, to ensure that where the flesh failed, the spirit would not. One week ago, at Haywell villa, Yuliana's oath of loyalty to the Emperor of Tratovia had been made into a gias by the power of the cirelo sorcerer. The penalty for breaking such a pact was inescapable and irreversible, extending even to the afterlife.

Such terrible oaths were not so easily broken in the first place.

The stakes were hideous—not even the Gods would will penalty of such caliber upon anyone by pure chance. To earn oneself an eternal curse in life and beyond, one had to possess the unwavering, adamant resolve to defile their own honor, piety, and love for life itself. Those who lacked such resolve received a reminder of the fragility of their spirit, whenever testing the limits of their loyalty, intentionally or not.

The boundary for Yuliana was drawn here.

Escaping the Imperials to return to Langoria meant defying the Emperor's direct representatives, his majesty's expressed will, and could have damaged his plans, which Yuliana had sworn to avoid. The princess's wavering sense of duty, riddled with doubts and regrets, was nowhere near firm enough to overpower this curse. Not only did it stop her, it outright robbed her of the freedom of movement.

“Yulia! What are you doing?”

Unable to control herself, the princess stiffly crawled up to her feet and turned around, back to the outpost, raising her hands in the air.

“Hey!”

It was too late for Brian to stop her.

No matter how muddied, she still stood out like a flag waved against the dark forest. This time, the knights were certainly not imagining things. Even if her freedom were somehow restored, escape had been reduced to a distant dream for the two of them now. And Langoria would receive neither a princess nor one word of warning.

Although Yuliana was unaware of the existence of such features, she desperately wished for something akin to a fast-forward button in her life, to avoid having to experience the aftermath of her little detour. Of course, such convenient options didn’t exist. She could only live through every waking moment, fully conscious, even if each instance of it now felt like a torturous lifetime.

“We caught these two sneaking outside the camp. We also found Wehler and Ector, knocked out.”

What was the hardest part about the whole ordeal? Perhaps betraying her faithful companions, only to then have the fact revealed to them in such a disgraceful fashion? Or perhaps it was having to kneel under the stares of dozens of confused knights, together with said comrades, like a peasant maiden caught sneaking out with a boy from another village?

Not at all.

They were all undeniably painful experiences and made Yuliana curse her terrible luck and the poor stars she had to have born under. She would have done anything, given up anything, even her royal privileges, to change reality and undo this whole incident. But, as said, there were no such easy exits to be found, and neither were the aforementioned parts the worst of it all.

For Yuliana, the worst had to have been this—facing Colonel Miragrave, to whose expression the report gave the likeness of a cloud of storm.

Yuliana was unable to face that deeply reproachful look and only hung her head in shame.

“Have you perhaps thought of becoming a cook, Marafel?” Vizier Attiker remarked to the commander, unsurprised by the Langorians' position. Proving that irksome man correct was another unbearable barb in the princess's side.

Not replying to the Vizier, the Colonel glared at Yuliana. The princess would've preferred to have her head cut off on the spot, but the words that she was given instead slashed by far deeper.

“Yuliana. I am very disappointed in you.”