1

Izumi hadn't slept so soundly in a long time. As much as she liked to sleep, ever since her mid-twenties, she had been troubled by chronic insomnia, which rendered her sleep routine irregular and fragmented. The cause was probably chiefly of the psychological kind.

Now, she had been freed of all mundane causes of stress in her old life and her mind took full advantage of the fact. The tavern bed was by far the softest and the most comfortable she had ever rested in, even if the greatsword under the mattress added a few bumps, and there was no reason not to enjoy it.

Yet, as peacefully as the night had passed, when Izumi finally awoke early in the morning, what she sensed first was inexplicable discomfort.

She found she had trouble breathing. It was as if a heavy weight was pressing on her. She couldn't move her hips either. Had the blanket always been this heavy? Had she been injured without even realizing it? Was it the supper? Or was it just one of the many unknown, mysterious ways that old age did its tricks?

It was none of those.

As Izumi grew accustomed to the brightness of daylight coming through the window, she found that no blanket, sprain, or disease was responsible for the odd pressure on her.

It was the fact that someone was lying on top of her.

Izumi didn't think she would ever experience this awkward setting—waking up in the bed with another person and no memory of how things got that way—but such was precisely her position now.

Although, there were some noteworthy differences to the traditional scenario.

“Greetings to you,” the Lord of Light told Izumi with a wide smile, her face a bare hair's breadth away from the woman's. “It is now morning. It is now time to be up and about, Itaka Izumi.”

For a spirit, this being carried an undeniably tangible presence.

It wasn't daybreak that had stirred Izumi. It was the Divine, radiating pure light.

“My popularity sure skyrocketed since coming to this world,” Izumi remarked.

“My apologies,” Aiwesh continued, staring at the woman with her gemstone eyes, which were like round windows straight into the sun's blazing corona, “but since last night, I have been eagerly awaiting the opportunity to speak with you again, and simply could not contain myself. Thus, I came to grace you with my no-good presence as soon as the first rays of the sun swept over the land. Remember what my beloved vessel told you before? Something about 'light' being the element of my no-good self? You would remember that much, at least, no? I do not need to go out of my way to explain what it means, do I? Indeed. When it is day and the sun traverses the heavens, gracing us with its sovereign brilliance—I rule.”

“I feel you have plenty of dark in you, though.”

“Whatever do you mean?” the Divine's smile widened further. “Are you perhaps insinuating that I am one to abuse my Authority, the gift bestowed upon me by my creator, for the base purpose of tormenting the little, ephemeral beings that fill the land? Only because I happen to not approve of their shameful words and deeds? Oh no, not at all. I am above all that. Unlike some of my less mature brothers and sisters, I, as a Lord, happen to possess an exceptional—should I say, transcended—level of patience and composure, as you may now verify with your own, limited vision.”

“R-right...”

“My humble desire at this point of time is merely to remind you of how things stand, seeing as you are all new to the customs of our world. To teach you that in Ortho, the strength you seem to take great pride and confidence in is only the strength of a vicious rat, and that you would do well not to push your luck too much. Take care, Itaka Izumi, not to burn yourself chasing after the sun with only feeble wings of wax on your back.”

“Hey, I understood that reference.”

“Yes, yes,” Aiwesh ignored her and continued, “now that I have the opportunity, allow me to share you something else of intrigue. About yourself, that is. Based on what my cute vessel has naively suggested, you are probably under the impression that you were chosen as a champion by my magic, above all, for your personal excellence. Because you are a warrior with a mind of steel, body of iron, and spirit of fire, peerless among your modest people, fit to become the protector of men in this land. Am I correct?”

“How should I know?” Izumi said. “Probably not, right?”

“No way! Of course. Do you not think that the magical abduction of such an outstanding figure from among your peoples would only cause extravagant marvel and mayhem? The spell would not be very wisely devised if it were to draw another world's ire upon ours, instead of saving it, yes? Not at all, the true standards behind your selection were something else—the very opposite, in fact.”

Leaning closer, so close that their noses were practically touching, Aiwesh whispered,

“It is to be completely, so totally, unquestionably, absolutely——unneeded. To be a person of no importance to anyone, of no consequence anywhere, whom no one in the world would miss, should she disappear without a trace, without a word of explanation. So that it would not matter one bit even were she never to return. Aye. Because return you never will, Itaka Izumi. The Divines, not even the Gods themselves, may cast the Grand Summon whenever they please. After all, it is a ritual playing not only on the laws of this one universe but two's. You could only be brought to Ortho because the time of the Covenant draws near, and it was not the whims of the Gods that decided when it should happen. No, the timing of it was written in the very stars.”

“So, there really is no way for me to ever go home?” Izumi asked. “Not even by an accident?”

“No, there are none,” Aiwesh heartlessly confirmed.

“Oh thank God,” the woman sighed in relief and relaxed.

For a moment, the Lord of Light was left speechless.

“...Do you perhaps doubt my word?” she finally asked.

“You mean, you were lying?”

“No, I was not...”

“Then I'll believe you.”

“You do? Do you not miss your own world? Do you not wish to see your home again? Your family? Your companions? Your loved ones?”

“Not at all?”

“You lie.”

“Why would I?”

“Do you believe your world is so much worse than Ortho?” the spirit asked. “When I summoned you, I was briefly able to glance at your land. Was it not one of perfect peace and order, nigh devoid of crime and war? Are you not in perfect health and strength of body, as a testament of your land's prosperity?”

“You should've looked closer,” Izumi only replied.

The Divine frowned.

“I wonder how long you will be able to hold onto that impression? For there is something you know not.”

“And that is?”

“A genuine champion or not, you were summoned in what is the thirty-third cycle of the Covenant. It so happens this cycle is to be special. The last one, as a matter of fact. It was thus prophesied by the last God to depart from Ortho. This could have a great deal to do with you. Would you like to hear those words?”

“Not really. But I don't get to skip cutscenes on my first playthrough, do I?”

“'On a day of the thirty-three thousandth summer',” the Lord of Light recited, “'a Champion comes from the stars who is unlike the rest, and by the Champion's hand, the Covenant will be broken. The world of Ortho will be plunged from the Age of the Covenant onto the Age of Chaos, and everything created will be reduced to ruin.'”

For once, it was a prophecy that wasted no time getting to the point, Izumi thought.

“There are many prophecies about the Covenant,” Aiwesh said, “of divine origin and others not so much. But this is the one all the wise of the world now take a great interest in. You must see why. Are you the one the prophecy speaks of? Will you destroy the long-cherished pact with the Gods, bringing death to our world? What do you think?”

Izumi remained silent.

Of course, she didn't want to destroy the world that she had always dreamed about.

But would some kind of a destiny force her to, even against her own will?

“Too bad!” Aiwesh suddenly lightened her tone. “Though I would like to keep you in suspense a little while longer—the truth is, no one can say for certain. 'On a day of summer', the prophecy goes. Not terribly specific, is it? Is there not 'summer' somewhere around this round globe for most part of the year? The interpretation is deliberately vague, and it was for that reason that I was able to summon you, though only the first flowers of spring bloom in Langoria. To be honest, I did not know if I could. Turns out I could. But my being able to do so also means that every able and willing Divine Lord in our vast world will be busily summoning their own champions until the Night of the Covenant. Not all of them of the good-natured variety. Many, many eyes will be looking for travelers from another world, to use for their own purposes...Including the hawkish gazes of the Daemons.”

“So there are monsters in this world?” Izumi asked.

“Monsters?” Aiwesh repeated. “Ah, nightmares to tired old women like you. Entertain this thought while you are at it: Not all the summoned people have your appetite and readiness for slaughter, if all that is demanded is being unwanted. Most of them will perish like infants, devoured by the darkness where they are delivered. But, those who do survive such a crucible and in time claim name as true champions...Those are the kind of folk my dear vessel must face on the way to the Trophaeum.”

“I do feel for her,” Izumi said, “but what do you want from me, really? That I should help Yule win the tower game, save the world despite the prophecy, and put all the evil people out of job?”

“I wonder! How about giving it some thought?”

“But, even if I did try to help Yule, isn't the risk pretty big that I'll actually end up destroying the world in the process? Wouldn't it be better to steer clear from the whole business, then?”

“In theory, perhaps,” the Divine Lord flapped her wings. “But in reality? I have weighed you, Itaka Izumi, and you are no threat to me. Even if you came to desire the destruction of the world, how would you do so while you sit on the palm of my hand? Like this.”

The Divine's radiance appeared to intensity, as though the tavern’s ceiling had been torn off to let the sun blaze unhindered into the little room. At the same time, it got hot. Intensely hot, making the air vibrate.

“Could you tone it down?” Izumi squinted. “I don't tan well.”

In response, Aiwesh giggled and squeezed her chest tighter against Izumi. The light faded.

“I jest! All that being said, you are a human of interest to me. Even now, seeing me in all my glory, you do not fear me?”

“I do think you're plenty scary,” Izumi answered. “But I've seen things that scare me a lot more. Like my country's unemployment offices. Or Twitter reactions to a video game I've been waiting.”

“Pu—hahahaha!” The Divine spirit burst into bright laughter.

Then, quickly pushing herself forward, the Lord of Light extended her neck and planted a kiss right in the middle of Izumi's forehead.

“………..”

This could be a bit bad.

Feeling like her brain had caught fire, the room swayed in Izumi's eyes. Her whole body tickled feverishly. As she wondered what was happening to her, Aiwesh next pulled out a piece of paper with various foreign symbols scribbled on it, from somewhere in the folds of her extravagant dress.

“To be illuminated by divine knowledge in the darkness of wordly ignorance is the greatest desire of men.” Holding the list up in front of the woman's face, the spirit pointed at the first line. “Well, what does this say?”

To Izumi's surprise, the meaning corresponding to each symbol immediately surfaced on her dizzy mind. On the first line was written her own name, in the local alphabet.

“Then, the second?”

It read, “Aiwesh”. The name could also be read as, “white flame”.

On the third line was Yuliana's name. On the fourth, Luctretz.

“Congratulations, you are now able to read!” the Lord of Light cheerfully announced and threw away the list, which burned to cinders before reaching the floor. “Please make good use of this exceedingly rare talent!”

Izumi had to admit she was impressed.

The nauseous feeling slowly faded and the room steadied itself in her sight.

“You can do all this,” she said, “yet your handwriting—it's really that terrible...?”

“Your bravery is most cute, 'auntie',” Aiwesh's smile turned eerie. “But for now, I leave you, lest I break the boundaries of my Authority. Good luck on your journey, 'champion'.”

“Could you get off me first..?”—Izumi was about to ask, but it was already too late.

In a burst of brilliant feathers of light, just like last night, the Lord of Light returned to spirit form, freeing her possessed vessel. And in her place, naturally, appeared the figure of the young knight princess, looking like she had remained asleep the whole time her body was so whimsically puppeteered.

Now stirring, Yuliana slowly opened her eyes…

“Morning,” Izumi said.

“Eh...? Hi….!?”

As expected of a proper knight, Yuliana's situational awareness returned at commendable swiftness, and so did the redness of her face.

Naturally, after taking off her armor and hanging her wet dress and other clothes to dry, there was nothing for the princess to wear while sleeping. Aiwesh’s magic wouldn’t dress her either, leaving the girl now in her birthday suit, with only the blanket between the two.

“A...a...a...M-MY APOLOGIES…!” Yuliana cried and dashed out of the room in embarrassment like a sparrow.

“At least cover yourself first…” Izumi sighed, as more shocked cries carried from the hallway.

2

In daylight, when she was at her strongest, the Divine was able to manifest at will, without depending on Yuliana, her vessel, to perform the ritual to summon her. Was the girl even aware of what she had gotten herself into when making the pact with such a being? There were powerful, devious beings in the world, and not all of them were benevolent. And then there was a prophecy about an impending apocalypse.

Izumi felt like developing an acute migraine at the breakfast table, but she soon pushed the troublesome thoughts off her mind. How could she keep feeling down, when there was a whole new world waiting to be explored?

Her enthusiasm wouldn't stick to her companion, though.

“I...am no longer fit for marriage...” the knight princess lamented across the table, sighing for the hundredth time.

“I thought you didn't want to, in the first place,” Izumi reminded, taking a sip from her mug—and nearly spat it out. Instead of coffee, it was only something that tasted like lukewarm, unsweetened blackcurrant juice.

Does this world have no coffee? I'm not going to live…

“It's not that I don't want to,” Yuliana mumbled. “Is it not every maiden's dream to be united with a loving, trustworthy partner in a timeless romance—ah.” Recalling Izumi's backstory, she interrupted herself. “W-well, not that it's possible, in some cases. I have resolved to walk this solitary path to its end. For my family and my people. In any case, lady Izumi, may I inquire upon your plans for the day?”

Why the sudden formality?

“Well,” Izumi pondered, “I was thinking about going to give that quest board another go.”

“You mean to say you were serious about becoming a mercenary?” Yuliana still didn't seem to find the idea a good one. “You certainly displayed great skill yesterday, I do not dispute that, but is it really the sort of a line of business you would find success in? Considering how little you know about...”

“I said I'd just give it a try, geez,” Izumi waved off her concerns. “I'm not expecting to hit big straight off the bat. We'll see how it goes later.”

“You really have not a worry in the world, do you? Very well. You need me to read them for you, right? Or,” the princess added with a playful smile, “have you perhaps learned to read overnight?”

I learned to read in the morning, though. Izumi wondered how she should break the news, but the princess wouldn't give her the time to speak.

“Since we're going the same way, would you mind if we stop somewhere first? I asked the manager and apparently there is a blacksmith's shop right across the town square. Since it seems there is no choice but to purchase myself a new weapon, why don't we pay it a visit?”

“Oh...right.”

The marketplace had changed dramatically in appearance during the early hours of the morning. The townspeople and traveling peddlers had set up dozens of colorful little tents, stands, and tables, from one corner of the spacious plaza to the next. In the shade of those stalls, everything from meat and fish to fruits and vegetables, spices, belts, baubles, rugs, hats, and other miscellaneous goods, was busily traded.

Numerous people filled the walkways between the sellers. There were locals, tourists, rich and not, browsing the selection with their scrutinizing gazes, at times pausing to engage in a loud bidding war with a vendor. Or, simply to exchange news and greetings.

Listening to all that noise made Yuliana feel at ease. It reminded her of the liveliness of the mornings in the capital of Langoria that she had left behind.

In all this hustle and bustle, the pair of women didn't stand out much either. The princess led the way, with Izumi a few paces behind. She had expected the woman from the other world to be more awed by the heavy traffic, yet it was like she didn't even see the crowds. Had her hometown been this densely populated as well?

Passing through the markets, Yuliana purchased herself a hooded cloak to hide her ornate armor—in her kingdom's deep blue colors, still—and another for Izumi. She also bought a cloth in which to wrap the eyecatching blade of the Amygla. It all cost her twenty-six coppers in total. The princess didn't bother to haggle, but put down a coin of silver and told the garb seller to keep the change.

They went on and found their destination soon enough.

If the armory shop's refined exterior was of any indication, business was doing well. Decorated with black-painted plates and an artistic badge, the shop had its name spelled in big, white letters above the wide display window.

Garlann's Steel & Smithing.

The dignity of a princess and the confidence of a knight guiding her hand, Yuliana entered the shop.

The interior was a step above even the facade in class. A polished wood floor, skilfully paneled walls, a sparkling clean sales counter, covered with a polished plate of marble.

And there were weapons.

Beautiful yet practical-looking swords, daggers, knives, axes, hatchets, and maces were hung up on the walls or set up on display stands around the shop. There were also armors, thick chestplates, handguards, shinguards, chainmails, gloves, helmets, and pauldrons. Everything and anything a mercenary or a guard might need in his line of duty.

Behind the counter stood a large man—apparently the smith himself—his body buffed into respectable proportions by his physical trade and its not-so-modest rewards. Perhaps to further augment his credibility, he had grown out his black beard. The smith had wrapped a black scarf with elaborate white patterns around his otherwise bald head. From under his bushy brows, a pair of near-black eyes greeted the customers.

“Morning, good master,” Yuliana said to him.

“Top of the morning to ye,” the blacksmith greeted her back.

“Are you called Garlann?” she asked.

“No, I am Wilbough. Garlann was my great-grandfather, he founded the shop, and I've been too damn busy to change the bloody name,” the man replied without batting an eye. He had to have heard the question upward a thousand times, making it a pretty bad opener. “What's it gonna be? Are ye prepared to buy somethin' or just pleasin' yer fair eyes?”

“Did we perhaps come at a bad time? Maybe we should look elsewhere.”

“Where else? There's not one armory that's worth anyone's salts in this town. Don't get upset. It's just, I don't see a lot of womenfolk shopping here, if it's not a gift for some poor sod, and in those cases it's usually the price and not practicality that matters. But I only make steel that lasts, so you're not in luck if that's your business.”

Though the man's manners left a lot to be desired in the princess's opinion, she let it be and answered,

“I do want a gift, for myself, on my travels. A good sword that lasts but doesn't have my purse as its first victim.”

“If ye don't wanna get killed, ye had best be ready to shed some blood,” the store owner shrugged, well used to such rhetorics.

The princess and the smith proceeded to go through the various weapons on display, while Izumi surveyed the selection a step behind by herself, absorbed in thought.

To attain the necessary qualifications as a “hero”, she had attempted to master various “classes”, and blacksmith was one of the first iconic roles she had tried. Although, the forge Izumi had spent her apprenticeship at was far from medieval. They marketed themselves as traditionals, but used modern machinery and processed factory steel to create their goods—which were mainly movie replicas for collectors and other cheap decorations.

Izumi had quit after a few months, disillusioned, but she did retain a bit of knowledge on the trade, at least.

It seems this world's blacksmiths know how to produce inox steel, but is it made using chromium, as on Earth, some equivalent local element, or do they enchant it with magic?

Enchanting weapons was a common mechanic in video games, and an easy way to make one a stronger fighter. If there was a way to enchant the Amygla and further augment its deadliness, it could have made her life easier. Izumi wanted to ask the blacksmith, but not knowing some common material or method could have attracted trouble, so she held her tongue.

To what degree did this world's physics overlap with those of her own, and how much was foreign fantasy? It could take a lifetime to discover. Was there any point in even trying?

Izumi soon gave up on her speculations and returned to idle window-shopping.

If—just if—she were to return the holy sword to its rightful bearer and pick up another one for adventuring, which should she take?

The regular longswords looked too light and frail. The axes were poorly balanced. The other larger weapons had design flaws that rendered them susceptible to breaking under their own mass. Each time a potential candidate showed up, it ultimately failed on the last question of, “would it cut through dragon scales?”

Izumi had never seen a real dragon, obviously, so she used video games and movies for reference and tried to imagine it.

Doubtful. Not likely. Doesn't seem like it. No way. Probably not.

Using dragons as the standard for judging a weapon was admittedly senseless, but that was not the point.

Looking at the Amgyla, the answer came to her right away.

Absolutely. If this doesn't—then nothing will.

No weapon in the shop could measure up to Langoria's treasure in quality, not surprisingly. And because of that, she didn’t feel like trusting any of them with her life. Izumi glanced at Yuliana and the blacksmith again. The girl was examining a lighter sword, a rapier-style blade with an elaborate handguard. Though she pretended to be critical, it was obvious the knight princess was pleased with the design. Considering the future ahead of them, it didn’t really matter what she chose, but…

“How much would you ask for this?” the princess asked.

“That would be fifty-five in silver,” the smith responded.

“Oh, fifty-five, is it…?” Yuliana's expression immediately clouded.

Izumi had had her suspicions for some time, but now she became convinced.

She's never gone shopping in her life, this girl!

As a princess, as a soldier, everything Yuliana ever needed—and more—had always been provided for her, and she had no wants outside of that. And the inexperience was depressingly apparent on her face now.

“It is rather costly to my current budget, but...”

“Hey now, lassie! I told this the first thing, did I not?” the blacksmith berated her in his loud voice. “The blade's yer companion! It's who ye entrust yer life to! Would ye expect to be saved by somebody ye haven't bled for first? True partnership is more than pretty words. It takes sacrifices! Otherwise it just ain't worth squat.”

—“Well, neither is this,” Izumi cut in, snatching the rapier from Yuliana's hands.

She twisted the slim blade into a clean U-shape with her bare hands and set it back on the counter. “Tempered in a too low temperature and too low on carbon. You didn't forge this yourself, did you? It's secondhand. There’s nothing remotely in its style on display. Let me guess, it was left by another shopper when they purchased a new one? My, is this how you run business, ripping off naive customers with low grade goods?”

“Huh!?” the blacksmith's eyes widened, his face turning red.

He probably hadn't intended to deceive Yuliana, or at least didn't consider it deception on his own part. There was nothing particularly weird about selling used weapons, as sketchy as Izumi had made it sound. His fluster was half anger at the accusation, half shame at acknowledging that the practice didn’t sound too dignified.

“Is that it, really?” Izumi continued, not letting the man think things through. “My, my. And here I thought this place had standards! I wonder what my friends will think when they hear such a story? Everyone was telling me what a quality shop this is—among the finest in the country—yet you don't even make the things you sell! That's what I get for buying into hype. It's like preordering a game just because of the developer's empty promises and then it doesn't even have a multiplayer mode!”

“Lady Izumi, aren't you being a bit unreasonab—hnghh——!” Sensing evil from her companion, the knight princess felt the need to step up in defense of the pressured blacksmith, but Izumi's hand rudely groping her buttock silenced her on the spot.

“Oh, but I'm still willing to give you a chance to save face, good sir,” Izumi continued in a syrupy tone. “I'm not like my jaded friends, I want to believe in the developers' honesty! You give my friend a proper weapon for a proper price, and you get a good review instead of a poor one, on top of your coin. Five stars and a thumbs up. How's that sound?”

Still beef-red, the blacksmith angrily leaned over the counter,

“I have no idea what yer tryin' to pull with that blabber, but yer not the first one stirring shit at my shop. And neither will ye be the first one to fail. I don't look that kind of fishy business with a kind eye. If ye didn't happen to be of the fairer sex, they'd be takin' you to the stocks by now. So drop it!”

Yuliana felt like trapped before a black bear about to lunge at their throats, too tense to speak. But Izumi wouldn't back down so easily,

“That's sexism and hate speech. You sure have some guts, uncle, threatening your customers after trying to rip them off. How do you stay in business with a misogynistic attitude like that, in this day and age? Do you, by chance, have family with the dwarves?”

“….”

Izumi had only said it under the idea that dwarves were an entirely unknown concept in this world, which the blacksmith would go on to interpret as a vague ethnic insult either way. She didn't really care if they got chased out, and was mostly only being mean out of the foulness of her character by this point. But against her expectations, the large man suddenly fell quiet, drew a deep breath, slowly withdrew behind the counter again.

Crossing his barrel-like arms, the smith then said,

“...And do tell—if yer eye be so good—what ye think among my wares qualifies as 'proper' to ye?”

“That broadsword behind you, up on the wall, second from up,” Izumi immediately answered. “Yes, that one with the bulky guard.”

“This?” the blacksmith contorted his thick brows and took down the weapon in question. It was a simple, short cavalry sword, with a blade of about thirty-five inches and a guard styled after a ram's image. It had been put where it was, above the doorway, not because it deserved to be looked at, but because it didn't take up too much space there. Apparently, the man had expected her to aim for the costlier products.

“Yes, looks nice, ring it up for me and we're good.”

Even if it wasn't his best, or the most beautiful, it was still an undeniably good sword, among the first saleworthy he had made, and the blacksmith wasn't too happy to give it away to these troublesome women.

“This blade is worth eighty-two in silver, but to tidy up our little argument, I am willing to part with it for sixty...two.”

“No good, uncle,” Izumi shook her head. “We'll pay you thirty and advertise you on our travels. I'll even write about you on Facebook.”

“Thirty!? Ye'd better be a blasted nightingale for that! No way, keep my face off your books! Ye ain't takin' it from my willin' hands for anywhere close to thirty! Fifty-seven. See? I'm lowerin' it by five, which is already far better than ye deserve.”

“Why are you still acting like it's worth anything and you're not already swimming in gold? At least suck that stomach in, if you're going to put on airs. Thirty-five and not a copper more. See, I raised by five! That's a massive amount of money by your standards!”

“Don't twist my words! I stay in business because people pay what I ask. If I let whatever wench price my swords to her liking, I'd be soon sellin' my store while knee-deep in debt!”

“Are you calling names now? That insult just cost you three silver. Thirty-two.”

“Yer a serpent in human skin, that's what! Bah, fifty! That's as low as I go.”

“Reputation doesn't mean a thing to you, does it? Weren’t you preaching to my friend here about sacrifices a minute ago? Are you telling me you got this store to where it is without ever compromising? I will go as high as thirty-eight, out of respect for your handiwork.”

“What respect! Ye barge into my shop the first thing in the morning, throw insults and vile accusations in my face, in the way of scamming the fruit of my sweat n' tears off my hands! Respect would see ye both whipped silly and why I haven't already called the guards is beyond me! But, as apparently the only adult here, I am still willin' to put this lunacy to rest, if ye either count fifty pieces of silver right there on the table—or else bugger off whence ye came!”

“Now it's whipping? I don't want to hear your fantasies, pervert! This isn't language fit for my innocent cousin—see how her face has paled? Yes, let's call the guards straight away! We'll see which they'll deem honest in here. Oh, don't worry, sweetheart! I won't let this mean half-ogre do you any harm...”

“Eh, w-what are you—mmph!?”

Izumi pulled Yuliana's face into her soft bosom and pretended to console her, while in fact preventing her from getting away or saying anything unnecessary.

There was naturally no way for the healthy blacksmith to maintain his composure before such a sight.

“Gaaah, fine, fine!” he averted his face. “Ye pay forty now and yer word that I'll never see ye in my blasted shop again, for as long as it stands!”

“Count the good man his coin, hun,” Izumi released Yuliana, who looked rather disoriented, and had excessive difficulty counting the forty coins of silver from her purse. The inn had taken four, one more had been spent on the market, meaning they were left with only five now. Having essentially wasted her travel expenses in the very beginning of their journey wasn't a good sign, but the princess was in no state to worry about it now.

I suppose we really need to look for a job next.

3

Troubling as their situation was, being armed once more, Yuliana felt considerably more confident towards the future, as she left the unfortunate blacksmith's store with her companion.

“W-was that way of going about it really necessary…?” she couldn't avoid expressing her misgivings, however. “If you truly thought this weapon to be worthwhile, I could have gone to request more funds from the bank...I did not think eighty was that bad a price, to be honest. Now it looks like we deceived the poor man. Moreover, did you have to...um...”

“Bank? You have a bank?” Izumi blankly asked in return.

“Why, we do. You are familiar with the concept?” Yuliana answered. “Langoria and Luctretz have a banking union, which means your account in one is also valid in the other. Most of the human nations also use the same currency, where gold marks are valued the highest, and copper lowest. The empire is an exception, however. They have their own bank and the imperial strata is based exclusively on silver. Whatever currency we have, we must exchange to theirs as we go to their territory.”

“There is an 'empire' too?”

“Yes. Tratovia. It borders Luctretz on the north. There are quite many countries in this world, you know. Human and not. Although Tratovia is the single largest human nation on the continent.”

“Right. I wonder if this planet is bigger than Earth?” Izumi pondered. “Now that I think about, we really should've bought a map.”

“I don't know about your world, but a large portion of Ortho remains uncharted to this day. Accurate maps are rare to come by. There are races that don't care much for drawing borders on their habitats, and some that make exploring theirs too dangerous, which is why we people must stick to the areas where we may survive. Which reminds me, what made you think the blacksmith was related to Dharves? That was quite possibly the worst insult to a merchant. He could lose his customers if the word were to spread, true or false.”

“Eeh? You actually have dwarves? What's wrong with them? Doesn't everybody love them?”

“Um, just to be sure, what exactly are the Dharves like in your world?”

“Eeh, well, they don't exist, really. They're just fantasy. Small people with beards, who dig under mountains and hack stuff with axes.”

“Fantasy?” Yuliana repeated, frowning. “Dharves do tend to live in the mountains and like axes, but they aren't very small, I believe. They're generally larger than normal humans are. Not that I've ever seen one myself. They don't come this far south, thank the Divines.”

“Tall dwarves?” Izumi scratched her head. “Well, never mind that. There are some races and beings that are dangerous to people, right? Does that mean exterminating them is good business?”

“Not really, no,” Yuliana answered with a shudder. “Most mercenaries earn their upkeep by protecting people or property against other humans, outlaws, thieves, bandits, or pirates. Picking fights with other races tends to end poorly for the human side. They usually respect our lands, we should do the same. If any trouble comes up, leave that kind of thing to soldiers and guards.”

“Meh, that's boring. You won't become a legend if you're scared of a tough fight,” Izumi yawned.

“A legend?”

“That's right. A top tier player!”

“Player...In what kind of a game…?”

Yuliana felt a sweat drop gather on her brow, as she tried to understand the otherworldly lingo her companion kept throwing around at every turn.

“What about daemons?” Izumi suddenly asked. “Is that another word for monsters? They sound like something you can kill without guilty feelings.”

“Throw that idea off your mind,” Yuliana gave the woman an alarmed glance and warned her. “And do not speak that word in broad daylight.”

“Why? What's the big deal?”

“Meeting a daemon would be the death of you. Yes, even you. No question about it. That is all you need to know.”

“If you act so secretive, I'm only going to get more curious...What did they do? Have you ever seen one?”

“I haven't. I'm here, aren't I? There are none on this continent and that's all that matters. Look, we're here!”

It was then that they arrived again at the notice board, in the corner of the town square. In a hurry to escape the unpleasant conversation, the princess turned her attention to the posters and—

“What in the name of…!”

——Immediately stepped back, as though smitten.

All the dozens of notices, requests and announcements from last night, that had covered nearly every available inch of the wooden board, had been cleared away.

In their place, right in the middle, a poster much larger had been nailed.

Staring back from the poster was a drawn image of Yuliana herself, in good likeness.

WANTED!

Her Highness, The former First Princess of the Kingdom of Langoria, Yuliana Da Via Brannan of Walhollem.

For the grim crime of high treason against the Throne of Langoria and her people, for the murder of the Baron of Troms and four of his knights; present her royal highness DEAD OR ALIVE, or any information resulting in her successful arrest, to the nearest office of law, for the high bounty of EIGHT HUNDRED MARKS IN GOLD.

Risk level: High. Armed and dangerous, likely to resist arrest. Possibly not alone.

Yuliana thought she was going to faint on the spot. Then, regaining mastery over herself, she leaped forward and ripped the poster off the board in one quick sweep.

“W-w-what is this!?” she stuttered, reading the heavy lines again and again, as if expecting them to reveal themselves as a misunderstanding, a prank. “Why this fast? What do you mean 'dead or alive'? This can't be...Father, did you order this…?”

“Eight hundred?” Izumi muttered, looking over the girl's shoulder. “That sounds like sort of a lot, but not really...If a night at a tavern should be sixty copper, and a sword is eighty silver, then with eight hundred gold...You can't buy a house with that, can you?”

“Is that all that matters to you here?” Yuliana cried. “Wait—what!? Y-you can read this, what is says!? How!?”

“It's even got the difficulty level? That's pretty handy, don't you think?” the woman went on without answering. “But why is there no mention of exp anywhere? I think an important detail like that should be told upfront. How else would you know if a quest is worth taking? Or is it a story mission that doesn't give you any? That's a little lame...”

The princess blinked her eyes. “What are you talking about?”

“Well, how do I level up, if I don't get points?” the woman explained. “Or is this one of those stupid modern games without levels and you only get an occasional ability point or two to unlock skills with? I think there's just no sense of progress if I don't have the level number comfortably in my field of vision. Which reminds me, I've been testing since yesterday, but haven't found any way to open a menu or anything, where I could check my stats. This world is not very accessible, in my opinion...”

“Is this really the time for your nonsense!? Get a grip!”

“And why is there not a word about me?” Izumi pointed out. “This should've been the start of my legend, but...'Possibly not alone'? That's all my effort was good for? A side note for a princess? Or doesn't the game know how to process the player? That's lazy programming.”

“Oh, do I feel sorry for you!” Yuliana angrily responded. “Don't you see? This poster has made me a target for every mercenary, bandit, and other greedy wretch out there! Can't you understand that!?”

“Well, of course, I do. I kinda figured that out last night.”

“My life is as good as over! My mission...! How many do you think have already seen this since the daybreak? How many more posters are there, spread around the town? This is a nightmare! We're never getting out of Grelden now...Wait a minute, what did you just say?”

“I know it's bad, okay?”

“No, not that, the other bit.”

“I knew there was a bounty?”

“Eh? How...?”

——“There she is!”

Before Yuliana could get an answer, a shout from the other side of the square reached her ears. Turning to look, she saw a squad of knights armed with spears approach from around the corner, from the inn's direction.

Their uniforms were different in fashion from the Langorians last night, though the general template was the same. A long chainmail with a surcoat dyed in the local colors—olive green—over it, the town crest visible on the chest, a utility belt with a sword, pouches, and keys, and a metal helmet to shield the head. The town guards’ pot-like helmet didn't cover the whole head but left the face visible, and there was a tall, spiky extension on top.

One of the knights had already spotted Yuliana, since she had the hood of her cloak down, and at once the whole group picked up the pace and jogged their way. The princess looked for an escape route in the opposite direction, but that only caught the attention of another pair of soldiers patrolling the markets. They quickly clutched their spears and stepped to meet them.

“Halt! Throw your weapon on the ground!”

“Hands where I see them!”

Clicking her tongue, Yuliana kept looking. She could have tried to cut across the markets, but the citizens nearby had already been alerted to what was happening, and their defiant faces made it clear they were prepared to oppose the criminal, if necessary.

And what about Izumi? Her skirt and apron made running difficult. She wouldn't have been able to keep up. There was no way out, it seemed, except by fighting.

It would have meant either slaying these men, who were only doing their duty in the town's protection—or else be slain or wounded by them in the attempt.

Rationally weighing the risks and rewards, only one option was left.

“I surrender,” Yuliana bitterly announced and removed the purchased sword from her belt, knelt and set it on the pavement, free hand raised. Glancing at Izumi, she nodded for her to do the same.

“Eeh,” Izumi frowned, looking like she really didn't want to. “Is it okay not to resist at least a little?”

“Enough jokes!” Yuliana exclaimed. “We can't fight these men. They're only doing their job!”

“But that's what they always say, isn't it?”

“Why, you! I won't let you—ow!”

Before Yuliana could finish her sentence, armored hands had already grabbed her by the arms and dragged her back.

“Your highness,” the guards' leader stepped forward, removed his rounded helmet and spoke to her. He was a young man, a bit over his twenties, with short hair and tidy mustache framing his upper lip. Passable for a prince by his looks, albeit just a soldier. “I am Selmon, captain of the guard. My apologies, but I am placing you under arrest by the order of the lord of the land. Your weapon and other personal effects will be confiscated, for the time being, by the city of Grelden. Please, come with us without resisting and you have my word that no bodily harm will be inflicted upon you.”

“I should believe that, after seeing how you treat royalty, Captain Selmon?” the girl bitterly responded. “You have no authority to arrest me! Tell your men to unhand me at once!”

“I have been informed that you no longer enjoy the diplomatic immunity that your former position entitles you to, having turned to treachery and a murder. Considering your merits, I believe the treatment to be of exceptional quality. I suspect you will be shortly turned over to the officers of your kingdom, where they will show you whatever level of reverence you are rightfully owed. But for now, you must contend with our ways.”

Nodding to the guards, Selmon had them take her away.

Watching the princess be dragged to captivity, Izumi frowned.

“What about me—” she was about to ask the captain, who suddenly turned her way and interrupted her with his piercing gaze.

Then...

“Are you hurt, madam?” he asked with unexpected politeness.

“Eh?” Thrown for a loop, Izumi hesitated. “N-no...I don't think so...”

“Good. I understand this has been disturbing incident for you, good mother, but rest assured, everything is under control now. Thank you, for your composure and bravery in such a frightening situation. Go safe. And my best regards to your family.”

Bowing his head briefly, the knight captain turned on his heels and strode after his departing squad, while Izumi was left standing alone before the notice board.

“Ehhh…………?”

——“And there she goes,” a voice nearby spoke.

Izumi glanced to her side and saw a girl leaning on the corner of the board. By her tanned face and curly black hair, she could be identified as the maid from the inn, Riswelze—but her attire today looked very different.

Instead of her worn-out, patched dress, she wore a slim leather vest, riding pants, and tough-looking boots, in addition to an inconspicuous, gray-brown cape.

“Um, this didn't go quite as I planned it,” Izumi muttered.

“What else did you expect, 'good mother'?” Riswelze laughed. “You have no self-awareness, do you? Even with a sword in hand—Hel, even with a daemon sitting on your shoulder—there's no way anyone with a functional pair of eyes would view you as a criminal or a threat of any kind.”

“That's a bit troubling, though,” the woman lamented. “The point was to break Yule out of prison from the inside, after learning who set the bounty. Breaking in and then breaking out again sounds a lot harder and I don't like to put effort into things.”

“Consider this your good fortune instead,” the assassin told her. “Never could call this plan of yours a smart one. I don't know where all that confidence of yours stems from, but people generally don't just walk out of prison once they find themselves in. Not where I'm from, anyway. So long as you're free, you options are unlimited.”

“Then, Rise, why don't you come up with a plan for me? I honestly don't know what to do now, other than walk in through the front gate and kill everybody. Even in games, I only ever follow what the quest text says. There's too much freedom of choice here.”

“Who do you think you are? God?” Riswelze shook her head and laughed. “I can't tell whether you're insane or just lazy. Probably too much of both. Well, thanks to loose-lipped cap Selmon there, we did learn something of importance. The guy behind the order was the lord of the land. That would be Duke Walington, the Mayor of Grelden. And he's not somebody short on coin. Give me until nightfall, and I'll see what more I can learn. I'm going to collect the bounty now.”

“You're already in for eight hundred gold, but you still want more?” Izumi raised a brow. “Though I did ask you to help, I figured you'd be riding off into the sunset now. Or are you just that deep in debt?”

“Eight hundred?” the girl snorted. “Even if I never had debt, the kind of a lifestyle I have in mind is not one where a paltry eight hundred marks of gold is enough for anything. Oh, and speaking of coin, would you mind telling me one thing? You knew they'd come for the princess, since you had me tip them off, so why did you make her buy the sword beforehand? To further distract the guards on which one of you really was 'armed and dangerous'?”

Izumi pouted at her words,

“Since when did you start tailing us? I didn't notice at all. Geez, you're making me sound like some kind of an evil mastermind. Really, all I thought was that when we eventually make our great escape, retrieving one sword would be faster and easier than looking for so much coins.”

“Or, rather, could it be because you judged that stealing a few coins would go smoother than taking the whole purse? Less difference in weight, see. Ha. So long.”

In the next moment, Riswelze was already gone, vanished.

Izumi dug through her skirt pocket and held out five pieces of silver in the sun.

“That Rise...As I thought, her eyes are just a bit too naughty. Before this is over, I need to punish you some more, don't I?”

Shoving the coins back in her pocket, Izumi left the town square.

Things had gone more or less as expected.

Which raised the question, was a rescue really needed? Whatever the foreign noble wanted with Yuliana, he was unlikely to harm her, despite the bounty. On the contrary.

Why was it that nobles ever captured princesses?

This would have been a good place for the two of them to painlessly part ways, forever. After all, with the kind of a lifestyle Izumi had in mind, she wasn't likely to grow much older. And neither would Yuliana, if they continued to travel together.

Yes, this had to have been the best, the least painful option for everybody.

But as determined as she had been to follow through with it, the woman's feet abruptly stopped.

—We're sticking together, day and night.

—I swear I recognize the sword as yours for the time being and will never attempt to take it from you against your will. If, in turn, you are willing to lend it to me at times when I need it, for my own safety.

The cold hand of regret tightly squeezing her heart, Izumi had to take support from a nearby wall.

“...I really was this lonely, huh?”

After so many years, she was certain she had succeeded in becoming an unfeeling monster, with no pain or tears. But though it wasn't death she feared and though the danger of being returned home was removed, there were still many more things left that continued to frighten her.

It seemed it was too late already.

There was a point where a person feared losing another so much that they started to fear coming close even more. Should they end up coming close to someone regardless, then there would soon be a horror awaiting them behind every corner.

“I guess I'll go book a room for another night...Someplace cheaper.”

4

As evident as it seemed that she had been betrayed by her companion for money, Yuliana felt neither anger nor despair over the shocking turn of events. She felt little anything but hollow and dumbstruck as she marched on, surrounded by the guards. Before wallowing in her own miserable circumstances, she found it a relief that the priceless Langorian heirloom didn't end up in a foreign lord's possession.

Then, instead of wasting time looking for culprits in the past, her thoughts turned exclusively to pessimistic speculations regarding the nearby future.

The likeliest scenario in Yuliana's mind was that she would be banished back to Langoria, where she expected to be imprisoned and tried for treason—punishable by death. Even if her father did harbor a modicum of affection for his one and only child, it was unlikely he would try to shelter such a high-profile criminal before the public.

No, she had to be made an example of.

Precisely because she was a princess—and a knight captain, no less—she had to face the worst possible, to show that no one was above the law.

Unless—unless the lord of the land had other plans.

The bounty on her hadn't come from the prince of Luctretz, it seemed, nor at her father's request, but from the local noble ruling over the town of Grelden and the nearby lands.

So far as Yuliana could recall, that noble was a man called Norenbagh Walington, Duke of the close Haywell estate and the Mayor of Grelden.

The young duke had gained his position as the head of the town six years prior, after his father, the previous Mayor, had passed away on a hunting trip. The rank wasn't hereditary, but the people of Grelden liked the old Mayor's son nearly as much as they had liked his father, and so no one disputed his appointment.

There was no reason to suspect anything vile either, like the young Duke playing a part in his parent's demise, to rob his seat. The old man had been knocked off his horse and fatally injured by a stray griffin while on a casual hunting tour. A natural albeit tragic accident.

Yuliana had met Norenbagh twice or thrice in the past, but the few words exchanged had remained on the level of shallow, diplomatic courtesies. Regardless, while there was nothing on her side, it was probably too naive to expect such a person to have no interest in Yuliana, a princess.

Did he think he could get favors from Langoria by handing over a wanted criminal? It was unlikely. She was still a princess. While they did want her caught and returned, the Langorians wouldn't love any foreigner for actually doing it.

It was unlikely the Duke would demand ransom in gold or property for her safe return either. The man probably didn't lack money to the point of risking his position, not to mention his neck, just to blackmail a royal house.

Was it plain sense of duty then that had made the Duke act without orders? Or was it something more detestable, something Yuliana couldn't even imagine? Did the Duke have any intention to release her, or even let anyone know he had her?

The squad escorted the princess across the river splitting the town, to the eastern side of Grelden. The town guards' headquarters stood right beside the stone bridge connecting the districts. It was not a nasty castle, but a simple, tall apartment building, adorned with the town's green-gold banners. Yuliana was left to wait in an office room with two guards, while the captain went to report her capture and inquire what was to be done about her.

She had to wait a good while.

The morning approached noon before Captain Selmon returned and Yuliana was escorted—not into a holding cell, but back to the street outside.

There a beautiful, crimson-painted horse carriage awaited her.

“Your bail has been paid, you are free to go,” the knight informed her, not looking too pleased by the fact.

“Does this carriage look like freedom to you, Selmon?” Yuliana asked.

“It is not my preference, but I cannot hold you either,” he answered.

Departing with two pairs of armed riders, the carriage headed east through the town. Considering their heading, Yuliana suspected her destination was the Mayor's private estate, and she wasn't mistaken either.

Roughly eight miles outside the town, following a curvy, serpent-like road that crossed over the vast farmlands, on a wide hilltop encircled by a stone wall, stood the manor of the head of Grelden.

It was not quite as luxurious as her own family villa on the shores of the southern sea, but Yuliana had to admit it was still a befitting residence for a nobleman.

The main building four stories in height, a stable for fifty horses, a detached house for the servants, a storage building, a guardhouse, and other smaller buildings, all maintained in excellent condition.

The carriage pulled to a halt before a fabulous stone fountain facing the front entrance.

Yuliana was escorted inside and received by the Mayor's servants.

She was stripped of her armor and clothes, bathed, and then dressed in a fashion more suitable for a political prisoner, a violet silk dress, simple but beautiful.

As good as it looked on her, the costume disgusted the princess. Its choice revealed too much of the character and intentions of her host. Prepared in advance, right in her size, as if her ending up on the palm of his hand had been but a matter of time.

Yuliana was then treated to a simple meal and left to wait again.

The sun was setting fast before a maid finally came to retrieve her,

“Your highness. My lord, Duke Walington, will now see you. Please follow me.”

“Oh, my abductor will finally grace me with his attention?” Yuliana sourly replied. “Do you think he'll be worthy of mine?”

The maid said nothing in return but turned to lead the way. The two armed knights continuously tailing her left Yuliana little choice but to follow.

How despicable.

The Duke had even taken soldiers from the town's guard to serve as his personal attendants, which was definitely not among their original duties. Such were acts of a tyrant and not those of a servant of people.

The princess was led through disorienting hallways and staircases of the spacious building to a quiet parlor on the eastern wing, dedicated to meeting guests. More private than a ballroom, less formal than the lord's personal office, it was an intermediary space between the hallway and a larger display room, with a view to a flower garden outside.

A group of antique furniture was set up in the corner, but Yuliana took no seat. The maid told her to wait for a moment and left, the knights in tow.

Left by herself, Yuliana heard the sound of the door being locked behind her back.

I don't like this.

Finally, the door on the display room's side opened and, having made her wait after waiting, the master of the house appeared in person.

“Yuliana Da Via Brannan. Your highness. It is a pleasure.”

Stepping in was a man in his late twenties, slim and upright. He was dressed in a formal black costume with a short, fitting coat and straight trousers, clean leather shoes, a wine-red, embroidered vest, and a pearl-white shirt. His mid-length, dark bangs hung tidily combed to one side, a bit above the brow, and from beneath his brows gazed a pair of good-humored but a bit harsh eyes. Without those eyes and the sleazy grin contorting a corner of his lips, the Duke probably could have been called handsome. As he was, however, the final impression was hardly favorable. In his hand, sheathed, he carried Yuliana's sword, the one she had bought from the blacksmith in the morning.

The moment she laid her eyes on the man, Yuliana——gasped in shock.

“You—you are not the Duke of Haywell!” she exclaimed.

As little as they had interacted in the past, the princess hadn't forgotten how the Mayor looked. Not to the point that she would confuse any random stranger for him. She was convinced at a glance; whoever the man was, he was not a relative of the Walingtons.

“Oh, so you've met the man? Ahahaha!” after being exposed as a fraud, the man only laughed. “Oh, isn't this a surprise? I didn't expect to get found out so quickly! I'm impressed, truly. You have good eyes, my lady. Oh well.”

Was he mad? Disgusted by his uncouth behavior, Yuliana glared at the stranger.

“What are you, really? A thief? A spy? A bandit?”

“None of those, I assure you,” he said. “There is no other Duke in Grelden than I. I have been formally appointed to my position, after all. Just, not by those you deem as the rulers of these lands. No, by one who outranks the juvenile prince of Efastopol by far. Yes, your highness, my allegiance lies with the Emperor of Tratovia and no other.”

“So a spy!” she repeated.

“Something more refined than that.” The false Duke walked to the window and continued, “There are no secrets for me to spy here, see? By this point, Luctretz is not an enemy to be conspired against, nor even a sovereign state to begin with, but only another apple in the Emperor's garden. Where I merely stand in for a warden.”

“A madman is what you are. What do you mean to say?”

“Never mind. That is not important to you anymore, my lady. All that matters is that you know me for who I am, the Duke of Haywell, Norenbagh Lucile Walington. And as such, I welcome you to my humble house. Do enjoy your stay. I'm afraid it is going to be a long one.”

“The sun will set backwards, before I acknowledge you, an imposter on top of an abductor,” Yuliana spitefully replied. “Where is the real Norenbagh? Assassinated with a dagger in his back? Or perhaps you used poison? Do you think the people of Grelden won't find out what you have done to him?”

“Oh, they've accepted me quite easily now, you don't need to worry about that. Instead, shouldn't you be more concerned with your own future from here on?”

Biting her lip, Yuliana continued to glare at the man, who turned back to face her and said,

“I was more than a little surprised when late last night, two knights of the Langorian special forces were brought to me, exasperated. Barely able to pause to draw their breath, they told me such a fantastic tale—of how the crown princess of Langoria had stolen something precious from the castle and escaped. Betrayed her own country, her king, for seemingly no reason. They told me how a squad of loyal, handpicked knights, ordered by a furious father, had chased her for days across the lands, through the mountains, right up to the northern border. The pursuit escalated in the most dramatic encounter in a hideous storm. Then there was all kinds of balderdash about bolts of lightning going up and down, sword-wielding Daemons appearing out of the shadows, dismembered heads rolling and so on, it was very colorful—I frankly couldn't keep up with the narrative anymore at this point. But I did get the gist of it: the princess got away and came to Luctretz. To Grelden. My own town. Almost too good to be true.”

Yuliana grit her teeth.

So those knights followed us, after all, instead of going back? Fools.

“I'm sure you know the rest,” the man said. “The first thing I did after hearing the story was order a bounty to be put on your head, high enough for everybody in town to keep their eyes peeled, in case they saw anybody matching your description. Do forgive me for the 'dead or alive'-bit, but I did not honestly think anyone would be capable or daring enough to slay the famous knight princess. It was just to spice things up a bit. My knights would take care of it, I knew. As they did. Which has brought us to this happy conclusion.”

“Happy for who?” Yuliana asked.

“For the people, of course,” the fake Duke answered, spreading his arms. “You know, tomorrow night, I am hosting a banquet here at Haywell. All the nearby landlords, nobles, noteworthy figures of Grelden, and a few other characters of my choosing are invited. It was just to be a regular 'oiling' event, where I ensure the wheels of the province keep turning and the lords remain favorable to me. But now that you're here, I've changed plans. You, my dear lady, should be the star of the show.”

“The star…?”

“Yes. The much longed-for flash of brilliance in the lives of these fat fucks. During this banquet, your highness will emerge once more in public...to announce your engagement to yours truly.”

“I knew it was coming, and I knew you were mad,” Yuliana replied, shaking her head. “And you should know it will never happen.”

“Of course, you knew,” the man shrugged. “That was not to be a mystery. I mean, what other use is there for women? But that's just the beginning, mind you. It gets better. It is a beautiful setting with a forbidden romance, crossing the borders of nations. You will look at those dull old men and women, right into their watery eyes, and explain how you simply had no choice but to escape the cold castle of your father, because your heart wouldn't allow you to be separated from your true love—me. They will melt like butter in the sun. The story will spread. Finding their natural explanation, the rumors about you running away as a traitor and being disavowed will evaporate. Langoria will have no choice but to restore your rightful rank and privileges. Or else face a diplomatic scandal with Luctretz.”

“This plot is not for my own good, I presume.”

“It's for everybody's good,” the Duke said. “Everybody wins. You see, the best has yet to come. Once the storm in the milk jug has passed, the following shall happen: the Prince of Luctretz will announce a special military pact, in which he unconditionally submits his territory to the use of the Tratovian Empire. Langoria wakes up on a cold autumn morning to find itself besieged. Will there be bloodshed? Oh no, because it is then that you, as the future—very near future—Queen of Langoria, will open your country's borders to a peaceful occupation.”

“I take it back,” Yuliana said, appalled. “You are not mad. There is no word in any language sufficient to describe your lunacy.”

“As much as I would like to, I can take no credit for this plan,” the Duke said. “It has been formulated by minds far superior to my own. All you and I can do is play our parts in it as well as we can, in order to receive our modest share on the fruits of success.”

“And what is your 'modest share'? Me? The Dukedom? Better yet, my country? I fear all of those are more than you have the rank or skill to take, knave.”

“Now, now. This is no time to be losing your temper, my princess,” the man responded. “I was worried the rationality of it all would be lost on you, with that crude knight act you have going. But please think about it for another moment. The day you were born into nobility, all the exits were sealed for you. One way or the other, there is a role prepared for you. By me, by your father, by someone else. All you can do is choose your theater—or be removed from the stage. If you cannot content with the benefits the Empire gives to its faithful subjects, then there is no choice but do away with you. Dead or alive, remember? It doesn't really matter to me. In body alone, you are fit to be used against Langoria's King. I will send you back to him—piece by piece, until his spirit gives in.”

“You...” Yuliana tightened her fists, her nails digging into her palms. “You a thousand times mad maniac! Don't think it will go so easily for you!”

Walking around her, the fake Duke ignored the girl and proceeded to draw the sword.

“So this is the legendary Amygla?” he examined the weapon. “Beautiful work, as expected. The most resilient known material—all those thousands of years since it was forged, yet not a mark on its blade. As if it's never been used. Forged by the elves, was it? Oh, there's a rune carved on the handle. That's not elvish, is it? Well, what could the pointy ears ever do right by themselves? Do you know what it stands for?”

“I haven't the faintest,” Yuliana answered, suppressing a smile.

“Really?” he frowned. “You sure it is not some secret word, a spell to activate the sword's hidden power, taught only to the heirs of the throne? Doesn't that get your imagination running?”

“History never was my strongest point. A crude knight princess, remember?”

“Right...What a shame.”

The man wasn't being cautious at all.

Like he never did see Yuliana as anything more than a girl. Though he was armed, there were openings everywhere.

I'd be a fool to not take this chance.

Discreetly turning around, Yuliana stepped towards him, as his attention was occupied by the blade in his hands. Noticing movement from the corner of his eye, the Duke turned, raising his sword arm.

But his reaction was too slow.

Yuliana had already grabbed his wrist and, bending it down, directed a punch in his jaw by the palm of her free hand. A noble or an imposter, he wasn't skilled enough to avoid it.

He didn't need to.

“What——?”

Shocked, Yuliana stared at her hand, which was frozen mid-air, blocked by a strange whirl. It looked as though the air itself was repelling her hand, pressing against it with irresistible force.

At the same time, she saw the room sway and distort on her left.

From seemingly out of nothing, a dark figure stepped forward.

A boy or a young man, not much older than Yuliana in appearance, dressed in a black robe that concealed most of his body, save for an outstretched hand that held a thin, black staff, longer than he was tall. Lengthy black hair framed the stranger's features, which were better described beautiful in an androgynous fashion rather than handsome. From the piercing gaze of his azure eyes, Yuliana's attention was drawn to his ringed ears, which were sharp and elongated upwards.

An elf? No...a Cirelo, a dark elf?

Why was one serving the Empire?

“Not all that unexpected,” the sorcerer spoke, in a deep, manly voice that didn't suit his youthful looks at all. “I see human civility at its finest. Perhaps you do not need that hand anymore?”

Yuliana realized she couldn't pull her arm back from the swirl. Instead, an invisible force appeared to suck her in, slowly wrapping around her arm, until elbow, tightly squeezing it. So tightly it was beginning to get painful.

“Release her, Joviél,” the false Norenbagh said. “There is no need for that. Our guest was only...shocked, by the dramatic news. Overtaken by emotion, understandably so. There was no harm done.”

“Is there yet harm to be done—that concerns me,” the sorcerer called Joviél stepped closer, examining Yuliana. “I sense a strange power in this girl. She is not a simple human. Terminating her now could be safer than waiting to see what it is.”

“Whether she lives or dies,” the man said, “that depends on the lady herself. Before our safety, the Emperor's plan is what matters. And for that, she could still be more useful as a willing ally than as a corpse. She is at our mercy. There is all the time in the world to kill her after, if she refuses. Or you don't mean to say she is a danger to you, whatever is in her? To one of the Aldervolk? Then why won't this power help her now?”

For a moment, the elf would say nothing.

Yuliana felt the force around her limb fluctuate, as though its conjurer had trouble deciding what to do. At times it grew intense enough to nearly crack her bones, but ultimately faded completely and she was free, albeit with her arm numbed and aching.

“Whatever it may be, I invite you to test me,” Joviél told her, walking past her to the window.

Rubbing her arm, Yuliana straightened her posture.

“So this is how you convinced the people of Grelden you're the Duke? With the dark arts? By joining hands with the cursed races?”

“I'd tidy up my language, if I were you,” Norenbagh answered, “If you think Death has become my servant, to command at will, you would be mistaken. I might not be able to spare you a second time. You have until sunrise to think things through and decide whether to accept the Emperor's mercy—or a swift end. And if you want my advice, try not to do anything foolish like escape meanwhile. I will take that as a 'no'.”

Having said all he wanted, the Duke called the guards and ordered them to escort the prisoner to the room reserved for her.

Brave as she tried to present herself, Yuliana had to admit her choices looked grim. She was confident she could do something about human guards, but defying a sorcerer in his territory was a different matter.

But if escape was impossible, then was accepting the offer all she had left?

Betray the country she had sworn an oath for, join this imposter in marriage, and open the gates of Langoria to invaders? It was horrible, abominable, even as a thought. Yet just as horrible, if not even more so, was the idea of being put to death, only to have her disgraced remains exploited, to wring concessions from her family. The king, her father aside, her gentle mother would not survive it. What a horror and humiliation it would be for the knights who once served under her, after she had already shamed them once with her desertion.

Why did I ever leave home? How could I even think about conquering the Trophaeum at the top of the world, when I can't even protect my own country against these petty snakes...?

She wanted to become stronger. Could she count on the Divine Lord to save her from this situation? So far, Aiwesh had remained quiet, not even speaking to her in thought. Even though it was day, even though she should have had the power?

Why?

Yuliana remembered once again that she knew next to nothing about the spirit whose vessel she had only become days ago. Did the girl's fate even matter to the Lord of Light? Or had she already deemed Yuliana a lost cause, unworthy as a vessel, now only waiting for the opportunity to be freed from her form and return to Langoria?

As she remained haunted by these dark thoughts, there was at least one thing the princess felt grateful about.

That the summoned hero wasn't there to see her disgrace, but remained free to pursue whatever was her dream.

5

Giving the matter some thought over the long idle hours she spent staring at the ceiling, Itaka Izumi ultimately concluded that the world she was in was most likely not incorporating video game mechanics.

She found no way to confirm her remaining hit points, stamina or mana points, or other relevant attributes. Sleeping, while quite as pleasant, was not much more revitalizing than in her original world, and the muscles of her sword arm were rather sore by last night’s unusual exercise.

In other words, whether the planet called Ortho was a highly advanced simulation by an unknown alien race, a magically induced dream, or a genuine alternate reality, it still worked largely by the same natural principles that governed life on Earth. Even though it didn't enjoy an equivalent level of cultural sophistication.

“Meehhhhhhh…” This conclusion considerably lowered Izumi's enthusiasm towards the future. “This means, I seriously have to find work to make a living? There won't be an adventure if I starve at the starter zone! Are you kidding meeeee…?”

The summoned champion had found herself a small attic room from the eastern district, in the upstairs of an old couple, for the fee of five copper marks per night. There she spent the time Yuliana was introduced to captivity by lazing off and sleeping.

Not gaining experience points from her actions meant she wouldn't be growing any stronger than she already was. Rather, her strength would only keep on rapidly declining as her age caught up with her.

“Isn't this really bad...?”

What could she do then?

With the goal of becoming a conventional action hero, Izumi had mostly only studied combat and survival skills fit for the wild. And yet, being a woman fast approaching her forties, she wouldn't be able to hold the physically demanding job of a mercenary for long. Provided anyone was willing to give her a chance in the first place. Unlike in video games, where your character's looks didn't make the quest-givers any less willing to unload their troubles on you, the humans of Ortho were limited by prejudice, doubts, fears, and needless empathy.

What else then? What kind of jobs were viable?

Izumi thought about her “sub class” studies.

Should she go beg a blacksmith to take her for an apprentice? Clearly impossible for the aforementioned reasons.

Izumi had also tried to study flora in her youth since herbalists tended to have it nice and easy, but she had given up on that field soon as well. After all, there was no way to know if the other world would have similar species of vegetation. Most likely not, making studying them a big waste of time.

Other usual medieval game activities included the likes of tailoring, mining, alchemy, cooking, and farming. Of those, she only had any familiarity with cooking. Trying to find work as a chef, however, she'd have the entire female population of this world for competition, on top of not knowing the next thing about the ingredients or where to get them.

“Is there any way I could use my advanced modern day knowledge to my advantage?” Izumi frantically thought. “Build a generator? Invent the radio? Penicillin? Get into medicine?”

Regrettably, with only high school level academics, Izumi was a far cry from an engineer or a pharmacist. And all the theoretical knowledge obtained in her school days had typically vanished from her mind after the exam day. How to construct a dynamo or a battery from scratch, she had to admit she was clueless. If a light bulb broke, she'd replace it with another, without ever paying a thought to how exactly it worked.

As she was, Izumi simply didn't know enough about this world yet to live in it. There were still tasks like customer service or perhaps office work, becoming a scribe, or a bookkeeper for merchants, but...

“There's no meaning in coming to another world, if I'm only going to do the kind of stuff they’d force on me at home!”

Izumi was at a dead end.

Her solution to her troubles was the same as in her previous world—to go back to sleep.

By the time Izumi awoke again, it was already getting darker. The warm orange tones of the setting sun were cast into the room through the open window, which she was sure she had closed earlier. Turning to look, she realized she had a visitor.

—“Oh, did I wake you up? So sorry.”

There was a girl sitting on the window sill, gazing back at Izumi with a playful smile.

Riswelze. As she had promised, the assassin had returned.

Rubbing the corners of eyes, Izumi sat up on the bed.

“I wasn’t asleep,” she said, feeling slightly guilty for not noticing a thing.

“You were snoring. Like a baby,” the girl mocked her.

“So you bought the act. How did you find me anyway?”

“You're seriously asking me? What a half-baked contract killer would I be, if I couldn't track down one funnily-dressed lady with a claymore in a town this small? The folk here aren’t particularly secretive about their guests. I don't know if you realized, but safety is ever in high demand yet short in supply.”

“Yes, yes, I'm very impressed, falling for you, great job,” Izumi lightly clapped her hands. “And? Did you get your coin too?”

“Ha!” The girl wryly turned her eyes to the street view. “They gave me thirty in silver and told to choose between that and dungeon. And you can't exactly rough up a military fort for better pay. Well, I should be glad they gave anything at all. Better than expected, really. We've a bigger fish in our sights, don't we?”

“We do?”

Jumping down from the window, Riswelze stepped forward and explained in a lowered tone,

“As I suspected, they've taken the princess to the Mayor's private estate, half an hour's ride outside the town. According to my informant, the Mayor has a banquet planned for tomorrow night, where all the local elite is invited. The timing of the festivities is probably a coincidence, but I have no doubt her royal highness is going to make an appearance there.”

“And I'm guessing somebody is going to crash that party. It’s on a night like that, when the rich have their purses loosest, yes?” Izumi said.

“Great minds think alike,” the girl nodded. “The estate will be heavily guarded, of course. The Mayor has positioned two platoons of town guards there. That's nearly eighty men. The chances of sneaking in and back out unnoticed are next to nil. But I have a plan that might make the impossible possible. You interested?”

“Me?”

“Yeah. You're going to get the princess back, aren't you? So let's work together.”

“Right...”

“I have an associate inside. I can get you a forged invitation and he will edit you onto the list of guests. You will attend the banquet posing as a fresh aristocrat looking to make contacts and blend right in. There are going to be fireworks. You will find a chance to set off the fireworks ahead of the schedule, drawing everybody's attention to the skies. If all goes well, it will make enough noise to draw at least some of the guards from their posts. Making use of the distraction, I will then infiltrate the estate, help myself to the Mayor’s safe, and then create a distraction on my own right. You're then free to grab the princess, shuffle out with the crowd and ride home. How does it sound?”

“So the classic pattern then.”

“You've done heists before?” Riswelze raised a brow.

“Yeees, many, many times,” Izumi replied, “Like in Hit*** and A***** Creed, and so on.”

“I've never heard of those places before...Well, aren't you full of surprises, auntie?”

“Don't call me that. I have a name.”

“Oh, and one more thing,” Riswelze ignored her and added in a more serious tone. “The profits will be split 80-20, in my favor. You shouldn't have a problem with that. I'm shouldering all the preparations and most of the risk as well.”

“Hmm?” Izumi frowned.

“W-what? Well, 70-30 then? I'm really in need of coin, you know.”

“No, that's not it,” the woman shook her head. “You can make it 90-10 if you want, I don't mind. I was only a bit surprised.”

“What for?”

“For being a thief and a killer, you're awfully honest.”

“What?” the assassin's eyes widened in astonishment. “W-what are you saying, that came out of nowhere?”

“Well,” Izumi explained, “I imagined you were planning to either bail in the end or stab us in the back, so you wouldn't bother to bring up any talks about profits now.”

“Huh!?” Riswelze leaned forward, looking offended. “I wouldn't do that! Haven’t I already helped you a plenty? What kind of a despicable villain am I in your eyes?”

“The kind that murders and steals for a living?” Izumi tilted her head and answered. “Besides, you nearly did stab me in the back, literally.”

“There's a rhyme and reason to everything, including murder and stealing! Besides, theft isn't what I do for a career, it's more just a...forced hobby, maybe? Not my personal preference. I mean, the point is, I don't do what I do out of some bizarre desire to be evil, nor do I betray my partners. I have standards! Yes, standards.”

“Some standards, trying to butcher a helpless, innocent woman in a bath.”

“That—that was an accident!” Riswelze quickly retorted. “You're not going to hold it against me forever, are you? I admit I did a poor job at verifying the facts, but anyone would have made the mistake in my position! Isn't it to atone for that, that I'm lending you a hand now?”

Why was she so bent on making herself look good in Izumi's eyes anyway? The woman couldn't understand.

“What about if and when I get Yule out of that place?” Izumi asked. “Are you going to try to fix your mistake and kill her, if another bounty is put on her?”

“I'm not going to do that,” the assassin sighed. “If all goes well, I won't need the coin anymore, and we can only get her out if all does go well. So rest assured, everybody wins.”

“Sure...”

Izumi fell quiet and looked down.

“What's wrong?” Riswelze asked, seeing that listless look. “I've seen faces like that before. It's going to go well, all right? Don't go getting cold feet now.”

“That's not it,” Izumi shook her head. “I can't say I don't need the money myself, so I don't mind helping out, but...Do you think that I'd really be 'saving' Yule? By dragging her out of that place. What if she doesn't want to?”

“Huh? What's that supposed to mean?” The assassin rolled her eyes. “Did she look willing to you, when they dragged her away?”

“Maybe not,” Izumi admitted, “but sometimes what we want might not be what we need. Maybe what's waiting for her outside is worse than what's in there, you know? She's got food and a place to stay, at least. She won't have to worry about being pursued or finding a job. Rationally thinking, I wouldn't be doing much good for her if I forced her back on the road to be a fugitive again, would I?”

Riswelze twisted her lips and took a step forward,

“It's been bothering me the whole time, but what are you to that princess, exactly? Her mom?”

“No.”

“Yet you keep worrying about her as if you were.”

“I do?”

“You didn't even notice? Ever since I first saw you two, you've been guarding her every step, haven't you? The market, the blacksmith's shop, like a jealous mother hen. She probably despises you, imagining you betrayed her, yet here you are, selflessly thinking only what's best for her? Though in a pretty bizarre way, if you ask me. So go get her. Clear up the misunderstanding, and take her wherever. That's what you really want to do, isn't it?”

“I know I'm not that girl's mother,” Izumi sullenly answered, “And I know I wouldn't be able to look after her like one. If I could choose, I'd of course rather have her suffer less than more. Isn't that only natural? Whether it was Yule in trouble or Rise or anybody else, I'd feel the same way. Probably. Then does it matter what I want? If I can't guarantee that being free is better for her than being there, then wouldn't I just be doing it for my own self-satisfaction? Whenever I see the hero face a choice like this in all those books and movies, I can't help but wonder, 'isn't he actually the bad guy here'? 'How can he keep selfishly pursuing his own happiness with the girl, when the world and so many lives are at stake'? How is that supposed to be something to admire? I don't really get it. Is it men’s logic?”

“Weird is what you are,” Riswelze shook her head. She walked in front of the woman, leaned over to bring her face at her level, and said, “Listen to me. Who cares about being a hero? We're only people here, you and I. If there's something you want, you had better grab it and run with it, and no second thoughts. That's all there is to life. Who gives a damn if it's selfish or whatnot? Who's gonna judge you? Everything that flows through your fingers might as well stop existing for you. I can't predict the future, but I do know this: if there's a chance something will go wrong for the people you care about when you're not looking, you can bet it will. And when that happens, it won't matter one bit what you intended or wanted. Pain is all you'll be left with. So either you will abandon someone to death, or you'll do your darned hardest to look after them. No compromises. So, how shall it be?”

“That speech sounds pretty villain-y to me,” Izumi said.

“Whatever, auntie!” the assassin straightened herself and turned back to the window. “Believe me or don’t. All you need to do is go see for yourself. You're going anyway, aren't you? So find the girl, see how she's doing with your own eyes. Then you can decide whether she needs a rescue or not.”

“...I suppose I can do that much.”

“That's what I want to hear. Don't be fooled by how easy I've made it sound. It won't be. We're going in our separate ways, so if anything goes wrong, I won't be able to help you. Just set off those fireworks and get out. With the girl or without, that's your call. Don't try any heroics. Always look after yourself first, I...Izumi.”

“You really are a nice girl, Rise,” the woman said, a bit puzzled. “So much so, that I think it's going against your own advice. I'm not particularly upset about you trying to kill me if that's what you're still worried about. You don't owe me apologies and I already promised to help you, so that's that.”

“I'm not nice at all,” Riswelze only said, hiding under her bangs to evade Izumi's gaze.

She then turned to the window and added in a more composed tone,

“With the bounty silver, I will have an appropriate costume and a carriage ready for you. The party will begin at the beginning of the sixth period tomorrow night, so I will come pick you up sometime before that. Just be ready and don't get yourself in trouble before then.”

“Right.”

Having said everything, the young girl climbed through the window and jumped out, into the darkening night. Seemed there was no more reason to think about how she got in, with the door locked.

“I really am too old for the hero part, aren't I…?” Izumi muttered, before laying back on the bed and closing her eyes.