1

Meeting the Emperor had done little to improve Yuliana’s mood. The conversation was done and over with well before she could go through her own points of concern, and the princess was unceremoniously escorted back to her quarters. His majesty had simply said whatever he pleased and dismissed her once he was done, not all that unlike a true dictator. Not that she had expected much better, after everything she had heard about the man, but it was still a frustrating development.

“I look forward to hearing a favorable response to my request, come tomorrow morning,” he had said before departing.

At least he had been open to a peaceful solution, instead of trying to threaten and coerce her with open villainy. Yuliana felt slightly encouraged by the fact, even if she didn't dare to trust it. Reliable or not, it was through this negotiation that she had to introduce her own point of view to the Emperor.

But exactly how...?

Afterwards, Yuliana had been granted access to a garden at the root of her lonely tower, where to pass time in fresh air, and reflect on her situation. It was certainly a noteworthy improvement over the chamber in the skies, yet she remained a caged bird all the same. The solitary, securely locked exit in the perimeter fence was guarded by a pair of knights with their ornate halberds. Across the garden on the other side, a dramatic fall down the steep hillside awaited, the city streets beneath it.

But despite her uneventful captivity, Yuliana’s worries were many and thinking about them helped time pass only too swiftly.

“Regarding my...associate,” she had managed to say to the ruler of the city, “would you not show her mercy? I know what she did was scandalous and a crime worthy of the capital punishment, but...would you not find it in you to pardon her, anyhow? From death, at least?”

“The assassin?” The Emperor had kept his expression neutral. “You would speak on behalf of such a foolish wretch?”

“Yes,” Yuliana had said. “She is a stranger to our ways, and views life like some sort of a game, but...she’s not evil inside. Reckless, yes. Rude, violent, ignorant, arrogant, irresponsible, weirdly stubborn about the strangest things, has no respect for anyone or anything, no sense of danger, she knows no shame, and is an unbelievable deviant, but...I—I suppose I owe as much to her. She saved my life, so I am obligated to speak in her favor. A-and it would be too miserable an end for her, to perish without a full awareness of what she was even doing...”

By telling the Emperor directly just how important an existence Izumi was to Yuliana, she might have given him a dangerous leverage against her. The princess was aware of this. Regardless, she had tried to improve the woman's situation, so that at least the worst of punishments could be avoided.

But had her appeal been too feeble…?

“I shall see what I can do,” the Emperor had given a brief, absent-minded response, far from committed.

Restlessly pacing back and forth amid the beauty of cultivated nature in the garden, Yuliana tried in vain to forget the anxiety wrenching her insides. Was there nothing more she could do but wait again?

The Divine Lord within the princess remained silent.

In spite of her constant presence, it was normal for Aiwesh to take multiple days without speaking a word to her vessel. That was typical of her, but Yuliana felt the spirit had recently taken to deliberately ignoring her. By her waking positions, she knew the Divine occasionally consulted with Izumi, but whatever topics the two discussed weren’t shared with the princess, and she had no awareness at the times her body was possessed.

Being excluded was rather disheartening.

Am I that poor a vessel, not even worth being confided in? Am I only an inconvenience to my Lord? Like to my King...

Yuliana sighed and sat down on a bench fitted in a row of vigorous apple trees along the west-side fence. On the other side of the thin steel barrier, was another garden and a vegetable farm, and a building where the workers’ kitchens were. Occasional sounds of plates and metal tools clashing faintly reached Yuliana’s ears from the distance.

Since becoming Aiwesh’s vessel, the princess’s senses had steadily sharpened over time. She discovered she could accurately pick out sounds, even conversations, from unnaturally far away. Her eyesight had always been keen, but now she could clearly make out even the tiny sparrows playing in the trees of the city hundreds of feet below. But her improved senses were of no use to her in this situation. If anything, they only highlighted all the things she was powerless to reach.

For once, I wanted to be the one to save her…

Suddenly, as Yuliana sat absorbed in recycling these depressing thoughts, a strange sound reached her ears. First she heard a bizarre noise, a whoomp, and then unnatural rustling—not from afar, but from the canopy of the apple tree right beside her. No way a sparrow was the cause of that racket.

What was going on?

As she looked up, trying to peer through the dense foliage…

—“Uwaaah!”

...Someone came falling down.

Bewildered, Yuliana watched a young man drop down onto the lawn, covered in leaves.

“Ow, ow, ow! That hurt...That seriously hurt…! Aw my back!” the man moaned, struggling to get up. “Damn that witch! She landed me there on purpose. It was completely on purpose, I know it! I’ll so get her for this...!”

The youth brushed his white shirt and fixed the glasses on his nose, looking around.

“Phew, no guards,” he sighed in relief. “Must be my lucky day...Oh.”

Then, he noticed Yuliana on the bench a few feet away. The princess was too astonished to even manage a sound, and only stared back at the stranger.

“Eh, hello?” he said. “My...lord, you’re beautiful.”

“Eeh?” Yuliana recovered and stood with an alarmed look. “Who in the world are you? Where did you come from?”

“Shh!” the man quickly shushed her. “Please, keep quiet! Act as if I’m not even here. I’m nobody suspicious and won’t do anything weird or hurt you, I swear, so please, don’t alert the guards, okay? Please, please, please...”

“...I won’t, if you explain yourself,” Yuliana felt he was nothing if not suspicious.

Not that the man looked particularly dangerous either. He was hardly any older than Yuliana herself and not much taller. Not a knight or an assassin, that much was clear just by a glance.

“My name is Benjamin Watts,” the young man introduced himself. “Please call me Ben. I’m something of a freeloader here at the palace, or a witch’s apprentice, or a royal guest, however you want to spin it. And you must be the famous princess Yuliana, yes? I mean, no matter how I look at you, you must be a princess. A goddess. By chance, I have to ask, are you seeing anyone right now? No princes around? I don’t see any rings on your fingers, does that mean you’re still in the free markets? Would you please consider going out with me...”

“I’m going to call the guards,” Yuliana said, narrowing her eyes.

“No, please don’t!” he pleaded. “A joke, just a joke, to break the ice! I’m simply here to deliver a message to your highness. And after this is done, I’ll be right out. Nobody needs to get hurt.”

“A message?” Yuliana repeated, her suspicions not lessened in the least.

“Yes. I will tell you everything, just remain calm, and try to act as naturally as you can. I’m wearing a talisman that renders me invisible, but it’ll only work reliably over a safe distance and when I’m still. The guards will spot me if they get too close, and that’s the absolute worst thing that can happen.”

“So what is this message of yours?” Yuliana questioned him, slowly sitting back down. “And who’s the sender? What did you mean, a ‘witch’s apprentice’? Do forgive my doubts, but you don’t look like a sorcerer yourself, in spite of your tricks.”

“I shouldn’t say too much,” he replied. “In case the guards suspect something’s up and decide to question you, er, by unnecessarily forceful means. Look, I’ve met with your friend, Izumi. Did I pronounce it right? You know, the lady from the other world.”

“What?” Yuliana could barely maintain her composure at hearing the news. “You’ve seen her!? Where? Where is she now? Is she all right?”

“Yes, she’s safe, she’s safe,” he answered. “We sort of broke her out of prison, and everything’s fine for the time being. Nothing to worry about. That’s what I came here to tell you. She also wanted proof that your highness is safe. Is there any message you’d like me to take back to her? You know, to give my report some credibility...”

“A message...” Yuliana tried quickly to think of something meaningful, and gazed out over the city, into the distant horizon. What did she want to say? What was the most important thing? Then, she made up her mind.

“Tell her not to worry about me and get out of this city. I’ll be fine. Tell Izumi to go and follow her dreams instead of wasting her time trying to save me again and again.”

Benjamin scratched his head.

“I don’t think she’ll be too happy with a message like that.”

“But she’ll know it’s from me.”

“How about something like this instead: ‘I’m safe and sound, so feel free to fight without care!’ Like that?”

Yuliana returned him a disapproving scowl.

“There’s already enough fighting in the world. She’s done her fair share of that, and too much of it for my sake. Adding to it still isn’t going to make me the least bit happy. I have to become stronger myself. Strong enough to fight my own battles.”

“Well,” Benjamin shrugged. “It’s not like I don’t see where you’re coming from. But, try to think of it this way: we all have things that we want in this world. Isn’t that right? Everybody wants something and they work hard to reach it. Sometimes, instead of themselves, people may want things for somebody else. And then, what they want for you ends up going against what you want for them. And it all becomes a downright mess. I’m not entirely sure where I’m going with this, but the gist of it is, shouldn’t we all have the freedom to pursue what we want in life, and let others do the same, and just deal with it?”

“You’re right, not even I can tell where you’re going with this,” Yuliana told him.

“Let me just ask you this. What is it that you really want right now, your highness? I mean, really-really, in your heart of hearts.”

“What I want...” Yuliana repeated with a dejected look. “I cannot for the death of me remember when anyone last asked me that. Everyone is only too happy to decide things for me, be they emperors or villains. Or even family.”

“Ah, a hard life,” he nodded, crossing his arms. “Again, I can sort of sympathize with your standing. But, you haven’t resigned to your lot just yet, have you?”

“Pardon me?”

“It’d be so much easier to just give up and follow the script. But be that as it may, isn’t the truth of it that you’re still fighting for something, even now? Not every battle is a flashy one, waged with swords or fists. Sometimes, this right here is our only weapon.”

The young man tapped his temple with his index finger.

“That’s...”

“But does that make it any less of a battle?” he asked. “I don’t think so. War is war. Now, do you think you’re fighting the right battle? The right way? For what you truly want in this life? Your highness?”

“...I don’t know anymore,” Yuliana muttered, staring down at her knees. “I thought I was fighting only for my family, for my kingdom. For the good of my people. For the longest time, I thought it was the only fight I was allowed to think about. Who I was as a person, or what I personally wanted, played no part in any of it. My own modest wishes didn’t matter. There was so much more at stake than just me, something that exceeded one princess, one woman, by far. For the good of my people, I was prepared to make any personal sacrifice, no matter how heavy or painful. Even if it meant giving up my own life and happiness. But recently, my resolve on this has been tested time after time again. Did I truly even understand what ‘happiness’ meant, when I was readily throwing it away? What if there are things in this world that will begin to seem more important to me than the future of my own country? It’s...dreadful. To think that there exists a force, in us humans, that can enamor us so and rob us of our senses. Don’t you find that simply maddening?”

“I, uh, I’m not entirely sure I follow,” Benjamin furrowed his brows. “But isn’t it fine? What’s wrong with wanting to be happy, a princess or not? I mean, I’ve only known you for five minutes and I already feel it’d be perfectly okay to throw away a kingdom or two for you sake. Yes, easily.”

“….”

“...Not that I have that kind of power. But if I did, probably.”

Yuliana answered him with another tired frown,

“Perhaps it is a blessing for us all that you don’t have that kind of power.”

“Ahahaa, well, a man can dream, right?” Benjamin laughed. “Well, at any rate, what shall I tell Ms Izumi then? ‘Fight for what you believe, and I shall do the same?’”

“No,” Yuliana said, determination returning to her gaze. “You will tell her to leave Bhastifal as soon as she can, and that’s that. End of discussion. No more fighting and killing, for any reason. And I mean it.”

“Okay, okay. I will tell her you said that. With a disclaimer.”

“And also tell her, I will absolutely not forgive her, if she starts something outrageous and dangerous again. I’m serious, enough have died, it has to end somewhere! That mad luck of hers can’t hold out forever. Sooner or later, she will wind up getting seriously hurt—No, I can’t even bear to think about it. Do your very best to make her give up on any attempts to rescue me, do you understand? Tell her, I will hate her forever, if she doesn’t escape immediately and live the rest of her life in peace, somewhere far away from here...For both our sakes. Yes. That’s it.”

“Eh...Okay, I believe I can relay an abridged version,” Benjamin’s smile was turning crooked.

“Good,” the princess nodded. “My battle is henceforth as the princess of Langoria, with the Emperor. There is no need for anyone else to be involved in our dispute.”

“Ah, that’s right, I overheard you met with his majesty this morning. How was it? What did he want, by the way?”

“He wants me to convince my father to allow the Empire passage to the southern harbors of Langoria, where he means to assemble a fleet.”

“Wow, okay,” Benjamin nodded. “Did you give him an answer yet?”

“No, but I will tell him the facts. That it’s impossible. My father will not listen to me or him. All it will do is start the war that nobody wanted. And for what purpose? For another reckless attempt to invade the old continent, which will bring about countless casualties more? It’s senseless! Senseless and completely unnecessary. There must be another way. The world will not be saved with swords and arrows and steel. I will make him see that.”

“I, eh, don’t think that’s a very brilliant idea,” Benjamin grunted. “I’ve heard his majesty isn’t one to take no for an answer...”

“I know it won't be easy. But that is the battle I’ve chosen to wage.”

“Good grief.”

“Oh, it appears the guards are coming.”

At Yuliana’s observation, Benjamin looked up.

Indeed, there were two knights coming, the tops of their helmets visible over the gold rose bushes.

“Darn it! Darn it, darn it, darn it,” the young man started going through his trouser pocket, hastily pulling out a round bronze medallion with a purple stone at the center. Lines of ancient writing ran around the stone. “How did this work again? Turn the inner part one click right, the outer part two clicks the other way...Then speak the incantation...”

The guards turned around the corner of the flowerbeds. Their stride was quick.

Benjamin hid behind the apple tree near the bench where Yuliana was sitting.

“I really wanted to speak with you more, but...” he said, “...Ah! Wait, but we can! Take this!”

He struggled to dig through his pockets again, soon taking out an elegant little metal chain.

“I have another like it. If you merely hold it on your wrist, we'll be able to converse even over a great distance. Just don't let anyone see it, okay? The enchantment doesn’t have a whole lot of juice, so only use it if there's an emergency. Got it?”

“Yes, I understand. Go.”

“Oh, and try not to break it or lose it. It's kind of old and expensive, the owner will probably want it back. If something happens to it...She'll blame it on me, I'm sure.”

“I understand, go!”

“I will, I will!”

Gripping his amulet, Benjamin crouched and yelled, “Azulé!”

And vanished in a burst of sparkling, violet dust.

“In the end, who was he…?” Yuliana pondered with an exhausted sigh.

The guards approached the princess and halted a few feet away.

“Was someone here?” one of them asked, glancing cautiously around.

“Yes, and he flew away,” the princess answered as she stood. “I take it my break is now over?”

2

Stepping down from the grand Ptoloios’s gate, strolling southward along the streets of the urban district, one would eventually arrive at the wide and serene Donethal’s Avenue.

There were no breath-taking palaces or mansions here, not too many tall towers or shrines either, no walled-off fortresses, or expansive private estates with an over-abundance of room to spare. The tightly packed, multi-story apartment buildings lining this avenue with their clean and economic front yards were in the upper middle class in quality. The houses were designed, equipped, and furnished to such level that no Baron or Earl had to feel shame over visiting them, even if the residents themselves were not quite as prestigious. The residents in these parts tended to own only one floor each, not the whole place, and were, even if well off, still to be counted among those who had to work for their daily sustenance.

For appearances’ sake, at least.

One of those buildings, a bit past the midway point on the avenue, to the left, was a red-brown, five-story building, white panels lining its numerous windows. The normally inconspicuous entrance stood behind a slim iron gate, across a narrow front yard, the short lawn of which had become dyed yellow by the scorching sun.

The key words to pick from there were “normally inconspicuous”.

Today, this building somewhat stood out in the neighborhood, for among all the other buildings of similar look around, it was the only one to have its entrance guarded.

Simply by the look of the guards, it was impossible for any curious witness to deduce the reason for their presence. What were they guarding, exactly, and against who?

Keeping the answer a secret in this densely populated neighborhood wasn’t possible for long, of course. By climbing to the fourth floor of that building, one would come across two more guards loitering in the hallway. And it was not classified information that the fourth floor in its entirety had been purchased some years back by a certain General Gorius Marafel, as a present for his only daughter, after she had been promoted to the rank of an officer and stationed permanently at the capital.

Said officer could rarely be spied passing behind the windows of her home, however. Work took her time, and more often than not, her home address was the army headquarters on the other side of the city. For this reason, the Colonel’s sudden return with a number of knights in tow was bound to become the topic of various old wives’ gatherings in the neighborhood, where increasingly exotic theories of her possible misdeeds were traded without rest. For the time being, no one was allowed to see the resident, and so these speculations had to go—to everyone’s frustration—unverified.

Now, if one could somehow slip past all the guards unnoticed, avoid being forcefully turned away, and then make their way up to the fourth floor, what would they find?

There was a long hallway piercing through most of the building lengthwise, with a number of white-painted doors on both sides of it. One of the north-side doors would lead the visitor to a spacious study, where the Colonel could deal with whatever paper work she brought home with her in peace.

There was a sturdy office desk beneath a wide window facing the backyard. There were large bookshelves, mostly filled with rather militaristic contents, personal documents, studies, notes, et cetera. A few mythological tomes were included, books on elves and the history of the fallen Dominion, rare books on exotic curses, and some such signs of passing interest. Leftward from the door was a more personal space, a display shelf with glass doors, carrying decorative elements, medals, medallions, diplomas, certificates, gift daggers, and other little rewards of professional success.

On the very opposite side of the room then, by the wall, was a leather couch where the resident could collapse after a day’s hard work, for a few brief hours of troubled sleep.

There were also other rooms on this floor, naturally. A proper bedroom, a kitchen, a bathroom, a living room, a servants’ room, to name just a few—but there was no meaning in describing them; Miragrave Marafel rarely ever set foot in any of them.

This study was where she would come first on those sparse occasions when she happened to visit home, that desk was where she would spend most of her limited free time, absorbed in solitary labor, and that couch was the only bed she required.

The restless fever that ever burned within her allowed the Colonel no peace. Perhaps it was the continuation of the fever lit in the jungles of the old continent? Although, what remained ablaze since that day was not her physical body, but her heart.

Now, she had returned home once more. Not quite the way she had envisioned.

The vengeance she had sought at all costs had boiled down to nothing.

So much was sacrificed.

So many lives were lost.

And what was the outcome all that blood had extracted from the forests of Felorn, the green inferno some called the Darkwood?

Nothing.

Nothing at all.

Instead of paying it off, Miragrave’s heavy debt had only been further increased.

Success or death—she had ventured out to find either of those. Yet in the end, she could only return completely empty-handed, in disgrace, unfulfilled.

The shadowy figure of the elven Court Wizard examined the dimly lit study with emotionless eyes. Empty bottles of Benegavian wine littered the floor, like the tokens of some frivolous gamble. Among them were torn papers, sketches, plans, notes of past recollections, observations, memoirs of innocent, adventurous youth, dug out on a whim, then discarded as worthless and without purpose.

Among them, left carelessly on the red carpet were the black coat of a military uniform, tall boots, and gloves of fine mangeria leather. Close by one of the boots was a bent and trampled colonel’s insignia, made of brass. And in the back of the room, on the couch, laid the figure of an adult woman, wasted and unconscious.

No. Despite the hefty amount of alcohol consumed over the course of the past two days, a distinct light of sentience remained in the dark. It intensified at the unexpected visitor’s approach.

“Took your time,” Miragrave mumbled without getting up. “Well, isn’t this quaint? I expected a simple dagger. Then again, his majesty always loved his theatrics. There is certain stark irony in my killer being you. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry you had to dirty your hands on such a tasteless setup.”

Paying the misunderstanding no heed, Carmelia walked over to the window and looked at the small birds playing in the hedgerow lining the backyard.

“For once, I see you behave like one of your kind,” the sorceress said. “In a way, it is a relief. Yet, there is also disappointment in it.”

“I’m sorry,” Miragrave said. “I wasted your arrows. The beast was right there, within my arm’s reach. But I ran out of both courage and men. I could not avenge Thalinn, no matter how I tried. Next to this disappointment, nothing else compares.”

“Hatred for the Enemy consumes you,” Carmelia said. “For that, I thought of you as special among humans. Among the many of your people, only you could come close to understanding our fury. But I also have the age to acknowledge that hatred for what it is, a curse on its bearer. For having to endure it with a maturity so brief, wisdom so fleeting, I pity you, child of man. Death could free you from your torment. It may be the only thing that can. But is it what you desire?”

“As if there’s a choice for me,” Miragrave lazily waved her hand.

“There will be no forgiveness from his majesty, of course,” Carmelia replied. “But by bringing that human to the court, you have shown that his majesty’s will is no longer absolute to you.”

“It doesn’t matter what I think of his will. What matters is that without his majesty, there can be no unity. In Tratovia, strength is everything. Evil or righteous, no one cares. The child left somewhere deep in my scarred breast secretly wished for a hero to bring a new, brighter future for us. But our ‘champion’ has failed. Therefore, his majesty’s strength remains the only absolute there is to us. That is all.”

“That may yet change.”

“Forgive me, but I need no motivational speeches, even from you.” The Colonel improved her posture on the sofa, as if to go back to sleep. “I’ve had enough of plots and politics. If you are to kill me, then can I ask you to be swift about it? And if that is not the purpose of your belated visit, then could you ask the guards to bring more wine on your way out? I am in danger of becoming sober.”

“The woman still lives.”

The person on the couch remained silent. No one else but the sorceress could have noticed that the listener had subtly tensed.

“She requested news of your well-being,” Carmelia continued. “Apparently, there is still someone in this city, who holds your life in value. Shall I tell her that you have given up on it?”

Suddenly, Miragrave spun around and sat up. She glared at the sorceress for a moment, the struggle for words apparent on her reddened face. That had to have been the first it happened, Carmelia noted.

“Lies,” the woman finally remarked in a bitter tone. “You toy with me, Caalan.”

“I am not nearly free enough for that.”

“Why? What does it mean?”

“I am being quite plain,” the sorceress extended her hands to her sides. “Will you live? Will you resign? You know there is no hope for us who still draw breath. Yet, we carve our path against odds and adversity, by whatever means at our disposal. Without relying on beautiful illusions to sustain us. Without being shackled by pride or dignity. If you live today, it means one more day to fight despair. Even if we must forsake our pride and smear ourselves in cold ashes to elude our hunters, we live and fight on. Such is our creed.”

Miragrave stared at the floor in silence.

Having said all that she felt like saying, Carmelia turned to leave.

“Tell her,” Miragrave spoke. “Tell her...that for the pain rending my skull right now, I regret ever picking up coffee.”

3

A magnificent stone dome dominated the street view north-west of the Imperial Palace, roughly two thirds of a mile from the outer walls of Selenoreion.

Surrounded by five sharp minarets, held up at the height of over two hundred feet by hefty stone walls, the dome was roughly two hundred and twenty feet across, patterned by tiny, diamond-shaped openings on the sides. The dome had been plated with copper in the later centuries, still in its original color, undimmed by the weather.

Architectural precautions to preserve the building were unnecessary.

That house could not be undone by any natural forces. No storm could shake its walls. No rain could corrode the stone, no lightning crack the mighty dome. The fiercest days of the hottest of summers couldn’t diminish the quality of its colors, thousands of years since its construction. Because that palace was protected by more than the natural resilience of the earthly elements it was shaped of.

The Grand Temple of the Three—it was the single most important religious construct in the City of Lords.

After all, it was the single religious construct that housed genuine Divine spirits.

It was the very reason Bhastifal was called, “the City of Lords”.

Not a myth, reality.

Proof to a fairy tale.

As all Empire to a degree, this building enjoyed the supernatural benefits of the Divine Lords who had embraced it as their earthly home. The timeless, unwavering will of those beings enabled the land, the buildings, and the people alike to prosper with efficiency mother nature was powerless—or unwilling—to either provide or take.

The wider the blessing’s scale, the lesser the effect.

Any old wizard or a town conjurer could bless a newborn and grant them a lucky charm for the early years of their existence, with varying levels of usefulness.

A skilled mage could bless towns, communities, strongholds, even cities.

But to bless an entire country and all the lives within its boundaries—such a feat could only be possible to a “Lord”.

In Bhastifal, the Lords numbered in three.

No more, no less.

Though hundreds of such spirits were known by name and worshiped all around Bhastifal, the Three suffered no freeloaders in their territory, and neither would their will be challenged.

The ancient Covenant prohibited Divines from favoring any single race above the others or becoming involved in their politics. The power of these magnificent beings was only ever intended to quietly sustain the world, elements, and life as a phenomenon. To prevent another “War of the Gods” from ruining the fragile equilibrium, boundaries were set that shouldn’t be crossed.

Nevertheless, it didn’t take a particularly enlightened mind to see the correlation between the presence of the Three and Tratovia’s continued success at subduing the other human nations of Noertia. It was not a coincidence either that the Empire reigned supreme and flourished, even when the times were trying.

Now, rumor spoke of the Three having granted their favors to a single mortal.

Anyone could tell why such a thing was a crime beyond crimes.

“Well, not like I can afford to complain,” Izumi shrugged, looking at the Temple’s facade. The summoned champion herself had received some minor favors from one such Divine. Although those favors rendered her anything but godly.

To have a fair fighting chance against her strongest opponent, the warrior Waramoti, Izumi had to somehow make the Three undo the blessings they had granted him. She had no idea how she should succeed in this unreal task, but neither was she the type to plan ahead much. Under the cover of a hooded cloak, she crossed the plaza before the Temple and blended with the other pilgrims on their way in.

The Grand Temple had the universal structure of any religious building, Izumi observed.

There was an entrance hall, where people were asked to leave their shoes and wash their hands. After these simple rituals, access was granted to the main hall. It was a simple, tall space, with small, flat pillows instead of chairs, where the believers could kneel in quiet prayer. Directed ceremonies were held twice a day, but the doors were open day and night. Priests and priestesses would consult the populace, read prayers, burn incense, offer fruits and vegetables as sacrifice to the spirits, or deliver people’s gifts to them.

There was no trace of the Divines themselves to be seen in the ceremonial hall, however. Not even a single portrait or a statue. Strict, ancient laws prohibited depicting the spirits by any means, and so not even the simplest of symbols were there to remind people of their presence.

Not many knew, it was for practical purposes. After all, if people were to aim their reverence to the pictures, the beings themselves would not reap the benefits of their feelings.

“How can I talk to them?” Izumi had asked Carmelia before departing.

If the Lords were spirits and she couldn’t even see them, it was going to pose a bit of a problem for the negotiations. In response, the sorceress had given the woman a ring. A simple silver ring with some kind of an elaborate symbol against a black background.

“Is this some kind of a magic ring that lets me see spirits?” Izumi had wondered.

“It’s not for the Lords that you wear it,” Carmelia had answered. “Show this to a priest to have them let you into the inner sanctum. The rest you will discover once there. But do not let anyone else see you have the ring.”

Fiddling with the quest item in her pocket, scared of losing it, Izumi walked across the hall and approached one of the priests lighting candles in the far back.

“Sorry to trouble you, but do you know what this is?”

The aged priest gave the ring a look, then another to Izumi herself, and continued to light the candles without a word, as if nothing had happened. Izumi was beginning to wonder if she had done something wrong, when the priest quietly spoke,

“Our Lords are...not in a favorable mood today.”

“Are they ever?” Izumi shook her head. “I met a pretty cranky one a while back. Though he didn’t have a house this cool.”

“A priestess was badly burned earlier in the morning. Even so, do you wish to go?”

“Not like I have a choice, geez.”

“Does your family know? You may not come back.”

“I have enough butterflies in the stomach without the hype. Can you just show me the way, okay?”

Lighting the remaining candles in no hurry, the priest then turned and walked to a little green door in the far back of the hall, behind silky, blue veils hanging from the ceiling. Izumi hoped that the priest’s hands were trembling only for age-related reasons, as he dug out a set of keys from under his cape and unlocked the door.

Opening it only a little, he nodded to the woman.

“Go.”

Izumi stepped in and turned to look at the priest, who remained behind at the door.

“Not coming with?” she asked.

“No way in Hel.”

The priest slammed the door shut. The sound of the lock echoed ominously in the tight space.

Izumi found herself in a narrow, low corridor of stone, maybe twenty feet long. In the other end were stairs, with light coming from the room above. Throwing unnecessary thoughts from her mind, steeling herself, Izumi went on, climbed the stairs, and came out in a hall even larger than the previous one.

This was the inner sanctum of the Grand Temple.

It had to have been directly under the great dome.

The walls curved without corners, thin pillars running along them. Spiky patterns painted with black pointed away from the center of the smooth stone floor. There were no pillows to sit on. No chairs or furniture of any kind, for that matter. A shallow little channel circled around the hall, close to the walls, where crystal-clear water ran nonstop. The only light sources were the rectangular windows high up in the bare dome. The light shifting through the windows bounced off the pale walls, filling every corner of the space, not very brightly but sufficiently, so that nothing could remain hidden.

A mysterious, unsettling peace filled the sanctum.

Rather than a temple, it felt like a mausoleum.

As if time itself had no passage here, everything was perfectly silent and still. The noise and rumble of human life outside failed to penetrate to this space. It was not the natural sort of peace, resulting from the lack of disturbing factors, but rather, the forced kind, where an inexplicable power suppressed all motion and friction. Izumi noted that even her tinnitus had ceased. If not for the sound of her own footsteps, she would have thought she had gone deaf.

The air was so still, Izumi initially assumed the hall was empty. She couldn’t sense anything. Looking around, she had seen no one either. As said, there were no places to hide. However, when she turned and looked again, she suddenly saw another person standing directly ahead, across the hall.

A woman. Where had she appeared from?

There was no natural explanation available.

The woman had her back turned, and so Izumi couldn't see her face, only her long, vividly blue hair that spread like a cape and veiled most of the figure clad in an elegant azure dress.

——“Why are you here, mortal?” a voice rang across the hall, clear and strong.

“You're not much for chit-chat either, are you?” Izumi asked.

“Oh no. I am a Lord of action,” the blue-haired woman replied and turned around, an almost mischievous smile on her lips.

Izumi wasn’t disappointed.

This Divine was a different kind of beauty from Aiwesh, but a beauty nonetheless. Describing her as “more human” would’ve been a bit off, perhaps “more down to earth” might have been fitting. Or better yet, “down to sea”.

Like her hair, the woman’s appearance was predominantly blue.

Deep blue were her eyes, her clothes, her nails and brows, and even her pale skin seemed to hold a faintly blue hue. Other than the odd color, she looked convincingly human. More human than Aiwesh with her magnificent wings and lengthy animal ears, and certainly more human than Matheus in his guise of a woodland elk.

“Was that not what you expected me to say?” the blue lady asked with a humorous look. “'Who doth disturb our slumber?' Oh, no need to worry about that, human. I already know who you are and why you are here. Shall I answer my own question instead?——You are here to ruin us.”

—“Are you here to ruin us?”

Suddenly, another person appeared out of nothing to stand right next to Izumi, on her right. Another woman, or a girl more like, slender and agile, in a short dress the color of gerberae, and short hair akin to vibrant flame. Flame also danced in her bright eyes, filled with accusation.

—“Will you be the one to ruin us?”

Immediately after, a third girl emerged from nothing on Izumi’s left. This one had a strictly earthly color scheme, being dressed in a beige, baggy-sleeved kimono. Her hair as well ran long and straight as sand poured in an hourglass. Of the three, she was the shortest and youngest-looking, yet she also gave off a more stable, balanced vibe.

Of course, any mention of age was without meaning when discussing such beings.

They were as old as the earth itself.

As old as the first flame.

As old as the sea.

“Yes, not spooked at all,” Izumi said, trying not to look at the girls staring at her from an awkwardly close distance.

“You are the herald of the White Death, yes?” the blue spirit spoke. “It is meaningless to deny it. I can see you have been touched by her light. You are not a human but a pawn she has called from another world, to lay waste to all of Ortho, our fathers’ creation. I know she is here. This is our land, has been for so long, and nothing treads it without our knowing. Even now I sense her accursed radiance, which she does not even bother to try and hide from us. Gone is our brother’s soothing aura from the Darkwood, whereas the blaze of Brann’s monster has only grown bolder. And we are to be the next, no? What is your intrusion here then, if not a declaration of war, you flagbearer of evil?”

“We’re sure off to a great start,” Izumi made a troubled frown. “Are you talking about Ai-chan now, by chance?”

Turning away, the blue Divine waved her hand to dismiss the visitor.

“Return to your master. Tell that forsaken abomination that we will not submit! If she wants our heads, then may she come claim them with her own hands, if she dares.”

“I’ll do that if I happen to see her again, but that’s not really what I’m here for...”

“It matters not,” the spirit continued. “Your schemes do not matter. We are already ruined. Humans. Divines. All the rest. As is our world. It is only a matter of days now before we are swept off into the unknown abyss that awaits. Enjoy life while it lasts, mortal. That is all you can.”

“Because of the prophecy?” Izumi asked.

“Prophecy?”

“Don’t speak of prophecies to us, mortal!” the red spirit snapped, stepping even closer.

“What is only song and legend to you beings of flesh is an astronomic certainty to us, faithless one,” the brown spirit said.

“My, you’re a depressing lot,” Izumi sighed, leaning to avoid the red spirit’s fiery glare. “Don’t tell me you’ve given up on life without even trying? Not that I can afford to lecture, being an ex-NEET and all, but it’s never as bad as it looks.”

“And who says we ever sought salvation?” the blue Divine asked. “For thirty-three cycles, we have done our part and preserved the Covenant. And despaired for it. War, peace, war, peace, war, peace, war, peace, war and peace, times thirty thousand and more. Empty, childish bouts of hope and valor, followed by waves of indiscriminate death and destruction, all due to mortal stupidity and forgetfulness. Nothing more. Nothing new. Only gradual, unavoidable stagnation. No matter how the world changes, you humans remain enslaved by your nature, unable to rise above it. And emiri...so high they reached once, only to fall. Many were the stars once, but now the night spreads bleak and dark. Enough is enough. It is time for this failed creation to end.”

“Hold your horses,” Izumi interjected. “I only just came to this world! There’s still a lot of content left to explore and I don’t like games with strict time limits very much. So why don't we work together to extend it a little?”

“Do whatever you please,” the Divine Lord shook her head. “We neither hinder you nor assist you. Such is not our role. Besides, aided or not, nothing you do matters, you spec of dust in the cosmic flow.”

“Everything is permitted then? Well, if that’s your take on it.”

“Hiya—!

“Wah—!”

Izumi proceeded to grope the butts of the two girls next to her, squeezing them closer.

“You’re pretty shapely for spirits,” she observed. “Whatever happened to the rule about possessing sentient beings? You say nothing matters, but aren’t you plenty involved as you are?”

“Ha—how dare you!” the red Divine leaped back, her face now bright red as well. She raised her hand to strike, her fist becoming veiled in intense flames. But the blue Lord further ahead stopped her sibling with a gesture.

“We let go of the rules, because it doesn’t matter,” she said. “Whether we obey the Convenant or reject it, whether the system is sustained or broken, whether we lose our powers or not, it will not stop the inevitable or even slightly delay it. Therefore, what harm is there in us briefly savoring the joys of corporeal existence, before we return to nothingness once again? What would you do, were you in our position?”

“—Oi, get your hands off Gwanlyn!” the red spirit interjected, heating up again.

“Well, I'm not judging, really,” Izumi shrugged, reluctantly releasing the buttock of the kimono girl, who remained still as a statue. “But right now, your whims pose a bit of a problem for me.”

“Whatever do you mean?” the blue Divine asked.

“The guy you’re sponsoring, Barracuda or whatever—I was asked to off him, but you apparently went and gave him straight up God Mode. Cheating in multiplayer mode sucks big time, so could you lower the difficulty a little? I mean, by a lot. At least give me a fighting chance, okay?”

“What? You would slay Waramoti?” the blue spirit suddenly gasped with a shocked look.

—“No way!”

—“You can’t!”

The other two added their shocked protests.

“Why not?” Izumi frowned. “He who takes the sword should die by one, right?”

“Labeling him a common brawler shows you know nothing of the man,” the Divine further back shook her head. “Waramoti’s services are invaluable to us. He will not be killed, by your hand or any other’s. We absolutely refuse.”

“Services?”

“That is none of your concern. It is clear to me by just a glance that you are a foreigner to romance, your being untouched by love. And Waramoti’s achievements in the craft go beyond your unattuned understanding.”

“Well, I felt a lot of romance just now, with both hands,” Izumi grumpily replied, offended for having her inexperience brought up.

“Why you, savage—!” the Divine in red was about to explode again.

“Please leave,” the blue spirit up ahead told the woman, her tone leaving no room for arguments. “Our communion is over.”

“Fine, fine,” Izumi turned to head back the way she’d come. “Thanks for nothing. All this means is that I’ll have to beat him without your help.”

Her parting remark was followed by a stunned silence.

Then, all three spirits burst into bright, spontaneous laughter that echoed all around the dome.

“You, who are nothing but shadows and dust?” the blue one giggled. “Overcome our blessings? Defeat Waramoti, whom they call Heaven's Hand? Ahahaha!”

“Hahahahahaha!” the brown spirit held her sides as she cackled. “You might as well throw yourself down from the palace wall on your way home!”

“Do you know nothing at all, you fool of a human!?” the red Divine sneered. “Hahahahaahaha!”

“We’ll see who gets the last laugh,” Izumi defiantly retorted. “Don’t think I’m some kind of a casual, I cleared all the chalice dungeons in Bl*****rne. I like challenge as much as the next person.”

“Challenge? What you speak of is impossible!”

“Nothing is. It's just a question of methods.”

“Very well then!” the blue lady exclaimed, amused. “Show us the impossible then, if you are so certain! Struggle and struggle, 'o Champion of White! Entertain us to your last breath! The least we can do is let you know what you are up against. So that you may see the extent of your foolishness and despair!”

“Huh?”

A haughty smile on her face, the Divine introduced herself.

“I am Cinithlea, the Lord of Blue, created by Numénn, the departed Goddess of Seas. My Authority is ‘Blue’! All that is blue in this world is mine to use as I please. My blessing allows one’s spirit to flow free and unhindered, as the boundless sea.”

“I am Gwanlyn, the Lord of Marble,” the pale kimono girl spoke in turn. “Made by Genostro, the passed God of Stone. My authority is ‘Marble’, the house of body, the body of art. My blessing grants people fortitude beyond their frame, to retain their resolve even under the fiercest of storms.”

“I am Yubilea, the Lord of Scarlet Flame!” the third one announced. “The Authority the God of Fire gave me is ‘Scarlet Flame’! A fire that is mild, lights up the night and invites one to dance! My blessing allows the spirit of culture to blaze against the cruelty of nature, ensuring flawless performance heedless of conditions!”

“Thanks for the tips,” Izumi said. “I hope you won’t regret sharing.”

“No,” Cinithlea shook her head. “For as long as our power stands, there will be no victory for you.”

The summoned champion exited the inner sanctum of the Temple with the spirits’ jeers and incessant giggling in her ears.

Their message wasn’t lost on Izumi, in spite of her carefree act. Even separately those blessings sounded like trouble—and Izumi’s foe held all three, on top of his innate talents as a warrior, a hero.

What did Izumi herself have?

Nevertheless, there was no choice.

One way or the other, she had to succeed. Too much depended on her.

Unfortunately, things were only going to get worse for her.

4

Izumi wandered around the city for a good long while, lost in thought, as well as lost for real. The reddening sun was already beginning to set by the time she finally found her way to the backdoor in the palace wall, which took her directly to Carmelia’s keep.

The Court Wizard herself wasn’t at home. Only young master Benjamin Watts could be found in the library, his usual hideout, absorbed in reading.

“Oh, there you are,” the young man greeted Izumi. “You made it back in one piece! Congratulations! Not that I ever doubted you would, but the spirits can be a bit...unpredictable. Or so I’ve heard. Temper, temper. We mortals can’t imagine what goes through their minds, can we? Anyway, how did it go?”

“No cake,” Izumi shook her head. “They really like the guy, it seems.”

“Ah, I was afraid of that,” the young man grimaced. “Well, it was fifty-fifty, either we succeed or we fail. Still worth a try, no? For now, I suppose we just have to focus on taking down the other champions while avoiding Waramoti the best we can. No matter how powerful he is, he’s only one man. If we can separate him from the Emperor, we can snatch victory from his hands like a toy from a baby...which would not be a very heroic thing to do. The gist is, we can deal with Heaven’s Hand after the rest is taken care of.”

“Right,” Izumi nodded. “Then, I guess it’s time I worked for my upkeep.”

“Good. Keep positive, Izumi. If you really are as able as Lady Carmelia seems to think, you’ll be fine. I have faith in you. Since, well, my own well-being happens to depend on your success as well. Ah, forced to sit still, while women hold swords—at times like this, I really hate my own weakness...”

“Feel free to give it a try, anytime,” Izumi suggested.

“I wasn't built for violence!” Benjamin gasped in response. “Oh, but I have some good news too. We got in contact with your friends. Both are doing fine, for the time being. The princess sure is a looker. Any chance you could put in the good word for me? I’m not entirely sure if I made a favorable first impression...”

“She’s engaged.”

“No!” Benjamin’s posture collapsed. He was also quick to recover again. “Well, she hasn’t said, ‘I do’ yet, has she? I could still have a shot, don’t you think? I mean, weddings have been called off before. Maybe my good looks will win her over?”

“Yeah, sure, whatever. What about plan B?” Izumi asked, not very pleased with the topic and determined to change it.

“Plan B?” the man raised his brows. “Well, I suppose, if I can gather enough coin, I could hire somebody to shank the fiancé, and then show up at an opportune moment to console her highness in her grief...”

“...The plan to kill the Emperor.”

“Ah! Right. Certainly. W-we’ve prepared an alternative target, just in case things went awry with the spirits.” Benjamin turned back to the table and picked up one of the documents, which he then handed to Izumi. Drawn on it with great skill was a hulking, crude man wearing next to nothing but a black sack to hide his head, and a stained leather apron. He looked more like a monster from an RPG than a human being.

“Raleigh, the Executioner.”

“Why always...” Izumi looked at the paper and groaned.

“He’s supposed to be a mercenary, not an executioner, really,” Benjamin explained, “but if he’s away from the battlefield for too long, he goes chopping necks at the block, so as to 'not lose his touch'. So the report from the Circle says. He’s also known to habitually wreck pubs at the slums for sport. Doesn’t treat women too kindly. His 'lovers' tend to wind up dead and in pieces after a night with him, but his rank in the Guild keeps him above the law. He’s no conventional hero, obviously, but the military still considers the man an asset to the Empire. Because he really is rather unnervingly strong and only too eager to fight anything that moves, human or not.”

Benjamin went on to bring out a map of the city and rolled it out across the table, while Izumi forced herself to pay attention. She kept spacing out.

“This is his usual strike zone,” the man explained. “Following his moves for months, the Circle has learned to predict his behavior to a degree. Raleigh hasn’t crashed a pub yet this week and he always goes drinking after a day of executions, so he is likely to do so tonight as well. We anticipate that he will hit either one of the two places here. He won’t venture near the western half of the Gralia district, because that’s where Waramoti frequents. I heard they got into an argument some time ago, over Raleigh killing a prostitute Waramoti was acquainted with. After the trashing he got, Raleigh knows to keep his distance. Oh, but that’s not important, is it? The point of it is, so long as you can keep the fight here, you don’t have to worry about them joining forces. Locate the target, stalk him, and catch him off-guard when he’s suitably distracted with his business. That’d be my suggestion.”

Benjamin tapped the location marked with a red circle on the map.

“Okay then,” Izumi sighed. “No two ways about it. I did give my word and all. I’m going to need a weapon.”

“Right, what can I get you?” the man asked, wiping his hands. “We have access to the Imperial armory, so I can arrange you practically anything. Swords, spears, daggers, bows, the kitchen sink, take your pick. Lady Carmelia has quite the selection of poisons as well, if you want to opt for a more discreet approach. Although, I’ve heard the Executioner’s abnormal appetite has rendered him near immune to most common toxins, so it might not be too effective, after all...”

Izumi shook her head. “I only want my own sword, thanks.”

“Your sword…?” Benjamin repeated. “You mean, the one you were arrested with...”

“Yup, that's the one. I’ve been using it for a good while now and got used to how it feels. If I suddenly switch for another weapon, I might mess up at the critical moment. Yeah, it wouldn't feel right without that one. Nothing else is gonna cut it.”

The young man looked troubled for a bit.

“Well...if that’s how you put it, we might have a bit of a problem.”

“A problem?”

“See, after you were caught, the sword was confiscated and sent to the armory...”

“...And you said you have access to the armory, didn't you?”

“Yes, yes, I did, but...so do a lot of other people too, you know? Knights come and go there every day and...well, someone noticed the sword. Earlier this morning.”

“And they took it?” Izumi guessed.

“Yes, they checked out with it,” he admitted. “What’s worse, it was a hero of the Guild. He took a liking to the weapon and, you know—that man has it now.”

“That man? Who?”

Making a pained face, Benjamin appeared reluctant to answer her.

In the end, however, under Izumi’s expectant stare, he finally drew breath and named the thief.

“Waramoti.”