Iphis gazed outside the window as her carriage rattled on a dirt path. Trees bloomed, spiky grass rose and a gentle breeze caressed the meadows. It warmed her cheek as birds danced in the sky, free to explore the vastness of nature beyond her sight.

The waking world reminded her of its briefness. This completely foreign worry nagged her, a demon blessed with eternal youth. To her, death was not inevitable, but an unexpected occurrence.

Unlike humans that grew weary of it with age, some even waited for it, demons were forced to actively seek out death after living for far too long. For the relatively young Iphis, this worry was far, far away, but even now she indulged in the idea.

What could possibly force her into it? Age? Endless boredom? Maybe a wall she could not cross? She was never gifted and couldn’t answer, but having the choice brought her joy and pride.

As she imagined how pathetic mortals must have felt, stuck in temporal flesh and all, a thundering blare came from the outside. Her carriage came to a halt, stopping four other behind her. A furious knight galloped past her window and she wondered what might have happened. Since her plentiful escort didn’t move, it wasn’t an attack.

When travelling one naturally had to be weary of thieves or monsters, mostly the former. They, usually of low birth, weren’t much of a challenge to Iphis, but to peasants they meant a grim end. Back in Jaetia, bandits were rare. So much so, extinct might as well be the right word. But here, where the land was more generous, they were as prevalent as wildlife itself. Proof of this lied everywhere, literally, as on her way Iphis had crossed plenty of strewn out bodies along the roads. From peasants to merchants, even those with a sizable escort, littered the ground, all having met their end in a gruesome way.

Everyone expected to be attacked. In fact, during the time of her stay in various towns, travellers and the inhabitants often spoke of bandits as if they were a daily occurrence. Iphis too wasn’t new to the idea and was in contact with them in her past. Forty-odd years ago, she even belonged to a bandit group for a while, under a fake identity of course. Still, it happening, seemingly out of nowhere, and with such ferocity, was unusual. To her knowledge, bandits tried to hide their whereabouts as much as they could, the stupid ones included.

Economic decline was the reason told to the masses, but those with a little brain easily saw the truth behind this seemingly uncontrollable occurrence - the kingdom was at war.

To feed the thousands, innumerable amounts of food was being siphoned out of the country with each day. Some being bought, as the King’s honour couldn’t allow theft, though at the end of the day the money still returned to his coffers, while the rest was being confiscated when needed. With taxes tripled and merchants greedily raising food prices, banditry was inevitable for the common folk wanting to survive. Perhaps even planned, Iphis thought. After all, if captured alive, bandits were sentenced to life of slavery, a rather lucrative ordeal for those in power.

Thanks to special someone though, Jaetia was the only land in Saunier that didn’t do so. Then again, a death sentence was obviously worse of the two and managed to discourage such things from happening at all. Though beasts still did their fair share of the damage, its people failing to completely avoid all struggle.

Shouting of the gruff voice continued for a while. Muffled inside the carriage, Iphis had stopped paying attention to it a while ago, lest it would bother her. As she waited for nothing in particular, the carriage suddenly creaked forwards. With the problem quickly resolved, in passing, what looked like the tenth army of beggar eyes met her peripheral vision.

Over the two months she met these kinds of groups on numerous occasions. On few times slaughtered on the road, on others they themselves carrying the slaughter. Perhaps it was the fruits of her training, but she silently worried if these pesky humans would wander to her province as well.

Poverty birthed poverty and the maggots of society, like drowners clawing at the person above for breath, brought everyone down with them. In other words, it was bad for her as well.

Although the people of Saunier Kingdom weren’t rich, only the minority were poverty-stricken. A huge achievement considering its vast lands and population apparently nearing 20 million. She was safe to assume that these people weren’t beggars but something else. Granted, with the current situation as it is, this might not last for long.

Having large groups like them form freely like this may cause problems to the stability of the country, but this was out of her reach, not that she wanted more work to begin with. However, if they had weapons, she could exterminate them under the pretext of banditry.

Starvation will force their hands eventually, should I pre-emptively wring their necks of the chance…? No, that might ruin future relations with the great family of this land…

She shook her head, realizing that these mongrels had caused further havoc to her exhausted mind. This wasn’t her problem and, even if she was stuck in perpetual boredom that was this carriage, it wasn’t enough reason for her to consider them.

This journey, in a way, was a blessing in disguise. After finally managing to ditch administering the realm, it was only foolish to waste energy right now. In fact, she silently hoped that before coming back Mannie will have solved the rest of the problems that remained. He was ultimately better at the task than her.

The swaying persisted as they moved on roads ruined by winter. Four corners of the carriage seemingly crushed her from all sides as she could not even lie down comfortably. Stuck seated, this was an excruciating experience. By this point the outside taunted her, reminding her of the past or, in search of entertainment, made her envision what was to come and make sense of the past couple months. She failed this, as making sense of the whims of the devil was impossible to begin with.

As such, she sighed and tried to relax her stiff shoulders. Her butt felt sore, a piercing pain strained her neck, and the thought of stopping for a walk kept bugging her. Unlike in the past, the horses were alive and the soldiers belonged to her. Her word was law, anything she wished for would be done. She could do it.

She looked at her companion in front.

I wonder if he’d mind…

He wore an uncomfortable steel mask and for the most of the journey sat still, sometimes without moving for days. Now though, he showed the most movement she had ever seen from him.

In intense strokes his hand scratched at the paper, reminding her of some great painter filled with inspiration and enthusiasm. There was no way those dead eyes of his could feel anything similar to that though. This she realized long ago, as his superiority.

Even thinking about him too deeply brought her headaches and doubt. The ability to learn infinitely was frightening, his progress proved that –

- no, perhaps everything was an act? He’s an ageless being, his ignorance makes no sense. It must be that.

“What?” His sudden words pierced her heart.

Had he predicted her way of thought or was it something else? She was used to staring at him, it felt like solving a puzzle and thus entertaining, surely he didn’t mind as he never said anything?

There’s no way. I’m worrying for nothing.

“It’s nothing.”

Her words stopped the conversation immediately and since he didn’t insist it showed how little he cared.

Now with the sound of scribbling paper, the carriage continued to rattle for hours upon hours. This may have soothed Iphis’ heart in the past, but by now it was equivalent to pure silence. Her ears automatically blocked out this noise and all that was left was her, the carriage and an undead. As she blanked out the sun fell and night descended.

After what seemed like a bat of an eye, she was brought back to life with a light tap on the glass.

“My Lady.” A knight was bowing beyond the window. “Your tent is ready.”

I don’t know his name, she thought as her hand automatically moved to dismiss him.

Being named by a superior tends to bait people into a false sense of trust, sometimes happiness or satisfaction, so she tried her hardest to remember the names of her servants. Of course she wasn’t a monster, she couldn’t just remember everyone, thus she prioritized. Minus the nobles she had to know either way, first came the important personnel of the castle, then the tax collectors, several men of faith, distinguished knights, head maids, chefs and the like. It was a huge list to go through, but she eventually managed. Not knowing this particular knight meant he was a nobody.

“You may go. I’ll meet you later.”

The coldness of night met her as she left the carriage. Before her eyes a small village of tents erected. Maidservants kindled over a dozen of campfires and prepared what smelled like a delicious meaty soup. Knights sat on the ground and chatted as they drank, while their squires tended to the arms. Stablemen pampered horses and scouts patrolled the woods surrounding the area. Needless to say, she was not needed here and Addenoid, leader of her guard, had by now taken care of the preparations.

Her eyes glimpsed over everyone until she spotted a large tent. Although her legs begged to be used more, she immediately walked towards it. Passing the camp, men stood and bowed.

A typical noble might not have paid them much attention, she too rarely bothered to, but this time she figured to inspect them as she walked. The knights, whom could not stop gawking at her, smiled at her with those kind of sparkly eyes one may get from a dog. But, unlike one might expect, their faces weren’t that of cold blooded killers. Some had quite petite, well chiselled and overall handsome features, undoubtedly bred that way by their parents.

Iphis couldn’t see a smidge of manliness from the most of them and she didn’t know if they were reliable on the battlefield. The deceased Lord seemed to have knighted all and every noble brat he came across, a matter she spent most of her time trying to resolve. Because the majority were 2nd or 3rd sons, she couldn’t simply kick them out without any consequences. It was quite the headache, but at least their loyalty was true. Charming a couple figure heads turned out to be enough to turn the rest to her side, but sowing this loyalty was crucial if she was to purge the imbeciles in the future.

She walked past the two knights guarding the entrance to her tent and closed the flap behind her. When she saw her bath bubbling, though it was more of a barrel, she sighed in relief. Finally, rest has come.

Laughing came from outside as she undressed, forcing a scowl to appear on her pasty face.

Riding a horse should be more miserable than a carriage, so why are they so calm and cheery?!

Clicking her tongue, she plunged into the water and her anger was immediately put out. For the next two hours she soaked in bliss and afterwards had a bewit steak she could have never afforded before. The creatures inhabited the far east and she was fortunate enough to have seen one in the past. Though never in her head did she think of eating one.

Imps keep them as pets, only an idiot would mess with those weirdos! The meat was so tender it split under the fork.

With her energy back to full, she went to bed. She wasn’t eccentric to bring an actual bed so it was more of a fancy mattress nobles or knights used. Her commoner-self didn’t complain. Living in luxury to begin with was unusual for her, and it wasn’t as great as many might think. Money didn’t grow on trees and the rich had plenty problems of their own after all.

Laying under the soft, wool cover, she was about to close her eyes and drift off into sleep when a clamour rang outside. After a brief interaction she didn’t quite make out, the flap of her tent lifted open. Screams of ‘water, water!’ ran through her tent.

“It is me.”

The undead creature closed the flap behind him and leisurely took seat in a chair opposing her. The steel mask looked her up and down, like a carnivore sizing up its prey. His ignorance of anything beyond the thin sheet of tent created this atmosphere she couldn’t put into words, but still pulled her in. It was as if nothing else existed but this room right now.

After an uncomfortable amount of time he spoke.

“Are you excited?”

It was a single sentence, but it was enough of a reminder of who he was. Iphis sighed, looked at the roof of her tent and breathed out deeply.

“You’re an idiot. I’m not excited, I’m confused! Is this what you meant by later? In the middle of the night? What will the servants think!”

“It doesn’t matter.”

While she was certain it did matter, there was no point to conferring with him. She prepared herself and continued in a rough, haughty voice.

“Forget it. Why are you here?”

Magus reclined, his head still staring down on her.

“When we reach Sereus I need you to do a few things for me.”

“We spoke of this already, is that brain of yours rotten?” The disorder outside finally calmed, replaced with hushed sobbing. “I’d rather you not break my toys, forgot that as well?”

“Don’t worry, he’s still functional. Anyways, you’ll have to find a magi-craftsman. Any will do, just make sure they can work. Also, I don’t have a brain.”

“Right… Well, this mess did start with that. Anything else, ‘Mister’ Court Mage?”

“Yes. When the king asks for troops – don’t pledge them for nothing. I don’t care about honour you humans so cherish, take gold.”

“Why would he ask for them…?”

“You should’ve figured it out by now.”

As she remembered the beggars, he continued.

“Because we pulled back from Troe, the main army is beginning to lack men for their war. Refugees are slipping past the border – didn’t you see? - and their sieges are taking longer than planned. If he doesn’t ask for my soldiers, then he’s an idiot… Hm, that might be the case. You’ll have to deal with it if it comes to that,” he bombarded her with words as if reading off a script.

The undead had been actively seeking knowledge on war, she even heard about him questioning Julius for three whole days. While it was good she wouldn’t need to bother with fighting, the fact that an undead now knew of these things was terrifying.

To compare, all she knew was that the kingdom had started its war a couple weeks before spring, when the snow hadn’t even melted. She didn’t know why they began this early, nor what her allies’ or enemy’s number was. She simply didn’t bother learning these things and focused on her own realm, not thinking about possible conflict.

“Just a question. Why did we pull back from Troe if you planned to participate…?”

The undead slowly turned towards the air vents above, and remained silent.

So he’s hiding something… Why though?

Sighing, she continued.

“I’m not a mercenary, but his vassal,” she tried staring back at the mask but he remained indifferent. “Asking for payment will be impossible.”

“…you’ll figure it out. Ask for privileges if you must, whatever will bring in resources for me. Also – I will lead them – don’t give away command at any cost.”

Her stomach cramped at the thought of the burden. She knew a vassal couldn’t just ask for things, an order was an order, nothing more to it.

Is he planning to cause friction among me and the King? No… that doesn’t make sense… does it?

“Got it.”

***

A wooden door closed heavily behind Aloyssius. He waited there until suspense lifted from his shoulders and his heartbeat returned to its usual rhythm. Within his mind the same excruciating thoughts ran in circles, never ending and with each day increasing. It wore him down like an old blade. But now he felt five times worse, as if the blade was on the verge of snapping in half.

Silence controlled the hall in which he stood. The ancient stonework ebbed before his eyes, an unobservable sight only he noticed and mourned for, its fate mirroring his own. Sighing, he patted his chest and took out a small flask. After downing it in one big gulp, the old glint returned to his eyes and he walked.

Everything echoed and rumbled, as if the stone itself was alive. Even the dust spoke, worrying things coming out of them, things Aloyssius knew since long ago. Fire flickered in a routing dance and statues watched keenly.

Eventually the hall opened up into a wide garden with a balcony along its edge. There, behind the metal railing, Sereus met him. A gem, no better word would describe it. He breathed in, lungs full of freshness and heart fulfilled.

Sereus’ gargantuan walls looked endless, as if the horizon itself was built by human hands. Nine aqueducts injected themselves into them, bringing water from the far mountains and lakes. Just like a drop of honey would bring all the ants, an enormous city of marble sprawled far beneath the White Palace.

Aloyssius watched the miniscule buildings, wondering whether the gods also looked down on him in the same way. Soon he heard steps as someone approached, but he continued to ogle and engulf himself in the glory of the city he ran.

“Sir Mazette. I have been looking for you.”

When he heard the sound of knees touching ground, his guess was confirmed. It was one of his scribes.

“What is it?” He asked.

“We have received a letter from Duchess Anworth.”

His face contorted at the sound and the internal suffer intensified. Spraining his neck, he faced the scribe and snatched the piece of paper from their hand and began to scan its contents.

“Good…” He broke the quiet. “Inform the others that she is finally here, then close off the northern street and prepare for a reception.”

“Ye-”

Extending his arm, he stopped the scribe before they could bow and leave.

“Also send the following message to the princes, word-by-word.” The squire clenched their jaw and nodded. “’His Majesty is yet to meet with the Lord, although they may not wait for a third time as the second was harsh and worrying. Return with post-haste for He requires you by hand.’ Got it?”

Sweat formed above the brow of the nodding scribe as Aloyssius pressed his index finger on their chest.

“With haste,” he stared into the eyes of the servant whom then nodded again and ran off.