The Move (1)
Harad was swinging a sword.
The motion struck her as oddly familiar — the same one he used against the patchwork magic beasts, Ellen concluded.
Which meant this, too, was a dream. A lucid one, at that.
But Ellen never appeared inside her own dreams. Like so much air, she could only stand apart and watch the world within them unfold.
— You really have no talent, do you.
In the dream, Elaine tossed the tease at Harad.
— The Grand Heir has no talent for magic, either.
— That's not wrong, either.
Elaine snickered.
Now that she looked, it was the training ground she herself used. And the two of them seemed remarkably close.
Come to think of it, it had been the same in yesterday's dream.
No — in that one, they had seemed even closer.
What made the difference? Ellen decided it was a difference in time. As though dreams kept such things — but if she had to pin it down, that was it.
The Elaine of yesterday's dream had been the Grand Duke. The Elaine of tonight's was the Grand Heir.
— Get some rest.
The difference was unmistakable.
If the Grand Duke Elaine had been arrogant and languid, the Grand Heir Elaine overflowed with life.
Even the way she talked was different.
The Grand Heir Elaine spoke exactly like Harad.
Or was it, rather, that the Harad of the waking world spoke the way that Grand Heir Elaine in the dream did?
The Grand Heir Elaine and Harad sat roughly on the floor of the training yard, deep in talk. They laughed at each other, snapped at each other, sulked, and laughed again — over and over.
The two of them were unmistakably doing all of that, yet for some reason none of it reached Ellen's ears.
— Kubel?
Then, all at once, her ears cleared.
It happened the moment, astonishingly, a name Ellen knew was spoken.
— Who is that?
— You don't know? A fellow magician.
— You know a man called Pelatz?
— Who's this bastard, then?
This time it was Elaine who tilted her head.
— A knight of Iagar.
— Dear me. Died by your hand, then.
— Fuck.
— Calm yourself. Fire. Fire.
Before she knew it, flames were licking and blazing across the floor of the training yard.
The Harad inside the dream seemed to have a temper like open flame.
— You're the one who started the joking.
— I may do it. You may not.
— How selfish.
— I've had my fill of it already, haven't I?
— How many times must I say I was sorry for back then?
It was a conversation Ellen knew nothing of.
Had his fill of what, exactly? If she was dreaming anyway, she'd have liked to dream that part too.
If a dream was going to be nonsense regardless, entertaining nonsense was the better sort.
— You need to cool that head of yours.
— I'll manage that when you become Grand Duke.
— It's a promise, then.
Elaine flashed a grin, then brought her original topic back to her lips.
— Kubel. He's with the Liberation Tower. One of the magicians flagged this year — and they say the imperial knights and Church paladins who've died at his hand already number past forty.
That Kubel?
Ellen snorted.
Nonsense dreams really were nonsense, through and through.
— The Church and the Empire have put out a warrant. Serzila received a formal request for cooperation as well.
— Then why are you telling me this?
— So that if the thought displeases you, I might refuse. He's a fellow magician, no?
It was not much of an official document — closer to a plea to kill him on sight should he turn up in the North.
— I doubt this Kubel would ever come as far as the North, however.
— Well, so do I. I only bring it up for the sake of 'just in case.'
— And what reason did he have for killing the knights?
What reason does a devil need to act the devil?
That was what she would have thought, once upon a time. Ellen strained her ears toward the dream.
— Revenge. He lost his daughter long ago, you see. Branded a magician, that is.
A priest of the Sun Church had personally hung the girl upon a cross and set her alight.
— They 'purified' the entire village, I hear. With fire. A small village... ah, Drott. Western Empire.
Purified. Meaning they had burned every last soul to death.
Fire climbed anew across the training ground.
This blaze was fiercer than the last, and it seemed to answer Harad's emotions. This time, Elaine didn't move to stop it.
— This Kubel fellow must have built his strength for the sake of that revenge. At the Liberation Tower.
— How old?
— Kubel? Ah — the daughter. Thirteen when she died, they say.
Shura was still ten.
"Three years!"
Ellen bolted upright.
Her whole body was clammy with sweat — and she was in bed.
"Your Highness?"
Arika, sipping tea in the corner, went round-eyed.
"Is something the matter?"
Arika did not dismiss it as sleep-talk.
Elaine was a perfect Serzila.
Her laziness was proof of the talent she'd been born with. In truth, the Grand Heir was idle about nothing but her training; every duty handed to her was dispatched swiftly and without flaw.
The false identity of Ellen existed so she could survey the territory with her own eyes.
Rubbing shoulders with the children, she guarded Serzila's future; drifting from tavern to tavern, she took the measure of Serzila's present — its adults.
Even running on two bodies, Elaine kept that punishing schedule without fail, every single day.
And so the eyes Arika turned on Ellen brimmed over with reverence.
That flawless Serzila could not possibly have talked in her sleep.
"...It's Ellen. Not the Grand Heir."
"My apologies."
Ellen glanced around her.
A spare, modest house. An Information Bureau safehouse.
Last night, the trek to the Inner Castle had felt like too much bother, and she had slept here instead.
"Allow me to apologize once more for yesterday's incident."
"It's fine. I understand."
Ellen waved a hand, halfhearted.
Even that much counted as mercy, as far as Arika was concerned. Looks like those were something Ellen found burdensome from time to time.
"Don't worry yourself over Harad. I'm keeping an eye on him."
Even as she said it, Ellen readied herself to leave.
A sidelong glance showed Arika bowing her head so deeply it was almost hard to witness.
"I'll leave the investigation to you, as I said yesterday."
"Understood. I will have every piece of information on Iagar and all connected to it prepared. Will you be returning?"
"I'm going to Shura's house. I have a bad feeling."
"As expected...!"
Somehow, Arika's reverence deepened even further.
Head tilting in puzzlement, Ellen stepped out the door.
Arika fell into step behind her as though it were the most natural thing in the world, and Ellen let it pass.
Her conduct at last night's meeting had been unseemly, but she would hardly turn it on Kubel and Shura as well. Ellen had already given her a firm warning about that, besides.
"You likely know all of this already, but... I passed the information to the magician — no, to Harad."
"I beg your pardon?"
"It was a measure taken because there seemed no need for you — the Gra... for you, Ellen, to act in person."
Ellen had no idea what she meant, but her pace quickened all the same. A cross. Fire. A village... The things she had heard in the dream muddled her thoughts.
Kubel's house came into view.
To all appearances it was untouched. The door was locked, yet it gave with a soft pop at Ellen's light pull.
...Harad was on the ground floor.
"You're late."
Harad wore exactly what he had on the night before, yet for some reason his expression was grim.
"Shura is dead."
"...I'm sorry?"
Ellen's face had frozen hard.
Arika, beside her, wore much the same expression.
"...Don't tell me a priest of the Church came here?"
Ellen, rigid as a statue, opened her mouth with care. Harad's eyes narrowed.
"The Church? Not the Liberation Tower?"
Apparently she had dreamed again. Something had been nagging at him.
In his previous life, Shura had been burned at the stake by the Church of the Sun.
"It was a joke."
"What kind of joke—!"
The reaction was nothing short of violent.
Harad ducked in haste. A sword spun over his head like a boomerang and buried itself in the wall.
The contemptuous faces of Ellen and Arika came as a bonus.
"She did nearly die, it's true."
Harad stepped over to Arika, smiled, and held out his hand.
"My thanks. Without you, I would be dead."
"You would not have died."
Arika, true to form, declined to take the hand.
"Ellen would have seen to it."
Arika was certain of it — even as Ellen stood there wholly baffled.
She was in her false identity now, not as the Grand Heir, so Arika must have taken the bafflement for an act.
"Impressive."
Harad could only marvel at that blind faith.
Arika had always been this way.
Her reverence for Elaine scraped the very heavens.
If the Red Tower had its Hervis, then Serzila had its Arika.
Because Elaine, viewed from the outside, was perfect.
In his previous life, Arika had strained to match that Elaine's stride — without ever knowing what Elaine truly was.
"If anything, she was the one wronged."
Of course, Arika's legs had never torn like the plover's that chases the stork.
She could not walk beside the stork called Elaine, but she had both the ability and the passion to follow at her heels.
"It was only that her zeal ran a shade too hot, now and then."
Last night's confrontation must have been one of those times.
She had wanted to see with her own eyes just what manner of man this magician called Harad was, to be keeping company with an Elaine like the heavens themselves.
"That. What is it?"
Ellen, having gone upstairs to confirm Kubel and Shura unharmed and then raked the ground floor from end to end, demanded.
"A magician. His name I can't say — killed him before he could give it."
Harad answered, eyes on the blackened stretch of floor Ellen had pointed to.
"And that?"
"A magic circle. A means that low-tier magicians resort to when they wish to raise their power — or borrow the properties of another Origin."
"..."
"In this case, both. He meant to blow the house sky-high. Kubel I couldn't say — Shura would have died beyond any doubt."
Not fire itself, but something kindred to it.
He had fetched in an object belonging to a magician of that Origin and made it the core of the circle.
"...I didn't know."
"An object a magician has carried long enough begins to serve as the heart of a magic circle. The thing is warped by its owner's mana, you see—"
Harad shut his mouth mid-explanation.
It seemed her ignorance hadn't stopped at the circle alone.
Ellen was blaming herself. While she had slept, Kubel and Shura had come within a hair's breadth of death.
"You've been here since yesterday, haven't you?"
"I have. Arika seized me by the collar and handed the information over."
"...I truly didn't know."
"I know."
Just then, Arika stole a soundless laugh.
It looked for all the world like she was sneering at Harad for being fooled by Ellen's performance.
"Her faith is enough to command a kind of respect all its own."
Harad marveled, once more.
"Why didn't you say anything?"
"I judged I alone would be enough."
"..."
Ellen could not answer.
On this land, no child dies without Serzila's leave.
That was what Ellen had declared last night, brimming with confidence.
"There is no need for you to bear it all alone."
Harad spoke to Ellen.
His eyes, though, were on Elaine.
"This affair was no different. Arika supplied the information, and I resolved it. Your word was kept, in the end."
"..."
"I mean that even if you shoulder only your share, Serzila will run along quite well on its own."
"Because I will make it so."
Harad swallowed the rest. It was not a thing to say to the Ellen of today.
The words urging her to set everything down, he swallowed as well.
Those were words he could not offer even as an empty courtesy.
The North needed Elaine. Perhaps Harad did too.
"Only do it in moderation. Nothing good was ever born of excess."
Harad stressed it once more.
Behind Ellen, Arika's face had gone frosty before anyone marked it. It was the look of one watching a delinquent lead a model student astray.
"A change like this, I do not welcome."
In his previous life, Shura dies three years from now.
It had been the work of a priest wandering the land on missionary rounds, and the full particulars were unknown to him.
By sheer luck, the man might have sensed something off about Kubel or Shura — or he might not have.
"And it's the latter, I'd wager."
Perhaps the Liberation Tower had steered the priest's visit from the very start.
Was that not precisely what was happening now?
An explosion, in the very heart of Serzila Territory.
The Rebel Faction of the Liberation Tower was violent past all sense.
Granted, from their side of it, Kubel had slain six Rebel Faction magicians... but even allowing for that, the Faction's savagery had crossed the line.
In his previous life, Kubel must have refused their recruitment a dozen times over.
Given the Faction's temperament, coercion suited it better than taking no for an answer. And if the man was blind with revenge, so much the better.
It was a guess seasoned with personal spite.
Harad did not care for the Rebel Faction of the Liberation Tower.
"Stopped it I did. But it was my failure."
"N-no. Are they not safe and sound thanks to Harad?"
"Wrong. The mistake began the moment I set foot here at all."
Without Arika's information, it would have been catastrophe.
Kubel and Shura ought to have been safe without any such help.
"You and Shura should have been safe. Thoroughly — and without me."
Because that was what he had promised, back when he persuaded Kubel.
"I give you my word, Kubel. However long it takes, every last Rebel Faction hand involved in this — Harad and Ellen will deal with them all."
"There's no need to go so far..."
"Did I not tell you? Prove your usefulness, and I will vouch for you myself."
That guarantee had already failed, in effect.
Harad had to answer for it.
"And you ought to be angrier. Shura nearly died."
Suddenly, Harad let out a hollow laugh.
"Just how laughable must I have looked?"
It seemed to be aimed at himself.
At least, that was how it struck Ellen. The air had gone scorching hot. His Origin seemed to be resonating with Harad's emotions.
...Just as in the dream.
"There is the Information Bureau residence. You would be safe there."
"No. There is a place more certain still."
Harad pulled on the shirt he had left draped over a chair and made for the door.
"Kubel — you see to the packing."
With that, he walked out of Kubel's house.
"...?"
Ellen, abruptly left behind, stared blankly at the open door.
She had no idea where this 'more certain place' might be, but one thing was sure — he was not going off to fight.
"Arika."
"Yes, Ellen."
"You know where they are, don't you?"
According to Arika's intelligence, the attackers had numbered three.
Yet within this house there was the trace of only a single corpse.
"Yes. I've already located them."
"Then that's where we're going. As Harad said, some of this is my responsibility too."
Feeling Shura's presence still safe on the second floor, Ellen stepped out the door.
Arika, turning to follow, found her gaze caught by the charred floor — the mark left by the magician who had broken in.
'He died without ever getting to fight.'
There wasn't a trace of combat anywhere on the ground floor.
An ambush? No. The corpse lay far from the magic circle. Which meant the man had known full well that Harad was there — and still perished without managing even the beginnings of resistance.
'The coward of Iagar.'
That same coward had triumphed over three knights of the First Order the instant he set foot in Serzila.
His temperament was another beast entirely. An information operative in name, yet Arika had never once managed to fathom what Harad was truly thinking.
Only one thing had become absolutely certain: he was no coward.
The Bureau had been wrong. Harad was the polar opposite of everything the files claimed.
Which could only mean that person's judgment was correct. Yet again.
Ellen — no, Her Highness the Grand Heir — had long since seen through the Bureau's error, and it was on that account she had approached Harad in the first place...
"As expected of the Grand Heir."
Arika trailed after Ellen's back.
Harad.
"I'll be needing one detached building. You'll grant it, I trust."
"..."
"Ah — not for me. Some insignificant little magician will be living in it."
"You've gone completely mad."
And the Grand Duke slammed him into the ground.