Envy
"What... what do you mean by this... Princess of the elves...?"
"Exactly what it sounds like. This time, we wish to be the ones to choose the humans your Empire sends to the Great Forest."
Under the arrangement, the elves sent their own people to observe the Empire, and the Empire dispatched envoys of its own to observe the Great Forest — a policy, so it was said, first devised in ancient times to cement friendship between the two realms.
But those who held power in the old days, on either side, had hardly been the sort to let such a policy sit quietly. The elves made a habit of nitpicking at their human guests and flaunting their arrogant temperament wherever they pleased — and the humans, sinking one step lower still, had on more than one occasion gone so far as to abduct elves and attempt to press them into slavery.
And so, in recent years, a single condition had been appended to the old policy: should either side's representative be caught causing trouble, the nation itself would bear responsibility for the damages and the settlement.
In other words, if a dispatched representative caused an incident, the consequences could range from a revision of the trade terms at the extreme, down to the state paying every last coin of compensation at the least.
Sylvia could not possibly have been unaware of that condition — and at her outrageous proposal, every imperial representative taking part in the conference leapt up in uproar.
"Speak sense, Princess Sylvia!"
"...Are we to take that as the official position of the Great Forest?"
"How are we to know whether this person is a human the elven side has already been in contact with..."
She had known full well the imperial delegation's backlash would be vicious. It was, in practical terms, an unreasonable demand.
Suppose the human who stood forward as the Empire's representative went to the Great Forest and made even a single mistake? The Empire's position would inevitably be backed into a corner — the role of the representative was precisely that important.
"There is no way for us to verify whether this human has been bought by the elven side..."
"Insolence, human!!"
The reed-thin elf man standing behind Sylvia roared in fury, but the humans' suspicions did not dissolve. They were doubting even Sylvia, the very person who had raised the proposal — and she considered that only natural.
And so she played her trump card. A move that left no room for refusal.
From within Sylvia's garments, a single crystal orb of the deepest blue was drawn out. Its color was bluer and deeper than the sea itself — and while every eye in the room was held captive by that ocean-like sphere, a voice rose from within it.
"[...Can you hear me?]"
"...!"
Every person present — men and women holding some of the higher offices of the Empire — had the souls knocked clean out of them in an instant. Not in the literal sense; their senses had simply been stolen, all at once, by a single voice from a crystal orb that looked to be nothing more than a communication artifact.
Someone intimate enough with Princess Sylvia to contact her personally. Someone whose voice alone could pluck the souls out of the Empire's own ministers. One of those present seemed to venture a guess at the voice's identity, and opened his mouth with care.
"C-could it be... Her Majesty, the Elf Queen?"
That she confirmed the question so effortlessly stunned them all over again — and small wonder, for the Elf Queen had never once deigned to let even her voice be heard in any assembly, anywhere.
"H-heavens...!"
"The... the actual Elf Queen...?!"
"P-Princess, what in the world—?!"
"Why would Her Majesty grace such a lowly—!"
Nor were the imperial delegates the only ones thrown into disarray. The elves were no different. They, too, had never been told that the Queen would take part in the conference, and they could hardly help being flustered.
Just as the room seemed to be collapsing into outright panic, Sylvia rapped her knuckles against the desk — knock, knock, twice — and in the wake of that small sound, the atmosphere in the hall settled as if by magic.
"Not at all, Mother."
The moment that exchange between Sylvia and her mother ended, the Queen's voice — having gathered itself — rang out once more.
"Th-that is... an entirely separate matter..!"
At the Queen's tone — one of genuine, unfeigned incomprehension — an elder who looked half-strangled by exasperation picked the thread back up.
"I do not know who this human is... but we cannot simply thrust him forward as our representative..!"
"You are well aware, are you not..? That the conduct and dignity of a representative flow directly into the image of the Empire itself?"
"If we were to fetch in some person of no breeding whatsoever and send him to the Great Forest as the Empire's representative, the Empire's image would suffer for it."
It was an unimpeachable argument. And yet the Queen's voice did not waver so much as a hair. She had known they would come back with exactly this.
"...Speak, and we shall hear it."
"Uh... th... that is..."
Seen for what it was, this was one of the oldest gambits in any negotiation: demand something absurd as your opening price, and when the other side refuses, feign magnanimity and ask for what you wanted all along. A crude strategy that ought to die the moment the other party said no — but with the Elf Queen herself having stepped forward, refusal was no longer possible. A being whose very existence they had never been able to conjecture had appeared without warning and was now asking a favor. And the worth of a favor from the Queen could not be weighed by the mere handful of people gathered in this room alone—
"...Surely that much falls within acceptable bounds?"
"As long as he is not some utter nobody, at least..."
"It should be enough to teach him to know his place..."
In truth, the minds of the imperial representatives gathered there had already tipped to one side: this much seems well within tolerable limits, doesn't it?
In the end, the condition was accepted — with the Empire securing a small additional gain for itself in its future trade as the price of its consent. And when the crystal orb's connection severed, all that remained to be seen was the elves kicking back their chairs and marching out — and, later, the imperial delegates standing with their jaws hanging wide open once they learned just who the human the elves had spoken of really was.
"...And that is how it came to pass."
"…"
Delivered in the tone of someone strolling home from a neighborhood outing and mentioning, oh, by the way, what had happened — I seized my throbbing head in both hands. Things had snowballed far, far beyond anything reasonable, and it felt as though my skull were spinning in circles.
Whether she understood any of that or not, Sylvia — her face still swept by that brisk, cold wind — held something out to me.
"A communication stone. Once your side has finished all its preparations, use this to contact me."
"...You are accompanying us as well, Princess?"
"You ask the obvious?"
"...You have not even been at the Academy all that long, though."
Sylvia tilted her head at my question and volleyed it straight back.
"Well, yes, I am stationed here — but I can hardly leave the Empire's representative to fend for himself, can I?"
"The Great Forest could surely spare a single guide—"
"There are still those among our kind in whom the hatred of other races runs deep, you see."
"…"
"It will be easier on you if you think of it as a gesture."
"What kind of gesture...?"
"'The Princess of the Great Forest has welcomed the Empire's people with her own hands; treat them as you would guests of the Great Forest itself.'"
"…"
"Well — you could say the message carries a bit of that flavor. Besides, I am not the only elf stationed here."
"Understood... If word arrives that the preparations are complete, I will contact you."
When it came down to it, the whole affair was nothing but good news for me. A road to the Spirit Stone had finally come into view. Even if the affair had swollen utterly out of proportion along the way.
And so Jenison turned away, busily rationalizing it all to himself — and found a gaze fixed squarely upon him. Sylvia's. She had been watching him without pause since some while before.
She had wondered what manner of man he was, that even the "Sacred Tree" deigned to take an interest in him. What was more, at the Sacred Tree's request the Queen herself had now stepped out before the world — which meant there was nothing left but to hope. That this man was worth that much of her. And that he would prove able to pass the "test."
A single space, wrought entirely of black. At its center stood a round table and seven chairs. Light seeped in from somewhere unseen, then winked out again as though it had never been. And one by one, the empty chairs were filled — light came once more, and the process repeated, again and again, until only a single chair remained empty.
Then a long silence stretched out — until at last the largest shadow of them all, "Gluttony," opened its mouth.
"...Greed is dead."
"Huh...? Did I hear that right?"
"...You're lying."
"For real?!"
At the great shadow's thick, clipped voice, three answers burst forth at once: a voice overflowing with allure, a voice dripping with annoyance, and a voice so frivolous one could tell from the sound alone.
"It is certain. I cannot say why he died — but I feel no trace of his life."
"Wow~ and here I heard killing that guy was supposed to be next to impossible, y'know!"
"...Indeed. Even I scarce imagined that one could die."
After the frivolous voice came one of a somewhat eerier cast — and then "Gluttony," owner of the very first voice, rapped the table three times to reclaim their attention.
"That is not what matters. One of our number is gone — which means we must replenish our energy."
"Mm, true enough~. Shall I go squeeze out some life essence, then?"
"And just what, pray tell, do you imagine you would be offering Mother with that, you vulgar little hussy?"
"...What?!"
The honeyed voice of "Lust" and the uncanny presence of "Pride" curdled into open hostility in an instant — and into the narrowing gap between them slipped a single voice, as if to break up the fight.
"Ooh, ooh! I've got a great idea!"
"...Out with it, then."
"What about a branch of the World Tree?! I hear those things are absolutely stuffed with energy!"
"...A branch of the World Tree... Yggdrasil, you say..."
"...Um. Excuse me."
Into that air of deliberation drifted the voice of "Sloth" — sounding for all the world as though she meant to poke a hole in it.
"...The elves have those."
"We are aware of that, yes?"
"...Someone among us has to go."
"...Fair. The interference of the 'Guardian' and the 'Priestess' promises to be... considerable. At the very least, one of us had better go in person."
"Oh! Then I'll go!"
He had never been one to put himself forward, and the other shadows turned toward him, visibly taken aback.
"You? Got some fun little scheme brewing, hmm?"
"...Swear that you will take this in earnest."
"I'm ALWAYS earnest, I tell you!"
But stubbornness was the one thing this shadow had always possessed in abundance, and so the others resolved to leave the task in his hands. When he did commit to something in earnest, he yielded ground to none of the others.
"Oh, goody! I've always wanted to see the Great Forest!"
Thirsting for admiration, love, and affection, brimming over with curiosity — his name was none other than "Envy."
And so, one of the shadows set out for the Great Forest.