Whispers of War
I hadn't had the chance to examine it properly at the time, but Jimmus Klargel Viscount's soul must have been something special. He might even have been a human granted extraordinary abilities, like me and the Beast King.
In any case, the pursuit teams tracked the viscount for quite a while afterward but turned up nothing. He had probably fled the kingdom for another country. After his execution, the inspection team began combing through his territory like rats in a trap, unearthing a flood of evidence. The report had already been sent to the palace, so Ether would stay here until a provisional governor arrived from the capital.
It wasn't a bad deal for Ether. Executing a mere corrupt noble might have earned the ire of the aristocracy, but taking down a vile black mage who experimented on humans was a resounding success. The territory's people, freed from their tyrannical and wicked lord, praised Ether with genuine heartfelt cheers.
Ether, for his part, barely left the premises, devoting himself entirely to learning the Ether Heart Method from me. But handing over the method wasn't the end of it. This was raw natural energy in its purest form. It couldn't be used with conventional spell incantations, nor could it be converted into aura. Of course, I'd already fleshed out the theory for magic applications. The issue lay in practical implementation, but with Ether's talent, I was confident he could make it work.
Converting it into aura for knightly use was trickier, though. Since my own talents stemmed from Forte, I struggled a bit with grasping knightly knowledge. If only I could absorb a Sword Master's soul—but they don't just roll around on the streets, and that was a pipe dream for now.
Soon, the provisional governor arrived, and the inspection team set off again. After touring a dozen or so territories, the tour of duty ended, and we finally returned to the palace. While Ether went to report to the king, I sought out his younger sister, Princess Elizabeth.
She was still just a child, but she strongly resembled Isabel. [Elizabeth, can you hear me?] I approached and called out to her several times, but she showed no reaction. My disappointment was keen—I'd had high hopes.
Still, Elizabeth was a lovable child. She looked like Isabel, and she bore the name of my late wife from my living days. Communication wasn't limited to mere words anymore; now that I could write decently, we had plenty of ways to connect.
Life in the palace was intense yet monotonous. Even amid his training, Ether loved the tales I shared of the outside world. Naturally, his favorite was the story of the Beast King.
"So, when are you going to meet him again?" After hearing about my parting with the Beast King, Ether seemed to sense that I'd leave soon.
[I haven't thought about it yet.] I had no immediate plans. There was still much to teach Ether, and I intended to stay at least until he fully secured his position as heir.
The queen hadn't yet borne a son, and she treated Ether like her own flesh and blood, so she wasn't likely to threaten his claim. But the new concubine had given birth to a son, nine years younger than Ether. Age alone made him no real threat, but the concubine hailed from a ducal house. Ether, by contrast, had virtually no maternal backing.
But Ether had me. Sure, an invisible soul might seem useless, but precisely because I was unseen, I inspired fear. The weight of the title Guardian Spirit helped too.
In any event, I wouldn't leave until both Ether and Elizabeth could protect themselves. It was a small atonement for failing to be at Isabel's deathbed.
Several years passed like that. Ether finally perfected the Ether Heart Method, mastering the use of natural energy directly for magic. His spells packed up to five times the power of conventional ones.
Word spread, and the mages went into an uproar. Despite the flood of requests and pressure, Ether refused to share the method with anyone. He did ask my permission first, though.
I told him it was fine. It wasn't like I'd become human again to use it myself—what did I care how he employed it?
With my approval, he tried passing it to Elizabeth, but the method had a fatal flaw: it was incredibly complex and demanded innate genius. Sadly, Elizabeth fell short. Judging by her soul's size, she'd never master it in her lifetime. I kept that from both of them.
Regardless, the Ether Heart Method solidified Ether's position further. The new concubine was ambitious. Though the gap was vast, she relentlessly schemed to position her son as heir.
Ether knew this was going on for years but let it slide—not because she was no match, but because he had little thirst for the throne. Yet if Ether truly failed to become king, would that concubine and her still-young son spare him? I doubted it.
Her soul was murky, but more than that, power and human greed were like that. So I waited until she was alone, then picked up a pen and wrote before her eyes: 'If you pose even the slightest threat to Ether or Elizabeth, I'll curse you, your son, and every last bastard in your ducal house—wiping your entire line from existence.'
Of course, I had no such power, but that's how threats work. The concubine's face drained white; she could only nod frantically.
A few days later, Ether mentioned it offhand. "You could have just left it alone. No need for that."
I played dumb and said nothing. The effect was spectacular—the concubine ceased all activity from that day on.
Rumors spread somehow, and even the king sent a single line through Ether: 'You've gone too far with the jokes.' Short, but loaded with meaning. He couldn't call me out directly, but it blamed me somewhat—or warned against meddling in royal affairs.
So what? There was nothing a soul like me couldn't evade. I wrote back a single line: 'Not a joke.'
Ether burst into laughter upon seeing it. Living as a soul for over ten years brought out the prankster in me now and then. It was boring otherwise—you could call it monotonous. A human brain might have cracked under it long ago. I needed these little outlets.
Time flowed on. The kingdom enjoyed relative peace. The current king outshone his predecessor in every way, purging corrupt nobles and wielding strong royal authority to push reforms unopposed. Life for the people improved somewhat.
Neighboring countries weren't faring as well. Spies caught en masse meant few infiltrated the palace these days. But lately, their numbers had surged, hailing from diverse nations.
The issue was food. The kingdom I'd been born, died, and haunted bore the name Benerus. It meant little—just the founder's name. Benerus Kingdom held a sizable territory in the northwest corner of the West Continent, on a vast continent split east and west.
Its lands were vast but somewhat barren, with modest resources, so its power didn't match its size. Still, it scraped by. To the east lay smaller nations jostling for survival.
Among them, Lionia Kingdom boasted rich metals and strong military tradition. But metal-laced soil left little farmland, plaguing it with chronic food shortages.
The problem: record-breaking famine had struck the West Continent's central region. Not the first in history. Normally, they'd import at exorbitant prices and muddle through.
But Silmarron Kingdom, with the most fertile soil and ample grain, jacked up prices unreasonably. They had an excuse—the famine hadn't spared them; they lacked surplus too.
That alone might not have escalated, but Odysseia, the second granary, also refused exports. Spies revealed the reason: deliberate sabotage leaked to Lionia.
It was a plot to cripple Lionia this time. Lionia erupted in fury and prepared to do what it did best—war. Now, the three weakest neighboring kingdoms teetered on the brink, a powder keg ready to blow.
Benerus's allegiance could tip the scales, so spies and agents from every nation swarmed. [So, Ether, what do you make of this situation?] I asked him.
"An opportunity. A big one. But a gamble."
[Exactly. War's like that— all or nothing, pure bet.]
"I don't like the idea of our people suffering if we meddle in foreign wars."
He had the look of a young man now, but he was still a kid. And a good one. You could tell from shrewd nobles or the king—politics favored the ruthless.
Ether's soul wasn't pure white, though. I'd never seen a truly white human soul. Not even a newborn's.
I saw this war as a golden chance for Benerus. Excluding skirmishes, it hadn't waged proper war in over 300 years. The West Continent had been too peaceful for centuries. Miss this, and no big opportunity might come until Ether's death.
Peace might be ideal, of course. But whether we liked it or not, Benerus's course wouldn't change on our say-so.
So I started shadowing the king more. Curiosity, you know? Envoys streamed in daily, spy reports piled hundreds high—chaos. Yet the king hadn't committed.
War was so rare that gauging the frontrunner was tough. Benerus could watch, then back the winner for profit—no rush.
Today, reviewing hundreds of filtered reports, the king sighed and leaned back. He cleared the chamber of aides, then wrote: 'Guardian Spirit, are you watching now?'
I jolted—had he gained spirit sight on the sly? But I wasn't hiding. Invisible to eyes, sure, but I'd been right there openly. No shame.
Living as a soul thickens your skin. Brazenly, I picked up a pen and drew a circle beside his words.