Toppling the Empire (1)
Lydia blinked at the report in her hands, then tilted her head in confusion.
"...Is this some trendy joke circulating in the empire lately? Or has this man finally lost his marbles?"
Lydia didn't think Emperor Laior V was that much of a fool. Even at the previous summoning ritual, he'd asked for her help in summoning Users to his empire, considering the shifting tides ahead. He at least grasped the bare minimum of the currents at play.
"To be precise, isn't this the direction Sisilia intended?"
"Even if Sisilia-nyang guided him there, still... To get dragged along this easily?"
The kingdom's long-standing isolationist policy meant that even if spies infiltrated, Lydia wiped their memories clean with magic. All to conceal Liannen Kingdom's true strength. To ensure no one discovered that this nation alone had advanced in isolation.
But when the Holy Nation's delegation arrived, Lydia had relaxed the policy. She'd permitted a degree of exchange—and sent them back with their memories of Sisilia thrashing a Sword Master intact. It was time to prepare for stepping out into the world. After all, no matter what they tried, the other nations couldn't touch them for another century at least.
"The emperor has always been wary of us. He showed a measure of respect, too—enough to recognize how grueling it is for our kingdom to hold back the demonkin. For such a man to make this foolish judgment..."
Lydia turned to Erterion, her gaze shifting to Chiron, who knelt quietly in obeisance. In the past, he'd always felt like a blade at her throat, but now, relieved of his burdens, he seemed remarkably serene. She'd summoned him today to gauge Sisilia's intentions.
"What do you think, Duke?"
"...Pride, surely."
"Pride?"
Chiron raised his head, speaking steadily. "I heard that in the past, Your Majesty's daughter beat the imperial prince within an inch of his life before sending him packing."
"And?"
Lydia frowned. She'd smoothed that over nicely at the time. The queen herself had sent formal, if perfunctory, apologies, and the emperor had accepted them graciously. Relations had proceeded smoothly afterward.
"He's just the seventh son. Treated like a wastrel, no less. So his brat comes home a bit roughed up from abroad—does that warrant mixing personal grudges into affairs of state?"
Lydia couldn't make sense of it by her own logic. A ruler who let emotions cloud national governance was the most incompetent sort. Granted, if those emotions fueled bold ambition, it could be positive—but throwing a tantrum because his son got smacked? Petty.
"If it were Your Majesty, and Prince Edward returned beaten from the empire at age fourteen—what would you do?"
"Well, obviously..."
Lydia paused to imagine it. Truth be told, she'd doted on Edward fiercely before he turned thirty. Outwardly stern to toughen him, but she'd secretly watched him sleep for long stretches, her affection that deep. If he'd come home battered back then—
Her face turned icy. "I'd kaesakppang them."
Chiron nodded with oddly satisfied approval.
"Kaesakppang...?"
"Even you don't know it, Sir Erterion?"
Erterion stared at Chiron in bewilderment.
"It's a term Sisilia coined. It means two people staking their honor, fighting until everything is annihilated in the process."
"Oh."
Erterion was a pure knight at heart. So he admired it with pure, unfeigned wonder—like Chiron in his youth.
"What an excellent word. I should use it often. Haha! Kaesakppang, kaesakppang. Rolls off the tongue nicely."
"Sisilia does have a gift for language."
"Wait, hold on. So when Your Majesty says 'kaesakppang'..."
"It means wagering the kingdom to war with the empire."
"...! No, Your Majesty! You just said a leader mustn't let emotions taint matters of state!"
Lydia slyly averted her eyes. Well, she understood the emperor's heart now. He'd played it cool on the surface, but it must have lingered inside.
"Ahem, I believe it's for a different reason. The result of Your Majesty meticulously erasing memories for 299 years, no?"
"...Fine, whatever the reason."
Lydia eyed Chiron. Now it was time to discern Sisilia's intentions.
"The empire rebels against the kingdom instead. And with justification for war, we devour them before the demonkin do."
The truce lasted six months. Plenty of time to swallow the empire whole.
But that wouldn't—
"...solve the problem I've been worried about."
Chiron and Erterion—the two she trusted implicitly. Knights of honor, utterly loyal to their queen. That's why she'd summoned only them.
"We can't fight the demonkin while holding such vast territory. Ten years after absorbing the empire? Maybe. But six months?"
Above all, swallowing the empire that way would spark independence movements everywhere.
"I don't think Sisilia-nyang is unaware of this."
But Sisilia surely knew. Lydia had grasped this from Sisilia's perspective, after all.
The issue was—she had no clue what Sisilia planned with this gambit.
"Your Majesty."
Chiron gazed at her gravely. Lydia swallowed hard.
Just what was Sisilia's scheme?
"...Please stop calling someone else's daughter 'Sisilia-nyang.'"
"..."
"..."
Silence hung in the audience chamber.
"Even without that, Sisilia is adorable."
Lydia shot Erterion a wordless glare.
—Do something about him.
Erterion shook his head.
—Since retiring, he's turned into an even worse doting dad. No use.
Lydia sighed.
"So, your answer?"
"Sisilia's thoughts—"
Chiron declared confidently.
"I don't know either."
Lydia slumped.
"But one thing is certain."
Chiron's eyes burned fierce.
"Trust my daughter, Your Majesty."
"!"
—Instead, trust me.
Sisilia's words from before echoed unbidden. Lydia closed her eyes briefly.
When backing a vassal, do it decisively. Hesitating midway left you nowhere.
Above all, the queen's intuition—never once wrong—whispered now.
Sisilia was on the right path.
Lydia opened her eyes. "Sisilia Windsor will receive the demonkin delegation. She'll have full authority delegated to her."
Then Erterion ventured cautiously, "Your Majesty."
"Yes?"
"Couldn't you just summon Sisilia and ask her directly...?"
Chiron stared at Lydia, realizing the same.
Lydia broke into a cold sweat, cheeks flushing.
"B-but that'd be embarrassing."
**
"Your role ends here. You did well."
While Lydia held her meeting, Edward had already summoned Sisilia to plot a scheme.
You're always the protagonist, no matter the time or place.
Sisilia shone alone, stealing the light from everyone around her—whether she wanted to or not.
He expected the same this time. So before the queen could act, Edward struck first.
"Extended mission. Sisilia Windsor, head south and slay the demonkin 'Rakan' you sealed long ago. Return, and I'll reward you handsomely for this affair. Very handsomely."
Edward smiled brightly, handing over the documents.
Sealing. If humans had Blessings, demonkin had Authorities. Identical concepts. When one Authority vanished, it transferred to a new demon beast. Thus, demonkin with tricky Authorities were sealed instead.
"Just kill Rakan?"
"Yes. Though you'd best depart immediately. The south is quite distant."
But Sisilia took the papers meekly, her face blank.
"Understood."
Edward chuckled. Sisilia, slowly tamed to his side, looked rather cute.
"By the way, Captain."
Sisilia glanced sideways. Clerks diligently handling paperwork a short distance away. Familiar faces, mostly—veterans from Edward's vice-captain days.
But one unexpected figure was among them.
"Don't recognize one of them."
Thinking it'd grown dull lately, Edward glanced over and replied.
"Ah, a User?"
"Yes. I recall you had a pretty negative view of Users."
"That was then, but whatever—"
Edward recalled the past in a flash.
—I possess vast paperwork experience and knowledge from a far more advanced world.
A User who barged into headquarters one day—Ian, adjusting his glasses, had declared to Edward.
—Any intern spots open?
"Seemed useful, so I put him to work. Problem?"
"No."
She smirked.
But Sisilia's face twisted in clear annoyance. She turned on her heel, tossing out a barb before leaving.
"Captain always did like the immature ones."
"?"
That day, Edward pondered her words for three hours.
**
"Just freed from the paperwork mountain, and now an extended mission right away...? Too much."
Beatrice sighed, clutching her document bag. Sisilia walked beside her, travel bag in hand.
"Ahh. I was curious how things would go with the demonkin arriving tomorrow. Do you know, Lady Sisilia?"
"We'll accept the demonkin's proposal."
"...Pardon?"
Sisilia halted. They stood atop a ridge near the capital. She'd dragged Beatrice here on the pretext of "business."
"A-accept the demonkin's proposal? So... we're abandoning the empire?"
"Huh? What're you talking about."
Not terribly high, but a decent elevation. Good enough, Sisilia thought, and spoke.
"If the empire's in danger, we help. Poor things, right?"
"B-but the truce... If they fall in six months..."
"Eh— we'll handle that from now on. Leave the annoying stuff to me, Betty. This mission too. You just behave and let me grope you."
Beatrice, now beyond even protesting, widened her eyes.
"...You're going alone?"
"No. Mission complete here."
Beatrice blinked, long after.
"Pardon?"
Rakan's region was a full month's hard ride away.
Sisilia poked Beatrice's dazed cheek.
"I remember the location, so I can use a family secret technique."
"...!"
"But it's a huge secret, so even Betty can't know. Mind closing your eyes a sec? Just for a moment."
"Y-yes! I won't open them even if the world ends!"
"...You'd have to then, wouldn't you?"
Beatrice saluted briskly and squeezed her eyes shut.
Sisilia crouched, peeking up at Beatrice's panties.
White today.
No reaction meant her eyes were closed for real.
Empire took the bait. Next up, demonkin. That white blob devil didn't look easy—hope it works.
Sisilia opened her travel bag, drawing her bow. Dawn's Bow, Arcus Aurorae—a mythic item for signal fires. (Sneaked from the royal vault, incidentally.)
She nocked and drew taut.
No arrow on the string.
Romance fantasy on success, dark fantasy on failure.
Honestly, either sounded fun, but newbies would prefer the "taming the supreme beauty Sword Princess Sisilia" romance ending over gloom. Hard mode either way, of course.
—Ping.
Sisilia released. Her imagery: a wind arrow piercing the throat of the sealed Rakan, exploding.
The key wasn't "can it reach from this insane distance?" but "I remember the spot, so of course it hits."
That tiny mindset shift separated imagination from reality.
"Betty. Let me touch your left breast."
"Y-yes! Go ahead!"
Lucky.
Sisilia admired Betty's generous size—too much for one hand—then closed her eyes. Sensing massive mana drain, she hurriedly stowed the bow and locked the bag. Tidied her hair and clothes. One last panty peek, then primly.
"You can open now."
Beatrice did. First in view: Sisilia's profile, gazing distantly.
Sisilia glanced at her, deadpan.
"Let's go, Betty. Time to prepare for the demonkin delegation."
"D-did you really kill Rakan? From this distance?"
"Yep."
"...I'd have no clue even with eyes open."
Sisilia's cheeks tinted faintly with shame. If Beatrice had seen that, she'd kick the blankets for a week. A Sword Princess fiddling with a bow? Cringe.