The Empire and the Order
After Delphine withdrew and left him alone, the Emperor pressed his fingers to his brow.
Not a monster. And not a phoenix, either.
To be more precise, the reports had read like this: the Order's punitive expedition swore the thing far surpassed any monster, while the Imperial investigation team declared it was, at the very least, a being on the order of the Primordial Phoenix.
Whatever it was, no ordinary human could hope to contend with it.
A thing that far surpassed any monster. The Primordial Phoenix itself.
He had thought the world around him was finally growing quiet. He had thought that once every wicked presence was swept away, peace would follow.
And yet the Empire's unrest never seemed to cease.
If a god truly existed, he wanted to throw himself before that great being and plead his case. Why, in his reign of all reigns, must such crushing hours be laid upon him again and again?
The Emperor reached into his robes for a cigarette before he even knew he had done it. He had quit for a time, so overwhelmed with joy after seeing his child so late in life. But the world was doing nothing to help a man stay off tobacco.
...No.
He set the cigarette down, closed both eyes, and then, as if sealing a vow, snapped the tobacco cleanly in half.
This was his precious child. He wanted to give her only good things, however small. He would never let that little girl breathe his harsh smoke. If a strange smell clung to her father's body, she might even turn away from him.
"Your Majesty!"
Yes. So another incident had struck today.
The Emperor stared blankly at the Lord Chamberlain rushing in. He hoped, at least, that the news would be only moderately headache-inducing.
But the moment the Lord Chamberlain's mouth opened, the Emperor had no choice but to surge to his feet.
"The Crown Princess collapsed just now and has lost consciousness!"
"What?"
The Crown Princess? Why? How? No. No!
The heir he had obtained so late. His one and only child. The girl he would not trade for anything in the world — why?
"Quickly. We go to the Eastern Palace at once."
"Yes, Your Majesty!"
They hurried toward the Eastern Palace as if pursued. Dignity, protocol — he had no mind for any of it now. If he could have, he would have run calling his daughter's name.
They reached the Eastern Palace, the Crown Princess's residence. The imperial physicians were already there, and so was the Empress.
"Your Majesty."
"Empress. What has happened?"
"I do not know. I truly do not know what we are to do..."
"Calm yourself. Let us look first."
After reassuring the Empress, the Emperor gathered the physicians aside.
"What in the world is going on? Why is the Crown Princess like this?"
"I am deeply sorry to report, Your Majesty, but Her Highness is currently suffering from a high fever of unknown cause. She had no illness to speak of, so we ourselves are at a loss."
"You physicians cannot even name the reason? Does that mean you cannot cure her?"
"We are searching for the cause of the illness first. We will do everything in our power. Please place your trust in us."
He wanted to browbeat them, to demand they identify the disease no matter what. He wanted to threaten them with what they would face if they failed to treat the Crown Princess.
But the Emperor did not. He decided, for now, to trust the physicians. The crisis had only just begun. Nothing good would come of hounding them from the start.
After the physicians withdrew, the Emperor swayed slightly. He braced a hand against the wall against a wave of dizziness, and the Lord Chamberlain hurried over in alarm.
"Your Majesty."
"We are fine. Leave it."
How hard-won this child had been. A treasure he would not exchange for anything. In private, she was the precious daughter he would not hurt even to set in his eye. In the larger view, she was the future Emperor who would lead the Empire after him.
The moment he lost her, he would lose his mind — as a father and as a sovereign alike.
He did not want to think of the worst, and yet his mind kept going there.
She will be all right. Yes — young children sometimes catch fevers.
He tried to soothe himself that it was nothing grave. But questions kept blooming, one after another.
If it were truly a light fever, why were the physicians so tense? They said they needed to know what the illness even was before they could speak of a cure?
What if — truly, what if — he lost the Crown Princess?
Ugly thoughts sprouted like weeds after rain. And so, naturally, he began hunting for a reason.
Had he done something wrong, and was his daughter being punished for it? How great a sin must he have committed, for that small child to suffer? If he had truly sinned, what sin, and against whom?
...It cannot be.
The enormous red bird of the north that Delphine had spoken of. Neither monster nor phoenix. Both had been ruled out. The conclusion was that it was a being far above either.
They had provoked it, and a terrifying presence had come crashing down. Everyone who encountered it had fallen to their knees and wished only to live.
For some reason, it had sent them all back alive. It could have killed a few as an example, and it had not. And so, honestly, he had been a little relieved.
The Crown Princess collapsing so suddenly could be that being's doing.
If the warning had not been meant for the people of the Empire and the Order... if some uncanny power were pressing down on the Crown Princess's breath... what was he to do? What was the Empire to do?
Should he beg forgiveness? Offer a sacrifice, even? Or march north at once and put it down? Was that even possible? If they destroyed it, would the Crown Princess recover?
Why do You give me such trials? O God.
Tearing at his hair, the Emperor sank into deep thought. Through the deep of night. Until dawn. He did not sleep a wink.
Hoping at least for counsel, he sent someone to Delphine. But the only one who returned was the messenger he had dispatched to her residence.
"Where is Dame Delphine?"
"Your Majesty. I am sorry to report that Dame Delphine is not in her quarters."
"Not in her quarters? What do you mean?"
"She is said to have entered her residence yesterday, but this morning she was simply gone."
In that instant, the Emperor thought his own prediction might be right. If Delphine had vanished without a word at a time like this, there could be only one reason. It was surely connected to that red bird they had encountered in the north.
"Send someone north. To Nosland. No — wait. We shall go Ourself."
"Your Majesty! What are you saying? You must not! If Your Majesty leaves the capital..."
And so, after Delphine, the Emperor's journey north was decided.
"...It is not a monster?"
Cardinal Caelum was receiving the report of the punitive expedition that had only just returned.
"Yes, Your Eminence. It was absolutely not a monster."
"But when one speaks of a great red bird, is it not usually a wyvern?"
"A wyvern is a vicious monster, yes — but it does not come close to that thing."
Tsk. The Cardinal clicked his tongue inwardly.
In truth, there had been another, hidden purpose behind dispatching the punitive force. Of late, the Order's exploits had grown fewer and fewer. Once, the Order had shielded countless souls from evil. Now that sacred work amounted to less than half of what it had been.
It would not do. The shortfall in their deeds was being filled by the Empire. Someone might yet arise to question the Order's place. That, above all, had to be prevented. The Order had to remain an inviolable domain.
And so he had meant to swell this northern incident into something vast, and have the Order settle it. To carry out the subjugation by the Order's strength alone, and thereby restore its prestige.
And it was not a monster. A blunder of this magnitude is rare even for us.
How much funding had gone into sending that expedition? No — money was a secondary concern. The Order's exploits were what mattered. The Order's exploits were the Order's prestige.
...Wait.
He had heard that the Knight of Steel, Delphine Lionheart, had gone with them. And that she had lost even the will to fight that being.
Handled well, this could become an opportunity for the Order as well.
"Summon the Twelve Divine Generals at once."
The strong did not belong to the Empire alone. The Order had its own. If the Empire had heaped glory upon Delphine and raised her as a hero, the Order had flaunted its presence through twelve Divine Generals.
With them, it would be different. Every one of them was a powerhouse of the first rank. They had simply never stepped to the fore, for the sake of the Order. They had served not a single hero, but the Order as a whole.
If our Order captures the being that even the so-called Sword of the Empire abandoned?
If Delphine Lionheart had given up, it would not be easy. But the Cardinal was confident. He believed in his Divine Generals.
Besides, Delphine had not accomplished every feat alone. She had received a great deal of help — the Empire's mages, countless knights and soldiers, and even the high priests the Order itself had sent in support.
Divine Generals bound together by unshakable faith would bring a better result. Perhaps this was even the chance to reclaim the title of Hero for the Order. To recover the glory they had nearly been forced to surrender to an Imperial knight.
Even if they lost a few Divine Generals, it would be well worth the price.
Smiling, the Cardinal decided he would inform the Pope of the matter as well. Pope in name only — the man was, in truth, little more than his own proxy. Even now, a great deal of the Order's business passed through his hands.
One day he would sit in the papal seat himself. But not yet. There was no use ascending to that throne while the Order's power was still weak.
Cardinal Caelum's intent was perfectly clear. Recover the Order's lost prestige. Restore its place in the world. And thereby display, once more, the greatness of the Order of Light.
I do hope that northern being turns out to be something unholy.
The Empire's knight had failed.
The Order's Divine Generals would succeed.
The Cardinal did not doubt it for a moment. If anyone asked him why, he would answer like this: