Unexpected Farewell (2)

Not long after, Lisa changed into a new dress and left the room. She walked a long corridor laid with a carpet of deep blue, and all the way to the hall where the emperor waited, splendidly dressed noblemen drifted toward her and pressed in close.

"Oh! It is as if I behold a single flower blooming upon a cliff's edge!"

"Would you spare me a moment this evening? Ah—nothing improper, I assure you. I merely wish to hear your esteemed views on the art of farming."

"Your beauty has stolen my very soul. I beg you—if only your hand!"

Lisa's assistant, Emily, broke into a cold sweat trying to peel them off her, the young nobles swarming like a hive of bees.

"You were born to noble houses—why are you behaving like this? Have some dignity! Eek! S-stop that! Don't push!"

At last they reached the vast hall, and every gaze in it—the emperor's among more than a hundred civil and military ministers—turned upon her as one.

The emperor stroked his white beard and smiled with kindly warmth.

"You have come. Come, step forward."

Lisa gathered the front of her skirt in both hands and walked the center aisle, slow and elegant. Admiration spilled from every side.

"Lowborn, and yet what a beauty!"

"A girl that young invented a new farming tool, you say?"

The moment Lisa mounted the dais, the ceremony began. A minister recited her accomplishments in a rolling litany.

"...She developed a revolutionary farming implement known as the Short Dick, rendering great service to the advancement of agriculture, and through new culinary methods for the potato—once derided as the Devil's Egg and used only as livestock feed—she contributed enormously to its widespread adoption..."

When the recitation ended, Mydmar, Emperor of the Wertyanyu Empire, rose from his seat. Lisa bowed deeply at the waist before him.

"Thanks to you, ten million souls were saved. We shall honor that merit with a reward."

"You have my gratitude, Your Majesty."

The emperor's smile faded. He asked, solemn now:

"Do you swear to devote your loyalty to Us for the whole of your life?"

"I so swear, Your Majesty."

"And do you further swear to devote yourself in earnest to the development of new foods and farming methods?"

"I shall give my body and my passion without reserve, Your Majesty."

"Rise."

The emperor extended his hand and raised her to her feet. Then he addressed them all.

"As We promised once before: to the young lady Lisa, who has fed ten million of Our people and averted a great famine, We intend to confer the rank of Countess, appoint her lord of Silverlon, and moreover admit her to the Imperial Advisory Council, that she may exercise her fullest ability as Food and Agricultural Policy Advisor. Does any among ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠you object?"

They cried out in a single voice.

"None, Your Majesty!"

"Good."

The emperor looked upon Lisa and made his declaration with grave formality.

"It is an honor, Your Majesty."

Lisa was radiant with joy. Inwardly, she pictured the imperial palace in flames.

Halfway there. At last.

She had abandoned her former life as an obscure alchemist, recast herself as ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a researcher of agricultural technology, and in a mere four years had been granted land and title by the emperor himself—racing down the fast track of success as an expert in the farming arts. And yet, deep in Lisa's heart, violence and madness lay coiled and waiting, holding their breath: a hunger to unmake the world entire.

"Now, give a wave to all those gathered here."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

Lisa lifted a hand in a lace glove and waved, and the ministers of court erupted in cheers and applause.

Worms.

She was smiling, but she loathed every human being in front of her.

I'll wipe you all out soon enough.

For a long time now she had been ambitiously preparing a single plan. She would feed nobles and commoners alike a mutant crop of her own making, and plant a disease in their bodies. It would not take effect the moment it was swallowed. It would lie quiet for a time, then wake and go to work. Her purpose was to use the office of imperial advisor to murder as many people as she possibly could.

Just wait. I'll finish it soon.

She estimated it would take roughly a year to develop the toxic mutant crop—a time bomb in vegetable form. Another four ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠years, she guessed, to spread it through every corner of the empire. Three months to grow. An incubation period inside the body of about three years. If her calculations held, the first wave of deaths would not break until four years from now at the earliest. Perhaps later still. She would have to endure a long wait.

Enduring it was not hard. Whenever she pictured the future—thousands dying day after day, as if a plague were rolling across the land—a smile stole unbidden across her lips, and strength rose in her.

The longer the plan takes, the more people die. How thrilling.

It was the dream she had carried since her early teens. And in this moment, after all the long years of preparation, that dream was spreading its first wing at last. She steeled her resolve anew.

Far in the future, once she had slaughtered a considerable share of the empire's population...

I'll take my own life with a glad heart.

Lisa Astrid. Beneath that exquisite exterior, her true nature was a villainess brimming with cruel, unhinged madness.

In a cold cave of ice, her husband Besrotan—well along in years—was packing their things for the move. The two of them meant to go to the canyon of the King and Queen's Sanctuary and take up farming.

While he was at his wife's home gathering what they would need, Besrotan happened upon a transparent glass bottle with nothing written on it at all.

"Heh heh. Now what have we here?"

He called to his wife in the other room. Nazretigora was with child. For the past three years she had been carrying an egg in her belly. In her advanced age, it had taken her decades after meeting Besrotan before she had finally, barely, been able to conceive.

"Did you call for me?"

Nazretigora appeared, heavy with the egg, and Besrotan asked:

"What's in this bottle?"

"I'm not quite sure."

She, too, seemed to be seeing it for the first time; her memory of it was hazy. Then something surfaced, and she smiled.

"I believe it may be the Waters of Yoraha. A gift from the Elf King, some four thousand years ago."

"The Waters of Yoraha?"

"Sacred water that drives back wicked power. Whatever evil it touches, it can purify."

"Whatever evil, you say? Even the Demon King?"

"Well? I suppose one would have to try it and see."

Leaving that remark behind her, Nazretigora went back to what she had been doing.

"Hmm. Sacred holy water, is it..."

Left alone, Besrotan scratched his protruding belly and picked up a brush.

"Can't go forgetting, so I'd best write it down. No servants here, either. High time I got in the habit of putting things in order."

He muttered to himself, then cocked his head.

"Now what did the wife say it was?"

Age had done his memory no favors. He didn't feel right calling his heavy-with-child wife over again, and after a long wrestle with himself he finally wrote the following on a slip of paper:

Besrotan was quite pleased with the roughly coined name.

"That's a fine one. Got a real presence to it."

And with that, he simply tossed it onto a mountain of piled treasure.

"Well, that's one thing sorted. Heh heh."

He let out a sigh a moment later and looked around. Belongings they would have to carry to the farm were heaped everywhere.

"How am I supposed to haul all that? Aigoo, I don't even want to move. I've had the servants do everything for so long, and now I've got to do it all myself. Tsk."

A fierce wind roared in his ears. Rian felt the world tilt. He had lost count of how many times they had teleported. At present, he was falling from the sky.

"Snap out of it, you bastard! We're gonna die!"

He shook the Demon King he had been clutching like a pillow, but it was no use. The creature did not so much as twitch, dead with his eyes still open. Whether he had seized up with fear in his dying moments and tried to flee, the Demon King had burned through dozens of teleports in a frenzy. In the span of a single minute Rian had glimpsed region after region in brief, lurching flashes, and the last of them had dumped him into the sky over some nameless land.

"Damn it! We're going to smash into the ground at this rate!"

Hurtling downward with the Demon King locked in his arms, he made a last desperate gamble. Just before they hit, he transformed Lagreanir into a lasso and hooked it around a tree.

It worked perfectly. He dangled for a moment, swinging, then landed on the ground in one piece. The Demon King, who had fallen in a straight vertical drop, struck headfirst. His skull burst, and he lay on the earth in a hideous ruin.

Rian approached and looked him over, giving the body a few pokes with his foot to see if any life remained.

"Is ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠he actually dead?"

The instant the words left his mouth, light flared from the Demon King's corpse.

Rian stumbled back in shock. He nearly turned and ran, but the situation did not look dangerous. He held his breath and watched from a short distance, and, to his relief, the Demon King's body went slack and melted away. As the skin dissolved, the bones beneath scattered into the air like leftover ash and vanished. As if he had never been there at all, only a single yellow sphere remained in the place where the Demon King had lain, hovering in the empty air—the Demon King's Yellow Core.

"What the hell is that?"

Rian drew closer and studied the sphere, which radiated a lustrous, exquisite light.

"It's beautiful..."

He was still staring in a daze when the sphere suddenly vanished, as if it had been sucked straight into his chest.

"Huh?"

Alarmed, he checked himself over in a hurry, but he could not feel that anything had changed. He was no stronger. He could not use any superpowers. He was not in any pain, either.

"Where did it go?"

He felt so entirely ordinary that he could no longer even be sure whether the sphere had entered his body at all.

"I'm pretty sure it went inside me, though..."

Then a necklace lying on the ground caught his eye. A slender chain of gold, from which hung a small round medallion etched with geometric patterns. Rian picked it up and hung it around his neck without a second thought.

"Looks pretty nice."