1. A Damn Beginning
1. A Damn Beginning
It came without warning, out of nowhere.
At first, I thought winter was just lasting a few days longer than usual.
But when March arrived and snow was still falling instead of new buds, I realized something was wrong.
June—normally the season when sweltering heat blanketed the continent.
Instead, the world was buried in snow, and no one could walk the streets without thick cold-weather gear.
That was when people finally understood. An endless winter had fallen upon this continent—and it wasn't going to end.
August. Every nation and race on the continent gathered at the imperial capital and resolved to unite.
They decided to cease all hostilities until winter was over.
Just then, an oracle descended from the heavens.
[The calamity that calls winter lies in the north.]
An investigation party was dispatched northward to determine what this winter-calling calamity was, to find its cause.
December. The party returned. Only one person made it back. He spoke: at the northernmost edge, in the Estel Duchy, he had seen a witch who called the winter.
Snowflakes bloomed from her fingertips, he said, and wherever the Witch passed, nothing but bitter cold remained.
The news hit the capital like a thunderclap. Immediately, two topics set the city ablaze.
First, the existence of the Witch who had summoned winter.
And second, what to do with the bastards of House Estel who had spawned her.
From what I heard, the moment winter began, those damned bastards couldn't endure the cold and came scurrying straight to the capital.
If they'd produced the Witch, freezing to death in their own duchy would be a mercy—but the sight of them scrambling to the capital to save their own skins made everyone there sneer.
And soon enough, public opinion swelled.
Those cowards, the ones at the root of it all. We can't let those ducal bastards off the hook.
Yes. I wholeheartedly agree. How can justice be served in this land if we let bastards like that go?
...That is, if only the head of House Estel weren't me.
Thrown into a solitary cell in the deepest part of the Empire's underground prison, I eventually couldn't hold back a groan.
"Fuck... Why does everyone have to dump their shit on me..."
****
Ten days. Ten whole days already.
That's how long I'd been locked in the Empire's underground prison without so much as a single breath of outside air.
In that time, the only human face I'd seen was that shitty-looking guard who brought me my meals—and even that wasn't much of a sight.
Well, in a way, being stuck in the Empire's underground prison wasn't entirely bad for me.
Because right now, throughout the Empire, the head of House Estel—Kain von Estel—was quite the celebrity. His popularity was so overwhelming that if the citizens of the capital so much as glimpsed my face, they'd come charging at me to burn me alive. Get the picture?
Locked up down here, at least I didn't have to spend every waking moment worrying that someone might knife me from behind. That part was definitely a plus.
"...God damn it, that crafty old snake."
I scowled, the face of the Emperor—the man who'd thrown me into this deep, dark hole—rising in my mind unbidden. Honestly, I couldn't say the Emperor's decision to toss me in here without a single word was beyond comprehension.
The endless winter the Witch had called down had already been going on for a year. A year might sound manageable, but it meant that food production across the entire continent had ceased for well over a year now. People were already starving to death everywhere, and it wasn't uncommon to see high-born nobles squabbling over a single loaf of bread at the market.
Of course, with magic it was possible to grow crops in limited quantities even during such a brutal cold snap. But compared to the continent's total population, the number of mages was pitifully small, while the people suffering from hunger were beyond counting.
The food being produced was frighteningly insufficient, and the number of the starving grew by the day.
The Empire's subjects grew more discontent by the hour, and all sorts of ominous, unsettling rumors had begun swirling through the capital. In a truly explosive situation like this, the lofty figures of the capital came up with an idea that was, in a word, simple. Pin every last bit of blame on the head of House Estel—the family that had produced the Winter Witch—and make him the scapegoat.
To sum it up, the charges against me boiled down to Guilt by Association and a Crime of Insolence.
"...Well, if they want to kill me, let them kill me."
I honestly can't bring myself to resent the Emperor and the rest of that lot who dreamed up this cute little idea. If I were in anyone else's shoes, I'd be planted at a tavern right now too, bad-mouthing the shameless bastard who spawned the Witch and then holed up in the capital.
And the anger and resentment every person in the Empire felt toward me—I couldn't fault them for that either. For an entire year, they had clutched their empty stomachs and endured with nothing but the hope that things would get better soon. They needed an outlet for their pent-up emotions. The fact that I, of all people, got picked to play the lightning rod—that's just rotten luck, nothing more.
Still, I had one real worry: my younger sister, Elena. She'd always been frail by nature. The moment winter began, she collapsed onto a sickbed, unable to withstand the cold—and that, more than anything, was why we fled to the capital in such a hurry.
More than anything else, I couldn't just stand by and watch Elena freeze to death in that cold. If I died, the girl would have to carry on House Estel, and I worried whether someone as delicate as Elena could shoulder such a heavy burden.
"...But why hasn't a single soul shown their face in ten days?"
There's no way anyone would object to killing a heinous monster like me, so are they holding a committee to debate which method of execution will make me suffer the most?
While I was hunched in my cell sketching out the bleak blueprint of my future, surprisingly, the end came quickly enough.
"...Your Grace, Duke Estel. You're being released. Please follow me."
The burly guard who'd kept me fed over the past ten days had come to deliver the news of my release.
"Hm. You're late. Have you come to tell me they've finally set a date for my execution?"
At my jab, the guard shook his head.
"His Majesty wishes to see you, Your Grace. It seems you will need to prepare for an audience."
****
The Hall of the Sun. A thousand years ago, when the Empire was founded, dragons enchanted it and dwarves built it in celebration—a living symbol of imperial majesty itself.
It was vast enough to swallow a hundred people at once, and I was prostrating myself at its center, awaiting the Emperor.
"...I behold the Sun of the Empire."
As a duke of the Empire, I wasn't strictly required to grovel like this, but with the crimes hanging over my head, I'd thrown myself flat before I knew it. The last thing I wanted was to act stubborn here and end up executed via some gruesome method like being torn apart by chariots or boiled alive.
"Duke Estel, it has been a while. Five years, is it?"
His oddly familiar tone prompted me to answer before I thought better of it.
"...It has. The last time seems to have been when I came here to succeed to the ducal title after my father's passing."
"Hoh, that's right. Has it already been five years since Franz died..."
Watching the Emperor casually invoke our past connection, I stealthily shifted my eyes and took in my surroundings. I couldn't shake the feeling that this meeting wasn't simply to lop off my head. At this moment, I had absolutely no clue what was going on inside that crafty old snake's mind.
"Duke Estel."
"...Yes, Your Majesty."
"I have given considerable thought to how you are to be dealt with. Your crime is undeniably clear. The being known as the 'Witch,' all but confirmed to originate from the Estel Territory, has brought an unending winter upon this continent, and because of her, countless lives are being lost. This is the result of your failure to properly govern your territory; you bear a portion of the responsibility. Do you admit this?"
'...What a load of bullshit.'
It was true that the Witch had been discovered in the Estel Territory. But how in the world did they know she was from my territory? The investigator's report said only, 'A woman calling the winter was witnessed in the Estel Territory.' It said nothing about her origins.
Fine, for the sake of argument let's say the Witch is indeed from my territory. But why is that my fault? Was I supposed to crack open the heads of every single person living in my lands and check whether they'd commit a crime someday?
The words 'Stop spewing that bullshit, please' surged right up to the tip of my tongue, but I forced them back down into my throat with superhuman patience. Because no matter what protest I made here, nothing would change.
"...I admit it, Your Majesty."
When I answered with an expression as though I'd given up on everything, the Emperor smiled an ambiguous smile I couldn't read and began speaking.
"However, House Estel is a distinguished family whose history has run parallel to the Empire since its founding. In consideration of the devotion your ancestors showed for the Empire, I have decided to grant you an opportunity to redeem yourself."
'Redeem? Opportunity?'
The words carried an undeniably ominous ring. What in the world was that serpent-tongued Emperor maneuvering to make a nobody like me do?
"Duke Estel. I shall give you a command."
"...Yes, Your Majesty."
"I intend to form an expedition to subjugate the Witch. I shall grant you the chance to restore your ducal house's honor by becoming the guide who leads the expedition's vanguard."
"...I beg your pardon?"