The Summoning

There was no fun in it.

The Imperial Capital without Allan was no fun at all.

Closer to the truth to say I feel nothing whatsoever...? Not that it matters.

Second Princess Sienna sighed, privately judging her own circumstances pathetic, and at the sound the people before her flinched and began studying her face.

"Y-Your Highness. Is something the matter with your royal person...?"

They were the nobles who had been begging an audience ever since the ceasefire talks with the elves began. Not only the faction that had trailed her from the start—dogs, more accurately—but those who had clung to neutrality, and even generals still on active duty.

I called them in because I was curious what they'd say.

A waste of time. Right in front of her they were baring their greed without shame—more precisely, their hunger for the territories soon to be folded into the Empire as concessions. Petitioning Sienna was ordinarily an act of self-harm, yet even that did not seem to trouble them. The interests bound up in the Great Forest were that vast. Half of it, a sweep of land beyond measuring, had been thrown wide open.

"Our house has run sawmills for generations, ever since we were commoners...! We keep three hundred skilled craftsmen besides. I beg you to look kindly upon us...!"

"Your Highness. I am told we are not permitted to take elves as slaves. But now that the gates stand open, the elves themselves must grow accustomed to economic life, and even without slavery there are ways they might labor within the Empire, are there not...?"

"I am woefully late in paying my respects. Unlike the others here, I want nothing at all. I am merely one who wishes to serve a wise and brilliant leader."

In the end, all of it meant the same thing. Throw us a bone.

Business rights in the concessions were, of course, the Emperor's to grant. Even so, no one doubted that of the two princesses, Sienna would claim the largest share. Allan Madoff, the man who had brought Medellin down, was her knight and her partner. The trouble was that Sienna herself had little interest in the spoils.

Still. I do have to take my share.

She meant, at the very least, to secure more of those rights than her ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠elder sister Victoria, and under the name of Madoff Pharmaceuticals if she could manage it. That was how she would draw her bond with Allan tighter. Come to think of it, changing the company's name might not be a bad idea either. Madoff Industries—or a settlement concern—would suit it better than a pharmaceutical house. She had no wish, though, to use the rights as a way of lining the nobles up.

"So you came to ask me for money after all."

"Th-that isn't—"

"Mind if I ask what you intend to give me in return? ...Heartfelt loyalty excepted. I don't believe in it, and I don't need it. The one who venerates that sort of thing is my sister Victoria, so take it to her."

At that, the nobles—men and women, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠old and young alike—could only glance at one another. Looking closer, she saw that some of them were investors in the health syrup. People who had once lined up behind Anais, crawling all the way here. Once, she might at least have mocked them. Now she could not even muster the will. They would only smile like servants and grovel, and there was no impact to be had in striking something that soft.

In the end, only one person in the world could stir her interest.

After she sent the nobles away, Sienna made for the manufacturing floor of Madoff Pharmaceuticals.

The company had not stood for long, yet it had swollen in such haste that it now kept more than ninety employees. Most of them did nothing but endlessly break raw opium apart, ready opium poppies for sowing, and mind the warehouses. The first of them hired, the former knight Bono, had charge of security, and his elder brother Jacob had charge of buying the raw materials. That was as far as it went.

Only one person handled the process that actually mattered: Allan Madoff, president and holder of fifty-one percent. With that same Allan lingering in the Great Forest, the manufacturing floor stood hollow and bare. Only natural. A kitchen with the cook away and nothing but assistants milling about was a strange sight to begin with.

Sienna looked the room over and felt her chest draw tight. She had never actually watched him work, and yet the equipment, set out at careful intervals, was enough to make the scene of Allan compounding his medicines waver before her eyes.

If I'd known it would come to this, I would have watched him at least once.

Three weeks ago, speaking through communication magic with Allan while he stayed in Medellin, she had heard him say it.

"I can't let anyone see how morphine is made. Heroin, though—that worries me less."

He had seemed to mean that even if you watched, you could not imitate it.

He should have said so sooner. I would have stayed up the whole night to see it.

Heroin.

The drug that had brought down a proud race, one that had held its own domain unbowed while nation after nation rose and fell across the continent. That she had not witnessed that historic birth was nothing but a regret, and once Medellin finally fell, the regret had curdled into something close to grief. Not seeing the elves gathered by the thousand in the square, smoking heroin; not seeing the elders, slack and swaying in its grip, hand their government over—those were merely disappointments.

The truly lamentable fact lay elsewhere. There was no telling when Allan would return. At this rate he looked ready to live out his years in conjugal harmony with the elves, though he himself would hardly want that.

And if, even after the ceasefire was signed, he still did not come back? Then she would have no choice but to go herself. Only Allan's return would lay a single shaft of light across a life that stirred nothing in her. Let him come, and they could live happily, tormenting assorted individuals and organizations together. She could ask him, too, about the knowledge she had won by researching alone in his absence.

But things did not unfold as she wished. An hour later, Allan delivered a report by communication magic.

The voice that came through the communication orb was Allan's, mumbling, drained of strength. In an instant, Sienna's expression went cold.

I had known Second Princess Sienna would react quickly. I had not known she would be this quick.

"Allan. Are you a dumbass?"

Silver hair to her waist, eyes a little too sharp. A girl who looked adorable and behaved as anything but was standing in front of me, and barely two days had passed since I reported ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the forced engagement.

Teleportation did save a dramatic amount of time. Sienna, though, had gone further than that—she had come all the way to Medellin, in the heart of the Great Forest. That meant she had used the elves' magic circles as well, a privilege granted only to a handful of officials from the Foreign Ministry and the Military Ministry. How she had managed it, I could not say. What was certain was that she had rushed like a madwoman.

"Allan. I asked you a question."

"I am not a dumbass."

"Well. From where I'm standing..."

Sienna tilted her head as she said it. She was not, by nature, a foul-mouthed woman. She might drop formality with nobles far older than herself, but she held back from actual curses; provoking someone with profanity, she would have called a cheap tactic. And yet here she was, calling me a dumbass.

Then again, from her point of view, I suppose I look the part.

I was deliberately feeding her dense, disappointing nonsense.

"I am sorry, but His Majesty appears to have already made up his mind. He told me he would not permit a refusal."

"So you're really going to get engaged to Anais?"

A hollow smile rose on Sienna's face. As if she could not make it feel real, she pinched her own soft-looking cheek. That the half-sister she had gone to such pains to operate on might be coming back—and, worse, might be engaged to me—seemed more than she could believe.

"Princess Sienna. There is no way to turn His Majesty's heart, is there?"

"Sorry, but this isn't Dad's doing. Mom must have stepped in."

"I know. That is why it is a greater problem. Her schemes run deeper than mine. However I turn it over... I have no means of opposing her."

"Allan, I thought of two methods just on the way here, and you don't know either of them?"

"Yes."

"Really?"

"Yes. I do not."

By this point Sienna looked ready to doubt my intelligence. For all I knew, she thought I had taken a pull of heroin with the elves.

In truth, it was not as if there were no way out from under the engagement. This was not the sort of problem that ended once the crisis in front of you was dodged. All I had done was summon Sienna. Better to set a princess out in front than to match the imperial couple scheme for scheme myself. She really ought to have caught on by now.

"The Allan I know would... ah."

Fortunately, she seemed to have caught on. That instinct was why I had summoned Sienna first, and not Victoria. There was work for Victoria too, but Sienna came first.

"So you weren't doing this for nothing."

"......"

"Right. Mom is... ah, let me correct that. That woman, the Empress, isn't shallow. She wouldn't expect you to meekly become Anais's spouse just because she pressed you with her authority. ...She may even be hoping you'll try some scheme to slip free."

"She must want something. I can guess, but I cannot say for certain."

"Now this is fun."

Sienna savored the words, her face faintly flushed. The look of pure irritation with which she had been needling me a moment ago was long gone. By now that small head of hers would be filling with fresh inspiration and fresh plots. Then, as if something had just occurred to her, she let out a short laugh and looked at me.

"But... Allan? In the end you're just dumping on me the work you don't want to do yourself. You're the escort knight. Why should I be the one protecting you?"

Needling me, even while she was enjoying herself more than I was. I did not find it displeasing. She had simply been made this way.

Instead of answering, I pointed at Medellin.

"Your Highness. I brought Medellin down alone. Even now, the nobles of elven society will be lost in heroin in the Hohen District. From what I saw, even their sense of deprivation has faded. They do nothing but beg for heroin from their back rooms."

"And why bring that up all of a sudden."

"I am a man capable of such things, and I am ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠relying on you. You may think of it as a concession, if you like."

At that, Sienna fidgeted with her fingers, then let out a sigh. At the same time the corners of her mouth slowly climbed, and her eyes curved thin. A moment later, the answer came.

A declaration that she would fight the war of stratagems in my place—against her father the Emperor, and against Empress Yeonhwa standing behind him. For someone on the eve of battle with her own parents, she looked thoroughly pleased.