The Grim Reality Tightens Its Grip (3)
The Emperor's consort. The being revered across the land as the Magic Empress.
Melineos.
And she, who came to belong to the golden bloodline that led the Berg Empire, had naturally inherited both its name and the family crest of that golden line.
Melineos Berke Enzul.
The Enzul family had not been of imperial blood from the very beginning, yet by now its history stretched back nearly three hundred years.
Some twenty years after the invasion of the Demon King of Grief, history records the era as a time of sweeping discord and upheaval. It was a period of chaos from which no race could fully shelter itself — though in the nations of humankind, that discord and strife burned conspicuously brighter.
Royal authority, enfeebled by the Demon King's invasion. Nobles who, strutting all the more proudly, began to indulge their greed in the name of mending the damage. The land itself scarred by war, with famine compounding the misery season upon season. And to crown it all, an age when warriors and barbarians gathered from every corner of the continent as mercenaries roamed about in brazen, organized bands.
Thus it was that the profession of knight stepped onto the stage of history in earnest, born of necessity. Yet in its earliest days, even those knights were nothing more than armed, self-serving mobs and brigands.
The war raged on uninterrupted for another ten years thereafter — a decade in which men trusted no one, coercing and trampling one another by strength alone. Even faith itself crumbled, and the era came to be called nothing less than an age of barbarism.
It was precisely at that juncture that the Enzul family, a minor lordly house, distinguished itself as a guardian of the Order. The Pope of that age judged the deed worthy of the highest honor and consecrated him. Centered upon him, the chivalric spirit and its culture began to be established on a grand scale and systematized. With the Pope's sanction, councils convened across the whole continent, and restrictions befitting each region's character began to take shape.
Let a knight bear no falsehood, no resolve, no vow of deceit in his oath.
Let him not fight of his own whim.
Let him not torment the weak.
Let him not defile a church while armed.
Let him not slay unarmed clergy.
Let him not covet another's possessions by force.
Restrictions were codified one after another, ranging from the utterly fundamental down to the trivially minor. Naturally, knights reluctant to swear grew in number — and in turn, organizations arose to punish those who wore the name of knight as a hollow badge.
The most illustrative example was that of the mages and sorcerers, those seekers of truth. Long branded heretics and shunned by the Order, they resolved at this turning point to conform to it at last, and only then were they admitted into its community. It was precisely in this era that the image was born of the righteous, upright mage — the sorcerer who justly and fairly crushes oath-breakers and oath-refusers, men of ignorance and violence wielding nothing but raw strength.
The old wicked sorcerers and witches — those notorious for consorting with demons and striking horrific bargains — came, from this point onward, to be regarded as sages laden with boundless knowledge.
Thus were humanity's circumstances: a race that had accepted dominion over vast territories it could neither properly manage nor sustain, content merely to multiply its numbers. Yet the great power of Berg, which endured to the end without splintering, proclaimed itself an Empire — and in a single stroke its influence spread to every nation under heaven. One must conclude that the successive oaths of fealty sworn by lords seeking shelter within that sphere of influence are what shaped the Empire of the present day.
The knight is the guardian of the Order and the shield of the people.
The mage lights the dark road ahead with keen reason and wondrous knowledge.
All of this is the design of God.
"……??"
She herself was the Empress of that mighty empire.
And yet.
"Mother, you have awakened?"
Her body would not move. It was as though something were pressing down upon her from head to toe. Shivering uncontrollably, she barely managed to lift an arm — and even that soon dropped helplessly, like the wing of a bird that had lost its flight.
And yet, remarkably, someone was holding her hand.
"……?"
El?
Empress Melineos — herself, and the Emperor's only daughter, whom she loved beyond all measure.
But something was wrong. The daughter, gripping her hand with her left hand, looked inexplicably vacant on her right side — her right arm simply gone. And when Melineos managed to raise her face to look upon her, even her left eye was hidden beneath something like a golden eyepatch. Her complexion was haggard. Skin once like white jade had lost its vitality, grown pale and withered, pitiful as lifeless marble.
"Ah… uh…."
No voice would come.
Melineos grasped the situation at once.
'A dream?'
No. Not a simple dream. This was the ability that had made her the Grand Archmage — a kind of Precognitive Dream. Her innate gift, the one that had delivered the heroes from countless perils. An intuition beyond intuition. In her childhood it had amounted to no more than vague presentiments, but by the time she was called a hero, she had reached the point where she could wield it — not perfectly, but to a degree.
Yet even that was largely one-sided. This was not something one wielded; it was something one received.
Then what, in the world, was this situation now?
Why is my daughter in such a wretched state…?
"The peace of the Empire hangs by a thread — but be at ease, Mother. Uncle Rueld has steeled his resolve as well."
Uncle? El, what is wrong with you? You would never address another soul in such a manner — least of all him, the hero Rueld himself.
'Stay calm.' Melineos. Do not waver. Focus on what lies before you. What is needed is cold reason, and the keen observation built upon it. Grasp the situation. And remember it. This offers a clue to a future yet to come — not a certainty, but one misstep, and it will most certainly arrive…
An ominous future.
"Uh… hngh!"
"Do not strain yourself."
No — I must ask. What in the world has happened? But no words would come. The inside of her throat felt as though it had been scorched by fire — a sensation much like when a dragon's breath had washed over her and the heat burned her lungs away from within. The difference was that back then, the searing agony had been instantaneous, her insides ablaze in a heartbeat. Now it was as if only the aftermath remained, everything already ruined beyond repair…
"Even now, I sometimes find myself wondering whether all of this might not be some terrible dream. Some nightmare."
Nightmare?
Yes — a nightmare.
Melineos inwardly pleaded, desperately, that her daughter — beyond indulging in sentiment — would give her the information she so badly needed.
"It has not yet been ten days since I sent Mother on her final journey. And since Mother collapsed, I have seen the coronation through to its end, by your grace."
…….
So he was dead, then? What in the world had Rueld done?
Tears spilled forth at a feeling like her gut being torn asunder — unbidden, without the slightest sensation of squeezing them out. Not the Melineos of this moment, but the original owner of this body was weeping, steeped in grief and sorrow.
"It may well be the last."
The last?
"…In a few days, he will come."
He?
"As the pillar of the Empire, I shall fulfill my role faithfully — even at the cost of this life."
"Uh… hngh!"
"…Do not worry. Even should I die, I would only be following after Mother. That is a glory I would gladly accept."
No. It cannot be! Rather let me die first! You — you…!
"If the capital falls, Alesius will look after you, Mother."
…So that child had been alive.
"Then I shall take my leave. Please — rest comfortably."
"!!!"
Even knowing it was a dream, Melineos screamed inwardly. And along with the scream, ten thousand emotions crossed within her. Together with a realization: that the Melineos of now had not long left to live.
Elhermina's steps as she left her mother's chamber knew no hesitation. Even those steps — though at a glance they seemed fragile to the point of collapse.
Click!
The place, empty even of attendants, held a desolate void seated at the very heart of its splendor.
How much time had passed? As if to shatter that void, the door opened — and a girl stepped inside.
"Ugh, what a pain finding my way here. I was wondering what this sudden stunt was supposed to be — and it was you after all?"
The girl who trudged in resembled gold itself. Dazzling looks, and a stride to match — utterly unimpeded. She wore a practical white dress chosen for ease of movement, yet even that seemed plain and modest beside her beauty. So overwhelming was her presence. Even in the worst possible condition, who could fail to recognize her? Above all, that unknowable, eerie air about her — that savage pressure which seemed ready to crush the very air and space around her, and tear them to ribbons.
It truly stirred memories like a nightmare.
Clatter!
Kicking a chair over to the bedside, she dropped herself onto it and crossed her legs. Naturally, Melineos's reverie shattered, and her senses sharpened toward the girl once more.
"You there. So the reason you invited me to such a cheerful place is… ah, wait — what? You didn't invite me at all, did you? I just got dragged along somehow? Well, well, well. This is getting awfully pleasant."
She seemed to be inferring something — and soon enough, she reached her conclusion. And yet still, Melineos could not fully determine what this situation was, nor who this girl standing before her truly was.
"I see. So the possibility is that if I or the rest of you maneuver and press and gaslight him hard enough, that Cariel fellow might have it in him to become the Demon King. My, my. How fascinating."
"……?"
What… are you saying?
"Hard to grasp the situation when your body's in that state, hm? Let me explain it simply."
Namely —
Cariel had become the Demon King. And the world was being plunged into ruin.
The explanation took less than five seconds. And what a concise, horrifying summary it was.
"Half of the Nine Heroes are dead, your husband included. And seeing that, Rueld has now steeled himself to kill his own son."
Then, suddenly —
"Hm. Hm…."
The girl clamped a hand over her mouth.
"Pfft! Hkk! Ah, hold on. I— hkk! khkk! Khehehk!"
As though she could not contain the laughter swelling inside her. No — it did not end there, either.
"KAHAHA! Ahh! AHAHAHA! Wow, that's insane! Hey, hey! My teeth are going to rot! Sweet! This is delicious! Someone bring wine! Wine to go with the cheese, come on! Wow, seriously! What a delightful scenario is this?! What is this paradise on earth?! You there! So this was your scheme, was it — to drown me in happiness?!"
Shuddering from head to toe as though thrills ran electric through her, the girl laughed — merrily, gleefully, jubilantly — then, half-collapsed, wriggled about having forgotten even to clutch her belly, roaring with laughter, and laughing again, and again.
"Ahh! My teeth are rotting! Sweet things in moderation, I say! What is this?! I hadn't the slightest intention of taking revenge, and you're telling me it could play out like this?! My! Truly! The Great Demon King's insight is, as ever, nothing short of astounding!"
"Hkk… hngk!"
"Ah, your vocal cords are burned clean through — don't strain yourself. Try enjoying this situation yourself, why don't you? Isn't it just so much fun?"
The golden girl roared with laughter. At length her smile, her laughter, curdled into madness — shaking the entire, sprawling palace in which she found herself.
"Ah, I think I might cry! Too amusing! I'd love to watch all the way to the ending… well, your mind can't take much more of this, I expect. Is this something like an observed parallel world? The principle truly does make me curious. If even the Wisdom Realm can't make sense of it, that's practically a superpower, isn't it? Speaking of which, the me of this place is quite a blessed creature, isn't she? Everything must have been endlessly enjoyable for her…"
And then — as though she had never laughed at all — the girl's face went blunt and expressionless.
"So. Do you understand who I am?"
"……."
At that impish question, Melineos understood, with terrible clarity: the thing before her was something even worse than a nightmare.
And —
I know this.
She had known it well.
"But if you carry this memory back into reality, it makes no difference to me — though for Cariel, another slaughterhouse would open up. Hmm, would that make things a bit like the world of now? Or would he try to slit my throat to stop it, I wonder?"
Consideration followed.
What consideration?
"Rolling a child through hell is a rather merry pastime, it's true. But you see, I'm fond of things that have been aged. Wine that matures until it breathes out a mellow fragrance, cheese… well, all manner of other things besides."
And therefore —
"This memory, regrettably, you will leave behind where it lies."
"?!?!"
"You'll recall it someday — but not now. And in one way, isn't that truly a blessing?"
Out of my own leniency.
"It means the bonds between you Heroes have been preserved, doesn't it?"
No.
No!
This memory — absolutely, absolutely had to be carried back!
"Do not resist, little one."
In the first place —
"Squashing magic and sorcery before a Demon King is pointless. In my eyes, you and your master alike are nothing more than ants."
That was true. Though Melineos herself was hailed as the Grand Archmage, the Grand Witch — the decisive ability by which she had served the world as one of the heroes was precisely what she was experiencing now: prophecy, foresight. It was thanks to this power to glimpse the future.
And yet… if only she could have glimpsed this scheme in advance, predicted it, blocked it, prepared for it —
Demon King.
Why did you… only after your death, play such a trick…?
No.
'She is not… dead?'
Then —
Who, then, was this girl standing before her?
The instant Melineos grasped it, and with a shudder of horror was about to let loose a scream — her consciousness snapped along with her, like a rope cut clean through.
— Ah…
I wanted to see how it ended —
She woke bolt upright in her bed, drenched in cold sweat.
"What… kind of dream… was it?"
She shuddered involuntarily at the gravity of it. She remembered nothing. Nothing at all. She had to remember — she must not have forgotten, absolutely must not!
But all she could do was tremble in the lingering wake of that dread, trembling in anxiety for a long while — and trembling yet again.
"Are you alright, dear?"
"……."
Ah.
He was alive.
For reasons she could not name, at that gentle question Melineos wept, and melted into his embrace.
My other half.
My everything.
He held her. Not as an Emperor — but as a hero, and as her one true confidant.
At the very least.
Empress Melineos did not — not ever, not ever — want to forget this one happiness: that she could possess him, and him alone.