No Place Far Enough

"…"

Celine's eyes traveled slowly along the print. The article was long. She was no student of foreign affairs, but she knew the name Cartia Federation well enough—the country that shared the Empire's northeastern border. Among the maids she had also heard, more than once, that small armed clashes had been repeating along that frontier for months.

According to the piece, Cartia had lately stationed a considerable force near the border. At first they claimed it was nothing but training. In truth they had crossed the line again and again, and there had even been collisions with imperial outposts. Then, a few nights ago, that force was wiped out. There had been no great battle with the imperial army.

Celine swallowed, her throat dry, before she knew she had done it.

Celine's hand stopped.

"…"

Beneath the headline, the statements of the Empire's border guards had been set in order. The accounts did not agree. Even soldiers who had watched the thing from the same ground contradicted one another. Only one point was common to them all: every last one of them was badly frightened.

Investigators sent out after the fact had asked the surviving garrison, over and over, what had happened that night. Drawing a coherent statement from them had not been easy. The article itself had been late to press not only because of the distance to the border, but because pinning down the facts had taken time. The paper offered its own reading of that delay.

"…"

Cartia was, without question, a hostile state. If that hostile state's army had simply vanished, then from a soldier's point of view it ought to have been good news. And yet the men who had witnessed it could hardly bear to put the thing into words. Reading on, Celine felt a chill climb the nape of her neck. Something dreadful had happened out there. Of that she was certain.

In that moment—

Wait.

Her eyes stopped on a single line. The date of the incident was printed there. The day she had first been summoned before the Emperor. That dawn.

"…"

Celine folded the paper she had been reading. All at once the carriage, racing along as it was, felt too close to breathe in. Why had Hartmann told her to read the news? It could not have been merely so she would keep up with the world. He must have meant for her to see this.

The Imperial Palace, and the northeastern border where it had happened. An immense distance lay between them. Even changing horses and riding hard, it would take days. And yet she had unmistakably seen the Emperor in the palace. Which meant the Emperor had gone all the way to that far frontier and come back again inside that short span of time.

The newspaper went slack across her knees. The plan she had been turning over only moments ago—take Rinne and go somewhere far; slip away into another country—suddenly seemed absurd.

I can't run.

She could leave the palace. She might even leave the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Empire. Whether she could escape the Emperor was an entirely different question.

……

In something close to despair, Celine looked out through the carriage window. A low hill showed in the distance, and beyond it a familiar spire was slowly coming into view. St. Clarissa Convent.

Rinne…

The thought of her sister lifted her a little. Celine folded the paper neatly and slid it deep into her bag.

An old gray wall, patched with vines. An iron gate, slightly askew. Set beside the palace, it was a shabby, worn-out place, and yet the moment Celine saw it her chest eased in a way that felt almost strange.

I'm home.

Clarissa Convent. If any place in the world sat closest to that word for her, it was this one. But something felt different from usual. She stared in silence at the emblem carved into a pillar of the convent: a long beast sheathed in scarlet scales, two vast wings spread wide, sharp claws at the ends of four legs, a long tail curved in a circle as if winding once around its own body. A familiar device, found anywhere in the Empire. The oldest form of the Emperor, and the crest of the Empire's faith as well.

In the Empire there was no god set apart from the Emperor. The Emperor was god. Young Celine had learned that as a matter of course, though she had never been deeply devout. She prayed because she was told to. When the other children folded their hands, she folded hers with them, and when a nun taught that one must give thanks for the Emperor's grace, she nodded and kept quiet. Even so, she had not disliked the emblem before.

But now.

"…"

Her expression tightened by a fraction. Merely looking at it stirred something uneasy deep in her chest.

No. Don't think about it.

She shook her head with an effort.

"Celine?"

A familiar voice reached her, and she turned. An older nun stood near the entrance of the main building.

"Mother Superior."

The face that had been stiff a moment ago brightened all at once. Mother Superior Adela—the woman who had kept the convent since the day Celine and Rinne first came here.

"What brings you, with no word ahead?"

"I was given leave all of a sudden."

Celine bowed quickly.

"Have you been well?"

"I'm the same as ever."

Adela patted her shoulder twice, then studied her face.

"But you've grown a little thin."

Celine's smile froze.

"I have?"

"Is the work at the palace hard on you?"

"No."

She hurried a smile back into place.

"I think I've just been a bit busy lately."

Adela looked at her with doubtful eyes, but she did not press.

"Still, it's good to see your face. Do you know how long Rinne has been waiting?"

"Is Rinne over at the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠orphanage?"

With the Emperor pushed out of her thoughts, Celine's voice brightened at once.

"Yes. She'll be playing with the children after lunch."

Celine swallowed the urge to run there that very moment. There was something she had to do first. She opened her bag and took out a small parcel of tea and sweets she had bought in the capital.

"It isn't much, but…"

"What have you gone and bought now."

Adela gave her a sidelong look.

"It didn't cost much."

"You think I don't know the price?"

"The children like them, though."

Celine pressed the parcel into the Mother Superior's hands whether she would take it or not. Adela wore a displeased face, and accepted it all the same.

"Then I'll be going."

"Yes. Go on, then."

Celine bowed and headed for the orphanage at nearly a run.

Behind the convent's main building, past a small garden, stood the annex used as the orphanage. The closer she drew, the louder the children became.

"Give it back!"

"No!"

"Sister! She took mine!"

"Both of you, stop running! You'll fall and start crying again!"

A familiar ruckus. A smile spread across Celine's mouth of its own accord. Just as she reached for the door, someone came out from inside with a laundry basket in her arms.

"Oh my?"

The young nun stopped. Celine smiled, glad of her.

"Sister Claire."

"Celine?"

Claire's eyes went round.

"Yes."

"When did you get here?"

Claire set the basket down on a nearby chair and seized both of Celine's hands at once.

"I just came from greeting the Mother Superior."

"Well, it's good to see your face after so long."

"I was here last time, too."

Celine laughed. Welcome faces, one after another—the mood that had sunk in her seemed to be lifting, little by little.

"By the way, what about Sister Mariel?"

She glanced ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠around. At this hour, the woman who would ordinarily be the loudest voice among the children was nowhere to be seen. Mariel had been one of the nuns Celine was closest to while she lived here—the one who had cried for her more than anyone when she left for the palace. At the question, Claire's expression turned slightly awkward.

"Sister Mariel?"

"Yes."

"She's resting in her room today."

Worry rose on Celine's face at once.

"Is she unwell?"

"Mm… I don't think it's that she's sick."

"She isn't sick?"

"How should I put it. Depressed, maybe."

"Sister Mariel?"

"Yeah. She was never the quiet sort, you know. But for a few days now she's been sitting there blank a lot, all by herself. And I don't think she's sleeping well at night, either."

Celine's brow drew in.

"Nothing's happened to her, has it?"

"We ask, and she only says she's fine, so we don't know either."

Claire shrugged. Reading the worry on Celine's face, she patted her shoulder.

"Still, if you tell her you've come, she'll be glad. She always doted on you."

Having said that much, Claire looked Celine up and down, and her eyes began to shine. She leaned in a little.

"Celine, now that I think of it—have you seen Her Majesty the Emperor this time?"

"…"

"Last time you came, you said you hadn't even seen her face."

"…"

"Celine?"

When no answer came, Claire called her with a puzzled look. Only then did Celine come back to herself.

"Ah, I—um… I have seen her."

"Really?!"

Claire's voice jumped.

"Good heavens!"

Her face was alight.

"Truly? Right in front of you? Did you even speak to her?"

"Yes…"

"Wow."

Claire brought both hands together before her chest.

"I'm jealous."

The corner of Celine's mouth, which she had been holding as carefully as she could, stiffened by the slightest degree.

"Is Her Majesty really that beautiful?"

"…"

"I heard she's incredibly tall, too. And her eyes are really gold?"

The questions poured out one after another. Celine did not want to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠answer. More precisely, she did not want the Emperor's name following her even here. This was her home. Where Rinne was.

"I'll tell you later. More importantly—"

She turned the subject, lightly.

"Where is Rinne?"

"Ah!"

Claire smacked her own forehead.

"Look at me. Right—you should see Rinne first."

She pointed toward an inner room.

"She's in the playroom with the children. Go on."

"Thank you."

Celine headed for the playroom in hurried steps. Her heart was pounding. The end of the corridor. An old wooden door. Beyond it, children chattering—and mixed among them, a familiar voice.

"No! I'm telling you, that's where the princess runs away first!"

Celine's steps stopped. To hear her sister's voice, alive, felt strange.

Rinne.

Carefully, she reached out and opened the door.

"So after this part…"

Rinne stopped mid-sentence. The old door had creaked open. She tilted her head a little.

"…?"

As if trying to tell who had come in, she turned an ear toward the door and said nothing. Celine could not get a word out. She stood in the doorway and only looked at Rinne. The moment she spoke, she felt the tears would break first.

Then the child beside Rinne, a book in her hands, turned toward the door.

"Huh?"

The child's eyes widened. A glad voice soon rang through the room.

"It's Celine!"

"What?"

The other children turned in a rush.

"It really is!"

"Unnie Celine's here!"

At their words, Rinne's face lit up in an instant.

"Unnie's here?"

This time Celine could not hold it. Heat rushed to the corners of her eyes.

"Did my little sister miss her unnie?"

"Unnie!"

Rinne shot up from her seat.

"Ah—wait! Rinne!"

Seeing her about to run just as she was, blind as she was, Celine startled and sprang forward first.

"Slowly! You'll fall!"

They had not gone more than a few steps before they reached each other.

"I missed you, Unnie."

Rinne threw her arms around Celine's waist. Celine drew the small body into her own. Only then did it truly feel as if she had come back.