Choice, and Consequence (3)
"M-My lord...!"
Beside her, Zinor began to speak in a voice thick with shock — but Yuuri did not so much as turn her head in his direction. Her reply was cold and absolute.
"What are you waiting for? Didn't you hear me? I'll do as you ask. Release Anima."
The envoy who heard those words answered in much the same dry, expressionless tone he had used when he first opened his mouth in this hall.
"Understood. I am glad we could reach an understanding. I shall convey Lady Yuuri's will to our sovereign without fail. Then."
With that, Serpina's envoy turned and walked slowly from the chamber.
In his wake, a stunned Zinor and several officers who had yet to fully grasp what had just occurred looked around at one another in confusion.
What in the world... just happened?
If she had offered to cede territory — that, at least, Zinor could have understood. Handing over an entire castle was, by any cold accounting, an overpayment. Anima Ingram was an excellent general, but she was hardly a once-in-a-generation talent. She was a founding hero of deep loyalty, a woman who had earned her sovereign's absolute trust — the kind of person, in this age of chaos, to whom one could entrust one's back without a flicker of doubt. Losing a domain would have stung, yes, but given that the nation was already struggling to hold three castles intact, surrendering either Lacline or Zelstrom would still have left them a foundation from which to rise again.
That had been Zinor's judgment.
But handing over an envoy was another matter entirely.
It was not merely that the envoy in question was Swen — a keen-minded, multi-talented officer of exceptional promise. In Zinor's eyes, Swen was a far more valuable asset than Anima, and no amount of public estimation within this country would change that assessment. Yet even that was not the decisive reason the envoy should never have been surrendered.
Even if the man had been a mediocrity — someone of no present worth and little future prospect, someone one would hesitate to entrust with any real responsibility — he still should not have been handed over. In all the world, even in an age of chaos such as this, what warlord would deliver a subordinate who had sworn him loyalty into the hands of an enemy state?
This was not simply a question of basic human feeling. Zinor did not deny the existence of compassion, humanity, or sympathy — but he was the sort of man who preferred to use such things rather than build his principles upon them. His objection was not "selling someone off is pitiful, no matter how talentless." It was that such an act would send a catastrophic signal to every officer under their command — and for that reason alone, it was something that must never be done.
The reverse would have been equally unthinkable. Handing Anima over to save Swen was a scenario that should never have arisen. Handing over some nameless officer in Anima's place should have been equally impossible.
At the very least, a sovereign — not the chief of some band of outlaws, but the ruler of a nation — was supposed to understand that.
"My lord. I understand that your heart was shaken for a moment. But you must rescind that message at once. Seize the envoy before he gets away."
"..."
Receiving no answer from Yuuri, Zinor pressed on in a sharper tone, turning to the officers.
"What are you doing? Why have you not brought Serpina's envoy back here this instant?!"
"B-But..."
"Hurry! I will take responsibility."
Even as Zinor spoke so openly, Yuuri made no move to stop him. She herself must have known what her actions meant.
And then —
"That will not be necessary!"
A woman's voice rang out from beyond the chamber. It was Epinel Rosencross, the de facto second-in-command of the Asius Army.
"General Epinel!"
"Lord Zinor, forgive my discourtesy. The situation is growing exceedingly complicated."
She approached at a measured pace and addressed him directly.
"That cunning Serpina declared that if we refuse this proposal, she will execute Anima at once."
"...?"
It was news Zinor had never heard. He glanced at Yuuri — and found her blinking, faintly startled herself. That alone was enough to tell him Epinel was lying.
"Strategist. I am speaking to you now. Kindly give me your attention."
Epinel drew his gaze back to herself.
"It seems Swen has somehow incurred Serpina's personal enmity. From what I gather, she has already taken him into custody as our envoy. So this is coercion. No matter what answer we give, we will never get Swen back."
"Then why would she bother making such an offer at all?"
"What reason does she need? She is testing us."
"Testing us?"
"From the position of a great power, she is asking a weak nation like ours a simple question: will you obey me, or will you not? That is how she takes our measure. That is Serpina's way. Defying her here gains us nothing."
So — Swen was already captured, already doomed to die, and she was running this little test simply to see how their army would respond? She was abandoning both territory and gold just to ask that question?
Had the opponent been Lin Brans — that paranoid, unnervingly twisted woman — Zinor might have believed it. Lin was the sort who genuinely did things that defied all reason. Even in his youth, Zinor had heard enough to know that Orlando Brans's only daughter was not someone one could readily trust or follow.
But Serpina was different.
Tyrant or witch she might be called, but she had not earned the title of Hegemon for nothing. The countless officers who had once served the imperial house now followed her not by accident of blood, but because she had proven herself through sheer ability. Her lineage alone did not account for her power. Zinor himself had chosen not to serve her because of the excessive cruelty she displayed while eliminating her own siblings with her own hands — not because she lacked capability.
Would a woman like that make a proposal from which she stood to gain nothing, purely out of some emotional desire to watch their reaction? When a competent negotiation could have won her an entire territory? Why go out of her way?
And if she truly bore a grudge against Swen — she could simply have seized him and killed him without ever proposing this exchange.
As Zinor sorted through his thoughts in silence, Epinel spoke again, her tone cold.
"Have you not said it yourself many times, Strategist? How a weak nation survives. This is simply another instance of that. What choice do we have against the unilateral actions of a great power like Serpina's army? All we can do is save even one life. You of all people should understand that."
"..."
She was an outstanding general, but every so often she laid her old resentments bare like this. Zinor held no grudge for it. If anything, he was grateful. A person whose heart was this transparent was far easier to deal with than one whose thoughts remained opaque.
Epinel turned to the officers and soldiers and raised her voice.
"Hear me! Serpina's army has unilaterally imprisoned our envoy and then posed this baseless question in an attempt to throw our ranks into disorder. For now we have no choice but to endure it — but we will build our strength, and one day we will have our revenge upon her. Is that understood?!"
Ah. So that was it.
Only then did Zinor understand why she had appeared at this precise moment. Yuuri's decision was one that no officer of even moderate intelligence could comprehend. There would inevitably be talk — no, far worse than talk. Officers would resign in droves, and the very discipline of the state could fracture.
So Epinel was manufacturing a narrative: there was no other choice; this was the only way. And conveniently, their opponent was Serpina, whose reputation for cruelty was already legendary. Claim that such a tyrant had committed an act of wanton violence, and the story became persuasive. It would be enough to dampen at least some of the chaos this decision would unleash. In this nation, the influence of the founding heroes ran deeper than anywhere else.
Left to her own nature, Yuuri would never have lied to escape the consequences. She would have shouldered the results of her judgment with stubborn honesty. This, then, was Epinel's idea — not Yuuri's. Objectively speaking, she was a talent who compensated well for her sovereign's shortcomings.
Even so, the repercussions will not vanish entirely.
Any subordinate with half a working mind would eventually notice something was wrong.
And now, with the decision irreversible, Zinor returned once more to the fundamental question.
What, exactly, did Serpina's army gain from this?
The claim that she was targeting Swen out of personal enmity was unconvincing. So if one looked only at the outcome —
Serpina had, with her own hands, abandoned the chance to acquire territory?
For what?
— To obtain Swen.
What Serpina is after... is Swen himself. The man, not the land.
Certainly. If one assumed she already knew his true capabilities — even Zinor, were he a sovereign, would choose the man over any territory.
And the moment that thought of Swen's abilities surfaced —
Something struck the back of Zinor's skull like a physical blow.
What if all of this... was Swen's design?
Swen possessed the ability to see the future. There was no hard proof, of course, and the man himself had denied it. But the circumstantial evidence was perfect. Every decision Swen made had been correct, and not long ago Zinor had witnessed with his own eyes choices that no one could possibly have made without knowing the outcome in advance. The way Swen assessed situations and reasoned through them — it was the manner of a man who knew the future's results, yet did not know precisely how they would unfold.
And it had not even been Yuuri's decision that sent him as envoy in the first place. Had Swen himself not said, "I will go"?
Surely Swen had known. Known that it would come to this.
And a man like that had volunteered as envoy merely to be sold off? Impossible.
Seen in that light, the conclusion sharpened into focus.
Transferring to Serpina's army... was, in his eyes, the most efficient future...!
Zinor turned his head slightly and looked at Yuuri, who stood with her lips pressed shut. Even as Epinel worked diligently to contain the damage, Yuuri's expression made plain that she had no idea what to do with herself.
In that moment, for the first time, Zinor felt it with absolute clarity.
His sovereign, Baranga Yuuri Asius, was a person who would never — under any circumstances — take the world into her hands.
There was one small mercy in this situation: he had attached Reika to Swen. If Serpina's true target was indeed Swen, she would not dare mistreat Reika, who traveled as part of his party. That meant that even without Zinor himself entering Serpina's service, the connection to Swen would remain intact. Word would come from Reika's side eventually. When it did, he would have the chance to quietly sound out Swen's true intentions.
Until that moment — and only until that moment — he would maintain his allegiance to Asius.
I should start looking for a way out.
The sovereign who unified the continent did not necessarily have to be Yuuri. If she allowed sentiment to drive her into foolish choices, he need only release her hand.
That was the conclusion reached by Zinor, the man called the Sage of the Continent.