Now You Are Mine
Teppelo Castle, under the southern Karelia Army.
A deep, heavy worry clouded the face of its lord, Lunarien Iniang.
"So they were… executed, then?"
"Yes, my lady."
Some thirty soldiers had been put to death in a public execution for violating military law. Luna's objection — that execution was excessive — had apparently been dismissed outright.
Of course, breaking military law was wrong. That much was true. The problem was that no matter how she turned it over in her mind, the punishment was far too cruel. To lose one's life over a truly trivial mistake was a brutality beyond measure.
Worse still, the recent conscripts were, quite literally, any man with arms and legs who could still walk. Morale was inevitably low, and their level of training could hardly be high.
All of this was the will of her sovereign, Macana Karelia —
No. By now, Luna knew perfectly well that it was not Macana's will at all.
It's Vanessa's will. The strategist's.
Ever since Vanessa had seized full command of the nation's military authority, the application of military law had grown mercilessly strict, and the intensity of training had become crushing. A strong army — fine words. Luna herself had thought it only natural, in the midst of war, to emphasize the severity of military discipline.
But this —
To execute a man simply for being thirty minutes late? Was that not going too far?
Among the other soldiers who had died, few had committed anything that truly deserved death. Even a flogging might have drawn complaints; to take their lives for such light offenses was unthinkable. It was practically a reign of terror.
Vanessa's reign of terror, riding on the prestige of Karelia.
Even as all manner of talk continued to circulate within the Karelia Army, it was buried beneath the convenient phrase "for the sake of preparing for war." The southern continent had long maintained a fragile balance without open conflict, and so there was a plausible justification: that the lowered morale and training of the soldiers and subordinate generals needed to be raised.
"My lady."
"…Speak."
"Our sovereign does not seem to think very highly of you, Lord Luna. She said a castle lord is not a position for indulging in useless sympathy."
At the words of the male general before her, Luna answered in a bitter tone.
"Our sovereign's will, is it?"
"…Her will is, for all practical purposes, the same as our sovereign's."
The general knew full well that this was Vanessa's intent, not Macana's. But he could say nothing else. For on Vanessa's shoulders stood Karelia herself — the idol of them all.
"I understand."
"Then I shall take my leave."
The general departed the audience chamber. Having finished her day's duties, Luna turned her steps toward the manor where she currently resided.
"You've returned, Lady Luna."
Upon her arrival, she was greeted by Charlotte — Kyle's relative, a golden-eyed young girl — who had come back from the royal capital. There was no need to burden her with worries, so Luna put on the brightest expression she could manage.
"How was your day?"
"I feel as though my swordsmanship is making real progress. Though of course, I am nowhere near my brother's level."
The three children Kyle had asked her to raise: Francis, Charlotte, and Violet.
Just as Kyle had promised — they will surely be of use to you — the three of them, the moment they settled into Luna's manor, had begun to display extraordinary talent.
Francis with the spear. Charlotte with the sword. And Violet, whose potential as a civil official was already unmistakably clear.
Francis possessed such overwhelming talent that one could fairly call him the second coming of Cremton Al Kaski, the man who had once made his name with the spear across the old empire. He had already surpassed the level of ordinary soldiers, and at his age could hold his own against several of the generals active in the Karelia Army.
In that regard, Charlotte was no less impressive. Tifa, who served as her instructor, had praised her until her throat was sore, declaring that once she came of age she would become a great general who would surpass even Tifa herself. Given Tifa's personality — a woman who did not know how to offer empty flattery — the girl almost certainly had genuine talent.
While her older brother and sister excelled in martial arts, the youngest, Violet, was showing a remarkable gift for strategy and tactics. Indeed, ever since she had predicted that the Serpina Army will no longer attack the Brans Army, not a single battle had broken out between the two nations. From Serpina's perspective, Violet had argued, leaving the front as it was — rather than conquering further territory — would deny the Brans Army any chance to concentrate its strength, and thus inflict greater damage overall.
"I see. Have you given any thought to what I mentioned last time?"
"Yes. We have considered it, but all three of us reached the same conclusion."
Charlotte lowered her head deeply.
"We do not need to enroll in the Academy."
Lunarien had wanted to send them there. She had thought that studying alongside many others would be a far more valuable experience for them than simply remaining as retainers in her manor.
"Why? It is true that all of you possess exceptional talent, but experiencing as much of this wide world as possible will still be of help to you. And you need not worry about the tuition."
"That may well be so, but… our uncle told us. That we must protect Lady Lunarien. That when the moment of opportunity comes — whenever that may be — we must be of use to you, Lady Luna."
Uncle — she meant Kyle, then. Luna answered with an awkward smile.
"Even so, if I think of what is best for all of you…"
"We are truly fine, Lady Luna. Lady Tifa has been an excellent teacher to us, and Violet is certain that honing her eye for the situation at a castle lord's side will be far more useful than accumulating theory at the Academy. Please, consider our wishes."
"…If that is truly what all of you want, then I will not force the matter. But if you ever change your minds, tell me at once. I have more than enough funds to send the three of you to the Academy."
"We are grateful for your consideration."
With that rather heavy conversation concluded, Luna raised a lighter topic.
"By the way, you've dressed up quite prettily today."
"Ah, well…"
Charlotte's expression turned girlish, and she spoke with shy embarrassment.
"There's a festival in the square today."
"Ah, now that you mention it."
Luna seemed to recall hearing something similar. There had been a suggestion that, to soothe the grim atmosphere caused by the excessive conscription, this festival ought to be held with a bit more grandeur than usual.
"So, if you would permit it, I was hoping to go—"
"You don't need my permission for something like that. Go on and enjoy yourself."
"Ah… th-thank you."
Charlotte was mature for her age, but moments like this made it clear she was still not quite an adult.
After sending her off, Luna sank quietly into thought.
A festival.
Come to think of it, they had held something like a harvest festival at Jeiland Castle as well. After a typhoon had swept through, it had been their first proper harvest, and happiness had lit every face among the people of the domain.
And in that moment… she had taken his hand.
She had taken Swen's hand, and danced with him.
A fair amount of time had passed since then, but Luna had never once forgotten that moment. The golden wheat fields swaying in the wind. The air of that day, the atmosphere, the scents, the food the townsfolk had pressed into their hands and told them to eat. And Swen's face as he held her hand and danced with her…
Lord Swen…
Was Swen still with the Brans Army? Ever since the news that the Brans Army was being unilaterally overwhelmed by the Serpina Army, she had worried constantly — and yet she believed he would be all right.
He had told her he would return no matter what.
So she must not waste time fretting uselessly. If an opportunity came, she had to seize it no matter what. Only then could she stand before Swen without shame.
Please… stay safe. Survive.
As that thought filled her mind, a single question drifted through it.
What was Lord Swen doing right now?
Knock, knock, knock.
"Come in. You don't need to knock."
At my words, the door opened — and a golden-haired absolute sovereign revealed herself.
That distinctive hairpin. Hair that shimmered with every movement. A woman who looked nothing like a tyrant — the woman closest to the word goddess.
"You look remarkably at ease, Swen."
"Lady Serpina has been surprisingly accommodating, you see."
"Surprisingly, is it."
Serpina let out a short, dry laugh. Even that hollow laugh looked so beautiful it was almost unfair — enough to make one wonder if it was some kind of cheat.
That day.
From the day the envoy had crossed over to deliver the message — Hand over Swen in exchange for Anima's release — Airen, Reika, and I had been confined day after day in private rooms within a detached residence Serpina had prepared.
Confined, yes, but it was livable enough. Private baths and toilets were fully provided, and meals arrived without fail. There were windows through which we could see the light, and the beds were soft and comfortable. It was, without question, vastly preferable to being dragged down into some underground dungeon.
The only real drawback was that I had no way of knowing how Reika or Airen were faring.
"So, what brings you here today?"
"I came both to grant a request of yours, and because I have something to tell you."
A request. Right. I had made a request of her.
"Airen Juliette and Reika Nighthart are both well. They, too, were curious about you."
"What did you tell them?"
"That you were so overcome with despair you had stopped eating entirely and were starving yourself."
As she said it, the corners of her eyes curved into crescent moons. So this woman could make frivolous jokes after all. I hadn't particularly cared for myself, but I had worried she might lay hands on them for no good reason. That, it seemed, had been an unfounded fear.
"…As long as both of them are well, that is enough."
"However. Since I granted your request, I would like you to answer a question of mine in return."
"If it is something I can answer, I will."
"Reika Nighthart. I never imagined Zinor had such a young daughter."
So the Nighthart family was rather well known. There was certainly a considerable age gap — though as an adoptive daughter, that was only natural. Of course, she had not brought it up merely to discuss that.
"Is she, by any chance, a mage?"
The sudden strike at the heart of the matter nearly threw me off balance — or so I thought I had managed to compose myself.
"So even you can be flustered."
"…"
I was certain I had not changed my expression. How had she noticed?
"It is nothing much. Not long ago, the walls of this very Hisphil Castle collapsed. The cause was an explosion of unknown origin. At the time, I heard testimony that a pink-haired woman had been seen. That was your doing, I presume?"
"Your jokes go too far. A mage? As if such a thing exists in this world."
"Hearing that from a man who bears the moniker of the White-Haired Mage makes it rather amusing."
She laughed again as she spoke. It was an utterly alluring, thoroughly feminine laugh.
"And if she is a mage, that would also explain why she bears the name Nighthart. Zinor must have recognized her talent and taken her in as his adoptive daughter. A story so obvious it is almost tedious."
Hearing that, I was genuinely surprised — because she was right. Serpina was, without question, a sharp woman. I could understand why she unified the continent in more than half of this game's playthroughs. Even in an era when mages had not yet truly come into prominence, the flexibility with which she applied her thinking was remarkable.
And yet, the foolish thought crossed my mind that what truly shook me was not her intellect, but her charm — which, for her, might have felt rather unfair.
"In any case, that is your answer, I take it."
"It is."
"Well, it is not a particularly satisfying answer… but no matter. We will have ample time ahead of us to speak of deeper things."
What?
Startled, I looked at her face. And she… stepped close, pressing her face right up to mine. The sharp scent of the perfume she seemed to wear stabbed fiercely at my nose.
"You have lost, Swen. This contest is my victory."
"…!"
The result of the wager I had made with her — that contest in all but name…
"Yuuri Asius has abandoned you. You understand what that means, do you not?"
Leaning in against my startled ear, she mixed deadly poison into a smile so beautiful it was almost blinding — and whispered as though swearing an eternity they would bloom and wither together. As though she were a bride who had just been promised in marriage.