The Tyrant Serpina (1)
So this is why they call her a tyrant.
The expression on Serpina's face as she said it was… that familiar one. At a glance it looked composed, almost indifferent — yet so fragile that the slightest wrong touch might send the whole thing crumbling down.
Thinking about it carefully, Serpina was nowhere near a tyrant. If anything, she was closer to an ideal sovereign than any lord I had ever served. Her system of rewards and punishments showed a clear effort toward fairness. She carried an iron resolve never to abandon any subordinate who followed her. And she did everything she could to keep emotion from clouding her judgment, gathering as many opinions as possible before making the most rational decision she could. Those were the virtues of a wise ruler, not a despot.
Compared to Lin, who had charisma but leaned too heavily on emotion in her decisions, or Yuuri, who possessed leadership yet was so bound by personal ties that she could not even freely choose for herself — Serpina was so clearly superior that the comparison barely needed making. Even Lunarien, who had managed a reasonably successful administration at Jeiland Castle, had only ever governed a single stronghold. I could not confidently claim she was a more ideal sovereign than Serpina, who ruled the entire northern half of the continent.
And yet, the outside world's view of her was fixed, absolute: she was a tyrant. No matter which nation someone belonged to, that judgment alone was remarkably consistent. From the prior knowledge I carried into this world, she was a merciless butcher who thrived on slaughter. Even after my possession, everyone still spoke of her as the worst ruler imaginable. Lunarien herself — the woman fated to unify the continent — had raised her army under the public banner that she could not allow the land to fall into the hands of someone like Serpina.
I was honestly curious. But the thought that this might be some kind of test made me give what I considered the model answer.
"Regardless of such rumors, I currently serve you, Lady Serpina."
"If you do not wish to hear what We have to say, that is one thing. But for now, We would prefer you play along."
She said it with a smile, as if joking. I had not meant that I did not want to hear her — only that I would follow her regardless of the rumors. Still, it seemed she simply wanted to talk, one way or another.
Well. Sometimes a person just needs someone to listen.
"…I am deeply curious, my lord. If it is not too much trouble, please tell me."
"Heh. Thank you, Swen. Seeing how many times you indulge this willful little whim of Ours… you really are quite kind."
Serpina smiled, then turned her head and began walking ahead once more. I followed behind her in silence, listening.
"Forgive Us — for all the trouble of making you ask, the story itself is rather obvious. We have simply stained Our hands with that much blood. Far more than even the weight of the Aingart name could ever justify. But the decisive reason is still…"
"That We personally slaughtered every last one of Our own blood kin."
Her voice trembled — so faintly it was almost impossible to notice. It was a strange thing. When someone speaks of their own sins with a shaking voice, it should normally sound like the brazen hypocrisy of a shameless person. And yet, somehow, that was not the impression I received at all.
"Seeing blood in a succession struggle is hardly rare — you can find it easily enough in any history book. But the decisive reason, in the end, is that We summarily executed an entire group that had not yet even chosen a side, simply because the possibility of rebellion was high."
She had clearly said she would tell me why she was called a tyrant. And yet she was explaining the situation with the detached objectivity of a third party — something that began to bother me slightly.
Then she turned her head and looked at me.
"Swen. Have you ever heard of an educational institution in the northwest called Piviola Academy?"
"Piviola Academy…"
I had definitely heard the name before. Where? Back when I was with the Asius Army. Yes — on that day when an unusually crimson sunset was sinking, I had gone to a remote hermitage to fetch Anima Ingram, who had been living in seclusion after being pushed out of her post as State Tactician. She had told me about it then. The five core figures of the Asius Army — the source of a bond tighter than that of any other nation — were all connected to that Piviola Academy.
But that was all I knew. Fragmentary knowledge: that a great purge had taken place there, and that the five of them had become family bound by blood because of it.
"I do not know the details, but I have heard of it."
"Anyone with even a slight interest in the continent's history would know. An unprecedented massacre took place there. Everyone connected to the academy — even the students who attended it — was slaughtered. And to smother the flames of that incident, entire houses related to it were wiped out as well."
"And the reason was…"
"Yes."
Serpina nodded slowly.
"Because the headmaster of Piviola Academy was Algot's confidant."
She let out a long breath, then looked straight at me. I could not say why — but in those golden eyes of hers, I saw the same loneliness I had felt in the sunset on the day I first faced Anima.
Turn back the clock several years — to Aingart Castle.
In place of the late emperor, who had died without naming a successor, the man seated upon the throne was the undisputed first in the line of succession: a young man who was the spitting image of the emperor in his youth — Algot von Aingart.
With gleaming golden hair and golden eyes that seemed to hold the light of the sun itself, this sharp, handsome young man was already regarded by many as the one who would inevitably inherit the imperial throne.
And now that man sat in shock, having just heard the report of his subordinate general, Julian.
"Orlando Brans… has raised a rebellion?"
"Yes, Your Highness. He had the insolence to spout nonsense about the age of Aingart being over…"
"So it has come to this after all…"
Algot closed his eyes and sank into thought. Orlando Brans was a man like a raccoon. For someone who had clung to central politics more desperately than anyone, it had already seemed strange when he suddenly requested a posting to his hometown of Anel Castle the moment the late emperor began to fade — claiming he wished to devote his remaining years to his homeland. But the late emperor had been deeply fond of Orlando, and so the lordship had been granted. The result, as expected, had come back as rebellion.
"Even if the throne stands empty, to raise a rebellion…"
"What will you do?"
"We must suppress it at once, of course. Though it would not hurt to attempt persuasion once. If war breaks out on top of everything else, the continent will plunge into a bottomless pit of chaos."
Algot extended a hand toward Julian.
"Go to Anel Castle and deliver this message: if he abandons this foolish decision even now and surrenders, We shall spare his life alone as a special mercy."
"Yes, understood!"
Julian left the audience chamber. Algot had spoken with every appearance of confidence — but the moment the man was gone, he let out a long, heavy sigh and slumped back into his chair.
Honestly… this is not a situation where I can suppress anything right now.
Rebellion normally meant summary execution and nothing else. But the circumstances were different. With the exception of the capital defense forces, the bulk of the Imperial Army's command authority rested with his younger brother, Sidmid von Aingart.
He and Sidmid had never been particularly close, even as children — but Algot had always believed that the basic affection of brothers who shared the same blood still existed between them. After the late emperor's death, however, Sidmid had begun to bare his claws in earnest. Demanding that he suppress the rebels under these conditions would accomplish nothing. Sidmid would almost certainly refuse to move as ordered — and would more likely use the continent's chaos as a pretext to claim the throne for himself.
Moreover, Sidmid's faction had already drawn their younger siblings, Stadel and Lilirose, into his inner circle.
One against three.
He had thought his relationships with his siblings were reasonably amicable…
Is all of this because of my own failings?
Algot sighed deeply and looked up at the sky. The dark, heavy clouds that looked ready to pour rain at any moment felt more ominous than usual today.
Leaving the audience chamber and returning to the Aingart mansion prepared within the castle grounds, Algot was greeted by a beautiful woman with long, cream-colored hair neatly tied to one side.
"Welcome home, Lord Algot."
"Lady Aria… you have not gone to sleep?"
"How could I, when you had not yet returned?"
Aria Iniang. Unlike the wives who had died suddenly without bearing him children, she was the only woman who had remained at his side until now. Her status was too low for her to be formally brought into the imperial family through marriage — and yet, at this point, she was the sole person supporting Algot, who had no one else left to lean on.
Ironically, it may have been precisely because they never married that she had survived. All three women who had wed Algot had died suddenly, never living out their natural span of years.
"How is the situation…?"
"The same. Nothing has changed. Ah — has there still been no word from Uncle?"
"No. There does not seem to have been any particular contact yet."
"I see. If he would lend his aid, it would be a tremendous help…"
Algot sighed heavily. Truly — not a single ally left under heaven. Was it because he had grown arrogant, certain he would become crown prince? Or was he simply an inadequate man?
Just then, Aria stepped forward and embraced him with all her strength.
"Lady Aria…?"
"Please stay strong, Lord Algot. This, too, is surely a trial that will pass."
"…"
Algot closed his eyes for a moment and felt the warmth of Aria in his arms. In the chaos that had crashed down upon him after the late emperor's death, the time he spent with her was the only moment he could truly breathe.
After that brief but far from light embrace, she spoke again.
"Lord Algot. It is not news about your uncle — but a guest has come today."
"A guest?"
She nodded.
"They are waiting in the audience chamber even now."
After sending Aria off — she had said she wanted a little fresh air — Algot hurried to the audience chamber and opened the door.
And there —
"Brother."
Long golden hair, and those bright golden eyes that proved her blood as a child of the imperial house. Of all his siblings, she was the one who most resembled their late mother — and the only one who had not joined Sidmid's faction.
"Serpina…?"
The visitor was none other than the youngest of the imperial family, the girl who alone belonged to no faction at all — Serpina von Aingart.