Mind's Eye (2)
What it meant to devote himself to her was simple enough: he spent nearly every waking hour at her side.
—Of course, the bulk of that time was filled with affairs of state.
He had not secured the post of State Strategist, yet once Serpina learned of his Mind's Eye, she began consulting him on nearly every matter of governance instead of Jena. From the most trivial decisions to the question of what the nation ought to do next, she brought it all to him.
While Jena was occupied inspecting the northern continent as a whole, it would be fair to say that Swen had taken charge of the day-to-day administration himself.
And then there was Irene.
Having returned with him from Rose Castle to Aingart Castle, Irene was formally appointed as Serpina's personal guard knight. At first, some whispered that it was effectively a demotion—but Irene offered no heated protest. She simply knelt before Serpina and answered that she would gladly take on the duty.
Later, when Swen spoke with her alone, the truth came out.
"You thought I was the one who ordered it?"
"I did."
They were walking back to the estate together. Irene turned her head to look at him, and in those violet eyes the word certainty was written plain as day.
"My lord would never reassign her deputy commander to personal guard without reason. And lately, Swen, you've been spending far more time at her side, haven't you? It was only natural to assume the two of you had discussed it."
She studied his face, then asked carefully,
"…Was I wrong?"
"No. You're exactly right, Lady Irene. Still—it's a little uncanny how precisely you pieced it together."
"Well, it was your command, not anyone else's. Of course there would be a reason. I had my suspicions as well."
Then the smile faded from her face. She stepped closer and spoke in a low whisper. The scent of her was not at all unpleasant as it washed over him.
"This has something to do with what you said about my lord being in danger, doesn't it?"
There was nothing left to hide from Lady Irene. He answered without hesitation.
"Yes. That's right."
"I see. Understood. Protecting my lord is more than enough reason to find the work worthwhile."
Lady Irene almost certainly carried a deeper gratitude toward Serpina than he did—something closer to a debt of the heart. If this helped her repay it, she would carry out the duty without complaint.
The day would come when he would have to take her with him. Making her heart easier in the meantime would only help.
"That aside… this is a different matter."
"Go ahead."
Irene hesitated a moment, then asked again in a careful tone. Where the previous question had been grave and serious, this one came with her face flushed deep red, thick with embarrassment.
"I was just… wondering what sort of things you usually talk about with my lord."
Her motives were transparent. A smile rose unbidden to his face.
What sort of things, indeed.
"Just general matters of state administration. You don't need to pay any mind to strange rumors."
"N-no! Swen, I don't believe the rumors, it's just…"
"Instead, let's spend some time together today. You've been so busy since we got back that we haven't had much chance to talk, have we?"
Irene's routine had her leaving at sunrise and not returning until evening. He, for his part, had been equally occupied being dragged about by Serpina.
"Hm? But… Lady Reika…"
"She'll be fine today."
On his way out, he had exchanged a greeting with a hollow-eyed Reika. From what he'd heard, she had stayed up all night reading the day before—by now she was almost certainly deep in dreamland.
"So let's spend some time together for once, Lady Irene."
She hesitated for a moment—then lowered her head and answered in a small voice.
"…All right."
And so, for the first time in a long while, the two of them were able to share some time alone. The hours he spent with her were the only true rest he had—the sole reprieve from a life spent wrestling daily with answers that were always correct.
Time passed.
Today, as on every other day, the riddle-like exchange with Serpina continued. She asked a question; he answered. The mechanism was simple—but with his Intelligence 100 ability that produced only correct answers, those exchanges carried a weight far beyond ordinary conversation.
At this point, it was only half a joke to say that he alone was steering the course of the continent's strongest power, the Serpina Army.
"So it is not yet time to wage war?"
"Correct. It seems something else is about to unfold behind the scenes."
"And you cannot even say whether that something is a rebellion or not."
"Yes."
He would have preferred to give her a precise answer, but all he could ever know was the result—so his replies remained frustratingly vague. In the past, she might have dismissed him for being illogical. The Serpina of now was different. She listened to every word, and if he said it was so, she accepted that it was so.
"…Very well. We shall give that matter further thought. If the result is absolute truth, then there must be a reason for it."
The way Serpina approached this "unconditionally correct truth" was unnervingly similar to his own method: take the result, generate every possible scenario that could lead to it, then reason out which was most likely. He knew everything about this world; she, for all that she was a sovereign, could not match that—so her accuracy would inevitably fall short of his. Still, he sometimes wondered: if she had possessed this Intelligence 100 ability herself, might she not have used it even better than he did?
She was a ruler. Compared to him—whose knowledge came entirely from ten thousand hours of a game—she would be far more thoroughly versed in statecraft and military strategy.
"In that case, We intend to assign a mission shortly. How should it best be organized?"
In truth, being a strategist of Intelligence 100 was nothing more complicated than this: answering questions like that one. He gave her the most efficient answer to every question she asked.
And as a result, far greater changes were taking place in this nation than he had anticipated.
They prevented a flood in advance and won the trust of the people. A rational deal with a merchant guild secured a full year's military provisions at a bargain price. By her decisive action, the rise of bandit gangs was stopped before it began. When everything she ordered returned the best possible outcome, Serpina's reputation began to improve of its own accord.
Among the military officers her standing had never been poor—but the common people of the territories had never fully followed her. That this was changing was no small encouragement.
As good results continued to pile up, Serpina stopped hesitating. At first, even after learning of the Mind's Eye, she had accepted some of his advice with a faintly puzzled expression. Then, at some point, she began to trust his every word without question. He could feel, in real time, the way the look in her eyes when she regarded him was shifting.
And the returns did not stop there. Every exploration mission began bringing back nothing but good news.
"What is all this?"
"Treasures discovered while surveying the surrounding territories, as ordered…"
Not treasure—treasures. Five different prizes were laid out before Serpina: a peerless famous blade, a medical text compiled across six generations of a single family, a treatise on strategy written by a renowned master… a legendary wine, and jewels of extraordinary value. All of them the fruit of following his suggestion that exploration would be worthwhile.
Serpina distributed every last one among her subordinate generals. When asked why, she answered with perfect calm, as though it were nothing at all.
"We have no interest in collecting. Objects exist to be used by people. Would these not take more joy in bearing someone's touch than in rotting away in the royal treasure vault?"
Even so, greed was only human—and handing out treasures to one's subordinates the moment they appeared was no easy thing. The sole exception she kept for herself was the treatise on strategy. That one alone she set aside to study personally.
He had heard that it was Serpina herself who had devised the scheme to lure Anima out of her castle. She listened to her generals' opinions, but she also clearly valued her own judgment. A sovereign was the final decision-maker—and to distill the best counsel from among many, one could not afford to neglect study.
Of course, with a strategist of Intelligence 100 at her side, the correct answer would always emerge regardless—so there was no real need for her to push herself so hard. And yet she never grew lazy, never let her studies slip. She continued to hone herself without pause.
Even so—
"Still not possible, then?"
"Correct."
From a certain point onward, Serpina had begun putting a single question to him with some regularity.
Can Serpina von Aingart unify the world?
And every time, the same conclusion: no.
The nation was steadily advancing—but that answer never changed.
"I see. Very well."
Serpina neither showed disappointment nor pressed him for details. She accepted his words, then returned to her work. One might have expected her to ask at least once what the reason was—but she did not. She simply continued her quiet struggle against her own fate. Her refusal to neglect her studies was part of that struggle, no doubt: her own ongoing effort to overcome the sins she had accumulated and become a unifier.
And to that woman who stood against destiny, there was one truth Swen could never, under any circumstances, speak aloud:
If Lady Serpina loses her life, this nation can become a unified empire.
All he could do was stay at her side and keep helping her, just as he was now. There was also the justification that keeping her alive benefited Lady Luna as well—so he could aid her without any real conflict of conscience.
And then, while he was attending her as always—
Something decisive occurred.
It began with an exploration.
"Is sending General Celia to Kelstein Castle the most efficient method?"
[Close.]
…No.
He shook his head. Through several rounds of questioning he had already established that sending an exploration party to Kelstein Castle was efficient. The problem was whom to send. The exploration itself was a fixed value; the real task was selecting the right general.
Judging by the circumstances, if he named the correct officer, the answer ought to come back as [Yes.]
Serpina nodded and said,
"We have summoned every general currently without a mission."
"It seems to be someone already assigned to a duty."
"Hmm…"
Serpina fell into thought for a moment, then resumed her questions.
"Is sending General Irene to Kelstein Castle the most efficient method?"
"…"
Hearing a familiar name nearly threw him off—but
[Close.]
Not Lady Irene, then.
He shook his head again, and from Irene the names of the occupation force's subordinate generals began to spill forth one after another. Cransis, Jayden, Yuria… How many unfamiliar names passed by, Cransis aside, before—
"Is sending General Irian to Kelstein Castle the most efficient method?"
…!
He had been feeding questions in like a machine—and in that instant he froze.
"Heh heh heh…"
Serpina let out a thoroughly satisfied laugh.
"It would seem we have our answer, Swen."
Hiding his expression in front of her was always extraordinarily difficult.
The result of the question—
[Yes.]
"…Correct."
He bowed his head and said,
"Please dispatch General Irian to Kelstein Castle."